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Aelrindel
(aka Lenar)
The Painted God & a dead Wyvern’s bone
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Nesande’s Shade pale blue light danced on the dark surface of Utari, a name the locals rarely used anymore, preferring instead the rather trite Desert Lake to describe the big natural body of water and oasis that marked the end of the desert and the start of Cofol Steppe on this side of Eplas. An explosion of green welcomed by all weary travelers and merchants.
The lights of Yin Xiyan could be seen amidst the thick copse of what was predominately palm trees, lessening as the time grew late. A narrow section of land resembling a horned viper’s fang, penetrated almost to the center of the lake creating a bridge of sorts and providing access to its deepest part, but most locals avoided it at all costs. Utari wasn’t a safe place, and delving into its insect infested, serpent teeming depths was deemed a suicide.
The Sinya Nore never learned to communicate with nature, she thought. Another feebleness of their species. Swimming slowly keeping her head out of the water, she let the moonlight touch her face, the sounds of a thousand creatures around her vibrant. Constant. Many songs, many tongues, and countless stories were shared in the cover of darkness.
Lenar forced her essence to expand, down into the murky depths and their secreted horrors and out in the direction of the dark banks of the lake and its lurking predators. The sounds became clearer, the rustling of trees, the click and chirps of birds and the hushed breathing of creatures watching her.
Her skin started glowing, hands slowly treading the water that warmed up lightly. She allowed the soft current to lead her back, towards the spot she’d picked at the edge of the natural bridge and reaching it walked out, her naked feet stepping lightly on the slush that quickly dried up, feeling the half-rotten and half-dry leaves underneath, massaging her soft soles.
“Mmm, you’re grumpy,” Lenar murmured a little surprised and run her hands over her breasts, down her ribs gathering the moisture and making a small delicate sphere of it. The sheer jellylike sphere hovered for a moment at the tip of her index finger, illuminating her face as it shined like a tiny blue moon and then dissolved turning into white vapor.
The desert Nimra growled low, and long, not impressed at the display. Branches snapped as it moved, his scent driving all other animals away. Hungry yellow eyes appeared in the dark, a snarling mouth stinking of carrion snapping, when the large feline raised its maned head above the foliage. Another growl, elongated white fangs menacing, as the beast stepped into the opening.
The black long-toothed Nimra lion loved hunting under the moonlight.
Lenar sat down cross legged with a sigh, stooped forward to her leather bag, pulled a large cut of crusty flatbread out and tossed it towards the approaching beast. It landed inches before his sniffing nose startling the Nimra, and managed to bounce once more, before he stopped it with a clawed paw. Sniffed it a couple of times, gave it a good lick and snarled unhappy.
“Yeah,” Lenar agreed, with a pout. “I know. I would kill for a piece of bloody flesh right now.”
The Nimra roared angry at her words, mouth opening impossibly wide, incisors the size of small daggers and then attempted a half-hearted lunge, landing on three legs, two small puncture wounds keeping her front left raised.
“Does it hurt?” Lenar asked getting up and moving near the large predator. The Nimra let out a pained growl. She glanced up towards the canopy, saw a night owl watching the scene unfolding amidst the petioles and smiled at the wily bird’s suggestion.
“Why the ibis?” Lenar inquired, finding the long legged bird wading near the bank behind them. The black beaked bird felt her reaching out and tried to break away, but froze in its place when she took control of its mind. Walking awkwardly it got out of the water and approached them on shaking legs. The Nimra started breathing quickly, watching it with feverish eyes.
“Shh… let me see this,” Lenar whispered and extended her left hand, long fingers touching the lion’s foreleg where the oozing small holes were. A snake bite gone bad. She closed her eyes, felt the bitter blood, the poison potent and putrid. Her essence created an invisible line that became a bridge to take it inside herself, heart racing and her eyes glowing an impressive orange, when she opened them again to stare into the beast’s eyes.
> Nesande stopped time.
“Alurae…” Lenar sang in the Gods tongue and Nimra let out a thunderous scared growl, everything living, or not, around them reacting violently, rodents running away, serpents hissing, a sudden gush coming from the desert rapping at the trees and even the dark lake’s current changing direction for a second. The next, she set her eyes on the stupefied ibis, standing not a meter from them now and whispered.
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“Iorwen.”
The Ibis collapsed on the ground, spasms twitching its body this way and that. It didn’t last long and everything returned to normal, when it gave up and turned still.
Lenar inhaled sharply and pulled her hand away, the tips of her fingers black, the healed Nimra’s tongue lapping at her naked navel, her whiskers tickling her skin and a question in her big yellow eyes.
“You can’t eat it silly,” She said with a tired smile, lightly petting his large black head between the ears. “It’s poisoned.”
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Wulan’s face was filled with worry, when she returned to her private quarters in the palace, two hours later. Lenar walked by her without a word, dirty feet leaving a trail behind for the servants to clean up in the morning, the tiles cool and the incense burning suffocating for a brief moment.
“The guards were notified of your absence,” Wulan said, closing the door behind them.
“Who told them?” Lenar asked lying gracefully on a richly decorated divan, a goblet of white wine in her hand. No one had seen her leaving the grounds.
“Sahand came looking for you,” Her servant explained. “I couldn’t keep him out.”
“The Prince Heir is here?” Lenar asked with a light frown.
“Arrived earlier, wasn’t much pleased, you were missing.”
“I wasn’t much pleased, he was fucking those bags of flesh in Rin Anpur,” Lenar pointed.
“Since when do you care, where he puts his cock?”
“I don’t.”
“Then what?”
“I don’t want them giving him a child,” Lenar explained.
“You were certain, they wouldn’t,” Wulan said surprised.
Lenar nodded, getting up. She sensed him coming, the line connecting them brighter than all the rest she’d cast around the palace and clearly visible, if one paid attention.
Or knew how.
“I still am, but spells are fragile things,” The Moon of Dan said and set her half full goblet on the table. Her hair changed color, just as the wine drained, the cobalt blue fading and turning white, her face mellowing up, cheeks flushing and ears retracting. A warm smile on her breathtaking face.
All an illusion, but for the last part.
“I thought you run away,” Prince Sahand said, getting through the side door. Tall and fit, his thin trimmed beard complimenting his Cofol face and olive-colored eyes. White robes smelling of horse and road, a square piece of black wood hanging from a leather string on his neck, next to his large gold and ivory pendant depicting the Scythed Chariot of house Radpour proudly.
Rightly so, as it was this lethal instrument of war that’d helped his ancestors break the Horselords hold on the steppe almost two hundred years ago.
Something isn’t right, Lenar thought, her smile cracking, feeling physically ill.
Poisoned.
“You’ve changed color to your hair,” Sahand whispered, before taking her in his arms. “Father will be surprised,” He added, as Lenar heard Wulan gasping behind her.
“The Khan is here?” Lenar croaked taken aback.
“He brought the whole palace with him.”
“Mistress,” Wulan said sounding alarmed.
“Leave us,” Lenar ordered her brusquely, long nails tracing the man’s chest and the skin underneath. “I need my spouse’s attention, rather desperately.”
Sahand laughed and found her wet lips, kissed them passionately, as hungry as the Nimra lion, hands traveling under her chemise daring and equally exploring as her own. Feverish. Each searching for something different though. Lenar found it, just as her back hit the soft mattress, the large man following on top. The Prince Heir tore her shrill chemise away, and she retaliated cutting the leather cord of his strange amulet, the black wood melting the palm of her hand like a piece of burning coal.
The pain unbearable and shocking enough to shove the man away with one hand and toss the damned thing on the wall behind her head, with the other.
“Bah!” Sahand gasped from where he’d landed three meters away from her bed. His royal arse bruised, along with his ego, but not nearly enough to content, or even curtail her fury.
Not a crude wooden amulet then.
“Where did you get it?” Lenar hissed, large putrid yellow eyes glowing, rows of sharp teeth showing, but the man was now blind to them. He just stared back numb at her, a hurt look on his face. “SPEAK NOW!”
Not a witch’s vile hex on it.
Just a tiny piece of a dead Wyvern’s bone.