Day Two/Three/Four
The waning moon was high overhead by the time her sisters had fallen asleep and she could sneak from their tent. The cloak of the lritrae was still on her shoulders and obscured her face as she stalked the shadows toward Sirn’s tent. Slipping inside, her gloved fingers tore at the fasten and pushed back the heavy fabric from her shoulders. Naked but for the painted symbols still on her skin, she knelt over his prone form. He was laying, dressed only in leather pants, in his bed of furs with eyes closed and light hair tousled.
Grinding her hips against his, she whispered, “Wake up.”
One blue eye immediately opened, and then the other. They slowly moved over her bare skin and left phantom trails of heat in their wake. She held her gloved hands up between them, and he tugged the gloves off and then tossed them aside. After pulling off his own gloves, he pressed his hands, palm to palm, against hers and then intertwined his fingers with hers. Their eyes, hers black in the dim light and his dark blue as raw sapphire, were locked as they smiled at each other.
“I had almost given up hope.”
With a sigh, she squeezed hard at his hands and pulled them up over his head. Pressing them into the furs, she leaned down to brush her breasts against his bare chest. His pupils dilated, and his hips rose to meet hers.
“I said I would come,” she mumbled. “When have I ever given you cause to doubt?”
His lean form stretched and coiled under her as he shifted, a somber look in his eyes. “Vanna never gave me any cause to doubt, but you are no longer Vanna. You are lritrae Lylei Keerlin now.”
“I cannot believe the lrin idas would give me that name.”
Lylei Keerlin—little sex bird. It was as though the whole of the lrin knew that she had been sneaking off with her intended. A deep line of a frown formed between her brows as she sat back from him. Resting her hands on her thighs, she flattened her already thin lips into a straight line. Now that she was thinking about it, it was entirely possible that the whole of the lrin did know.
Their betrothal itself had drawn a good amount of interest. A [bard] asking for the hand of a lritrae jeesib—how could it not? Sirn had not been the first to ask, but the others had been lritrae or [warriors], men who thought they had some common ground with the fierce Vanna, first born daughter of [mother] and [father]. [mother], taking cues from her daughter’s lukewarm reception of the suitors, had refused them each in turn, until Sirn. Even now, some ten odd years after he had first approached her mother, she could still feel that light fluttering filling every part of her being at the memory. For so long, she had admired him from afar. He was nothing like the other lritrae jeesib, nothing like her brothers, nothing like any other man in her lrin. That difference had long fascinated her; that difference coupled with his beauty had inspired all matter of frivolous fantasy. It did not matter to her that he had been born to the Yeka lrin and given to the Keer lrin as part of a peace offering. It did not matter to her that he had come as a slave. She had recognized his worth the first time she saw him dance. The lrin idas had taken longer to notice, but now he was one of the lrina, as proved by the lrin emblem tattooed over his chest—an eagle with its head turned below the meeting of his collar bones, its wings spread across and ending at his shoulders, its tail feathers fanned out on the top of his flat stomach. Even at her most foolish, she had never imagined that he might notice her, that he might want her. She had resigned herself either to being the wife of a fellow lritrae or to never marrying. Then, not long after being accepted into the Keer lrin, he had asked for her hand, and her mother had immediately accepted and even shortened the length of the [engagement] at the notice of her daughter’s excitement. Her sisters had thought her mad to want a [bard] over a lritrae or a [warrior]. They could have husbands with rough hands and bodies worn by war; she wanted Sirn.
As she considered these things, her frown faded to be replaced by a lusty grin.
“It does not surprise me,” he smiled as his hands slowly crept up her knees and thighs to rest on her hips, “but then you’ve always been my little Lylei Keerlin, haven’t you?” She started to lean forward again, but his soft hands grabbed at her shoulders to stop her. “What did surprise me was your complete disregard for your own life.”
This time, the frown replaced the grin as she sighed, “My life is not my own. It belongs to the lrin.”
“Don’t tell me you believe that jorn.”
“Jorn?” she repeated with a touch of indignation and hurt. “How can you say that? You know that is the way of the lritrae—of the lrin. You sing and write songs in praise of our way.”
His thumbs traced small circles on her skin. “There is a time and place for sacrifice, Lylei, but that was not today, on your belly by the fire pit.”
The sound of her name sent a shiver down her spine. “Lrin idas Cosal obviously would agree, but I do not regret my words.” She reached down to follow the lines of the eagle’s wings across his chest. “Although… I would regret dying without having you first.”
There was a smile dancing in his eyes at those words, but not on his face. “You are reckless. I fear that the first time you ride out into battle, it will be your last. It is not enough to have no fear and ready for death. You must be cunning and willing to retreat.”
“Retreat?” Her lips curled into a snarl. “Better to press on until victory can be had.”
His fingers gripped her skin and shook her lightly. “That is foolish pride speaking. A lritrae must think of the lrin and only the lrin. If you wanted glory, you should have sought the mantle of a [warrior].”
“Who are you to lecture me on the ways of a lritrae or war, [bard]? You will never see a field of battle or carry a weapon.”
“Again, spoken like a [warrior]. You have taken the wrong path.” He sat up then and pushed her back from him. “And I was wrong to choose you.”
The furrow of her brows deepened, and her dark eyes searched his face. She did not care for what they found. His jaw was set, his eyes hard, and his full lips narrowed. Tightening her hands into fists, she drew back her lips to bare her gritted teeth at him and hiss, “Coward! Now that I have proven my worth and shown the lrin my might, you are ashamed of me? I thought you were man enough to stand by me. Now I see you are not a man at all, but a useless boy. I wish my mother had never chosen you.” But she had balled her hands into fists to hide their trembling and hissed her words to disguise the wavering in her voice. She could feel her desperation welling in her eyes, and so she turned from him, staring off into the darkness.
“I shall not marry you, only to lose you in the next season.” Grabbing her chin, he made her face him once more. “If the lrin idas knew the pride in your heart, they would not have given you that cloak.”
She batted his hand aside and then slapped him with all her strength across the face. The blow left him laying on the ground. “Who are you to question the will of the lrin idas, [slave]?”
Lifting his head, he wiped the blood from his lip on the back of his hand. “Get out,” he growled. “I shall tell your mother in the morning that I am no longer interested in your hand.”
For a long moment, she sat there, still naked and blinking back tears. This could not be happening! If she had known that by gaining the cloak of the lritrae she would lose Sirn—but, no, she would not have changed a thing. This was her path. He was wrong—he was wrong! He could not mean those words. As the hot tears spilled down her cheeks, she hastily wiped them away.
“Get out,” he repeated, softly, without force.
Yet she lingered. Fighting back the wrenching tightness squeezing at her chest, she lingered and stared into his blue eyes. The hardness had left them, but they were distant, unreadable. Her hands longed for the feel of his smooth skin under them, and her lips for the sweet press of his. Even if their [engagement] was shorter than most, it had still been twelve years. Nearly ten of those years had passed; they were so close, so close now… How could he deny her? How could he turn her away? Dropping her eyes, she could see that, despite her best efforts, her hands were shaking. It was then that she stood and went to collect her cloak.
As she went to do the fasten, gentle hands reached around her to grab her hands and stop her. Sirn leaned his head against her shoulder, and she sighed softly as the tears flowed freely down her face.
“Don’t go,” he muttered, his voice muffled by the fabric of the cloak. “I—I was just upset. I thought I was going to lose you today, and I… I couldn’t bear it, Lylei. Please, forgive me.”
Slowly, she turned and wrapped her arms about his waist. The cloak fell from her shoulder as she kissed at his forehead. “Only if you will forgive me as well. I did not mean what I said… you are not a useless boy; you are the only man for me.”
The light touch of his fingers danced over her stomach and up her back. “Come back to bed, my sweet Lylei Keerlin.”
She let him lead her back to the furs and laid down under him. Rolling her hips up against him, she sighed as he kissed at the corner of her mouth. His fingers trailed down her arms then back up and across her chest, just above her breasts. She wrapped her arms about his shoulders and tangled her fingers in the length of his hair. Her legs spread for him, and she could feel the press of his hardness through his pants against her body.
Shivering, she moaned softly, “Take me, Sirn.”
“You know I can’t, Lylei,” he mumbled against her neck as he left little kisses there. “Your mother may shorten the [engagement] now that you have passed the test… I shall ask her if we can marry in the spring.”
One of her hands slipped down his back and side before working its way between them. It rubbed at him as she panted, “I cannot wait that long. Tonight, Sirn, please.”
His hips moved in rhythm with her hand, and his lips split so that he could bite at her neck. Still, he shook his head and groaned, “No, I can’t… I can’t… but I will not send you back to your tent unsatisfied, Lylei.”
She wanted to press him again, to demand it, but then a hand was squeezing at her breast and a finger tracing up the line of her offered sex. Arching her back and bucking her hips, she decided she could wait just a little longer.
When she slipped through the tent flips of the tent she shared with her sisters, the pale light of dawn was brightening the horizon of the plain, and lrina were beginning to stir in their tents. Her sisters, Mina and Parci, were cuddled together, still sleeping soundly. Keerlin discarded her cloak and settled on her back beside them. Just as she was closing her dark eyes with thoughts of catching a bit more sleep, warm fingers pinched at her shoulder.
“Good morning, Lylei,” said Parci with grogginess drawing out her words.
“You can’t call me that. Only he can call me that.”
Mina yawned, “It’s your name, isn’t it?”
“Lritrae Lylei Keerlin,” Parci grumbled as she sat up.
Keerlin opened her eyes to frown at Parci. Her dark curls were matted, and she was slowly working her short fingers through the tangle. Her clear brown eyes stared at her older sister as frowns and winces flickered over her features. Mina, between them with the straight length of her black hair half-covering her face and matching eyes, tugged the blanket up to her rosy cheeks and curled under it with a soft sigh. Parci had been born twenty years after Keerlin, but only a year and a season separated her and Mina. [Father] had died just a season after Mina’s birth. His two youngest daughters had no memory of him. They were soft, gentle creatures, like [Mother], so unlike their proud sister that one might think they were not related, but the similarities in their features and builds confirmed that they were. They all had [Mother’s] small, upturned noses and narrow jaw, [Father’s] high brow and large eyes, but Parci and Mina had [Mother’s] plump, inviting lips while Keerlin had [Father’s] thin lips.
“Will you move into the tent of other unwed lritrae?” Mina sighed.
“I may.”
Her brow and nose crinkled. “You should stay with us. [Mother] is sure to let you marry in the spring, and they are sure to catch sneaking off with Sirn.”
“Did he give in to you, Keerlin?” Parci asked as she continued to struggle with her hair.
“I bet he did,” Mina grinned. “After what happened during the [testing] today, he must have been upset.”
Keerlin sighed and ran a hand over her bare scalp. “He didn’t, but he was upset… we fought.”
“You always fight,” Parci grunted and then crawled over to find a comb. She sat with her back to her sister’s as she worked it through her hair and said, “You’re both too proud for your own good. Seems the only thing that keeps you two together is your desire for each other.”
“They love each other,” Mina smiled. “Don’t you?”
Closing her eyes, Keerlin sighed softly, “Yes.”
In the dark of her eyes, Sirn’s face was grinning at her with eyes full of longing. They had never said the words to each other, but it was not the way of the lrin for [intendeds] to be as close as they were. Those words and that one final act that Sirn continued to deny her were the last barriers between them.
“Well, I hope you do marry in the spring,” Parci stated in a her typical detached manner. “I am tired of wanting for my turn.”
“Don’t talk that way,” Mina whimpered. She pushed aside the warmth of the blanket then to cuddle up next to Keerlin and kiss at her cheek. “I shall miss you so, [sister].” With a sigh, she whined, “And I do not understand why Parci is in such a rush to leave me. Am I not a good [sister]?”
Chuckling, Keerlin tousled her hair and turned to kiss her forehead. “Don’t be silly, Mina. We will be together forever—we are [sisters].”
Mina smiled softly, but something in her brown eyes told Keerlin that her youngest sister was not convinced. Parci tossed the comb over at them. Keerlin’s gloved fingers snatched it from the air and twirled it. Arching a brow at her sister, Keerlin considered her eyes darkened by a frown and pouting lips.
“Mina has been having those dreams again,” she mumbled.
Keerlin grunted her understanding as she ran her fingers through Mina’s hair. “Would you like me to comb your hair, [little sister]?”
Nodding, Mina slowly sat up. Keerlin followed suit and gently turned and pulled Mina so that she sat with her back to Keerlin in her lap. Her shoulders were slumped and head bowed as Keerlin began to work the comb through the snares in her hair. Parci crawled back over to begin to braid the straight lengths already free of tangles.
“I would never let anything happen to you, [little sister],” Keerlin said.
Her voice was soft, low, but there was no denying the quiet rage in her words. Mina had been having dreams for years of ootein with skin the color of bone, eyes of fire and death, and strange magics. They came upon the lrin suddenly and left nothing in their wake. That in itself was enough to terrify any lrina, but that the ootein in Mina’s dream took and defiled those they did not kill… that removed any sliver of fear from Keerlin and replaced it with fury.
“But what if… what if something did happen?”
The words came as a quavering mewl, and the hands of both Keerlin and Parci paused at their work. Keerlin could feel Parci glancing at her, but her dark eyes never left Mina. Wrapping her strong arms around Mina, Keerlin squeezed her tight and whispered into her hair, “If anything should ever happen, I would come for you, and I would avenge you. Any who dare to harm you will rue that day.”
Mina’s hands rested over Keerlin’s. “I’m being foolish,” she mumbled, “but the dreams… they are so vivid.”
“They are only dreams,” Parci reminded her gently and smiled.
Keerlin nodded, though even now, she doubted the lrin idas’ decision that there was nothing more to Mina’s dreams than childish fear. The world extended beyond this plain, beyond the forests, beyond the mountains, beyond the desert, beyond the sea. It was difficult to imagine that the world was that vast, but Keerlin had accepted that it was after the appearance of those ootein traders working their way east across their lands. Before then, Keerlin had always thought the ootein nothing more than a story told to frighten children into behaving, but having seen them with her own eyes, there was no denying the reality. She had no desire to frighten her sisters any further, and so Keerlin kept these thoughts to herself.
Spring had never been so slow in coming. As she rode on Gir’s bare back with Rena prancing along behind him, Keerlin was ultimately convinced that the lrin idas were putting off the journey to their spring village just to spite her. They had been so quick to accept her mother’s appeal to shorten the [engagement], but now that seemed only more torturous. Onlan found her increasing agitation all too amusing, as did her brothers and the other lritrae. Sirn, on the other hand, found it increasingly difficult to refuse her, and so he had denied her entry to his tent for the rest of the season. Rather than easing the tension, that denial only worsened it. Keerlin struggled to find ways of dealing with it. Sparring with the lritrae appeared a simple enough solution, but after she managed to break a jeesib’s jaw, that was no longer an option. She could not help but smile at the memory of Onlan’s reaction to that. He had been torn between disappointment at her lack of control and pride at having trained her. It had been his suggestion that she assist the [hunters], and, so far, that had proved a safe distraction.
“I would still rather be in his bed,” she sighed as her eyes lazily scanned the snowy plain. Rena nickered softly, as if laughing at Keerlin. Turning back to glare at the mare, Keerlin fought the grin tugging at her lips. “Well, no since lying, least not to either of you, eh?”
A bitter wind howled across the plain, and Keerlin drew her cloak tighter around her shoulders. It ripped right through her fur-lined tunic and pants. Shivering, she leaned forward to hug Gir’s neck. The stallion’s woolly coat was dusted with snow and cold against her cheek. Not as cold as the wind, however, and so she remained laying against him as he walked through the snow. They had seen no sign of prey all day, and she was past ready to return to the warmth of her tent. The horses were well aware of this, but they also knew as much as she hated braving this cold, she hated returning empty-handed more. Again, her eyes searched the plain for some indication that anything yet lived in this barren landscape of white and grey. Her eyes grazed over dark shapes on the horizon before snapping back. Drawing down her brows, she squinted at them. They were nothing more than five specks at the crest of a hill. No telling just what they were, but Keerlin squeezed her thighs against Gir’s sides. He started toward them at an easy trot.
As they drew closer, more specks came to join the five. With great reluctance, Keerlin dismounted and motioned for the horses to wait. Rena whinnied, soft and nervous, and Keerlin rubbed at her neck and kissed at her nose before leaving them. She walked low and slow, letting the snow covering her cloak disguise her approach, and beneath her feet, the mix of snow, ice, and dead grass crunched softly. Her eyes remained on the dark shapes, now twenty in number. She froze when her eyes recognized the shapes for what they were: men on horseback. She was still not close enough to see if they were other lrin or ootein, but it did not matter. She had to get back to the village and tell the lrin idas. With only that thought in her head, she turned and struggled through the snow as quickly as she could. Distant shouts were drawn by the wind to her ears, and she wet her lips to whistle loudly. Gir came charging through the snow with Rena neighing and picking her way behind him. The soft wisps of arrows followed Keerlin as she reached for the stallion’s mane. One lodged itself in her shoulder and another in her lower back as she pulled herself up. The stallion did not wait for her to settle properly on his back before galloping off. Pulling her bow from her back, she took an arrow from the quiver at her hip and watched over her shoulder, through the haze of snow as the men spurred their horses after her. She drew back an arrow and let it fly. One of the men fell from his horse, and more arrows whizzed past her, one landing in Gir’s rump. The stallion snorted and shook his head, but his pace did not slow.
“We can’t lead them back to the village,” she muttered as she drew back another arrow. But there was nothing between them and the village—only empty plain and rolling hills. They would never lose the pursuers in all that open emptiness, and they were outnumbered. But perhaps—
“Rena!” she shouted. “Run ahead. Find Onlan.”
Word count: 3893
Words to date: 6215