FSE

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The sun was shining right in his eyes. “Agh. Shut the flap, would you?" Leon opened his eyes. This isn't a tent. And that's… He broke into a broad smile. Ah, yes. I remember now.

He took a slow breath through his nose, breathing in the wonderful scent of the sleeping dragoness beside him. He doubted he would soon forget the night they had just spent together… and he very much didn't want to.

For now, however, he was content to lie by her side, watching her breathe, and dream. A thought… she said we're linked… and I knew her name without her ever having told me. Can I see what she's dreaming?

Images… clouds above, buildings below. Buildings such as he had never seen before, stretching impossibly tall. People moving about on the streets – black streets? – in incredible numbers, and in strange carriages. Leon rubbed his temples, feeling a painful headache coming on. A headache building… but I didn't have a headache then.

:Leon?:

Why am I thinking my own name, now?

:Is that you? Are you in my dream?:

Niara?

:Yes.:

You're speaking to me from a dream?

“Not any more, I'm not."

Leon opened his eyes again, and found himself once again staring into her beautiful golden eyes. You have such beautiful eyes.

She let out what he could only describe as a thrum, full of pleasure, and her eyes lit up. :Thank you.:

His cheeks colored; he hadn't meant her to hear that. But nonetheless, he was glad she had. She was even more beautiful when she was happy.

“You know… I don't think any of my friends back home will ever believe my story, if any of us make it out of this alive, that is. 'Sure,' they'll say, 'you got shot with an arrow. Where's the scar?' And, 'A dragon. I believe you. I slept with a dragon once, too; your sister. That's why I divorced her! Ha ha ha.'"

Her head cocked to the side, as it did when she was curious – or thinking; he was beginning to recognize her quirks. “You have a sister?" Her head cocked to the other side and her brow furrowed. “I didn't see her, in your memories."

He grinned sheepishly. “Ah, right. Part of the healing process..." He sat up and leaned forward into one of his legs before continuing. “I don't have a sister, it's just something they might say." He shrugged. “It's a guy thing."

“A guy thing."

“Heh. Yes, a guy thing."

She got to her feet in a stalking stance, her head low to the ground. She spoke as she slowly circled the cave floor toward where he was sitting. “Mmmm. I know of another, 'guy thing,' I'm interested in right now." Her tail was lashing back and forth, again, and he knew exactly what was on her mind; it was on his as well.

Even so, he wasn't quite expecting it when she butted her head against his chest, knocking him flat onto his back. “Oof."

He had only a moment to feel indignant before she slithered – he could think of no dignified word for it, at the moment – on top of him and kissed him deeply. His hands ran along her body, seemingly of their own accord.

Her hips met with his, and he felt whole – and happier than he had ever been – as he entered her. And as she arched herself against him, and his hands slid to her flanks, he knew that everything would turn out okay. They would win; Lochlan would lose; and he would travel the world with Niara.

* * *

He had fallen asleep with one arm across her side, his other arm clutching at her left foreleg. His head was resting between the two, tucked up against her belly. Their legs were still tangled.

She knew they should be getting up; they had things to do, and food to eat – If I can ever get free to go look for some – and strategies to discuss. She looked around her. And clothes to find. She grinned, she couldn't help it; his clothes had been knocked out of the cave and were likely scattered across a mile of forest. Not that she minded his nudity; quite the contrary. But if he was going to survive out in the wilderness, he would need more than his bare skin to do so. But for now… She spent the next few minutes examining his form. He was of average height… maybe six feet. His well – but not overly – muscled body showed that he had lived for several years as a soldier from a disciplined unit. His dark brown hair – shoulder length – currently fell every which way around his face. And as she knew from experience – though it wasn't obvious, now – he was well equipped; at least in that area. She hoped he was well equipped for the task before him, as well.

She ran her tongue along his dark skinned chest, and he opened his eyes. “Leon. Beloved. It's time to get up."

He smiled up at her groggily and blinked the sleep from his eyes. “You wouldn't happen to know of a nice inn, nearby, where we could get some food, would you?" His stomach chose that moment to rumble, perhaps reminded by his words that it was empty.

The way he was smiling at her was infectious; she couldn't help herself, she could feel a smile tugging at the corners of her own mouth. She let out a huff of air into his face, blowing his hair every which way.

He sat up and swept his hair out of his eyes. “That reminds me… I was wondering about something when you first woke me up."

“Yes? And why are you grinning like a loon? You look deranged."

He chuckled. “It's just, the way you cock your head to the side sometimes. I think I like it…" He smirked, “and it's sexy."

“I don't…" She turned her head until it was level with the floor. “I guess I do. It's not something I've ever really thought about. And I usually don't have much to do with humans; they almost always want to try and kill me. Is that what you wanted to ask me about?"

“Ah, yes. My question. Why strawberries?"

Strawberries. She rolled her eyes. “Strawberries." She let out a huff. “Ask my father about the strawberries, when you find him. I think he thought it was humorous; a joke of some sort."

“Eh he uhh, what? Why would he, umm, care? He didn't…"

“No! No. He never… not with me. Not with us – his first generation creations. Not with any race he created until at least a century had passed." She blinked a few times, and then continued with a shake of her head. “None of us were related to him by blood; but that didn't matter. Even though some of us wanted it, he could never have been with us that way. He thought of himself as our father, and us as his children… and that is how most of us thought of him – how I still think of him."

He looked relieved; and his relief made her happy. “So the strawberries are a joke."

“Every dragon is born with a connection to father's staff, and his staff contains all the knowledge that he cares to store in it… including what makes each of us, us. It's a connection that lets us use the old magic; the mind magic that he created for this universe. And it's also a connection that changes our children as they grow inside of us. No two dragons will produce the same flavor of saliva."

“Shit. That's…" his face crinkled up, “just damned strange."

“It's best just not to think too hard about how my father thinks. He was born a human. He designed the technology to turn himself into the most powerful god this universe has ever seen. And then he gave almost all of it up, just to live as a guardian, and a guide, to the humans he cared nothing for, and the non-humans who meant everything to him."

“And he's the man you're sending me to meet?"

She nodded, and he frowned.

“A god, living as a mortal, pretending to unimportance; but still known across half the world in stories."

She nodded again, and this time he smiled and started running his thumb and pointer finger through his beard.

He pinched his fingers together on his chin. “Well then. What do I need to know? And where do I need to go?"

* * *

In the end, finding 'his' tunic hadn't been all that difficult; it was caught in the branches of a tree at the base of the cliff. The sandals had been more of a challenge, as they had apparently been knocked out of the cave in opposite directions. The belt they found in the corner of the high cave.

Niara had gone hunting; returning within minutes with a freshly killed doe. She had used her magic to start a fire, and her talons to gut the deer; though she could do nothing about skinning it, and neither could he without a knife or at least a sharp edged rock. They had made do, and suffered the smell of burning fur.

After that, they had parted ways; Niara to track the Destroyer and to try raising and organizing resistance, and Leon to seek out the mysterious Dark Wanderer.

* * *

He had been walking for days. And, if not for the connection he still shared with Niara, he felt as though he would have gone mad from boredom and worry. While he set out on a long, and likely dull, journey, she was headed directly into danger. :Stop worrying so much about me. I can feel it, you know. When you worry so much you project it.:

He smiled. How could he argue with a voice in his head? :I just feel so useless. You're going to be fighting an undefeated sorcerer of immense power. I'm going to be walking until my feet are sore. My mind is bound to focus on something.:

:I'm not going to be fighting him directly. At least, not if I can help it. That's the last thing I would want to do, and I'm hoping it won't come to that.:

He grimaced in pain; speaking through their shared link still pained him. Perhaps it always would. And it grew more difficult with the increasing distance between them. :I love you.:

A thrum of pleasure and reciprocation, felt more than heard, was her response.

He had left the northeastern edge of the forest the previous day – the name of which he had no clue; Niara hadn't known, and it was apparently several days' flight from the Plains of Ghedon, where he had nearly died – and passed into a country of rolling hills and sparse population.

She had told him that he should be coming up on a village of some sort in only a half-day's flight. Thanks for that one. I have no idea how far you can fly in half a day. He felt a flicker of amusement through the link. He didn't think she really heard all of his thoughts, mostly just those that he projected to her. But she certainly did seem to get his more emphasized feelings and emotions without his meaning to project them; and those very same feelings and emotions seemed to travel along the link without the effort that thought projecting took. Something to think on more, later.

He stopped for a moment to pull off his right sandal. “Fucking rocks. Oh how I wish I had a decent pair of boots." Standing on one foot, he shook out the sandal and had the satisfaction – dissatisfaction? – of seeing a large pebble drop out. As his balance began to waver, he managed to get his foot back into the sandal before falling over. That would be embarrassing… if only there were anyone around to see it. Where the fuck is this village?

“Is this the Sahel?" He wiped some sweat from his forehead and rubbed at the back of his neck. “I'm not that far north, am I?" Ah, I sure hope not…

More out of frustration than from any real hope of being heard, he shouted, “HELLO!? CAN ANYBODY HEAR ME?!"

There was no response other than from the few crickets and birds he had been hearing; they went silent. “Mmm, well that was a good idea. Got any others?"

“Ay, you. Trav'lur." Leon looked frantically around for the voice; it was coming from the side of one of the small hills. It looked to be a sheep herder – if the fact that he's herding sheep was anything to go by - good enough for me. “Ye lost, boy?"

This man has obviously never spent time in a city. “I am! I was beginning to think I was the last man alive, out here." And apparently with these hills I could have wandered past an army and never known.

“Yeh. Ye've the look. Foot sore an' tahred. Hain't ye any better clothes?" Leon rubbed the back of his neck again. Tarred. Ugh. Please let this man just be an exceedingly ignorant shepherd. I don't think I could take a city, or even a village, full of this.

“I'm afraid all my clothing was lost. I was robbed by a group of women bandits." He spread his hands in a gesture of futility. “They were quite insistent that I give them everything, including my clothes."

The old man was grinning now – with missing teeth – at Leon's story. “Eh heh heh. Them lassies took ery'thing now, did they? Heh. Migh' be twas worth it then, yeh?" :Save me.:

The image of Niara with a grin plastered on her face appeared in his mind. It forced an unconscious chuckle and a matching grin out of him in response. Apparently just the thing the old man was looking for, as his grin grew even broader. Ah what the hell, I might as well dive all the way in. He waved his hands in another gesture, this time encompassing his groin. “It was indeed. But after they took my seed, they left me naught but these cheap sandals, a tunic that may as well be a potato sack, and their cheapest belt."

:Mmm, someone took your seed and gave you horrible clothing.: The old man was nodding vigorously, now. “Well. Yer in luck, cause jus' up ahead ano'er mile er so is the firs' village o' the plains. Is not mine, but they's decent folk." He spit a disgusting glob of something onto the ground at his feet.

“Well, then, I thank you, kind sir, for your time. I shall be on my way, then." Leon tipped an imaginary hat at the stranger, and started walking. I hope he doesn't try to follow me.

Fortunately for Leon, the shepherd only watched him leave, and seemed content with what converse had already been had. Perhaps he prefers his sheep for conversion. They're closer to his intellect.

:Mmm, sheep.:

:Mutton stew… mutton pie… mutton, roasted over an open flame.:

:Raw works just fine, for me. Also.: He received what felt like a head-butt to the chest through the link. :Stop teasing me. I haven't eaten since that deer; I'm trying to make a good impression by not eating anyone's livestock.:

He sent an impression of contriteness, and an image of him bowing graciously. :You're right. Where are my manners? I apologize, my lady.:

As he crested yet another hill, he finally saw what he had been looking for since he left the forest: a village. Some children on the village outskirts saw him and went running out of sight. Either I'm particularly ugly, or they're getting adults.

Several women in loose and airy clothing came walking out with the children in tow. No one came out to meet him on the road; they were making it clear that they would await him from the safety of the village itself. Friendly… though I guess I can't blame them. If their husbands are all out pasturing their herds, it's probably safest to stay together.

He halted twenty feet from the nearest woman, and spread his arms out and turned a slow circle. He then made a brief gesture at his clothing with his hands. “I'm unarmed, and mean you no harm. I'm just looking for a place to rest for the night, and would greatly appreciate any food or clothing that could be spared."

The women just stood there, staring at him. Finally one of the eldest stepped forward – a fierce looking woman – and looked him over as though he were a piece of meat at the market. He stood still and did his best to keep any discomfort from showing. “Yer too perfect."

??? “Excuse me?"

“Ye ain't got no scars, nor scratches nor any sign o' having lived upon this Earth. Ye be some kin' o' devil, me thinks."

Shit. “I assure you, ma'am, I am no devil."

She sucked on her teeth. “Mmm. Jus' what a devil would say." She looked unsure of herself, just a little bit. Or so I hope. She could just always look like that. Or maybe she's constipated… 'Here, ma'am. I would offer you a bushel of prunes, that ye might better pass yer obstruction.'

:You're horrible.:

He tried to suppress his laughter, and had a choking fit instead. :You've saved me, once again.: The woman had moved up to him while he was choking, and stood nearby looking worried while he caught his breath and wiped the tears from his eyes.

“I ain't never seen no demon choke like that… Be ye alrigh'?"

Composure regained, he was able to answer. “I am, thank you. I'm just a bit tired… I've been traveling for a long time."

She beckoned, and the women came forward to converge upon him, asking questions to which he had no answers, and some to which he knew the answers only too well.

He let them lead him into their town hall, where they gave him watered down beer, some freshly cleaned – thank the gods – undergarments, and a proper tunic – still plain brown, but at least it was better than a potato sack.

* * *

She had been flying for days. And, if not for the bond link between them – which grew stronger and easier for her to use the longer they were connected – she felt sure that she would have turned around to seek out Leon out of concern that he would be unable to make the journey, having started with so little.

And it seemed that he was also concerned about her; his worry and concern were echoing with her own, giving her a headache. :Stop worrying so much about me. I can feel it, you know. When you worry so much you project it.:

His response came back a little fuzzy; he still wasn't all that good at this. :I just feel so useless. You're going to be fighting an undefeated sorcerer of immense power. I'm going to be walking until my feet are sore. My mind is bound to focus on something.:

She grimaced as she flew; the pain he felt at speaking this way was transmitting itself through the link. She needed to say something to help ease his concern. :I'm not going to be fighting him directly. At least, not if I can help it. That's the last thing I would want to do, and I'm hoping it won't come to that.:

The land she was flying over was really quite beautiful, and she could see why King Mwindo was so reluctant to join the war. I don't think I'd want to risk lands this perfect, either.

Clear as a bell, and full of the truth, :I love you.:

She felt a wave of dizziness and her heart stopped for a moment, as a wave of emotions and happiness swept through her. She let out a thrum that Leon felt through all the miles separating them.

She closed her eyes, and just flew, enjoying the feelings within her. I love you too, she thought, but didn't send; she wanted to savor the moment too much to ruin it with more words. Besides, she was sure he could tell by the feelings she was projecting.

She was nearing Nyanga Castle, the stronghold of King Mwindo, some hours later, when she felt annoyance and frustration coming through the link. She focused her attention on Leon and caught the trailing end of his thoughts, no idea how far you can fly in a day. She grinned; he thought he was lost.

Below her, soldiers dark as the night were manning the castle's ramparts, pointing at her and shouting. Someone started ringing a bell, and everyone in the city surrounding the castle seemed to be in a panic. A half grimace, half grin, found its way onto her face. Well. Here's for it. Hopefully no one dies of fright.

She landed in the central plaza of the castle, folded her wings, and sat back upon her haunches, waiting. A few arrows and spears clattered off of her shield, bouncing off of what appeared to the Nyanga – not the originals, from when I was young; strange how names persist in this land – to be nothing but air. There followed incoherent shouting, shortly replaced by silence and curious, and frightened, stares.

While she waited, she checked in on Leon, and saw him talking to some sort of shepherd. The man's language skills were atrocious, and what was Leon getting himself into now? Oh. This is going to be entertaining.

:Save me.:

She sent back her best troll face. This is so much better than texting. She tried her best to keep a grin from appearing on her in truth, and had to settle for just looking slightly happier. They would be so sure I was going to eat them, if I were to grin, or even smile. Ah, these human affectations; nothing but trouble. Oh how I love them!

And… she had to appreciate his creative twist on what had really happened to him. :Mmm, someone took your seed and gave you horrible clothing.:

Where was the king? Or a dignitary of some sort? Surely they would be sending someone out, if only to attempt to placate my hunger and send me on my way. And speaking of hunger… looking at those sheep through Leon's eyes isn't helping.

Something of her thoughts must have slipped through, because Leon started to playfully torment her with different ways of preparing mutton. She responded with a mental head-butt and an admonition.

:You're right. Where are my manners? I apologize, my lady.:

Hmph. Better. She looked around at a murmur of sound coming from the soldiers surrounding her. Those nearest the walkway to the King's private garden parted from the path, showing her her first glimpse of King Mwindo, the 12th of his name. More like 120th, but who's counting?

He was unusually tall, standing at what appeared to be six feet eight inches. He wore regal white and gold robes, and a fortune in gold jewelry. His hat looked absurd; it was too tall by half, and the red and purple of it were entirely out of place with the rest of his costume.

“Green and black, the mother bright. Small of stature, she shines with light." He stood before her, within easy biting distance. “I remember the old songs, however much they may have changed with the years. You are Niara, Queen and Mother of Dragonkind." How flattering! Someone who knows who I am!

She grinned, and felt a childish thrill of pleasure as the king took a step backwards, and his men a step forwards with spears readied. Right. Behave yourself. “I thank you, King of the Nyanga, for your recognition."

The king regained his composure as she finished speaking, and with one hand waved down his soldiers. “What manner of king would I be if I could not even properly greet an important guest? And let us dispense with any formalities. You are a queen. I am a king. Let us speak as equals." He glanced at his majordomo.

The man turned and spoke clearly and with volume, “your king requires privacy. Leave us." He turned to face his king, and bowed low. “My king," he turned to Niara, “my lady." With his formalities completed, he turned smartly and left the courtyard. The soldiers returned to their posts.

“Come, let us walk in my garden, and speak of what would bring one such as yourself to my humble abode." He held out his right elbow, as though for a lady to slip her arm through. She responded by getting to her feet and extending her left wing, resting the tip on the crook of his arm.

Walking side by side with the king, she got her first glimpse of the castle's royal gardens the way they were meant to be viewed – from the ground. They were spectacular. And they were much cooler than the courtyard had been, with deliciously cool water flowing through artificial streams, which the king graciously invited her to drink from.

“So. You have quenched your thirst. What brings you here, my lady?" He settled himself upon a stone bench as he was asking the question, so she sat herself down again upon her haunches, this time in the shade of a willow tree.

“You have heard rumors, of a conqueror to the south?" Her tone was level, but her body posture made clear that she considered the topic to be an important one.

“Rumors. Stories. Fairy tales, by the sound of them. A god of the Underworld, risen to claim the land of the living. A demon wearing the skin of a man, and slaying thousands with the wave of a hand. 'The Destroyer of Worlds,' they call him. Yes, I have heard of this conqueror, to the south." She could see that she had his interest.

“Would that the rumors were true… he might be easier to deal with, if they were." She let out a long breath, and let some of her agitation show through in body language; a slight ruffling and drooping of her wings, letting her head hang lower.

He frowned at her, and spoke with some disbelief in his voice, “you cannot possibly mean to say that things are worse than the stories make them out to be. A thousand men dead, at the wave of a hand."

“A staff, actually," she interjected.

He stood up and continued as if she hadn't interrupted, going right over her words, “and you say that things are worse than that?" He started to pace. After a moment, he paused and looked at her, and with a grimace on his face ran a hand through his beard. He started pacing again. “You can't be serious. But why would you lie? You're supposed to be a force for good, when you choose to act in any official capacity. The songs, and the stories, are quite clear on that." He stopped and looked at her again, awaiting an answer.

She gave him the full force of her gaze, hoping to impart upon him the importance and truth of her words. “He carries the Staff of Ages, and he seeks the Elements of Power; my father's staff and the Elf Stones. If you have stories that tell of me, surely you still have stories that tell of that terrible war, when last the Elements were gathered together."

It would seem that he did have such stories, as the blood visibly drained from his face, and, trembling, he sank back into his seat. His right hand drifted up to his face without any clear destination, and after a moment it went through a series of motions that had the look of ritual and prayer about them. Afterward he exhaled and rested his forehead against his hand.

“Someone I trust is seeking out my father, as we speak. I ask only that you help me in gathering a resistance. I need allies. I need a coalition of allies, even." She paused as her stomach reminded her of just how empty it was. “And food. I haven't eaten in days."

This was something he could act upon immediately, and seemed to be just the thing he needed to hear to snap him out of his despair. “Yes, you must have food. Forgive me for not thinking of it on my own; normally I would have my majordomo organize a feast for an important guest. Please accept my apologies, and allow me to see to it personally that preparations are made. You shall have a whole cow, prepared with the finest of spices. And in the meantime I shall have my majordomo send you a steward, to be yours for the duration of your stay, and to see to it that your every need is met."

The king walked off in a regal fashion, importance radiating from him with every step, leaving Niara apparently free to go where she would. An abrupt end to our meeting. But I think it went well – or as well as could be expected, at any rate. And… prunes. Really Leon? :You're horrible.: Eh, he wouldn't really say something like that to an old woman, would he? No, probably not. I'll talk to him later, when he's alone and I can tell him about my day. She looked around her, and finding a likely spot, settled down to nap and await her cow.

She dreamed of skyscrapers and cities lost to the sands of time.