Rising Ch. 11

"Sell them well," Methaniel advised. He walked out of the trading post with heavy steps.

"Are we ready, Ma…um, Merie?" Ahma greeted. Methaniel was too lost in thought to notice her slip.

"Yes," he nodded. He helped Ahma up onto Lanion's back and walked them toward the city gates.

The Wingling girl glanced down at the sack still clutched in his hand. "What's that?"

Methaniel handed her the sack. She gasped in surprise as she glanced inside. "H-how did you get this much coin?"

"I had a few rare odds and ends from the furs and pelts we gathered. The Merchant inside was a poor bargainer," he lied.

Ahma sensed he left something unsaid, but respected his silence. She stowed the money in their packs and watched her tense Master thoughtfully as they left the city.

***

Methaniel chewed the freshly roasted venison as he stared into the fire. Ahma was cuddled close to his side, her wing drifting lazily back and forth as she lounged against him. He smiled down at her as her feathers brushed his side. She had changed out of the hated dress and into one of her tunics and trousers almost two hours ago so that she could practice her swordsmanship while he hunted. He had hunted well, bringing down a fine buck for their dinner, and early enough to return and supervise the majority of her practicing while he skinned his kill.

It had been a long day of hard traveling. Perhaps he had been trying to push them forward along their journey. Or maybe he had been trying to put distance between himself and his actions at the outpost. Either way, he had moved at a pace far more ambitious than on their journey to Fernum. Ahma hadn't once complained, nor did she question his insistence that they keep on the move. He realized now his mood had been sour for most of the day. Despite this, Ahma had kept a cheerful attitude while allowing him the silence he needed to put his ill feelings to rest. Her presence had been comforting even though they did little talking.

His arm tightened around her and he took another bite from his food before setting it aside and turning his attention fully upon her.

"How do you feel?" he asked, gently caressing her shoulder as he gazed down upon the Wingling girl. She smiled wearily back at him, her face content as she nuzzled into him.

"A bit sore, Master, but ok."

"You did well today Ahma," Methaniel replied, giving her a gentle squeeze of encouragement. "I set a hard pace and you had no problem keeping up."

"We rode Lanion for most of the day, Master," Ahma pointed out with a smile.

"True," Methaniel chuckled. "But you still did well. After we stopped for the evening you pleased me with your efforts at training. I'm glad we bought you those trousers so you can finally practice footwork and maneuvering without that dress hampering you."

Ahma beamed at the praise he gave her. She hugged him tightly, pressing her face to his side. "Thank you, Master Merie. I'll try my best to live up to your expectations."

"You'll do fine," he assured her. "Just keep working hard."

Lanion wandered into the circle of firelight and snorted expectantly. Methaniel grabbed a dried carrot and tossed it his way. The warhorse neighed and crunched at his treat. Ahma laughed softly.

"I figured I should try to make up with him after keeping him cooped up for so long," Methaniel explained. "Carrots are one of his favorites."

She nodded and sat up slightly, but still within his circling arm. "How long will it take to reach the Library, do you think?" While she looked forward to the possibility of reading some interesting books, she was enjoying her time alone out in the wilderness with her beloved Master. And part of her was afraid of the possible prejudice she might encounter at the Library.

"It will be some time," he replied with a light shrug of his massive shoulders. "A few weeks or so, depending on the lay of the land. We could probably make it in less time if we pressed Lanion hard, but I've pushed him enough for most of this journey, and I'd rather avoid getting him agitated at me."

Ahma giggled and nodded.

Methaniel smiled softly down at her. "I can show you the map, if you like."

Ahma smiled and nodded. "I'd like that. I've always wanted to see a map of the lands outside of Durinum, but your father was more interested in literature and history than geography."

Methaniel fished out the two maps he'd received in Fernum and spread them out along the ground, careful not to get them too close to the fire.

"This is a map of the Continent," he said, pointing to the map on the left, "And this is a map of the area surrounding Rajinla."

Ahma scooted closer to him and carefully followed his explanation.

Methaniel pointed out the lay of the land on the continental map first, outlining territories and kingdoms. The Kingdom of Durinum was nestled in the northmost charted land on the continent, deep in the North Mountains. Its territory encompassed nearly all the habitable land in the mountains. Most of the Kingdom's settlements fell in the enormous plateau in the heart of the massive mountain chain, with the capitol city settled in the direct center of the plateau. The mountains extended far to the north, onward beyond any known settlement and into uncharted land. They swept to the east till they reached the great and stormy oceans, and a short outcropping of craggy peaks extended west until they ended in heavily forested lands. Two passageways led in and out of Durinum territory and the mountains themselves, the heavily traveled southern valleys and roads, and the deadly and abandoned eastern route they'd used to flee from their hunters.

The City-States of Rojinla was the nearest nation, situated mostly in the lands east of the North Mountains. Their lands wrapped around the foot of the mountains, their territory expanding ever closer toward the single Durinum city outside of the mountains themselves, the trade city of Gilea, settled at the mouth of the southern road leading into the heart of the North Mountains.

To the west lay the Naemer lands nestled deep in the wild forests beyond the west reaches of the mountains.

"Not much is known about these lands," Methaniel explained as he tapped the roughly traced outline of the Naemer forest borders. "Even before the war started the Naemer disliked outsiders and rarely allowed them into their forests. To them, their lands are sacred, like a living being. They don't believe non-Naemer will show their people or their land the proper respect. They say we defile the land. Now that the war is on, they've closed their borders completely. To step into their forests means death."

"It looks like their territory is much smaller than Durinum's," Ahma commented.

"It is," Methaniel nodded. "Even though our people are scattered about the mountains, their land and population aren't half what ours are."

Ahma's brow furrowed. "Why is the war taking so long, then? Couldn't Durinum just storm them by force?"

"I wish it were so," Methaniel shook his head. "To take the fight into their forests would be suicide. They use the land to their advantage, striking from the woods shadows and the vantage of the trees. The Naemer's greatest strength is their craftiness, their resourcefulness. They wield ambush as a weapon that would cut our armies to ribbons."

"Couldn't we set their forest on fire?"

"We've tried," he replied. "Every time, they use strange magic's to call down torrents of rain to extinguish the flames. Our own mages can't make the rains stop, so fire gives us nothing in the way of advantage. No, fighting them in their own land is futile. The best we can do is to draw them into the open. They're still dangerous, and it drags the war on, but it takes away their biggest strength."

The center of the continent was a flat, sweeping prairie land consisting of neutral nations uninvolved in the war. The plains were sparsely settled by small kingdoms and townships that kept to their own affairs. The Kingdom of Shalea held the largest territory in the Middle Lands, and was home to some of the most talented known Human artisans and craftsmen of goods, ranging from household treasures and valuables to great architects of buildings and temples whose splendor was said to be the pinnacle of Human skill.

West of the Middle Lands were the hilly regions belonging to the Dwarves, the great miners and metal workers of the Demi-Human races. They bore into the hills with gleeful purpose, harvesting a rich trove of pure and high quality ore they used to construct their heavily fortified Kingdoms. While they separated the hills and lands extending west from the Middle Lands all the way to the sea into independent Kingdoms and settlements, there was a solid brotherhood among the Dwarven people. The Kingdoms worked closely together, offering support and aid in times of need. It was said a Dwarven nation's back was never against the wall because its neighbors were always standing behind it with axe in hand.

To the southeast of the Middle Lands were the deep, dense jungles of the Nether Woods, expanding over the miles of unsettled land leading up to the Oria Mountains. These jungles had seen little exploration; there was simply nothing there but wild, untamed life. The great river Talin spawned from the Oria mountains, cutting just south of the Middle Lands and flowing to the western sea, cutting the continent in half. Its many tributaries branched out wildly all across the land, reaching as far north as the Northern Mountains.

South beyond the Talin stretched a vast wasteland, extending for leagues, ranging in severity from habitable drylands to scorching deserts that were nearly lifeless and devoid of water.

"Does anyone live in such lands?" Ahma asked softly.

Methaniel nodded. "The Fenrehr hail from those deserts and wastelands."

"They do?" Ahma's brows rose. She had never known much about Fenrehr, though some had lived in the Manor. They themselves had no knowledge of their people, however, having grown up on Durinum streets.

"Yes," Methaniel continued, "Most of them are nomads, roaming and hunting in small groups. Their ways are different than the ways of the Fenrehr who live in cities, from what I've read. They follow the ways of their hunting cat cousins. Some, however, have build settlements. The biggest that we have in our records is the city-settlement Timaneous at the foot of a great oasis lake of the same name. The city is built around Lake Timaneous and the rich life surrounding it. It's one of the only places where any society could possibly thrive in such a harsh land."

Methaniel continued his explanation, showing her where the desert lands faded away further south and began a short stretch of verdant greenlands leading up to the Syren Sea to the south.

"The Elvish people make their home here, right?" Ahma asked, tapping the map where the sea began.

"Yes," Methaniel smiled. "The great sea-fairing folk. Though they established Wave-Ridge Port along South Fahn Coast, they see more time on their boats than they do on land. Their race is few and almost all of them spend their long lives riding the waves of the Syren Sea. Probably why we so rarely see them this far north."

"I've often wondered at that," Ahma murmured.

"Hmm?" Methaniel asked.

"The Elves are boatmen and women, right?" Ahma replied. "But your father said Durinum was founded on old Elven ruins and that a lot of our architecture was inspired by those ruins. Why would sea folk make buildings? That seems more a Dwarf's business. And why in the Northern Mountains?"

Methaniel smiled softly and reached out to squeeze her hand. "A very perceptive question, dear Ahma. The best I can tell you is…we don't know. The ruins were ancient even when Durinum was first founded. Now, even more of our understanding of them have been lost. Many say Elves harnessed strange magic's that were tied to their temples and places of worship. Perhaps that had something to do with the old ruins. Beyond that, I've no idea."

Ahma nodded and glanced at the map again. She pointed at a cluster of small dots off the southeast coast of the continent. "And these?"

"The Mata Isle chain," Methaniel nodded.

"Ah," Ahma smiled. "They've powerful medicine, don't they?"

"Indeed," Methaniel replied.

"Where are we now?" she asked.

Methaniel grabbed the map of the Rojinla region and held it before them, showing her the Route they'd taken since arriving in Rojinla territory, first moving into Sefar and then south to Fernum. He pointed out Vetru, the city northeast of Fernum they'd initially planned on visiting before Methaniel changed their destination to the Cerlothlor Library.

"The Airbend Plains are a week or so south of here, a few miles northwest of the northmost reaches of the Oria Mountains and northeast of the Middle Lands. Aside from the Library and a few farming communities the Plains are mostly empty.

"Here's the Bordin Road," he tapped the major road leading south from Fernum. It forked a few miles into the Airbend Plains, with the east branch leading to the Cerlothlor Library.

"And this is the route we're taking," he continued, tapping a second marked route.

The path followed close to the main road for several miles, just as they'd been doing, before breaking off to the east. It circumvented the winding, roundabout way the main road took, instead moving straight through the wooded land outside of the plains. Once inside the Airbend Plains, it cut east around a mile or so of dangerously rough terrain before looping back west toward the road, cutting through a farming settlement, and then along a short valley before reaching the Library. Though the journey would be more arduous, this route would shave almost a week off their trip that the main road would have added.

"Are we using this route to save time?" Ahma asked.

"No," Methaniel replied, "It's a nice added bonus, but we're mostly using it because it's discrete. See, we avoid having to cross the main road of any point this way, and almost all other major footpaths as well. I don't think our pursuers would anticipate us going to the Cerlothlor Library, but it's better for us to be extra cautious."

Ahma nodded and settled closer into him. "I hope we find what we're looking for."

"Me too," Methaniel agreed. He put the maps back into his pack and leaned back, draping one arm over his companion's shoulder.

"I'm cold," Ahma stated.

He smiled softly and pulled her closer as he glanced down at her. His eyes slid over her lovely face. Her big round eyes shone in the firelight, and her hair was a great shroud of delicate brown silk. The nobleman ran his fingers through it, finding the rich locks just as marvelous and wonderful as he had the first time he had touched it.

The Wingling sighed her pleasure and arched her head into his caressing hand, her smile softening as she enjoyed his attention. She was perfection, the most beautiful and lovely woman he had ever met, Methaniel thought. She was kind, gentle, and generous of heart. Intelligent. Spirited. Lustful…

His lips lowered to hers. Ahma released a soft whimper. Her wings went loosely around his body, caressing, lightly sliding against his skin, each soft, fine feather imparting an intimate caress. Methaniel's arms tightened around her, his muscles rippling and bunching against her skin. He tasted her lips. Lightly caressing, his hands massaged her sides and back.

Their kiss deepened slowly, easily, no pressing consuming need descending upon them. Not yet. For the moment, they simply enjoyed one another, their lips parting to deepen the kiss and share in the intimate moment. It was an enjoyable, peaceful moment for him. He savored the moment; the Wingling had captivated him, utterly and surely, with her body, with her charms, with her wit, with her gentle heart, with her fresh and vibrant spirit.

Ahma trembled in his arms, and he could somehow tell by the fluttering of her wings that she was caught in that instinctual place between lust and contentment, between want and tenderness. He was there with her. It was a sweet thing, and while they had certainly shared emotions and feelings and depth beyond just physical want and lusting in their sessions together, it had not yet been this deep. This was far more than the physical expression of desires they'd experienced thus far.

A part of Methaniel hesitated. He was, and had ever been, a practical man. A man of strategies and battles, a man driven by the need to defend all those dear to him, to fight for what was right, for justice, for honor. He had never let himself consider the world of love. Even as a lad entering into his adolescence, he had told himself that love was beyond him. He was bound by duty and honor, as well as by violence and blood. And by loss. Part of him was afraid that he was not the kind of man who could love properly. And he hated that.

But the fear, the hesitation, shattered as Ahma pulled back and gazed up at him with her great doe pools of brown and smiled at him softly. Tenderly. Lovingly.

Methaniel bent to kiss her again, now more passionate. Their souls touched through that kiss, and he couldn't be sure, but he fancied Ahma felt it too. His hands brushed her cheeks, and he felt tears upon them.

His heart swelled. His chest felt tight. A rushing feeling of giddiness he could hardly contain swept over him. Her presence pulled at his heart. His arms tightened about her, possessively.

His body felt incredibly heated. He was consumed, though whether it was by desire or by an aching need to be close to her, he couldn't be sure. Perhaps by both. Perhaps they were the same. He pulled back slowly, breathing deeply, feeling his entire body radiating heat as he gazed down at Ahma. She pressed to him tighter than ever before, drawn to his heat and the same pull at her soul that tugged on his. And in that moment, Methaniel realized fully, as perhaps he had known yet not recognized from the very beginning, that he held the missing half of his cold and lonely soul in his arms.

Ahma pressed her body against her Master, feeling his bodyheat radiating over her, warming her in the cold night. She stared up into his eyes searchingly. The mix of emotions there made her giddy. She wanted to be closer to him, as close as she possibly could be.

Methaniel wordlessly hugged her close, his hands caressing her back in a sensual touch. As he kissed her she felt more than the usual rush his touch caused. An intense emotion came over her, an overpowering sense of want, need, and love. She felt certain this must be the feeling of completion her Mother had spoken of…the completion of the soul when Winglings finds their Mate. This was why Winglings Mate for life, Ahma thought. Because to do otherwise would be like ripping your very soul in half after it had finally become whole.

She hadn't told the Master just how important and significant their joining was to her…she knew it was different to Humans. He had said before that he loved her…but Humans sometimes said such things without a care, she knew. And even if he did love her, it may not be so deep and significant a thing as it was to her. Could he be feeling the same closeness and rapturous joy that he inspired in her? Could she be so lucky?

Ahma shook the question aside, telling herself to be patient. Master Merie had expressed a deep affection for her, there was no denying that. She knew now he would stay with her and protect her. She wouldn't be cast aside; he wouldn't do such a thing to her. Beyond this, she would have to bide her time and hope for the best.

Methaniel touched her cheek, brushing aside a fallen strand of chestnut silk. "Are you ready for bed?"

"Yes, Master," she nodded.

Ahma rose and kissed her Master, then began to lay out their blankets on a bed of moss under the large oak tree they'd sought shelter under. Methaniel came to her side as she finished. His hand reached down and lightly caressed her backside. Ahma blushed softly and bit her lower lip, enjoying the attention.