The Souls of Wyrmkin Ch. 02

This is a continuation from Chapter One, which is heavily filled with plot. I recommend starting at the beginning. Some elements of the story's "history" are loosely based on a book series by Elizabeth Hayden.

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IXCHOL

Ixchol waited through the night, his dragon senses making note of every breath, every slight stirring of Amaria's body in his bed. He noted that she slept fitfully and seemed to be dreaming. His thoughts darkened as he considered that she might be having nightmares about him. Softly he cursed in the language of his kind, a vile profanity that was comprised mostly of clicks and glottal stops impossible to pronounce with human physiology. Though it had only been a day and night, the longer Amaria ignored him the further he sank into his musings. He sat perfectly still through the long, quiet hours of the night, turning the problem over and over again in his mind.

When Amaria emerged from the bedroom some time after sunrise, Ixchol was startled from his thoughts. How did I not sense her awakening and moving about in her room? he thought to himself. Had he really been so deep in thought that his dragon senses had been taken by surprise?

"Hello," he greeted her gently, using much the same tone a herdsman uses to calm his horses or cattle. She simply sat down at the table and stared at him woodenly. Perplexed, Ixchol simply waited, and a few long moments passed in tense silence.

"What oath?" Amaria suddenly asked, once again catching the Wyrm by surprise.

Recovering his equilibrium quickly, Ixchol clarified, "The oath I said you would swear by morning on the day we met?" He had tried not to directly mention their sexual encounter, but still saw a shadow of the memory flit across her face. He silently cursed himself again. This Treasure was rare and beautiful, with the fire of intelligence in her eyes and the melodic vibrations of her musical soul emanating from her. He'd had enough time to realize the gravity of his error. Wyrmkin may be stubborn, but they are far from stupid.

Amaria simply nodded and continued to stare impassively at him. His dragon sense detected only a vague curiosity overladen with a frightening sense of apathy. He had many restitutions to make to this beautiful creature. For what was probably the first time in his very long life, Ixchol felt a deep regret. He wasn't even sure how to deal with the emotion, so he tried to push it down and ignore it, focusing instead on her direct question.

"Well, Treasure," Ixchol began, hesitating as he tried to decide how to explain, "Normally, I would have used the, er, circumstances of our first encounter to compel you to swear an oath to me." As Ixchol spoke, the words began to come faster, as if he needed to get it out in a rush. "When a Wyrmkin takes his mate, it is imperative that the mate does not leave him before their progeny is born. It is customary to Bind one's mate right away to ensure the continuation of the bloodline, and the inheritance of a soul. I have decided not to Bind you."

For the fist time since he forced himself upon her, Ixchol saw a true spark of curiosity flare in her eyes. Surprised, he expected the shift to be quickly replaced by apathy, but instead he could almost see her mind beginning to form more questions. He felt the chemicals in her blood realign slightly and suddenly another part of who Amaria is, clicked into place. She had called herself a Loremistress and Ixchol had dismissed the unfamiliar term, assuming she was a village herbwoman, healer, or story-teller. He briefly reconsidered the musical vibrations he always felt in her presence and began to wonder if she might be a Namer. Perhaps this "Loremistress" is the term currently used by the humans, or perhaps they didn't know what to call her or what she truly was. He filed this information away for later.

"I can sense you already have questions, Amaria. I will tell you only the truth as I know it. Ask"

AMARIA

That final word, Ask, vibrated through her, alive with Ixchol's power. She sat another moment considering her words. "I do not even know enough to know what questions to ask. I want to understand the complete mating process of your species, and I want to know what you mean about 'inheriting a soul'. You told me that our mating could break my mind. I believe I have a right to know what is coming."

Ixchol briefly nodded, staring past her with a distant look. She could tell he was trying to choose his words with care and wondered why he felt the need to bother. When Ixchol finally began to speak, she heard his voice in her ear but also felt his power pressing against her with his words. He had adopted a sonorous intonation and spoke with the authority of one who is conveying an unadulterated history. She knew that tone like she knew her own name, and she felt all the hairs on her arms stand at once. He was invoking the talent of True Speaking, and it was all Amaria could do to suppress her shock and focus on the creature's words.

IXCHOL

Eons ago, when the world was young, an Ancient Race was born of each of the four primordial elements. First, from the element of Fire, the Fotia Huo were born. In the moment of creation, they fashioned within themselves a core of elemental power that would allow their essence to pass beyond the Veil into the afterlife, and thus they became the first, and eldest, Ancient Race.

From the element of Wind were born the Aer Zrak. From their elder race, they too learned how to make a core of elemental power to carry their essence beyond the Veil, and thus they became the second Ancient Race.

The element of Water gave birth to the Vellam, who imitated their older brethren, creating a similar core of elemental power, and thus they became the third Ancient Race.

Last of all, from that final element of Earth, were born the Ejdeha Draak. Those creatures you know as Dragons, or Wyrms.

Each Primordial Race was strongly influenced by the character of that element from whence they were born, but none more so than the Fotia Huo. They were seductive, hypnotic, and incredibly destructive. Like their parent Fire, they were driven to consume all in their path and before the final race was even born, the Fotia began to make war. They razed settlements, not caring for treasures or natural resources. They invaded only to kill and to capture, creating the first bastard races from their acts of rape. These bastard races, over a few thousand years, combined and became your race; the human race. Yours is an amalgamation of all four elements.

The Ejedha Draak were faced with a choice upon their elemental birth. They knew the Fotia Huo had been the first race, and the first to fashion the "elemental core" that would allow them passage into the afterlife. The Ejedha Draak believed this concentrated core, or "soul," was the trait that ultimately gave rise to the Fotia's destructive ways. The other Primordial Races had imitated them, and now all three were at war with one another. The Ejedha Draak chose not to make what they perceived as the same mistake. Instead, they diffused this elemental power into their bodies to imbue themselves with a longevity that bordered on immortality. Their hope, as the race born of the steadiest, most constant element, was to act as peacekeepers and historians to shepherd the other races through the ages.

They soon learned just how grave an error they had made. When the great War finally broke upon their shores, the ancient dragons first learned the profound finality of death. They realized that their decision meant they could never pass beyond the Veil and they were filled with an existential dread. If the Fotia should ultimately be victorious over the other races, their kind would face extinction, not even leaving their last vestiges in the realm of the spirits.

For thousands of years the race of Dragons struggled to survive. Their fear of death slowly changed them, and some became as destructive as their sister races. The Fotia had developed increasingly brutal tactics, and the Ejedha females were being targeted and killed at an alarming rate. The Dragons' fear of extinction was becoming a reality and, in their desperation, the elders withdrew to seclusion and began working on the riddle of imbuing the Dragon race with souls.

Those who know how the solution was found are long-since dead, their essence returned to the earth from which they arose. But the solution was, indeed, found. If a dragon male Mated with a human female, the offspring, the Wyrmkin, would inherit the Lore of the Ejedha Draak, and would be imbued with a precious Soul by his human mother. They also found, much to their surprise, that the Wyrmkin had the ability to manipulate all four elements and could even change their form to appear either humanoid or draconian. The discovery rendered the almost extinct female population redundant, and they died out. No one knows whether it is through magic or through evolution, but a Wyrmkin child will always be male.

It is safe to assume that now, millennia later, the true race of Ejedha Draak are all long dead. Two other Primordial Races still exist in some form, but the survivors chose to return to commune with their elements; the Vellam returned to the deep seas and the Aer Zrak drift on the wind in the uninhabited lands. The Fotia Huo eventually burned themselves out, as all fires do. Only the bastard races of Human and Wyrmkin have survived the slow march of time.

AMARIA

As Ixchol finished speaking and the last tones of his voice slowly faded from the room, Amaria realized she had been holding her breath. The ancient history Ixchol had just described only vaguely resembled the history she had been taught in her village and throughout her studies, but she knew implicitly that this history must be true. Even had he not been invoking the ability of True Speaking, Amaria would not have doubted him.

She had so many questions, but one big question had been answered. Ixchol intended to procreate with her to ensure his progeny would have a soul, and because there are no females of his race. Somehow this information softened her anger towards him, if only a little. She could understand why he had coerced her village and taken her unwillingly. She absolutely did not like it, but the analytical part of her mind understood that he was simply doing what all of his kind had done for generations. What interested her the most was that Ixchol seemed to be attempting to follow a new path. She remembered when he had visited her in her room, in her depressed stupor, and had wistfully mentioned something about "stories." She carefully formed her question and took a deep breath.

"You said that the final weeks of our reproduction would break my mind if I do not learn to 'enjoy' this mating process." Her voice faltered and she swallowed hard before continuing, "What does our reproduction fully...entail?" She dreaded the answer, but she knew she had to understand what was in store for her.

Ixchol had the grace to look uncomfortable, but he looked into her eyes and she felt as though he was looking into her soul. "You know I have captured one of your eggs to be inseminated inside my body." Amaria gave a short nod, not trusting her voice. "In nine weeks, the egg will have grown in size and developed a tough outer shell. My anatomy is designed to transfer the egg back into your womb. This will be very unpleasant for you if I am not able to prepare you properly first. Once in your womb, the tough shell will soften and create something similar to a human placenta, providing nutrients for our son." The word 'son' shocked Amaria, somehow making her situation feel more immediate. "Ultimately, when the child is fully developed, you will go into labor. Your labor could last for hours or days, and will feel exactly the same as it would for any other human female, by all accounts. However, the actual birth will be somewhat, er, unorthodox."

The way Ixchol paused and shifted in his seat made Amaria feel cold. She knew she wasn't going to like what he said next.

"The hatchling has certain instincts." Amaria could tell from his tone that Ixchol was trying to state the facts without frightening her. "The Wyrmkin hatchling's instinct is to claw his way free of his shell. The process is quite painful. Much as I am able to shield your body from physical harm when we mate, I am able to protect your body during the birth. The pain, however, is far greater than our mating, far greater than any human birth could ever be, and from that I cannot shield you."

Amaria felt herself go numb. She had never fainted before but felt dangerously close to doing so now. She wanted to flee, to scream, to hide, to curl into a ball and never have to think again.

"I know that you have much to consider, Treasure. But there are stories. Fables, or so we believed, about Wyrmkin who loved their mates and who were loved deeply by them in return; of Dragon Mates who willingly reproduced with a full understanding of the great personal cost. The stories say: In the moment of emergence, Love will protect the mind and shield the body. It is said that these Mates could survive the birth with their minds' intact because their union was undertaken willingly, and with love. This is the fate that I would choose for you, if you are willing to try. I do not know if the stories are true, but there is something about you, Treasure, that makes me believe it may be possible."

The silence stretched from moments into minutes, and Ixchol simply stared at her. Everything Ixchol had told her in the last hour was rattling around like a deafening maelstrom. She felt as though she would be carried away by it. But one thought began to slowly chime and cut its way through the din of the others. This is your only chance.

IXCHOL

"Okay," Amaria whispered. The word was so soft he would've doubted she had even spoken if he'd had normal senses. He felt every muscle in his body tense, and he involuntarily leaned toward her slightly. She took note of his movement and raised her eyes to meet his, and he watched her face transform. He wondered what she must see in his visage to make her eyes soften that way, and she smiled a slight, involuntary smile. Just an upward turn of her lips, but enough to register to his Dragon Senses.

The expression tugged at his heart, and suddenly a new concern was beginning to take root. Another reason Wyrmkin mate as they do, with brutality and unconcern, is because human females do not enjoy the same incredibly extended lifespans. Her lifetime was a small blip in the timeline of his life. The chance that he might one day know her well enough to intuit her Namesong was incredibly slim, and the prospect of watching his beloved Treasure grow old and pass through the Veil was already painful to consider. How much moreso if he came to truly love her?

"Well, then, Treasure. With your permission, I thought you would first like to see your collection of instruments." Her face was suddenly alight with genuine excitement, and he felt another surge of hope.

For several weeks, Ixchol courted her as a lover would, to the best of his limited abilities. He learned what foods she enjoyed and either cooked for her himself or purchased meals from nearby villages. He had sworn to her that he acquired her food without the cruelty and threats he was accustomed to, and fulfilling that promise was proving to be an interesting and informative experience. His wealth had always been something to horde, and he was unfamiliar with the practical usage of currency. It also didn't help that many of his coins were minted with faces no one living would ever even learn about. He took the opportunities while traveling to take his natural form and stretch his wings. In her presence he always maintained his humanoid form.

He had gifted her his entire collection of pristine and priceless instruments, most of which he had only collected because of their value. He was pleased to have a true use for them now and grateful for whatever fate had let him to their specific procurement. His Treasure was unendingly delighted by the variety and rarity of his instruments and spent hours playing the familiar ones and learning the unfamiliar. The more he listened to her music, and the inherent vibration she emitted, the more he was convinced that she was indeed a Namer, and the more he learned about her spirit.

His cave system within the mountain range was vast, and he had amassed all sorts of eclectic collections from books to paintings to fine gowns. Some revelations elicited an almost childlike excitement from Amaria, while others (like his collection of singed and bloodied armor) caused her to turn her mouth down in distaste. Ixchol quickly learned what displeased her and avoided showing her his more questionable collections.

She seemed to enjoy spending time with him, and once the first few days had passed without him making any advances, she had begun to relax. He found that he was hypnotized by her. When she played for him, his every last sense was focused on her. His more human mind would watch the grace of her neck and the flow of her shoulders as she played, while the Dragon was fixated on every motion of her graceful fingers, every unerring note that she expertly drew from these objects that had sat, unused for so many centuries. He marveled at the expression on her face as she lost herself in the music.

And he found that he was losing himself in her.

AMARIA

"How about I try my hand at dinner tonight," she quipped, as Ixchol manipulated the water in the lake to bring them back home. "As much as I've enjoyed you catering to me, I really did quite enjoy cooking from time to time. If I'm not mistaken we have the ingredients I need to make a really nice venison stew." Ixchol wrinkled his nose a little, and Amaria stifled a giggle. His face, which had once been so alien and aloof, had slowly become more animated. He seemed to be learning and emulating her human expressions, and it seemed to be happening almost unconsciously now. She knew he didn't care very much for cooked meat, preferring to eat fresh from a kill. She didn't ask how he ate when he was away, but she refused to watch him eat raw meat at mealtimes. She shot him a look, and he rolled his eyes in resignation. Another human expression which made her smile.

When they returned to the cottage, Amaria began gathering pans, dishes, and utensils. Ixchol wordlessly started the fire in the hearth, and they moved around each other in the comfortable silence of weeks of habit. Amaria was surprised to notice that it felt natural, their shared tasks in this place she now called home. She noticed that they moved around each other almost effortlessly and wondered whether this was familiarity or another nuance of Ixchol's Dragon Sense. Once she had everything laid out, she made her way out back to retrieve her ingredients from the cellar.

IXCHOL

As he watched her leave, Ixchol was fixated on her graceful movements and the sway of her hips, the way the light shimmered across her hair as she walked. He had lusted after her for weeks now, becoming more and more mesmerized by her with each passing hour. When the door shut behind her he sprang into action, suddenly sure that he couldn't wait much longer without making love to his Treasure. Perhaps tonight he could show her that there could be pleasure without the pain. He knew he only had a few more weeks to physically prepare her to receive their egg but he was hesitant to frighten her away with the prospect of intimacy. He would have to be very careful.

With the alacrity that can only be accomplished with a mastery of the elements, Ixchol lashed out with his power in several directions at once. Within moments he had fresh flowers from the garden in a vase on the table, candles lit, and had even used Air to summon a chilled bottle of Khamri wine from the floating box outside in the underground lake.