Chapter 26: All We Have is Now

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Aymeri went off to war. Brys went with him, as did Tearhne, their mate. Seirian stayed, because his daughter was but a child, and someone had to care for her. It was not just his nest that was so emptied. When the dragons heard of what Aithne and her followers had been doing, many answered Aymeri's call and followed him.  Those few that remained, those with young children to guard, made temporary nests with in Aymeri's camp, living together while they waited for word from the battlefield, waited for the return of their loved ones.

It was three years of waiting, years of fear and anxiety, hope and anticipation, before the dragons came home. The dragons that still lived, that is, and few enough they were. Everyone of them that had stayed behind felt the sting of loss as they learned of the death of a loved one, many loved ones, mates, parents, brothers, children. Entire nests were lost to this war, and no nest went unscathed. 

Seirian was not the only dragon to lose a mate, far from it, and he reminds himself of that fact whenever his heart turns to self-pity. When he wonders if his healing skills could have saved her, or saved Brys, or saved any of the others who had fallen, he reminds himself that other healers were there and could not save them all. His blood brother, Tegan, was a healer, like him, and was unable to save Tearhne, though Aymeri told him he'd tried. And Tegan himself had fallen, unable to save himself.

"Seirian," Arienh calls his name, her voice a hushed whisper, her hands knitted together nervously as she kneels before him.

"Is your fever worse?" he asks, leaning forward to touch her skin and ascertain her condition. 

"It's not a fever," she says, her voice heavy in the way of one who burned too hot. Her skin under his hand was hot as a coal. But she was right, this was no fever; Seirian caught the whiff of her musk as he leaned in, and quickly backed away a few inches.

"You're fertile," he says, trying to keep an even voice, "I should have recognized it when you first came to me about feeling feverish." It should have been the first thing he thought of, except that it was far too early in her cycle. A female dragon as young as Arienh would go some ten years between fertility cycles, and as they age those cycles grow longer. But Arienh's son by Kirwyn was born barely a year before the war; she should not be fertile again for at least five years. "You should go, quickly, somewhere far from any dragons, until it passes," he advises, "You won't be safe anywhere near any male in that condition." The overpowering lust the scent of a fertile female evokes in the males is the root of all their laws, the strict controls they place on their society. Self control just isn't enough when your senses are reduced to their basest, most animalistic form. Even now, Seirian feels the beast rising in himself, and she's only just started her cycle.

"And if I don't conceive a child during this cycle, how soon before it begins again?" she asks, bridging the distance between them, moving in close to him.

"I have no idea," Seirian answers, drawing a ragged breath, inhaling her. The idea of a female not conceiving during her time was unheard of. Every female chooses her first mate before her first cycle, and bears a child during each cycle, that is just how it's always been. "You're early on this one by years, I cannot say if the next would return to normal, or be even earlier still. Our numbers are so few now, perhaps your quickened cycle is nature's way of restoring the balance."

Many nests were broken by the war, many dragons found themselves without mates. As much or as little as some of them may have mourned, dragons are creatures of tradition and habit, and little time passed before those who had lost their mates had been absorbed into other nest. Seirian had himself turned down several offers from females seeking to replenish their dwindling nests, even Tearhne's mother Dechtire, who had survived the war but lost half her nest had sought him out. Arienh, who had one mate, Kirwyn, and lost him, had made no offers at all, instead continuing to live in Aymeri's nest with her young son. None of them had considered what would happen when the unmated female started her next cycle.

"Perhaps it's time you thought about taking a mate," Seirian advises, trying to think of a likely candidate and failing.

"I have been thinking of nothing else since this morning, after you came to check on me," she answers, inching just a bit closer. 

"Me?" Seirian realizes what she's getting at. He shakes his head, and tells her what he's told every female that made him such an offer, "I am bonded to my brothers for life, mate or no mate. Aymeri is my first, and I'll have no other."

"That was how I felt about Kirwyn," Arienh sobs, falling against his chest for comfort. "And that was the only thing we ever argued about. He loved being First, but it meant nothing to him without any brothers in his nest. He wanted a powerful nest, he wanted status, and complained about being the 'first of one.' But I put off taking new mates. He'd suggest names, I'd turn them down, and we'd fight."

His skin heats from contact with hers, her scent, so close to him, is overpowering. Still, he has the strength to push her away, the will to control his animal instincts, but he doesn't need it. Through the war, they'd helped each other raise their children, spent evenings together in conversation, worried together and comforted each other. Why shouldn't she turn to him now, and what reason does he have to refuse her?

"I don't want a powerful nest full of powerful males, I just want one mate to love and rase children with. I just want you, Seirian."

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When his niece, Zamira, was mature enough to take on the responsibilities of the tribe's spirit talker, Kvornan left his home and wandered the great world. Wherever he encountered people, he taught them how to build the stone circles, how to align them properly so the shadows would mark the seasons, solstices and equinoxes.

He'd tell them stories of his tribe, and of his mother, who had been beloved of the chief of the fair folk, and bore him a daughter. 

And most of all, wherever he went, he asked of Jennail, of House Tricou, but none he spoke to had ever heard either name, or heard of such a girl.

For years he wandered, spreading his knowledge, but never finding what he sought. Finally, when he was old and gray, he returned back to the land of his birth, hoping to see his sister and her children one more time before he passed. If Kairi still lives, he thinks, laying down in the grass just a few miles from the first stone circle, the one he erected above his parents' tomb, the tomb he will soon enough be buried in.

The time is now, he realizes, and just as he never found Jennail, he'll never make it back to his village.

"Kvornan, wake up," Evenfall says, brushing a gentle hand over his forehead, "Please."

"Evie?" Kvornan asked, surprised by the sights that greet his open eyes, "Have you come to see me to the spirit world?"

Evenfall nods, her grief taking her voice. She had let her discomfort and fear of mortality rob her of her final moments with her mother, and Kvornan is all that's left of her mortal life. She will not let him go on his final journey unattended.

"I made a promise to your mother, to help you. I have failed her," Auberon says grimly, joining his daughter by Kvornan's side, "You have done all that I cold have asked for and more, spreading your mother's name and story throughout the land, and I have done nothing that was any help to your quest."

"I never asked for you help," Kvornan says with a weak smile, "It may be that Jennail never existed in this world at all, and there was nothing you or I could do to find her in it.."

"My vow was made to Uvie, and only she can absolve me of it."

"Father," Evie chides gently, "Now is not the time."

"All we have is now," Auberon insists, deaf to his daughter's meaning.

"All I have is now," Kvornan laughs hoarsely, "You have forever."

Feeling his last breath on him, Kvornan squeezes his sister's hand, "Thank you for coming to see me, for saying goodbye. When I'm gone, bring me to the circle, so the people can lay me down with my parents."

Evenfall turns away as the life leaves her brother's body, so she does not notice what her father does.

Auberon stretches out his hands, summoning Kvornan's spirit to him before it flees.

"You will have forever, this I promise," he says as he compresses the spirit into solid form.

"What is that?" Uvie gasps as her father hands her the glowing jewel. But even as she asks, she knows, feeling Kvornan's life emanating from it. "What have you done?"

"I've bound his spirit to this stone," Auberon answers her, as though it were not perfectly obvious.

"Why would you do such a thing?" Evie asks, "The mortals believe their spirits move on to another realm when they die. Now he's trapped here."

"We still may yet fulfill his mission, find this girl he's spent his life seeking," Auberon explains.

"And how long will we wait before you accept that it's not going to happen, and let him go?" Evie demands.

"I would never give up," Auberon admits, "And that's why I'm putting his fate in your hands, Evie. You may release him as you see fit. Tonight, even, if you believe that is what he'd want."

Auberon places the jewel in her hands, and leaves her alone.

 Evenfall brings his body to the circle of stones, laying him in the center, as he asked. She cries softly as she keeps vigil overnight, watching that predators do not disturb him. Several times, she draws the jewel from her pocket, meaning to crush it and free his spirit, to go wherever mortals believe they go. But each time, she puts it back unharmed, unable to do it, unable to let go. When the sun peeks over the horizon, Evenfall departs, leaving him for the tribe to discover and make their rites over.

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This is the last chapter in the pre-historic period. Next chapter will bring us to the Middle Ages.

And, gosh, I'm sorry these last three chapters have been a parade of funerals.