The Dragon's Lover (20 page)

They now stood at the base of the great cliffs they
had descended and a twisted dark jungle unfolded before them. The
mist was even heavier at this depth and they could not see very far
into the forbidding foliage. Raine waved her hand through the
heavy, smoky air.

“The creatures of the Veil live in an either/or
state, or sometimes a neither/nor state. This makes it very
difficult for them to pass into our realm, and even more difficult
for them to stay. This is a good thing, because otherwise our world
would be overrun by Reaper Shards. Or worse.”

“Worse?” Lorifal said uneasily.

“Yes,” Raine said, “worse. Unfortunately the Veil is
filled with such monsters. I have a feeling that our progress is
being monitored, which probably means the decision has been made to
leave our fate to them.” She glanced around her. “We should move
forward.”

The jungle was a sight. It did not seem to be any
type of normal vegetation but squirmed and writhed as if a
many-tentacled beast. The colors were unnatural, brownish reds,
blackish greens, oddly fluorescent blues. Unseen things scuttled
about in the underbrush and everyone kept a hand on the hilt of
their sword or staff. Raine had Elyara enchant one of her swords
just in case, carefully placing it in a position where she could
draw it with her wrapped hand.

They came across water, but it was brackish and foul,
smelling of sulfur. Lorifal experimentally dropped a stone into one
pond. The water was so thick, the stone floated for a moment, then
instead of sinking, slowly dissolved in the acidic liquid.

“Guess we won't be drinking that,” he said.

“'Tis probably no worse than what you carry in your
flask,” Feyden commented, and they moved on.

Raine was trying to remember how long it had taken
her to make her way through the Veil. It had been but a few days,
but she had met little resistance because no one and no thing knew
that she was there. This time, something very big knew they were
coming.

They came across a small clearing and decided to rest
for a short time. It would not help to arrive at the Gate in an
exhausted state. Gunnar volunteered for first watch and Raine, who
had slept little in days, thought she would take a short nap. She
was in a hyper-vigilant state and did not think she would sleep at
all, so she was pleasantly surprised when she felt herself dozing
off.

“Raine!”

The furious whisper woke her instantly. Instinct
would normally have had her reaching for her sword, but perhaps it
was that same instinct that in this case caused her to freeze. Her
body felt very cold and that was a very bad sign. As slowly as
possible, she turned her head in Gunnar's direction, responding to
his furtive, panicked call.

At first glance it appeared he was covered by a
yellowish, smoky film. But the film shifted sinuously and shapes
within it appeared and disappeared. The forms manifested as a
conglomeration of female appendages, arms, legs, breasts, lips,
eyes, but not always in their proper form or position. It appeared
to be some monstrous orgy of body parts, a horrifying, erotic
display that was mesmerizing. The Membrane writhed in pain and
passion, pulsating as it moaned and quietly screamed. Gunnar was
terrified. The monstrosity had hypnotized him when it appeared and
he had watched helplessly as it hovered, then began to touch him.
He felt tendrils of smoke, silky, fleshy fingers drift beneath his
tunic and grasp the hardness between his legs, a hardness he cursed
but could not control in the face of the atrociously sensual
onslaught.

“Don't move,” Raine said softly. “By the Divine, do
not move.”

The others were stirring and caught Raine's quiet but
harsh admonition. They stared in horror at the manifestation
swirling about Gunnar. Idonea had been sleeping more soundly than
the rest and came out of her slumber less wary. She sat upright and
froze.

The Membrane shrieked in pleasure and recognition. It
darted in a great wisp from Gunnar to Idonea, swirling about her in
lust and anticipation. The dark magic in her was irresistible, a
matchless ambrosia to them. Idonea shivered in fear as the hands
caressed her breasts and sought her most private places. A fully
formed female face appeared in the shimmering smoke and the lips
traveled over her cheek, the sensation more akin to the crawling of
an insect than a kiss.

“Raine,” Idonea said, her lip trembling, her tone
pleading.

Dagna clutched Elyara to her, looking to Raine. She
had no idea what Raine could possibly do in this situation, and no
idea what the hideous amalgam of limbs was. It squirmed about,
appearing to both pleasure and torture itself at the same time.
Feyden, too, wanted to crawl into the underbrush, so awful was the
vision. But he was just as mesmerized as Gunnar. Lorifal's mouth
simply hung open, as if he could not fathom what his eyes were
seeing. And Bristol peered between his fingers, wanting to hide his
eyes but at the same time unable to look away.

“Raine,” Idonea whispered again, “please.”

Raine closed her eyes, knowing what she must do. It
would reveal far more than she wished and make her vulnerable in
ways that could prove intensely dangerous later on. But she really
had no choice. She opened her eyes.

Dagna gasped, and Lorifal's mouth dropped open
further. The Membrane shrieked in pleasure once more and darted
like an arrow, swirling about Raine in an agitated ecstasy. The
body parts writhed, twisted, distorted, re-formed. Legs straddled
Raine's body, arms wrapped themselves about her torso, breasts
pressed to her chest, lips feathered kisses down her neck. Raine
did not move under the sexual assault, but stared at the creature
with deep violet eyes. A face began to form in the cacophony of
breasts, a different face than before, a darkly beautiful and
unutterably evil face. And then the membrane spoke, its voice a
hiss, the scrape of a reptile's shed skin fluttering on a stick in
the breeze, the rattling of bones in a necklace.

“Not possible,” it said, the “s” drawn out in that
hiss, then the voice disintegrated into a harsh guttural language
that sounded less like words than the death throes of an
animal.

Raine simply stared at the creature, stoic under the
continued assault. She did not know who was speaking but the
absolute power and absolute evil of the entity was unmistakable.
And that was the one thing that would play in her favor. It was a
strange cosmic truth that when purity and evil collided, it always
yielded cold. And when the utterly pure and utterly evil met, it
could create an ice storm.

“Quite possible,” Raine whispered to whatever was
manipulating the Membrane, and breathed out.

Her breath came out freezing and on contact with the
Membrane, began to solidify the creature into a block of ice.
Cracks, then fissures began to appear in the horrendous orgy of
appendages, then the thing began to break apart. The face merely
smiled a horrible smile and disappeared, leaving its minion to
squirm in tortured agony as every extremity slowed, then froze,
then shattered. Breasts fell to the ground, broke into pieces, then
melted into an oily yellow residue. Wisps of smoke arose from the
residue, gathered themselves together and flowed away with
alacrity. Within a minute, the smoke had consolidated into a larger
form that disappeared into the jungle.

Raine sat unmoving, exhausted at the contact. The
Membrane could not be killed; in a way it was ever-present, merely
choosing to manifest or not. And she knew her brief connection with
the creature, even though it had been unable to sustain it, would
only increase the Membrane's affinity to her.

No one really knew what to say. The horror of the
creature was nearly overshadowed by Raine's latest startling
revelation. Only one race in the entire world possessed eyes like
that, and the stunning beauty of the Arlanian contrasted sharply
with the vile eroticism of the Membrane. It was nearly impossible
to grasp that the woman they had been traveling with all this time
was in fact a member of a most mythical people.

“What the hell was that?” Gunnar finally asked.

How to answer that question, Raine thought to
herself. The Membrane was the physical manifestation of lust, of
greed, of jealousy, of narcissism. It was lecherous and dangerous,
bringing shameful, tortured pleasure to men and women, killing them
at climax and absorbing their soul into its libidinous fabric. It
could be as small as a blanket or drape itself across an entire
valley. There generally was no escape from it, and only her studied
focus on a pair of golden eyes flecked with red kept her from its
touch.

“It is hard to explain,” Raine said tiredly. She did
not wish to speak of it, did not wish to speak of being an
Arlanian, did not wish to speak of anything. “I am going to need to
sleep for a while.”

Feyden stood, drawing his sword. His eyes burned. “I
will guard you with my life.”

Lorifal also stood, pulling his ax from his back.
“And I as well.”

“We all will,” Dagna said firmly.

“Idonea,” Raine said, “and Gunnar. You should rest.
The Membrane's touch is not to be taken lightly.” She laid down on
her pack.

Idonea was still in shock. She obeyed Raine numbly,
also lying down. Bristol took a position near her, and for once she
was grateful for the brute's towering presence. She shifted her
pack slightly to get more comfortable, and could feel sleep
overcoming her.

“Thank you, Raine,” she whispered, but Raine was
already fast asleep.

Idonea awoke long before Raine. She sat up, holding
herself tightly. She could still feel the touch of the Membrane on
her skin. Gunnar was also stirring, and he awoke as disquieted as
she did. Feyden had his sword across his knees, one hand on the
hilt, the other hand holding the bowl of his pipe.

“Did you know that Raine was Arlanian?” he asked.

The others of the camp turned to her, wanting to know
the answer as well. Idonea hugged herself, rubbing her arms as if
to increase the circulation.

“Not at first,” she replied, “but yes, I knew.”

It was a dissatisfying and obscure answer. It told
them nothing of the relationship between Raine and Idonea, or even
how they knew one another. And it hinted that Idonea knew little
more of Raine than did they.

“How is it that she fights so well?” Feyden
persisted. He knew that “so well” was a description as
dissatisfying as Idonea's response. Raine fought like a demi-god
and she was the most extraordinary warrior he had ever seen.

“I am guessing she is only half Arlanian,” Idonea
said.

Dagna chimed in. “Then her birth must have been quite
unusual. Legend has it that Arlanians could only produce offspring
with other Arlanians. They considered this a great gift. Although
they could be kidnapped and raped, forced into slavery, the one
thing they could not be forced to do is reproduce. Sadly, they
welcomed extinction rather than this fate, although I understand
their reasoning.”

Feyden considered these facts, which returned him to
musing about Raine's extraordinary abilities. Half of Raine's
parentage was a race with no known fighting ability, one incapable
of protecting themselves. The other half?

“If she is half-Arlanian,” he said, articulating his
thoughts, “I can't imagine what the other half is.”

Raine awoke at last, and was quickly ready to go. She
was pale, but as they began moving, her color returned. Her
thoughts were on Weynild, which gave her strength, and she felt her
lover’s presence strongly. This was the longest she had been away
from her since they had met, and she longed to see her. Although
the strangeness of the jungle was unrelenting, their travel was not
greatly impeded and they seemed to be making good time. Raine again
felt the whisper of concern, as if their travel were too easy, as
if they were being drawn into a trap. She was almost relieved when
she felt a chill pass over her. She stopped, sniffing the air, then
wrinkled her nose. It was faint, but the putrid smell was
unmistakable.

“What is it?” Feyden asked.

“You're going to need to draw your enchanted
weapons,” Raine said quietly, addressing everyone.

As a precaution, Raine had asked Elyara to enchant a
weapon of choice for each of them. The enchantment rendered the
weapon less effective against a traditional enemy and it would not
last long, perhaps only for a few blows against a powerful enemy.
But it might make the difference against a Reaper Shard.

Idonea shivered. Raine had picked up on the spectral
presence before she had, but she could smell it now, too. They all
stopped, eyes peering into the darkness of the jungle surrounding
them. Now that they were no longer moving, the strange vegetation
seemed to be collapsing in on them, although that could have been
an illusion born of fright.

“There is more than one,” Raine said, her voice still
quiet.

Gunnar fought to still his trembling. The incident
with the Membrane had deeply affected him, poisoning him with fear
and indecision. Whereas before he had moved forward with an almost
reckless abandon, now he seemed to fight just to find courage. “How
many are there?” he asked.

Raine breathed in deeply, the odor burning her
nostrils. “Three,” she said, “maybe four.”

“Four?” Bristol whispered furiously, “Four? You are
talking about Reaper Shards, right? We will not survive two of
them, let alone four!”

“We'll see,” Raine said, drawing the enchanted sword
with her wrapped hand. Feyden notched an enchanted arrow in his
bow. He had only four, and even that number had exhausted Elyara.
Idonea clutched her staff. Although her skills tended towards the
dark and destructive, which would be of little use against the
Reaper Shards, she thought she would use lightning. It might not
cause much damage, but could be very disruptive.