Moondock is a fantasy erotic romance that I had so much fun writing. I loved creating the world these beautiful characters live in along with all the problems any society deals with on a daily basis. Oh, and Wylan, he is one gorgeous hunk! lol
I'm going to post Chapter 2 here, you can read the Prologue and Chapter One on the linked page. Moondock was also nominated for the Capa award here at TRS this year :)
MOONDOCK
By
Jewel Adams
Chosen by the High Council to find the ancient Selams and save the Nemow race from destruction, Melane melds the inherited magical powers of her Syron birth mother and her training as Captain of the Lamar Grand Guard, to confront the men of childhood myths. Melane learns that neither magic nor her warrior skills can protect her from Wylan, King of Moondock, the man that now claims her as his own in a ritual as old as time.
CHAPTER 2
Selams
The ground lay heavy with dew, sparkling under the fresh morning sun. Melane pulled up on the leather reins halting the easy gait of the Kaymog. His sharp horn cocked in his usual manner as if he too searched for hidden danger. Running her fingers through his thick fur, Melane massaged the great bulk of muscles in the thick neck. “All seems quiet, hey Rolley?”
Her soft laughter over his great snorted reply preceded the long powerful strides as they continued north. “Am I right to go north, Rolley?”
When his head rose and fell it made her wonder if he could really understand her. She talked to him enough. He had been with her since Shemon gave her the Kaymog when she turned thirteen. A fine strong mount, he taught her how to ride that first month. She still wondered over her own stubbornness on remounting him every time he dumped her on her backside. She even conquered his deliberate shifts in directions. The Kaymog’s ability to maneuver at their highest speed in any direction, made them invaluable in battle. Rolley’s great size gave Melane an additional advantage, allowing her to tower over all other riders in battle. His powerful hind legs stretched out, doubling most Kaymog’s strides. Not a one in the stables could best them in a race.
His upright height, when moving, was Melane’s only problem, for he rose into the trees, threatening to unseat her against the limbs. Rolley always seemed to duck low enough to include her in his avoidance. She felt better having him with her. He was also a good guard. Kaymogs hated all other beasts and Kibras more than any other. He could smell them before she could see them. All the hairs about his neck would bristle out in alarm if one were near. The Kibra’s inability to break any Kaymog as a mount became the one advantage the Lamars still retained. Having these animals meant a Lamar’s very life.
Melane’s feelings for Rolley went deeper than those associated with weapons or mounts—he was her companion. She felt he cared for her, too. Many times in hand to hand combat, Rolley actually fought the Kibra. Though his small, stubby front paws didn’t extent far, the long claws could rip through a tree to get at the nourishing sap and did mortal damage to an enemy that came too close. She never witnessed another Kaymog act in such a defending manner.
“Is it the power, Rolley?”
Shemon’s words went long into the night. Melane learned many things about the council and her foster mother last night. More than once, she actually heard Shemon’s acceptance for what she found fault with because of necessity for the whole.
Many of Melane’s own questions began to see the light of truth, but she still felt confused over the answers. Like the Syrons, and what made them the life givers in the eyes of the council. Why not the Weavers or Begonés? If Shemon knew the answer, she held her silence, she said only that the ancients decreed it so. To Melane’s young mind it was a lame excuse. Reasons. Yes, she wanted answers for so many things.
Like Narmar’s hate. Even Shemon still feared its reach for Melane. She knew that was why she placed Lamar guards with her until they reached the boundaries of Nemow’s kingdom. It was also why they left under cover of darkness, before the other questors.
Melane decided on going north to find the Selams. Always the Kibras came up from the south. She did not think an equal force would tolerate the Kibra’s presence anywhere near their lands. For that reason, she decided on the farthest direction away from the beasts. The north was an unknown wilderness beyond the great forest. The Nemows were not explorers or conquers, having no need to venture beyond their vast holdings. Whichever way any of the others decided upon, Melane’s heart felt heavy over their survival. All were facing unknowns, few possessed the abilities to deal with nature’s dangers, be it elements or beast.
She thought again over what the Selams would be like, shivering when the ugly image of Kibras couldn’t be dismissed. The huge, barreled hulks, were thick and coarse, with dark tufts of hair on their shoulders, chest and legs. Like the beast they behaved like, their unkempt mane of hair and long rutted beards could never hide the snarling male beneath. Should the Selams come close to these hideous features, Melane knew, she would not find the courage to confront them. She held little fear of bringing shame to Shemon, sure they would end her life.
They traveled on past the great forest, over the rolling green hills and gentle stream clustered tree groupings. The land was much like Cibrac, until the terrain became steeper and Melane saw the ominous mountains ahead. Almost purple against the afternoon sky she thought the high peaks appeared like formidable guards. Rolley sensed the threat as well, slowing his steps in caution.
“It is what hides in their folds we must prepare for, my friend.”
Was this the Selam’s land? The closer they came to the fierce cliffs and giant trees thrusting out of the jagged rocks, the more she felt the foreboding over what the inhabitants would be like. The Weavers taught that the exodus of the Selams had taken many directions. Very few Nemows accompanied the fleeing Selams as most mates perished from the illness that struck only the males.
Mates? The word conjured up images of wild beast, making Melane shudder and push away the idea.
She had seen very little animal life since entering the ravine between two large mountains. There could be new dangers behind the thick tree trunks that could hide her twice over. Every noise caused her to tense and get ready for what might jump out.
Their tedious travel during the warm afternoon exhausted her, making her seek out an early shelter for the long night ahead. The large contorted tree beside a stream afforded the lofty retreat she preferred to the ground. Rolley seemed content with his foraging. Melane never lost sight of his raised horned head as his great grinding jaws devoured the brush. Daring not to light a fire, she ate the cold provisions of grain and nuts, washing it down with the cooling handfuls of the clear running water.
Before the light failed, she whistled for the Kaymog. Using his great height, she climbed from his shoulders onto the thick supporting tree limb. Tying a rope about herself to the trunk, to prevent any mishap, Melane settled into the hard perch. Rolley curled up beneath her at the tree’s base, looking more like a docile mog, some pet of a child, than a warrior’s steed.
Sleep wasn’t a luxury that night. Rolley’s low growls and Melane’s own stiffened senses followed the dark lumbering shapes in the night shadows. Darting yellow and red eyes circled about the strangers in their midst. Melane’s hand never relaxed its hold about the sword, her other laid close to the knife and sling hanging from her hip.
* * * *
The trim legs were planted apart to hold the lithe stretching form as Melane worked out the night’s stiffness. Rolley bent down beside her. “Impatient to be away my friend?”
Mounting his wide bulk. “Can’t blame you, the night was too long. Shall we follow the creek?”
The huge clawed paws splashed loudly in the small stream. Disliking the prospect of facing many more nights like the last, she tried to imagine where, within these mountains, the Selams might settle. As the morning stretched out Melane found no signs of any presence, other then tracks of unfamiliar beast.
Conquering a difficult climb that forced her to dismount Rolley, letting him find his own way over the boulders, she came upon a large sparkling pool. A soft sheet of water fell over the high cliff surrounding the inviting pool. Dark green trees bent low along the deep edge as if they too sought the cool water.
Feeling tired and dirty, the decision was easy. The armor and weapons dropped quickly around her tanned bare legs. Only the knife belt remained about her waist, making the white smock flare out about her hips. Unable to resist the waiting pleasure she pulled away the helmet, releasing waist length waves of thick, midnight rich hair.
Her dive was clean and silent into the deep blue water. The strokes expert as they glided across the mirrored surface.
Startled by the unexpected vision, Wylan’s black eyes heated over the impact. Unable to tear his gaze or senses clear of the ethereal movements, he gave up the struggle and savored the rare event. Like mystical wings, the slim arms and delicate hands cut soundlessly through the water, making him look at his own massive ones in comparison.
“An elamie?” The breathless admission caused his muscles to ripple in stunned awareness. The flowing cloak of black silk above the sleek white, cloudy shape of her body, firmed the proud arrogant features of his chiseled face. The hidden beauty was not a vision, the whimsical laughter floating across the pool to his hiding place proved all too real. Awareness ripped through his corded body, forcing his eyes to search the opposite bank for her protector. The strange large beast he found instead, didn’t diminish the warnings silently bombarding his senses.
Never taking his attention away from the elamie, still enjoying her believed privacy in the pool, Wylan made his way soundlessly through the brush, freezing when the obvious large guard on the opposite bank rose up to his full height. The beast’s large black nostrils sniffed and vibrated in the air. Knowing he was down wind from the animal, he again checked the elamie, almost faltering when finding her to be floating atop the water. Full, twin peaks bobbed in languid motion, enticing his virile male body. The fresh pale globes could fill his palm. The truth painfully tightened his lions, setting his determination on the prize within his reach.
Whatever prey his planned week of hunting might have brought, Wylan knew could never touch the treasure he stumbled upon. How she came to be here, alone, was unimportant. All knew the claiming laws, Wylan better than most. He did not intend to lose this prize, scoffing that any Selam could be so careless. He had not seen her close enough to be sure, but this elamie definitely held virtues beyond any he glimpsed upon in the past. The wealth of possessing one such as this would be unequaled; the promised pleasure a private haven.
Before his dreamy musing destroyed his concentration, Wylan faced the formidable task before him. Stopping her creature could prove as challenging as fighting the night’s Mylar. The beast actually stood taller than Wylan’s great height and was wider than his broad shoulders. The great claws on the short stubs and powerful hind paws told of the animal’s potential. The way the beast paced about in alert strides said he would defend his swimming mistress, with his furred life.
Wylan’s fingers released the tie holding the whipple at his thick belt. Holding the sturdy cords, he positioned them with expert ease between his strong grasp, ready to send the weapon to its mark.
The whirling sound cut through the still air, swirling Melane about to search for the threat. A shrilling shout froze her in the water as Rolley’s cry shattered in her ears. His crashing body drew a painful groan from his shocked lips.
Busting through the brush Wylan’s massive arm raised to silence the beast struggling to rise and break free of the cords wrapped about his powerful thrashing legs.
“No!” The screamed plea halted the downward thrust of his thick blade.
His senses came alive to the elamie staring at him with wide blue eyes. Winning her without a fight never crossed his mind. Seeing the unexpected feelings she carried for the beast gave him a new advantage.
In slow caution, his stance eased back from the threat still struggling at his feet. If the great beast’s strength had not severed the whipple by now, it would not happen. She did not know and awareness made him curious over her reaction. “Come out elamie!” Wylan’s sword lowered, its point directed at the animal’s chest. “Now!”
Treading the water her eyes filled with the awesome bronzed image. Tall as a tree and as tough, the male stood with his thick muscled legs spread wide. Full golden shoulders bulged over the powerful expanse of the contoured muscles that moved and flexed across his great chest. Melane’s head shook in frightened denial. Worse than the Kibra.
She wanted to flee from the battle. All Lamars faced the weakness and conquered it, or died. But this…this was an instinctive panic against an unknown danger. He was male!
“Do I kill the beast?”
Her stunned eyes dropped to Rolley’s pitiful form now stilled in exhaustion. “No!” The admission barely passed her tightly held lips. Thoughts of escaping made her cautious eyes dart about, but she was in the middle of the pool. This enemy could easily span any distant bank she headed for. In slow unwanted strokes, Melane started towards him.
His sword eased away from Rolley as she advanced, coming to a stop in mid air before her. Her weapons lay on the bank in front of the bush. Had the obstruction hid his awareness? Melane forced her eyes to remain on his massive form. Melane tried hard not to let the power and strength in his golden form defeat her courage.
A vision in the water as she stood, rising out of depths she became a mythical goddess. The lure to his senses grew fierce, the way the transparent barrier clung to her honeyed skin and the soft alluring curves, enticed that savage desire all males ultimately faced. In twenty-seven years, Wylan knew none before possessed the invisible power this elamie emanated. His admiring gaze halted at the weapon resting at her slender waist. “Take it off.”
Was she too willing in obeying his command? Why did her docile appearance send warnings blaring inside him?
Holding out the sheathed knife dangling from the belt, Melane stepped fully out of the water. Only a step to her right to set the sword down. Keeping her eyes to his fierce black ones, she moved the offending weapon out arm length. Bending forward as if to place it down, Melane moved without thought, changing one for another before he could blink at her trickery.
Crouching low before the giant, his blade held as much a threat as his own matching stance.
“A foolish move, elamie.”
Her confidence rose in stature to the weapon now in her possession. “We will see who is the fool.”
Her attack obviously surprised the male and Melane pushed her advantage, striking fast and sure, with expert maneuvers. His defending blows were jerky as if stunned and unsure how to deal with her. Keeping him off balance was her only hope of succeeding. The male’s reach was twice her own and to question the power he’d yet to use against her could mean death. Why he held back confused Melane, but she refused to let her attention slip.
“Your protector trained you well, elamie.”
The taunt infuriated Melane. “I am my own protector.”
Her answer lit his expressive eyes, making them sparkling under the sun like tiny diamonds floating in the dark pools. For a second Melane became lost in the spell they cast, forgetting all but the night heaven’s fathomless depths. The lapse earned his lunge, driving her back with his sweeping blade. When their swords clashed, the impact vibrated up her arm, alarming her over the obvious physical difference between them. She was a warrior; no doubt he possessed the same skills. Unlike the clumsy Kibra that relied on brute strength, this man moved with cunning and expertise, wielding it in unmatched power!
When his blade danced about her own, the pulling release from her grip was almost gentle in the taking. Immobile and defenseless, Melane waited for the killing blow.
“Only a fool would destroy such beauty.” She was that and more standing bravely before him, wishing to slay him with those striking blue eyes. He never encountered such effrontery in an elamie. She was a rare one as well as very pleasing to the eyes. The thick wet lengths of her hair reached past her waist, one he could easily span within his hold. The gentle curve of her hips were firm and smooth, leading to delicately trimmed thighs and legs. There was almost a regal air to her beauty. The unexpected defiance in those exotic eyes caused something inside him to ripple to life. He did not believe for a moment that she accepted her defeat, not when those cool blue eyes shined with bold arrogance, refusing to look down before his own fierce stance.
A pitiful wail came from the fallen animal. His sword stayed her movement.
Melane never felt such rage. “You’re a cruel beast!”
“Shall we try that again, elamie? The name is Wylan or…master. Either will do.”
Stepping back, her eyes grew large in their incredulous glare. “Male arrogance!”
Melane’s lips curled over his roaring laughter.
“Maybe my new elamie is not such a prize after all. Did your protector let you loose on purpose?”
His sarcasm didn’t miss its mark, but Melane refused to humor him any further. Holding silent, she folded her arms across her chest for emphasis.
Tipping his sword to her in salute, the male started a guarded walk around her.
Biting her lip she held fast when he retrieved her sword and knife. The loss made her extremely uncomfortable before him. When he lifted her armor and clucked in distaste, she turned her head away “And where, prey tell, did an elamie obtain warrior garb?”
“If by your word, elamie, you refer to me, the answer should be obvious. I am as you say, a warrior…a Lamar captain of the Grand Guard, to be exact.”
“Arrogance, now pride, what other surprises do you hold from view, elamie?”
“None…unless it is to kill you at the first opportunity.”
Where were her thoughts, to warm him such! She inwardly screamed, he annoyed her so. His laughter was like a lash upon her ebbing control.
“Already you add flavor to the pleasure I have but sampled from afar. No doubt you drove your previous protector to the edge. Tell me his name so I might relieve the poor soul of his burden.”
Spinning about to face her tormentor, she herself straightened at his own return to a fighting stance over her action. The knowledge brought her full lips up into a slight, satisfied smile. Wary of me, as you should be…male! And such a one she never expected; a formidable species, so large and strong. His skin was smooth like polished brass.
Berating her foolish thoughts, she knew it unwise to antagonize him, but he pricked something rebellious inside her that refused to be tamed. “You must think me weak to continue insisting I need or have a protector. The prospect not only is loathsome, but absurd. I, Melane, am my own Nemow, no other would dare lay claim to a Lamar.”
“Then I have no one to thank for your unexpected presence? Other than yourself of course.” Wylan forced himself to breathe evenly under her watchful gaze. Keeping up this maddening banter was difficult and if not so very informative he would quickly end the game.
“The head must be muscle bound as well, to have taken the truth so long to penetrate.” The control she used not to show her fear, under the thunderstorm filling those midnight eyes, nearly exhausted her.
“Curbing your sharp tongue will be my first priority.”
“You assume much, for a male spawn!”
Melane didn’t wait for the bull to charge. Her feet moved with the lightening urgency necessary to avoid his reaching clasp.
The black satin slipped through his fingers. Cursing, Wylan moved to block her flight towards the beast.
“Rolley!” Turning from his massive form, she spun again and away from the cliffs. Melane growled when she saw he stood between her and the only escape. The pool was her only path. With a running dive into the pool, she heard him follow before she broke the water. All her strength could not outdistance the great strokes overcoming her. Melane’s furious scream was silenced as he pulled her by the ankles beneath the water.
Holding the thrashing wildcat down, not even the threat of drowning mellowed her fight. Feeling panic overtaking her anger, Wylan drew her up to the surface for air.
Gasping for breath, once gained, her fury broke loose, but his iron solid arms locked about her, ending her pitiful attempts to break free.
“Let me go…you foul beast!”
“The prospect is intriguing, don’t tempt me.”
“Ooh…”
All kinds of wild thoughts, beyond his anger, came with the squirming form pressed against his own. She actually fought him in earnest! Had the old ones not trained this elamie in the ways? He heard of rare instances when an elamie needed to be reschooled, but she was wild, hardly civilized.
Lifting her up before him, Wylan kept her feet from touching the ground. She needed no advantages in delivering the blows she attempted to inflict. Even bare footed she had the strength to injure a man in the most effective manner, and the knowledge, if her well-aimed efforts proved anything. Putting her none to gently on the ground face down, Wylan straddled her hips, pinning her arms with one hand behind her back. Pulling the tether strips lose from his belt, he quickly tied her arms and her legs, hindering her freedom.
Her angry growl, when he rose off her, earned his guarded smile. He’d wasted enough time; it would be almost nightfall before they reached his camp.
Going back to the pool, Wylan retrieved the weapons, placing hers inside his belt. His own still had unfinished business to tend to.
His rage at her should have ended Melane’s fight. Her fear of this male, was no longer a simmering tease, the danger he posed became all too real. Rocking to her side she watched him in wary concern, swallowing hard over the sword once again in his steeled fist. She would not cry out when the deathblow came. Above all else she would die with honor.
When he walked past her a new fear seized Melane. “Nooo . . .!”
His intent kept her moan from reaching him. Falling back onto her stomach she fought to raise her head. Through the dark veil of fallen hair, her dread was confirmed when she saw him standing above…Rolley!
“No please! Oh please don’t kill Rolley. I swear…I will behave, please…Wylan!” He’d refused to look at her until she called out his name. Ignoring the pain in her cry he raised the sword. Groaning, a rage took hold of Melane so fierce that it rocked her body. Squeezing her eyes shut, her mind filled with only one thought…stopping him.
A low almost inaudible sound came from the elamie. With its drone came a force that stayed Wylan’s hand in mid air. Bringing his other hand up to the hilt, he pulled with all his strength to fight the unseen force that he knew she controlled. Her cry cut through the air shattering both the force and drone, violently flinging him away from the beast.
Finding himself sitting on the ground, Wylan shook his head to clear away his shock over what just happened. His eyes darted to the elamie. What he saw tore through his very being. She laid curled up on her side, her back to him…weeping?
Going slowly to her, he stood behind her expecting another attack. From a tied elamie? Had he imagined what had just happened? “No!”
Kneeling down beside her, Wylan drew her onto her back. Brushing the curtain of hair away, he exposed the river of tears glistening her honeyed cheeks. No longer did she look proud and arrogant, but like a young child. She was young, he did not realize how much so. The feathery tips of black lashes struggled to open as if a heavy weight held them down. “Please, can you bury him? A friend should not be left to be torn apart.”
Did she not know what she’d done? It was her force, he was sure of it. A sorceress? No, she would have killed him. Wylan had much to learn about this particular elamie. “Tell the beast to behave and I shall spare his life for your promise to behave.”
Through half closed eyes that wanted to widen in surprise she answered. “Thank you.”
Did the exhaustion, he saw and sensed in her, come from using her powers against him? For now, she was no longer the troublesome elamie of moments ago. Releasing her ties, Wylan gathered her up in his arms, carrying her over to the beast. “Elamie, can you stand?”
“Yes.”
A touch of her remaining pride gave the skeptical answer. Lowering her feet, Wylan held her until she seemed capable of remaining upright. “Tell him, I will release him.”
“Do not draw your weapon, he will not listen.”
Wylan understood what she didn’t say. The beast would protect her as she had him. It was a strange relationship. He could be making a mistake, but he decided to take the chance. He let her go to the beast, stopping himself from reaching for her when she practically fell on the great red bulk.
“Rolley, my dear Rolley, be a good boy and let the male live.” Even through the haze surrounding her, she knew the one called Wylan was listening. Looking into the Kaymog’s large brown eyes, she wasn’t sure if Rolley understood, nor if she wanted him to. She felt too strange and weak to sort out her thoughts. “Please be good.”
Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw the large hand beginning to unravel the cords about the drawn claws. The gold hairs on his large forearms glistened under the sun. Her hands pressed into Rolley’s chest to still his struggles. “Easy boy, you’ll soon be free.”
Those same large hands lifted her forcefully away from Rolley as he came to life under the fury of being held captive too long. A great rocking roar filled the air, raising even Melane’s hairs on her neck. When the great red beast lunged forward, Wylan pulled her back behind him. Only her hand covering his own prevented him for drawing out the sword.
“Rolley! Stay!”
The beast fought against the elamie’s order, rocking his great form to control the vicious rage leveling against Wylan from those enormous eyes.
“Stay!” Melane knew Rolley was too angry to listen. Stepping before the male, she pushed his hold away. “Bad boy, down before Melane! Now Rolley, down!”
Amazingly the animal seemed incapable of disobeying the girls command. He looked pathetic bent over before her, but releasing his humor over the scene was forbidden. Wylan brought his attention back to her in time to see her stagger under an alarming wave of weakness. As soon as Wylan touched her, the beast started to rise.
“I…Rolley, no. You must help me mount, then get on behind me. Once you’re on, take the reins, he will try to unseat you. If you fail…don’t.”
She sagged in his arms, ending his arguments before they started. Lifting her, Wylan placed her on the round back, gaining his own seat just before the beast rose. Only his strength kept him from falling. Grabbing the reins he cursed the situation he found himself in.
“Alright beast, a war I will wage if you insist, but she has no strength left to stay my hand this time.” To enforce his threat, Wylan dug his heels brutally into the beast’s flanks and jerked the reins in a firm hold towards his camp. The beast moved begrudgingly, snorting his protest. Wylan had good cause to believe his control was only because she rode before him within his hold. He’d not turn his back on either stranger now in his midst.
After deciding an amicable truce had been drawn between rider and beast, Wylan shifted the elamie into a more protective hold, preventing the limbs from whipping her. His concern for her well being increased when he realized it was not an exhausted sleep she’d fallen into, but that she was unconscious. He urged the Rolley on. The unexpected rush of speed took his breath away. The surprise would have been exhilarating at any other time. Now he was only grateful that the beast made the distance in record time.
Because of the elamie, Wylan dismounted without thought, taking her to the fire. Settling her into the bed of furs, he stirred the coals until they caught and flared. With no fresh game to cook, he put last night’s quib stew back on to heat, along with a kettle of water. He needed to get some nourishment into her and decided to see what she had in the sacks on her saddle.
It wasn’t until the great hulk reared up before his approach that Wylan remember the deadly threat. Holding back from drawing his weapon, he stepped forward. “Down Rolley! Now!”
The beast had more intelligence than he had ever encountered in an animal. Wylan was relieved to see he also had a dose of common sense or fear. “Down boy.” When he dropped, Wylan didn’t hesitate, knowing the animal was capable of sensing his wariness. Taking the sacks off the saddle, he moved to release it from the animal for the night. When the horned head turned in his direction Wylan gave him have a sharp blow between his eyes. “I’m not the elamie, beast. You’d best learn that soon enough.”
Pulling the heavy burden away, “Now go and guard your mistress, and let me tend her. Go on, get!” Wylan’s scolding earned a low snort from the retreating Rolley. “You’re as arrogant as she is.”
Her stores lent little more than his own. The only surprise came in a large sack of dried leaves. Deciding it couldn’t hurt, he crushed a few into the steaming water for a tea. Holding her head, Wylan forced the strong smelling brew past her protesting lips until she took a full cup. Doing all he could, he sat back and waited.
She didn’t look real, lying there with her black waves spread out over the furs. The brew had a calming effect on her, making her breathe deeper as if in a healing sleep that even allowed him to relax. The events of the day replayed in his thoughts as he watched her. Soon Wylan’s lips lost their frown to a pleased smile. “You’ll raise many an eye when we reach Moondock.”
Remembering her cutting remark about his intelligence over her lack of a protector, after everything else she had done today, he almost believed her. If there weren’t anyone to challenge his claim, he would only be out a good fight. What did concern him was the possibility she was as she stated. “Never claimed before?”
It was a heady thought. Had he actually stumbled upon a pure elamie? Even he, King of Moondock, never expected such a gift when he finally decided to claim an elamie. If it was true, Wylan vowed to give homage to the gods for their blessing. A quiet laughter escaped him. “Your gift, great father, may not be all sweetness, but I accept the honor bestowed and will do my best to correct her failings.”
Selams
The ground lay heavy with dew, sparkling under the fresh morning sun. Melane pulled up on the leather reins halting the easy gait of the Kaymog. His sharp horn cocked in his usual manner as if he too searched for hidden danger. Running her fingers through his thick fur, Melane massaged the great bulk of muscles in the thick neck. “All seems quiet, hey Rolley?”
Her soft laughter over his great snorted reply preceded the long powerful strides as they continued north. “Am I right to go north, Rolley?”
When his head rose and fell it made her wonder if he could really understand her. She talked to him enough. He had been with her since Shemon gave her the Kaymog when she turned thirteen. A fine strong mount, he taught her how to ride that first month. She still wondered over her own stubbornness on remounting him every time he dumped her on her backside. She even conquered his deliberate shifts in directions. The Kaymog’s ability to maneuver at their highest speed in any direction, made them invaluable in battle. Rolley’s great size gave Melane an additional advantage, allowing her to tower over all other riders in battle. His powerful hind legs stretched out, doubling most Kaymog’s strides. Not a one in the stables could best them in a race.
His upright height, when moving, was Melane’s only problem, for he rose into the trees, threatening to unseat her against the limbs. Rolley always seemed to duck low enough to include her in his avoidance. She felt better having him with her. He was also a good guard. Kaymogs hated all other beasts and Kibras more than any other. He could smell them before she could see them. All the hairs about his neck would bristle out in alarm if one were near. The Kibra’s inability to break any Kaymog as a mount became the one advantage the Lamars still retained. Having these animals meant a Lamar’s very life.
Melane’s feelings for Rolley went deeper than those associated with weapons or mounts—he was her companion. She felt he cared for her, too. Many times in hand to hand combat, Rolley actually fought the Kibra. Though his small, stubby front paws didn’t extent far, the long claws could rip through a tree to get at the nourishing sap and did mortal damage to an enemy that came too close. She never witnessed another Kaymog act in such a defending manner.
“Is it the power, Rolley?”
Shemon’s words went long into the night. Melane learned many things about the council and her foster mother last night. More than once, she actually heard Shemon’s acceptance for what she found fault with because of necessity for the whole.
Many of Melane’s own questions began to see the light of truth, but she still felt confused over the answers. Like the Syrons, and what made them the life givers in the eyes of the council. Why not the Weavers or Begonés? If Shemon knew the answer, she held her silence, she said only that the ancients decreed it so. To Melane’s young mind it was a lame excuse. Reasons. Yes, she wanted answers for so many things.
Like Narmar’s hate. Even Shemon still feared its reach for Melane. She knew that was why she placed Lamar guards with her until they reached the boundaries of Nemow’s kingdom. It was also why they left under cover of darkness, before the other questors.
Melane decided on going north to find the Selams. Always the Kibras came up from the south. She did not think an equal force would tolerate the Kibra’s presence anywhere near their lands. For that reason, she decided on the farthest direction away from the beasts. The north was an unknown wilderness beyond the great forest. The Nemows were not explorers or conquers, having no need to venture beyond their vast holdings. Whichever way any of the others decided upon, Melane’s heart felt heavy over their survival. All were facing unknowns, few possessed the abilities to deal with nature’s dangers, be it elements or beast.
She thought again over what the Selams would be like, shivering when the ugly image of Kibras couldn’t be dismissed. The huge, barreled hulks, were thick and coarse, with dark tufts of hair on their shoulders, chest and legs. Like the beast they behaved like, their unkempt mane of hair and long rutted beards could never hide the snarling male beneath. Should the Selams come close to these hideous features, Melane knew, she would not find the courage to confront them. She held little fear of bringing shame to Shemon, sure they would end her life.
They traveled on past the great forest, over the rolling green hills and gentle stream clustered tree groupings. The land was much like Cibrac, until the terrain became steeper and Melane saw the ominous mountains ahead. Almost purple against the afternoon sky she thought the high peaks appeared like formidable guards. Rolley sensed the threat as well, slowing his steps in caution.
“It is what hides in their folds we must prepare for, my friend.”
Was this the Selam’s land? The closer they came to the fierce cliffs and giant trees thrusting out of the jagged rocks, the more she felt the foreboding over what the inhabitants would be like. The Weavers taught that the exodus of the Selams had taken many directions. Very few Nemows accompanied the fleeing Selams as most mates perished from the illness that struck only the males.
Mates? The word conjured up images of wild beast, making Melane shudder and push away the idea.
She had seen very little animal life since entering the ravine between two large mountains. There could be new dangers behind the thick tree trunks that could hide her twice over. Every noise caused her to tense and get ready for what might jump out.
Their tedious travel during the warm afternoon exhausted her, making her seek out an early shelter for the long night ahead. The large contorted tree beside a stream afforded the lofty retreat she preferred to the ground. Rolley seemed content with his foraging. Melane never lost sight of his raised horned head as his great grinding jaws devoured the brush. Daring not to light a fire, she ate the cold provisions of grain and nuts, washing it down with the cooling handfuls of the clear running water.
Before the light failed, she whistled for the Kaymog. Using his great height, she climbed from his shoulders onto the thick supporting tree limb. Tying a rope about herself to the trunk, to prevent any mishap, Melane settled into the hard perch. Rolley curled up beneath her at the tree’s base, looking more like a docile mog, some pet of a child, than a warrior’s steed.
Sleep wasn’t a luxury that night. Rolley’s low growls and Melane’s own stiffened senses followed the dark lumbering shapes in the night shadows. Darting yellow and red eyes circled about the strangers in their midst. Melane’s hand never relaxed its hold about the sword, her other laid close to the knife and sling hanging from her hip.
* * * *
The trim legs were planted apart to hold the lithe stretching form as Melane worked out the night’s stiffness. Rolley bent down beside her. “Impatient to be away my friend?”
Mounting his wide bulk. “Can’t blame you, the night was too long. Shall we follow the creek?”
The huge clawed paws splashed loudly in the small stream. Disliking the prospect of facing many more nights like the last, she tried to imagine where, within these mountains, the Selams might settle. As the morning stretched out Melane found no signs of any presence, other then tracks of unfamiliar beast.
Conquering a difficult climb that forced her to dismount Rolley, letting him find his own way over the boulders, she came upon a large sparkling pool. A soft sheet of water fell over the high cliff surrounding the inviting pool. Dark green trees bent low along the deep edge as if they too sought the cool water.
Feeling tired and dirty, the decision was easy. The armor and weapons dropped quickly around her tanned bare legs. Only the knife belt remained about her waist, making the white smock flare out about her hips. Unable to resist the waiting pleasure she pulled away the helmet, releasing waist length waves of thick, midnight rich hair.
Her dive was clean and silent into the deep blue water. The strokes expert as they glided across the mirrored surface.
Startled by the unexpected vision, Wylan’s black eyes heated over the impact. Unable to tear his gaze or senses clear of the ethereal movements, he gave up the struggle and savored the rare event. Like mystical wings, the slim arms and delicate hands cut soundlessly through the water, making him look at his own massive ones in comparison.
“An elamie?” The breathless admission caused his muscles to ripple in stunned awareness. The flowing cloak of black silk above the sleek white, cloudy shape of her body, firmed the proud arrogant features of his chiseled face. The hidden beauty was not a vision, the whimsical laughter floating across the pool to his hiding place proved all too real. Awareness ripped through his corded body, forcing his eyes to search the opposite bank for her protector. The strange large beast he found instead, didn’t diminish the warnings silently bombarding his senses.
Never taking his attention away from the elamie, still enjoying her believed privacy in the pool, Wylan made his way soundlessly through the brush, freezing when the obvious large guard on the opposite bank rose up to his full height. The beast’s large black nostrils sniffed and vibrated in the air. Knowing he was down wind from the animal, he again checked the elamie, almost faltering when finding her to be floating atop the water. Full, twin peaks bobbed in languid motion, enticing his virile male body. The fresh pale globes could fill his palm. The truth painfully tightened his lions, setting his determination on the prize within his reach.
Whatever prey his planned week of hunting might have brought, Wylan knew could never touch the treasure he stumbled upon. How she came to be here, alone, was unimportant. All knew the claiming laws, Wylan better than most. He did not intend to lose this prize, scoffing that any Selam could be so careless. He had not seen her close enough to be sure, but this elamie definitely held virtues beyond any he glimpsed upon in the past. The wealth of possessing one such as this would be unequaled; the promised pleasure a private haven.
Before his dreamy musing destroyed his concentration, Wylan faced the formidable task before him. Stopping her creature could prove as challenging as fighting the night’s Mylar. The beast actually stood taller than Wylan’s great height and was wider than his broad shoulders. The great claws on the short stubs and powerful hind paws told of the animal’s potential. The way the beast paced about in alert strides said he would defend his swimming mistress, with his furred life.
Wylan’s fingers released the tie holding the whipple at his thick belt. Holding the sturdy cords, he positioned them with expert ease between his strong grasp, ready to send the weapon to its mark.
The whirling sound cut through the still air, swirling Melane about to search for the threat. A shrilling shout froze her in the water as Rolley’s cry shattered in her ears. His crashing body drew a painful groan from his shocked lips.
Busting through the brush Wylan’s massive arm raised to silence the beast struggling to rise and break free of the cords wrapped about his powerful thrashing legs.
“No!” The screamed plea halted the downward thrust of his thick blade.
His senses came alive to the elamie staring at him with wide blue eyes. Winning her without a fight never crossed his mind. Seeing the unexpected feelings she carried for the beast gave him a new advantage.
In slow caution, his stance eased back from the threat still struggling at his feet. If the great beast’s strength had not severed the whipple by now, it would not happen. She did not know and awareness made him curious over her reaction. “Come out elamie!” Wylan’s sword lowered, its point directed at the animal’s chest. “Now!”
Treading the water her eyes filled with the awesome bronzed image. Tall as a tree and as tough, the male stood with his thick muscled legs spread wide. Full golden shoulders bulged over the powerful expanse of the contoured muscles that moved and flexed across his great chest. Melane’s head shook in frightened denial. Worse than the Kibra.
She wanted to flee from the battle. All Lamars faced the weakness and conquered it, or died. But this…this was an instinctive panic against an unknown danger. He was male!
“Do I kill the beast?”
Her stunned eyes dropped to Rolley’s pitiful form now stilled in exhaustion. “No!” The admission barely passed her tightly held lips. Thoughts of escaping made her cautious eyes dart about, but she was in the middle of the pool. This enemy could easily span any distant bank she headed for. In slow unwanted strokes, Melane started towards him.
His sword eased away from Rolley as she advanced, coming to a stop in mid air before her. Her weapons lay on the bank in front of the bush. Had the obstruction hid his awareness? Melane forced her eyes to remain on his massive form. Melane tried hard not to let the power and strength in his golden form defeat her courage.
A vision in the water as she stood, rising out of depths she became a mythical goddess. The lure to his senses grew fierce, the way the transparent barrier clung to her honeyed skin and the soft alluring curves, enticed that savage desire all males ultimately faced. In twenty-seven years, Wylan knew none before possessed the invisible power this elamie emanated. His admiring gaze halted at the weapon resting at her slender waist. “Take it off.”
Was she too willing in obeying his command? Why did her docile appearance send warnings blaring inside him?
Holding out the sheathed knife dangling from the belt, Melane stepped fully out of the water. Only a step to her right to set the sword down. Keeping her eyes to his fierce black ones, she moved the offending weapon out arm length. Bending forward as if to place it down, Melane moved without thought, changing one for another before he could blink at her trickery.
Crouching low before the giant, his blade held as much a threat as his own matching stance.
“A foolish move, elamie.”
Her confidence rose in stature to the weapon now in her possession. “We will see who is the fool.”
Her attack obviously surprised the male and Melane pushed her advantage, striking fast and sure, with expert maneuvers. His defending blows were jerky as if stunned and unsure how to deal with her. Keeping him off balance was her only hope of succeeding. The male’s reach was twice her own and to question the power he’d yet to use against her could mean death. Why he held back confused Melane, but she refused to let her attention slip.
“Your protector trained you well, elamie.”
The taunt infuriated Melane. “I am my own protector.”
Her answer lit his expressive eyes, making them sparkling under the sun like tiny diamonds floating in the dark pools. For a second Melane became lost in the spell they cast, forgetting all but the night heaven’s fathomless depths. The lapse earned his lunge, driving her back with his sweeping blade. When their swords clashed, the impact vibrated up her arm, alarming her over the obvious physical difference between them. She was a warrior; no doubt he possessed the same skills. Unlike the clumsy Kibra that relied on brute strength, this man moved with cunning and expertise, wielding it in unmatched power!
When his blade danced about her own, the pulling release from her grip was almost gentle in the taking. Immobile and defenseless, Melane waited for the killing blow.
“Only a fool would destroy such beauty.” She was that and more standing bravely before him, wishing to slay him with those striking blue eyes. He never encountered such effrontery in an elamie. She was a rare one as well as very pleasing to the eyes. The thick wet lengths of her hair reached past her waist, one he could easily span within his hold. The gentle curve of her hips were firm and smooth, leading to delicately trimmed thighs and legs. There was almost a regal air to her beauty. The unexpected defiance in those exotic eyes caused something inside him to ripple to life. He did not believe for a moment that she accepted her defeat, not when those cool blue eyes shined with bold arrogance, refusing to look down before his own fierce stance.
A pitiful wail came from the fallen animal. His sword stayed her movement.
Melane never felt such rage. “You’re a cruel beast!”
“Shall we try that again, elamie? The name is Wylan or…master. Either will do.”
Stepping back, her eyes grew large in their incredulous glare. “Male arrogance!”
Melane’s lips curled over his roaring laughter.
“Maybe my new elamie is not such a prize after all. Did your protector let you loose on purpose?”
His sarcasm didn’t miss its mark, but Melane refused to humor him any further. Holding silent, she folded her arms across her chest for emphasis.
Tipping his sword to her in salute, the male started a guarded walk around her.
Biting her lip she held fast when he retrieved her sword and knife. The loss made her extremely uncomfortable before him. When he lifted her armor and clucked in distaste, she turned her head away “And where, prey tell, did an elamie obtain warrior garb?”
“If by your word, elamie, you refer to me, the answer should be obvious. I am as you say, a warrior…a Lamar captain of the Grand Guard, to be exact.”
“Arrogance, now pride, what other surprises do you hold from view, elamie?”
“None…unless it is to kill you at the first opportunity.”
Where were her thoughts, to warm him such! She inwardly screamed, he annoyed her so. His laughter was like a lash upon her ebbing control.
“Already you add flavor to the pleasure I have but sampled from afar. No doubt you drove your previous protector to the edge. Tell me his name so I might relieve the poor soul of his burden.”
Spinning about to face her tormentor, she herself straightened at his own return to a fighting stance over her action. The knowledge brought her full lips up into a slight, satisfied smile. Wary of me, as you should be…male! And such a one she never expected; a formidable species, so large and strong. His skin was smooth like polished brass.
Berating her foolish thoughts, she knew it unwise to antagonize him, but he pricked something rebellious inside her that refused to be tamed. “You must think me weak to continue insisting I need or have a protector. The prospect not only is loathsome, but absurd. I, Melane, am my own Nemow, no other would dare lay claim to a Lamar.”
“Then I have no one to thank for your unexpected presence? Other than yourself of course.” Wylan forced himself to breathe evenly under her watchful gaze. Keeping up this maddening banter was difficult and if not so very informative he would quickly end the game.
“The head must be muscle bound as well, to have taken the truth so long to penetrate.” The control she used not to show her fear, under the thunderstorm filling those midnight eyes, nearly exhausted her.
“Curbing your sharp tongue will be my first priority.”
“You assume much, for a male spawn!”
Melane didn’t wait for the bull to charge. Her feet moved with the lightening urgency necessary to avoid his reaching clasp.
The black satin slipped through his fingers. Cursing, Wylan moved to block her flight towards the beast.
“Rolley!” Turning from his massive form, she spun again and away from the cliffs. Melane growled when she saw he stood between her and the only escape. The pool was her only path. With a running dive into the pool, she heard him follow before she broke the water. All her strength could not outdistance the great strokes overcoming her. Melane’s furious scream was silenced as he pulled her by the ankles beneath the water.
Holding the thrashing wildcat down, not even the threat of drowning mellowed her fight. Feeling panic overtaking her anger, Wylan drew her up to the surface for air.
Gasping for breath, once gained, her fury broke loose, but his iron solid arms locked about her, ending her pitiful attempts to break free.
“Let me go…you foul beast!”
“The prospect is intriguing, don’t tempt me.”
“Ooh…”
All kinds of wild thoughts, beyond his anger, came with the squirming form pressed against his own. She actually fought him in earnest! Had the old ones not trained this elamie in the ways? He heard of rare instances when an elamie needed to be reschooled, but she was wild, hardly civilized.
Lifting her up before him, Wylan kept her feet from touching the ground. She needed no advantages in delivering the blows she attempted to inflict. Even bare footed she had the strength to injure a man in the most effective manner, and the knowledge, if her well-aimed efforts proved anything. Putting her none to gently on the ground face down, Wylan straddled her hips, pinning her arms with one hand behind her back. Pulling the tether strips lose from his belt, he quickly tied her arms and her legs, hindering her freedom.
Her angry growl, when he rose off her, earned his guarded smile. He’d wasted enough time; it would be almost nightfall before they reached his camp.
Going back to the pool, Wylan retrieved the weapons, placing hers inside his belt. His own still had unfinished business to tend to.
His rage at her should have ended Melane’s fight. Her fear of this male, was no longer a simmering tease, the danger he posed became all too real. Rocking to her side she watched him in wary concern, swallowing hard over the sword once again in his steeled fist. She would not cry out when the deathblow came. Above all else she would die with honor.
When he walked past her a new fear seized Melane. “Nooo . . .!”
His intent kept her moan from reaching him. Falling back onto her stomach she fought to raise her head. Through the dark veil of fallen hair, her dread was confirmed when she saw him standing above…Rolley!
“No please! Oh please don’t kill Rolley. I swear…I will behave, please…Wylan!” He’d refused to look at her until she called out his name. Ignoring the pain in her cry he raised the sword. Groaning, a rage took hold of Melane so fierce that it rocked her body. Squeezing her eyes shut, her mind filled with only one thought…stopping him.
A low almost inaudible sound came from the elamie. With its drone came a force that stayed Wylan’s hand in mid air. Bringing his other hand up to the hilt, he pulled with all his strength to fight the unseen force that he knew she controlled. Her cry cut through the air shattering both the force and drone, violently flinging him away from the beast.
Finding himself sitting on the ground, Wylan shook his head to clear away his shock over what just happened. His eyes darted to the elamie. What he saw tore through his very being. She laid curled up on her side, her back to him…weeping?
Going slowly to her, he stood behind her expecting another attack. From a tied elamie? Had he imagined what had just happened? “No!”
Kneeling down beside her, Wylan drew her onto her back. Brushing the curtain of hair away, he exposed the river of tears glistening her honeyed cheeks. No longer did she look proud and arrogant, but like a young child. She was young, he did not realize how much so. The feathery tips of black lashes struggled to open as if a heavy weight held them down. “Please, can you bury him? A friend should not be left to be torn apart.”
Did she not know what she’d done? It was her force, he was sure of it. A sorceress? No, she would have killed him. Wylan had much to learn about this particular elamie. “Tell the beast to behave and I shall spare his life for your promise to behave.”
Through half closed eyes that wanted to widen in surprise she answered. “Thank you.”
Did the exhaustion, he saw and sensed in her, come from using her powers against him? For now, she was no longer the troublesome elamie of moments ago. Releasing her ties, Wylan gathered her up in his arms, carrying her over to the beast. “Elamie, can you stand?”
“Yes.”
A touch of her remaining pride gave the skeptical answer. Lowering her feet, Wylan held her until she seemed capable of remaining upright. “Tell him, I will release him.”
“Do not draw your weapon, he will not listen.”
Wylan understood what she didn’t say. The beast would protect her as she had him. It was a strange relationship. He could be making a mistake, but he decided to take the chance. He let her go to the beast, stopping himself from reaching for her when she practically fell on the great red bulk.
“Rolley, my dear Rolley, be a good boy and let the male live.” Even through the haze surrounding her, she knew the one called Wylan was listening. Looking into the Kaymog’s large brown eyes, she wasn’t sure if Rolley understood, nor if she wanted him to. She felt too strange and weak to sort out her thoughts. “Please be good.”
Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw the large hand beginning to unravel the cords about the drawn claws. The gold hairs on his large forearms glistened under the sun. Her hands pressed into Rolley’s chest to still his struggles. “Easy boy, you’ll soon be free.”
Those same large hands lifted her forcefully away from Rolley as he came to life under the fury of being held captive too long. A great rocking roar filled the air, raising even Melane’s hairs on her neck. When the great red beast lunged forward, Wylan pulled her back behind him. Only her hand covering his own prevented him for drawing out the sword.
“Rolley! Stay!”
The beast fought against the elamie’s order, rocking his great form to control the vicious rage leveling against Wylan from those enormous eyes.
“Stay!” Melane knew Rolley was too angry to listen. Stepping before the male, she pushed his hold away. “Bad boy, down before Melane! Now Rolley, down!”
Amazingly the animal seemed incapable of disobeying the girls command. He looked pathetic bent over before her, but releasing his humor over the scene was forbidden. Wylan brought his attention back to her in time to see her stagger under an alarming wave of weakness. As soon as Wylan touched her, the beast started to rise.
“I…Rolley, no. You must help me mount, then get on behind me. Once you’re on, take the reins, he will try to unseat you. If you fail…don’t.”
She sagged in his arms, ending his arguments before they started. Lifting her, Wylan placed her on the round back, gaining his own seat just before the beast rose. Only his strength kept him from falling. Grabbing the reins he cursed the situation he found himself in.
“Alright beast, a war I will wage if you insist, but she has no strength left to stay my hand this time.” To enforce his threat, Wylan dug his heels brutally into the beast’s flanks and jerked the reins in a firm hold towards his camp. The beast moved begrudgingly, snorting his protest. Wylan had good cause to believe his control was only because she rode before him within his hold. He’d not turn his back on either stranger now in his midst.
After deciding an amicable truce had been drawn between rider and beast, Wylan shifted the elamie into a more protective hold, preventing the limbs from whipping her. His concern for her well being increased when he realized it was not an exhausted sleep she’d fallen into, but that she was unconscious. He urged the Rolley on. The unexpected rush of speed took his breath away. The surprise would have been exhilarating at any other time. Now he was only grateful that the beast made the distance in record time.
Because of the elamie, Wylan dismounted without thought, taking her to the fire. Settling her into the bed of furs, he stirred the coals until they caught and flared. With no fresh game to cook, he put last night’s quib stew back on to heat, along with a kettle of water. He needed to get some nourishment into her and decided to see what she had in the sacks on her saddle.
It wasn’t until the great hulk reared up before his approach that Wylan remember the deadly threat. Holding back from drawing his weapon, he stepped forward. “Down Rolley! Now!”
The beast had more intelligence than he had ever encountered in an animal. Wylan was relieved to see he also had a dose of common sense or fear. “Down boy.” When he dropped, Wylan didn’t hesitate, knowing the animal was capable of sensing his wariness. Taking the sacks off the saddle, he moved to release it from the animal for the night. When the horned head turned in his direction Wylan gave him have a sharp blow between his eyes. “I’m not the elamie, beast. You’d best learn that soon enough.”
Pulling the heavy burden away, “Now go and guard your mistress, and let me tend her. Go on, get!” Wylan’s scolding earned a low snort from the retreating Rolley. “You’re as arrogant as she is.”
Her stores lent little more than his own. The only surprise came in a large sack of dried leaves. Deciding it couldn’t hurt, he crushed a few into the steaming water for a tea. Holding her head, Wylan forced the strong smelling brew past her protesting lips until she took a full cup. Doing all he could, he sat back and waited.
She didn’t look real, lying there with her black waves spread out over the furs. The brew had a calming effect on her, making her breathe deeper as if in a healing sleep that even allowed him to relax. The events of the day replayed in his thoughts as he watched her. Soon Wylan’s lips lost their frown to a pleased smile. “You’ll raise many an eye when we reach Moondock.”
Remembering her cutting remark about his intelligence over her lack of a protector, after everything else she had done today, he almost believed her. If there weren’t anyone to challenge his claim, he would only be out a good fight. What did concern him was the possibility she was as she stated. “Never claimed before?”
It was a heady thought. Had he actually stumbled upon a pure elamie? Even he, King of Moondock, never expected such a gift when he finally decided to claim an elamie. If it was true, Wylan vowed to give homage to the gods for their blessing. A quiet laughter escaped him. “Your gift, great father, may not be all sweetness, but I accept the honor bestowed and will do my best to correct her failings.”
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