Chapter 15 #2
With only my trident in hand, I prepared to face them.
Jasmine caught my arm before I could slip away.
“Good luck,” she muttered, and then she drew me down and pressed a quick kiss to the edge of my jaw.
It shot sensation through me, sending my head spinning.
As I slid down the hill, covering my tracks to circle to the spot Jasmine had indicated, all I could feel was her mouth on my scales.
I needed to focus, and I reined in my spiraling thoughts with a tight grip.
Jasmine’s life could very well depend on how this went; I couldn’t make a mistake.
Bracing myself, my trident at the ready, I waited.
Their scent was coming to me now that they were closer, and the murmur of voices was more obvious.
Male—definitely naga—and with the lilting accent of Sun Fang, if I wasn’t mistaken.
That was good, but I didn’t relax. All of this depended on how they responded when they discovered Jasmine was here.
My little hunter had tucked Dove into the front of her thick fur coat, and the little sleara had let her.
During her confrontation with Msera and his friends, Dove had valiantly tried to protect Jasmine.
Would she try the same this time if this became a conflict?
I feared it would be fatal for her if she tried.
Unlike the Thunder Rock warriors, whom she could avoid by soaring into the sky, a Sun Fang warrior could shoot her down in a heartbeat.
The slightest rustle to my left reminded me there was another element in the mix.
The blue sleara was hanging around too, and rather than watch Jasmine and Dove, he’d chosen this moment to focus on me.
He was to my left in a tree, watching with sharp eyes what I was doing.
As a reminder, the small cut on my thumb throbbed.
He was a fierce fighter, but he was still weakened from hunger, and I doubted he’d be on my side.
“Stay put, Hunter,” I quietly told him anyway.
“If this becomes a fight, I don’t want you to get hurt.
” He hissed, as if this only angered him.
The approaching Sun Fang warriors started to resolve into more distinct shapes across my senses.
At least a dozen voices; scents that varied from leather, scales, oil, to the notes that made up individuals.
I was not as familiar with these males as I was with those of Thunder Rock, but only because I’d visited Thunder Rock more recently.
One scent I did recognize: that of the Sun Fang Shaman’s apprentice.
Him, I knew well, and I was surprised to discover he was here.
He was the last male I’d expect to have agreed to harm the humans; there couldn’t be a more gentle soul alive.
They had caught my scent too, and the sound of their voices changed, then fell silent.
A moment later, one of them emerged from beneath the trees, by silent agreement sent to scout.
He was a tall male with a long streak of orange down the side of his tail.
The dark brown of his scales glimmered with lush reds and yellows at the edges along his chest and shoulders, then grew muted on his arms and back.
He had deep black hair braided back from his temples and twisted into a knot at the back to avoid tangling with the bristling arrows jutting from his quiver.
His brow ridges were also a dark black with a highlight of orange, and from beneath them he locked his orange eyes on me right away.
“Water Weaver, what are you doing here?” he called out, the loud call as much for the benefit of his brothers as it was to greet me.
Every naga knew a Water Weaver was no enemy; we were welcome everywhere, and while skilled hunters, we never fought for territory or warred with other clans.
No clan wanted to offend us, lest we refuse to bring our trade to their females, and Water Weaver fabrics were coveted by all.
“I saw the rock slide that must have devastated your outpost. I have been on my way in the hopes I can offer assistance.” My explanation made the male break out in a wide, welcoming smile, his eyes sparkling.
He lowered the bow he’d held in one hand, the arrow he’d had notched vanishing without a trace.
From the trees behind him, the others began approaching, no longer cautious but eager to see who I was.
Immediately, I recognized a few faces, though the distinctly colored male in the lead was new to me.
“Ekkire!” That was the Shaman’s apprentice calling out.
He waved his hands, all smiles. The deep yellow of his scales and hair made him stand out, but that was the nature of Shaman placements all across Serant.
Shamans, and their students, went where the council assigned them.
He had a wild mane of curly hair that bloomed around his head like rays of sunlight.
The kind of male everyone could not help but like, because he was so friendly and outgoing.
He was a lot, but even I found myself smiling at his jovial greeting.
Ishmakah rounded on the nearest Sun Fang archer and approached with his arms outstretched, as if he intended to hug me, and I began to rock back on my tail instinctively.
I liked him, sure, but not that much. I really preferred it if nobody invaded my space.
Well, except Jasmine. I’d carried her all day, and I actually missed having her in my arms. Though you’d have to twist my arm to get me to admit it, I might even miss the soft little snoring noises Dove made when she slept.
The Sun Fang male in the lead, with his unusual colors, held out an arm and physically blocked Ish’s path.
“Hang on, Ishmakah. He smells like a human. Why do you have the stink of a human clinging to your scales, Water Weaver?” he demanded.
The previously welcoming look was replaced with one of deep distrust.
A shiver shot down my spine, which I managed to hide.
It was so rare to meet hostility anywhere I went; I simply wasn’t used to the reaction.
I knew that, seeing it was a Sun Fang party, revealing Jasmine was inevitable.
Not that I wanted to, but there were too many of them, and we’d been traveling in the same direction.
I had to convince this male he had nothing to worry about, and that his dislike of the strange sky beings was misplaced.
“Ilesekh!” Ish said, shocked. “That hardly matters now, does it? Do you not think it was a sign from the heavens that your path was ill-chosen? Disaster struck the moment we agreed to meet at Thunder Rock.” The apprentice flung his hand first in the direction of the ravaged outpost, then back down the mountain flank to where the sky wreck was located.
I knew Ish was not a superstitious man—no shaman was—but, like Thunder Rock, Sun Fang was.
It took some slick navigating of their often strange beliefs from time to time.
I’d been confronted with it when trading at their main settlement before, and had similar issues at Thunder Rock.
They really didn’t want anything to do with the fabrics you carried if they thought you’d traveled with them through an ancestral cave, for example.
This Ilesekh hissed, his eyes narrowing at me, and when he moved forward, his body carried all kinds of hostility.
He reached for the knife on his hip, rather than the deadly bow he carried.
I shifted my trident protectively in front of me, but that did not halt his motion.
Why would it, when the rest of the Sun Fang party shifted forward aggressively with him?
With a screech, the blue sleara abruptly launched himself from the branch above my head.
I thought it was getting too dangerous for him and he was simply fleeing.
A dozen eyes went up to track his flight, several hands lifting bows as if they couldn’t help themselves.
The sleara would barely make a good meal, as small as he was, but they tracked him anyway.
Then he dove, plummeting from the sky with his claws outstretched.
He was headed directly for the Sun Fang leader, and I reacted instinctively.
“Hunter!” I called out, not certain whether I was calling to the sleara or the male he was attacking.
My tail whipped out just as arrows flew, and the knife Ilesekh had pulled slashed toward me.
I was too late to stop the knife, but my tail caught the barrage of arrows before they could strike the sleara.
I roared in pain as half a dozen obsidian tips cut through my scales and buried deep.
The sleara chirped and darted sideways, then landed on my shoulder and ducked beneath my hair to hide, trembling violently.
After that, everyone froze—the dust settling, bows lowering, confused glances shared.
“Did that… sleara just try to defend you, Ekkire?” Ishmakah asked tentatively.
Then his eyes dropped to the six or so arrows sticking out of the tip of my tail, and I saw him mouth: Did you just defend the sleara?