Chapter 4—Mothwing

I don’t precisely remember who peeled me out of my leather riding suit, all I can clearly recall is being in my big, soft bed with a hot stone at my feet. When I awoke, it was sunset, and I felt good. There was a soft, grey robe on my bedside chair, and I slipped it over my head. The cottage was quiet and empty, but I could hear Moth scolding in the garden which made me think Mandrake as horticulturally inept as me. I chuckled to myself and moved into the necessary chamber on silent feet. But, of course, Moth heard me.

“Water hot,” she carolled.

Indeed, the big brass tank above the bath was hot to the touch, so I happily filled the tub. There was a jar of crushed herbs on the edge of the bath, and I sprinkled them lavishly into the water. I had just dealt with the needs of my bladder when there came a knock on the door. As Moth has never knocked on a door in all the centuries of her life it wasn’t a big leap to say.

“Come in Mandrake.”

He was as naked as the day he was born, and magnificently so. However he looked both flustered and annoyed. I could, I thought, trace his mood to a certain little madam who was now singing in her garden.

“You will have to learn to be firm with Moth. Because otherwise she will lead you a merry dance. She can’t help it. She is fae with all that that entails.”

He grimaced. “Easy for you to say. But I’m the junior member of this Three.”

“You are not. We are all equal. Which we need to make clear. But for now the bath is hot and big enough for two.”

His smile was my reward and as I lifted the robe over my head he got his first proper look at my body. My torso is covered in tattoos, the pain of the making of which I do not care to remember. But they are with me forever now and Moth thinks them beautiful. I wondered what Mandrake might think, but the reverent quality of his silence made me understand he thought them beautiful too.

I smiled at him. “Let’s get in the bath, loved one. We wouldn’t want the water to get cold.”

I made to climb into the tub, and he lifted me from behind, gently sliding me into the water’s embrace. I sunk into the scented heat and he climbed in after me.

“I have read about the inking of true shifters, but nobody told me it would be beautiful.”

“Mostly it’s not. My master was inked in slashes that looked as though his body was bleeding. The only other I met was dying, and her ink looked like the barbed wire that your dragons flamed this morning.”

“Not my dragons any more amata.”

I laughed. “I think they will always be your dragons.”

“I hope not. They have a new wingleader now.” He lifted his massy shoulders. “Can you tell me how you have flowers and things of nature inked on you if others had only ugliness?”

I was trying to shape words when Moth appeared and sat on the edge of the bath. She dangled her feet in the water.

“Beloved can have beauty because she don’t fight her destiny.”

“The pain was no less,” I said, and I heard the memory of suffering in my voice.

Mandrake heard it too because he moved like lightning, and I found myself cradled between his thighs with his big hands rubbing soapweed into my skin. I let myself relax against him and his knowing fingers found every knotted muscle and strained tendon. I must have groaned in pleasure which caused Moth to stretch her own tiny body.

“Can you do it in water?”

“Do what?” Mandrake laughed and she realised what she had said.

“Mothwing is sorry if she was rude.”

“No dear heart, not rude,” he hastened to reassure her. “We will show you shall we?”

“You can?”

“If our beloved so wills.”

I caught their excitement and climbed across Mandrake’s thick thighs. He took my mouth while my own busy hands explored his skin.

A good while later and the bath water was getting cold. Mandrake stood up with me in his arms and Moth pointed to towels hanging on the heated rail.

“Warm,” she said.

We wrapped ourselves in fluffy warmth and grinned at each other.

“I feel much better now,” I remarked.

Mandrake smirked and I considered punching him, but I was too loose and contented.

Dried and dressed in soft grey wool I mimed hunger and Moth laughed.

“There is food. Beloved dragon helps well in the kitchen but must not be in garden working.”

“He can’t be worse than me.”

“Can. And hands are too big.”

I laughed into Mandrake’s eyes. “From where I am standing his hands are precisely the right size.”

“Only my hands?”

Moth flew between us. “Stop now. Food.”

She sounded unreasonably cross, and I couldn’t see why. Mandrake was wiser though and he blew a kiss to the tiny tyrant.

“We are three. And our beloved fae is no less to us because we are what we are to each other.”

I caught on and held out my hand. Moth came and took her favourite perch on my shoulder. “Heart of my heart,” I said, “I love you with all that I am, and you must know it. But you have to open your own heart to Mandrake. If you cannot, you will never understand the joy of a bonded three.”

She frowned at me. “Not love him more than Mothwing?”

“No. I love nobody more than my Mothwing. I love our Mandrake differently.”

I could hear the confusion in her head, but I could help her no more that I had. Mandrake looked steadily at her.

“Can you not love an old dragon?”

I had to admire the hint of pathos in his voice and Moth looked at him narrowly.

“Can. Maybe. Do old dragon love Mothwing?”

“Dear heart. Of course I love you. Do I not let you bully me and swear at me?”

She chuckled then, deep in her belly. “Dragon do love Mothwing.” She flew to his shoulder and whispered something in his ear.

“We will have to ask our beloved. But if she would allow I will show you.”

“Allow what?” I was instantly suspicious.

Mandrake explained. “Our beloved fae feels left out when we make love. She would like to touch our skin when we are together, but we are afraid you might find the intimacy too much.”

I thought briefly and it came to me that Moth wanted to be a full member of our three in the same way Mandrake did. I smiled at them both.

“I think it would be perfect if Mothwing does whatever she needs to feel part of us being together.”

For a moment, I could feel Moth’s joy like a blazing comet, but she banked it down and I knew she was thinking through her emotions.

“For now, food,” she said firmly.

In the warmth of the kitchen we sat down to eat. Mandrake and I had bowls of thick vegetable stew with oatcakes and sharp cheese, while Moth enjoyed honey and oats. When we had eaten our fill, I went to the still room and brought out a bottle of my own metheglin. Moth squealed her delight. Mandrake looked less delighted, and I grinned at him.

“Do you not like metheglin?”

“I only tried it one time and that was too brownly herby. It seemed more like soup than booze.”

Moth laughed. “Try a small.”

I poured a tiny drop into a glass, and he took it with very much the expression of a man about to drink medicine. He barely wet his lips, but then his tongue flicked out to taste the spiced mead. He bowed his head in a very dragonish gesture.

“Mea culpa. This is a thing of beauty.”

Moth flew to his shoulder. “So beloved fae may not have dragon’s share?”

I laughed. “That wasn’t happening anyway, my love. Mothwing with a thick head is no fun to be around.”

I poured drinks geared to our sizes, and I noticed Moth looking suspiciously at the glasses. It seemed, however, that she was mollified by the simple fact that Mandrake’s portion was larger than my own. I grinned at her and she toasted me with the tiny crystal glass I had bought for her when we lived in Dragonheart trying to tutor the princess.

With the sort of unspoken consent that gave me hope for a true blending, we moved into the sitting room, where a noble fire gave warmth and light. For a moment I wondered how the fires in the cottage were so well established when we had been home for less than a day. Mandrake followed my train of thought because he laughed quietly. Moth looked from him to me before she cottoned on.

“Beloved dragon has kinship with fire even in his human form,” she explained.

“Oh. I have never met a true fire lizard before. No wonder they wanted you for the priesthood.”

“I was never cut out for such celibate rigidity. Nor for the idea of superiority to others.”

I touched his cheek. “No. I don’t read you as one of those mean spirited petty priestlings.”

He smiled but there was pain at the back of his smile.

Moth looked at him and when understanding came to her she gave a little cry of distress. She stood on his thighs and patted his face with gentle palms.

“Not be sad. Dragon has us now.”

He couldn’t resist her overflowing love and his smile deepened and warmed. His mouth was beautiful, and I put up a finger to trace the outline of his full lips.

“Feel, Moth,” I said. “Our dragon’s lips are as soft as the finest silk.”

She put her hand alongside my finger and, as she was leaning against my chest I felt the thrill of her discovery.

“Smooth.” She laid her own lips against his mouth and licked gently. “Our dragon is beautiful,” she said in an awed voice.

I looked at Mandrake. “Garment off.”

“You too,” his voice was deep and sexy, “and beloved fae.”

So it was that we learned the texture of each other’s skin as the firelight painted our bodies with flickering patterns. Moth was the most surprised of us, not having understood that human skin has many forms and textures. I don’t think I need to explain which of Mandrake’s textures pleased her most…

The three of us eventually retired to the welcoming whiteness of the big bed I had always slept alone in, tumbling into sleep with all the uncomplicated affection of a basket of puppies.

We awoke to sunshine and one of those winter skies that is the palest and clearest of blues and looks as if it goes on forever.

Moth sat up and poked me with a determined forefinger. “Hot springs,” she said.

“Hot springs?” Mandrake was visibly fascinated by the idea.

“It’s a human thing. Two valleys over. They have dammed a set of hot springs and it is possible to swim in the hot water even when it is snowing.”

“Not snow today.”

“No, Moth, I never said it would. I was just explaining the hot springs.”

She thought for a minute. “So you was. We go swimming?”

“I don’t see why not. Mandrake?”

“Oh yes. I’d love to.”

“That’s settled then. A quick breakfast and we can be off.”

“Will we be flying there?”

“No. We go there as human, and it would be next to impossible to explain a dragon. We can use the quad bike that sits in the shed at the bottom of the steps most of the time. I’ll even let you drive.”

He looked a bit embarrassed. “Two things. How does Moth pass as human? And I don’t know how to drive.”

“Moth doesn’t need to pass; she just discourages human people from noticing her. And driving isn’t a problem.”

Moth patted his face. “Beloved will teach.” She became brisk. “Up now.”

Mandrake rolled out of bed and headed for the bathroom, leaving me to be prodded and pushed by a tiny tyrant.

“Stop it, Moth, or we won’t go. Let me at least piss and wash my face before you start in with the bullying.”

She giggled as I had intended, but she did at least stop poking at me with her pointy little fingers.

It was the best part of an hour later when we descended the vertiginous steps that were the only route to the plateau on which the cottage stood. When we reached flatter land where two camouflaged storage sheds were cut into the living rock Mandrake looked up the way we had just come.

“If nobody minds I’ll be flying us back up there.”

Moth nodded vigorous agreement. “Seventy-six steps there are.”

“There are indeed. My master prized his privacy almost as much as his safety.”

Mandrake lifted his chin. “Oh yes, it’s eminently defensible. I wouldn’t give too much for the chances of charging, or sneaking, up that staircase.”

“No. Precisely.”

I input the code on the double doors of the biggest store. My precious quad bike was plugged into the battery bank that fed from an array of photovoltaic panels in the cliff face. I unplugged and wheeled it out. Mandrake closed the doors, which locked with a satisfactory sort of a clonk.

“I’ll drive until we get to the road, then you can have a go.”

He grinned and Moth contracted herself to small enough to pack herself inside his fur-lined jacket. They sat behind me, and I switched on. The quad ran silently through the quiet woods. It was a tricky path, so I concentrated on the task in hand, only vaguely aware of Moth chattering away at Mandrake. When we reached the metalled road I drew us to a halt and looked over my shoulder at Mandrake. He was looking shell-shocked, and I wondered what, precisely, Moth had been telling him.”

“What moonbeams have you been spinning, Mothwing?” I demanded.

She glared at me. “Moth tells only truth.”

“Okay then. Which truth?”

But she turned her back and refused to speak to me. Mandrake, however, was more forthcoming.

“Moth says that it is necessary to be careful around humans. She says they don’t like us much.”

“Sorry, Moth. You were right to say. He needs to know.” My sister forgave me immediately and came to my shoulder where she sat to her full height and offered me a sad smile.

“Tell beloved dragon,” she said.

She rubbed my hair while I collected my thoughts.

“First off. How much do you know about humans?”

“Not a lot. The dragon priesthood reckons them beneath contempt, and battle wings have little time for anybody but their own tight-knit groups.”

“Quick history lesson then. This place is our home. Us being trueborn of all sorts. Some of our number were accustomed to visit the lands of the humans but they were usually either scientists, interested in the technologies of the human species, or outcasts, or the very young and foolish. Anyway, visiting the place of humans fell out of fashion and the skill to make portals was lost. But one was kept in good repair in case of need. Somehow, some idiot left it open and unguarded, and a group of humans found their way here. They seemed harmless so they were allowed to stay. The oversight was not keeping an eye on them. By the time anybody thought to look they numbered themselves in hundreds and they had built themselves a life in this place. They called it NunYa.”

Mandrake stared at me and made a noise deep in his chest.

“NunYa. Now there’s an irony.” He saw my puzzled frown and explained. “The only human things the dragon priesthood has any truck with is some of the writings they revere. There is a story passed from mother to child that tells of a magical land called NunYa—where animals and strange beings talk to their human masters.”

That left a sort of a sickly taste in my mouth, but I ploughed on.

“After a couple of centuries or so somebody woke up and noticed that the humans had bred prolifically. The decision was taken to chase them back where they came from. But the portal was smashed beyond repair. Genocide being against the tenets of decency there was nothing to be done about the humans. And that’s why Humans and Trueborn coexist uneasily in this place.

“Can I ask questions?”

“Course you can.”

“The big one has to be why lycanthropes mostly have a human form alongside their beast.”

“Nobody actually knows. But my master, who was very old and very wise, always said we had probably evolved from the same ancestor.”

“Like dragons and water lizards?”

“Precisely like that.”

“It would make sense. And now I’m wondering what happened to the portal.”

“The humans smashed it. Not wishing to share ‘their’ new homeland with anyone else.”

“I see.” I rather thought he did see because he looked as grim as I had ever seen him look.

I pressed on. “Humans are mostly odd. Some manage to interact with other races in a perfectly sensible manner, but they are the minority. The rest fall into two camps. One thinks lycanthropy is a disease and considers lycans to be no more worthy of consideration than oxen or feral cats. The other lot flat out don’t believe in us.”

Mandrake scratched his head. “Why am I thinking that’s only half a story.”

“Because it is. The ones who don’t believe in lycanthropy are no problem, as they neither look for us nor see what we are if we do meet. But the other lot are dangerous to all trueborn. They are enchanted by fae, particularly flower and frost fairies—even though they would keep the small folk in cages like songbirds. However the rest of the races would, if they had their way, be little better than enslaved labourers.”

“So why are we going among humans now?”

“Because the crowd that owns the hot springs is fully enlightened, and we are safe under the eyes of their security guards—who are trolls in their human form. And because Moth loves the hot springs.”

He rubbed his big hand up and down my spine. “Let’s go then. But I think it might be better for you to carry on driving.”

As I rather enjoy driving I wasn’t about to argue. Instead, I speeded up and we bowled down the road in fine style.

The wind was a fresh, cold northerly and I was beginning to feel the chill even through my riding suit when we got to the gates of the hot springs place. When he saw me, the security troll dropped his human simulation and saluted before letting us in.

“It’s a cold one,” he said, “snow before too long, if I don’t miss my guess.” Then he dropped his voice to a low rumble. “I’d take a private pool if I was you. Proddy young males in the big pond.”

“Thanks for the advice. What’s vacant?”

The troll checked his hand-held computer. “Sleepy hollow or High View.”

“Get us High.” Moth whispered urgently.

“Can you book High View for us please?”

He swiped the hand-held before offering it for my palm print.

“Done.”

“Many thanks.”

He grinned. “I’m here all day, if you and your dragon friend want to leave the furs.”

Mandrake offered a fist and they bumped knuckles.

“Why are we leaving the furs?” he asked.

“Because it’s a climb up to High View and the changing room is small.”

He shrugged his shoulders and climbed out of his bear fur riding gear.

I put my hand on a palm plate in the rock and the door to High View slid open. It was only about twenty stairs, but they were steep and spiral, and I discovered myself to still be not as fit as I would have liked. I stood on the apron of rock at the top feeling out of breath and grumpy. Moth hovered in front of my face and smiled encouragingly.

“Is bad drug. But you will better soon.”

“I hope so.” I turned to Mandrake. “I usually run up the steps.”

His smile was understanding. “I’m impressed you managed at all, after effectively being poisoned only a couple of days ago.”

Which made me feel better enough to manage a smile for them. Moth fluttered about chattering excitedly.

“Hurry. Hurry.”

I slipped off my clothes and stood shivering in the frigid air. Moth came and sat on my shoulder—taking a firm grasp of my hair.

“You ready?”

“Moth is ready. Hurry now.”

“Hold on tight then.”

I ran to the edge and jumped. We landed in about twenty feet of blissfully hot water, and I swam towards a place where there was a shallow pool safe for Moth to float and play in. The splash behind us was surprisingly quiet and Mandrake beat us to the ledges where the hot water ran down like healing rain.

Moth chortled. “Old dragon swims good.”

She jumped from my shoulder into the shallow pool. Mandrake took that as some sort of invitation because he dived deep, coming up beneath me and trailing his fingertips over my most sensitive places. I reached down and grabbed him by the ears, pulling him up so my mouth could meet his. We kissed for a long time, drifting down until our feet met the stony bottom before kicking back to the surface to catch breath.

I had a sudden snap of guilt, but Moth was grinning from her steamy puddle.

“If you two plays in deep, Moth stays here.”

She grinned and we felt her telling us to play without her. I smiled my thanks as Mandrake’s hands began their magic. That was the last time I thought about much, except what exceptional breath control Mandrake possessed, for a good long time. Floating languidly I became aware of how vibrations through the water had enabled Moth to feel what we were feeling without leaving her safe place. She smirked at me, and I blew her a kiss.

We swam over to the seat-like ledge beside her and for a few moments we just sat. Moth stood up and shook her wings.

“Waterfall?” she said hopefully.

“Okay. But then it’s towels and home. We’ve been in the water for long enough.”

Moth chuckled rudely. “Yes mother hen.”

She climbed on my back again and I stood up, walking carefully through a narrow passage that was almost hidden in the rocks. Mandrake followed, having to walk crabwise as the crack in the rock wasn’t wide enough for his heavy shoulders.

We came out behind a curtain of very hot water into a place of steam and rainbows. It was as beautiful as ever and the three of us stood enchanted until Moth poked me with a sharp finger.

“Must to window now.”

“Must we?”

“Yes. Is important, Moth thinks.”

There is a place where the curtain of water is parted by an outcrop of rock and it makes a window from which one can look down on the main pool.

At first, I didn’t understand why Moth thought it necessary to look, but then I noticed just how many guards there were—seemingly lounging at their ease, but actually in a high state of alertness. They were watching a group of about a dozen young human males who were horsing around, but creeping closer and closer to a family, whose teenage daughter was combing her hair dry while her parents dealt with the business of getting three young boys out of the water. They were weres—wolves would have been my guess—and if the young men got too close to the daughter of the family there was going to be trouble. Even as I thought that it kicked off. Two of the young men moved to flank the young girl. One grabbed his crotch and made what must have been a spectacularly crude suggestion, because the girl immediately started to cry.

Security grabbed the offenders and the girl’s mother leapt to pet and pacify the frightened teenager.

“Stupid youngsters.” Mandrake muttered. “But the trolls have them.” He must have had a thought, though, because he spoke to Moth. “Why is it important beloved fae?”

“Moth don’t know, is just feeling.”

They both looked at me.

“How about this? Those human males obviously thought themselves above common decency and in a position where they wouldn’t be challenged. We might want to put some effort into finding out why.”

“Indeed we might.” Mandrake snarled.

Moth just sighed, but I felt her contacting The Agency. “Is known, and being watched,” she said after a moment or two. Then she shivered.

Mandrake picked her up and shared warmth.

“Time to go home?”

We hustled a bit and were dry and dressed quite quickly. At the bottom of the stairs, the troll guard handed us our furs.

“If I was you,” he said conversationally, “I’d be cutting straight into the woodland. There might be unfriendly people on the road.”

At least Mandrake waited until we were outside the gate before he asked. “Unfriendly people?”

“Means Agency Deputies.” Moth explained. “Trolls don’t know we are agents.”

“So. Do we avoid them?”

“Fraggit yes. Some deputies are right pain in the arse. And if it’s the sort of ones they are likely to send to chastise badly behaved human adolescents, they’d probably find stopping us on the road highly amusing. Especially as we outrank them, and they don’t much care for that.”

“In which case. Take me to the woods.”

There was an old logger's trail about a quarter of a mile from the hot springs and I put on all the speed I could find to get there. Even then we were only just out of sight when the sound of heavy engines split the air. I drew the quad to a halt and motioned for stillness and silence. The bikes that rolled along the road were as different from my quad as chalk is from cheese. They were big and loud and smelly, and were ridden by a group of big, loud Deputies, who were also probably smelly. This group is dangerous to cross swords with. It takes its culture from the human place although none of the members are actually human—and they don’t make any effort to appear human. They call themselves Hell’s Angels and they are an assortment of orcs, trolls and demons who are mostly the kind of assholes you never want to meet in a fight, or on a pub crawl. But on the other side of the coin they are brave, strong and utterly incorruptible.

When they had passed we went home. Quietly.