Read Online Grudgebearer by J.F. Lewis - Free Book Online

territory.”
    â€œHe is the one who had us swear to protect you,” Roc said. “And we’ll be quiet. He’ll never know we were there.”
    Wordlessly, Wylant stalked along the trade road running through the village. She did not have to look back to see whether or not The Sidearms were following her. Of course they were. They’d followed her into Port Gates to fight the Ghaiattri on a different plane, into battle against her husband and his Armored, into tunnels to fight the reptilian Zaur. She only hoped they wouldn’t have to follow her straight into the Bone Queen’s clutches via Torgrimm’s loving Harvest. She wondered, not for the first time, if the Harvester could be persuaded to send her soul to join the Aern when she died. The thought of an afterlife populated by Eldrennai (her Sidearms notwithstanding) left her . . . less than enthusiastic.
    Scowling, she continued on.
    *
    At the edge of the city, the rough cobbles gave way to what barely passed as a deer trail. Trees grew right up to the city wall, the limbs hanging over it gnarled and ancient. Eyeing the trees, Wylant could not make out any signs of the Vael, but she knew they had to be there.
    â€œI am Wylant,” she said firmly. Not sure what level of volume would be required, she settled on the not-quite-a-shout she used when addressing a line of troops. “I come on foot with urgent need to address—”
    â€œWhy’d you cut your hair?” came a feminine voice. “My, but you’re loud.”
    Wylant suppressed a smile. Leave it to the Vael to focus on the physical. Then again, considering how much shorter their life spans were than, say, her own people’s or the Aern’s, she guessed it was appropriate.
    â€œIs it really because you hate the gods?” asked another. “She is quite loud, though. You’re quite right in that, Arri.”
    â€œOr did you just go bald?” asked a third. “Both of you: don’t be rude about her religion, she’s His. You know that, Malli, even if Arri can’t be bothered to study history.”
    â€œSome humans go bald,” said the first voice. Arri , Wylant recalled, repeating the name over and over in her head to try and attach it firmly to the voice in her mind.
    â€œBut mainly the boy-type persons,” said the second voice. Malli. Malli. Malli , Wylant thought.
    â€œShe’s definitely a girl-type person.” The fourth voice was masculine. Wylant saw him stepping free of the undergrowth with the same slight start of surprise one might have when a stick-bug started to move or a moth which had looked like nothing more than a piece of bark flew away. He smelled of oak leaves and a tart but pleasant musk which reminded her of Kholster. The male’s lined brown skin was rough and bark-like. Pointed ears almost as long as a donkey’s swept at an angle back over his shoulders, and his red hair, like strands of braided leaves, crackled softly as he moved.
    The Vael male met Wylant’s gaze with unblinking ruby-colored eyes seemingly possessed of no pupils or sclera, just glittering globes of uniform color. “Hello, kholster Wylant,” he said warmly. “I’m Tranduvallu. You may call me Tran, if you like. How can the Vael be of assistance to the Aiannai?”
    Wylant had seen Vael males before. Where the Vael females had been made to appeal to the Aern and Eldrennai as idealized sexual objects, the Vael males were different, appealing to the Vael females’ sense of the ideal male, lending most of them a distinct similarity to the first one hundred Aern.
    Tran, in particular, bore such a resemblance to Vander beneath all the bark and despite the ears that it gave Wylant pause. Uled had never intended that there be male Vael, just as he had intended no female Aern exist. She wondered for the umpteenth time whether Xalistan, the god of the hunt, Gromma, the goddess of nature, Jun,