In The Lair of the Draca (Book 2)

In the Lair of the Draca (Book 2) Chapter 90: Pomoq's Mortality

"Michek must be having pre-wedding anxieties. She couldn't have meant the things she said out there."

Pomoq, ever wizened even beyond his advanced age, reclined against a basket of soft down feathers and sighed. "Who are you trying to convince, young man? Is it really me, or is it yourself?"

Luka, on his knees in a position of respect and reverence, wrung his hands like a spinster.

Why does he always act as though everything's fine?

Luka knew the answer to his internal query. It was because to Pomoq, who knew things that even the wind-spirits didn't, everything already was. Even were the ground to suddenly give way beneath them, the contented Elder would likely smile serenely, with arms outstretched to embrace his fate.

Such qualities about Pomoq actually comforted Luka (though he would never admit it aloud). These days, the world had become turbulent with whispered innuendo, bedraggled refugees streaming into Looks Thrice Village from the Ice Mountain region, and occasional bellows from the three Draca Sisters. Stationed just outside of the palisade like stoic relics, they served as the Star-Woman's guardians as she came and went between her Sanctuary dwelling in Looks Thrice and her elusive Hallow's Wood cottage.

Was there stability in the internally-fractured village? Perhaps, but it was tenuous, like a candle's flame enveloped by a roiling dust-storm.

Luka didn't know a lot, but he knew enough. The days of Dragura's sacrifices and belligerent Draca fly-overs had ended many moon-waxings ago, and Looks Thrice villagers had come to know an uneasy sort of peace. Children went back to their school-dwellings. Women slowly regained their ease and loose tongues when leaving home to collect well-water and breakfast greens. Most young children had never seen the draga, and there was extra bounce in the steps of those youths coming of age.

With the Era of Dragura having slowly dissolved, the births of female infants were now openly celebrated. And with Ziuta gone, Luka had felt free to move on with his own life. There was no more need to wrestle with juvenile feelings for the alien Star-Child, which had incensed many girlfriends and, more recently, his bride-to-be, Michek. As he'd grown, he'd matured. Gone were the days of bedding giggling, seductive girls of marrying age without ever settling down. There was no longer any need. After Warumachek's death and the Star-Child's banishment, Luka had had time to think, study, and isolate old passions which had stirred so much fiery testosterone.

With no family and few close friends, Luka had begun to suffer from loneliness. And then, one fine day, he caught sight of one of Council Elder Gormaq's twin daughters, Michek, as she passed him in the square with a basket of piper-blossoms. With stunning creamy braids and a look in her eye enough to briefly stop his heart, she had ensnared Luka within a single moment.

Yet if he were to marry her, he needed stability, a dwelling of his own, and a profession capable of supporting a young wife and potential children. After all, this wasn't just any maiden. Michek was the daughter of the well-respected Gormaq, and Luka's playboy reputation was not exactly stellar to those in Council circles.

Luka was never one to choose one girl and be done with it. Well, there had been one girl, but those times had fizzled. He was young, stupid, and would have followed the tail of any exotic young thing, but not anymore. Not since being snared by the pink-lipped, swan-like visage of Michek.