The Eggwife

Chapter 1

A cricket chirped in the half light of the full moon.  It sang out in search of a willing companion, intent on nothing but the urge to mate.  It hopped along the crumbling window ledge of the ruined farmhouse, stopping and chirping every few hops.  It began to chirp again, but a rustling from a deep shadow froze it.  Its antennae whipped the surrounding air, reaching out for any sign of danger, but found none.  It settled down, puffing out its wings to chirp again when death descended on it.  A reptilian tongue shot from somewhere in the deep shadow, catching the cricket on its sticky tip.  The tongue disappeared back into the shadow followed by a crunching sound.

“Gods, Sethyr, I’m sick enough as it is.  I don’t need to retch watching you eat bugs,” a voice said from within the shadows deeper inside the farmhouse.

“My apologies, Brayden, but it was a morsel much too tempting to resist.  Call it a late evening snack,” a smooth, yet sibilant voice replied from the shadows near the open window.

Sethyr rose from the shadow.  Her smooth, well-groomed scales caught the moonlight almost making them glow.  She wore a rich, velvety robe which appeared grayish red in the soft light of the moon.  The sleeves, neck, and hem of the robe sparkled with brocaded trim of gold and silver thread.  She peered out of the window, scanning the clearing for signs of danger.  She worked her tongue in the back of her mouth, trying to dislodge one of the cricket’s legs that had lodged itself between her back teeth.

“Could you bring me some water?”  Brayden’s voice came out of the dark, disturbing Sethyr’s thoughts.  She retrieved the waterskin from her pack and hissed under her breath.  It was empty and the nearest place to fill it was a good walk from the farmhouse.  If Brayden was not injured she would have told him to get his own water, but the ape-kin had been injured trying to protect her.  She felt she owed him some consideration.  Despite that, she still was not happy about the walk.

“I’ll go get some,” Sethyr chuffed in annoyance.  “I’ll probably take a dip as well.  I feel like I’m drying out.”

“Don’t be too long,” Brayden said.  “I don’t expect the folk in these parts will be too friendly to your kind.”

“I’ll be careful,” she hissed in mock annoyance.  “I am, after all, a mage of no small talent.  The local ruffians had better know their place or they might end up a toad…and you know how tasty I find toads.”  She flicked out her sticky tongue to emphasize her point but the gesture was lost in the ghostly light.

Sethyr stuffed the empty waterskin back into her pack and lifted the pack onto her shoulder.  She stepped into the shadows just inside the crumbling doorway of the farmhouse and peered out into the night.  The moonlight washed the land in a silvery radiance, giving it an almost intangible look, almost like spun glass.

She flicked her eyes, lowering the membrane that allowed her to see heat as well as light.  She scanned the area again, but still did not see anything threatening.  Her reptilian eyesight did pick up the heat of a small, scurrying critter here and there, but nothing big enough to cause concern.

Sethyr stepped out of the farmhouse and began walking to the spring she had visited the day before.  Even taking the time to bathe, she should not be more than an hour or so.  She thought Brayden would be fine without her until then.

Sethyr set out across a fallow field.  The spring lay on the far side in a thick copse of trees, kept green by the spring’s water even through the dry season.  The field was dusty and strewn with stones.  It was no wonder this farm was abandoned.  The soil was obviously poor and the previous tenant had not even bothered to clear away the stone that would make plowing nearly impossible.