Pure
Chapter 3: The Wyrm

Killian stepped to the side and Finten looked up to meet Hadeaon’s gleeful gaze. Red flames danced in his pale, white-blue eyes.

Hatred blazed up inside Finten. This was the man who had taken Caevah from him. Then had taken everything else, and was still taking from his people.

Hadeaon was wearing a white robe, richly embroidered with red silk thread. The robe was open and he was wearing nothing underneath. He looked like a god carved in marble. Blue veins showed plainly in his pale skin, branching over well defined muscles. He was tall and well proportioned. His golden hair fell to his shoulders in a wild mane, he had a strong, chiseled jaw, and full, pink lips. He was a handsome man, but his smile was slightly too wide to be human and the expression on his face was full of such cruel hunger that instead of looking attractive, he looked like a dangerous animal. Which is exactly what he was.

In his human form Hadeaon was intimidating, in his wyrm form, he was terror incarnate. He became yards and yards of powerful, coiling reptile, as big around as Finten’s waist. His entire body was covered in impenetrable, brilliant white scales. His face changed into something from a nightmare; it was mostly mouth, filled with rows and rows of razor sharp teeth, that were as long as Finten’s forearm, and coated with poison that oozed out of glands in his gums. At the back of Hadeaon’s huge wyrm maw was a throat that belched fire when his ire was raised. His wyrm eyes were a blazing, blood red that glowed in the dark. His wyrm legs were short and thick, compared to his long, lithe, wyrm body, but they moved deceptively quick and agilely, able to outrun any man or land beast. The three three thick leathery toes on each of his four feet ended in curved, poisoned claws, and on the back of each leg was the dewclaw, strong enough to decapitate or gut a man with one swipe.

This was the horror that Finten had sworn to protect his people from. Instead his actions had enslaved his people to the wyrm and now every year the wyrm decided whether or not to allow them to keep their lives in the presentation ceremony.

This is why Finten bowed his head and forced himself to kneel, even though his blood felt hot in his veins and his chest was heaving in protest against the perversion of him showing reverence to the oppressor of his people, the murderer of his wife.

“I offer myself to you, lord Hadeaon.” He said, following the script Alvie had created thirteen years ago by twisting the courtship rituals of the tarasque and maiden.

Hadeaon’s resonant voice rolled over the crowd, easily heard even by the people on the edges of the square. “Why should I accept? You and your people are worthless to me, you give me nothing I cannot proved for myself. My own fires warm me at night, the winds blow according to my whims. I should kill you for even presuming to ask for my protection.”

Finten’s hands clenched. Protection was the furthest thing from what Hadeaon gave them. “Please, I beg of you to have mercy on us. We will serve you with our crops, our goods, our homes and-” Finten swallowed the bile that rose up the back of his throat. “We will offer you our daughters and sons when they come of age.”

Hadeaon giggled eagerly and gave the same answer he did every year. “Very well, filth. Because I am a generous lord, I’ll accept your service and the service of your people for another year, as long as you offer me your daughters when they come of age and your sons serve me well in their trades.”

“Thank you, lord.” Finten choked out.

“Now let’s look at these daughters you’ve brought me.” Hadeaon’s eyes gleamed.

Finten rose to his feet and turned to the terrified girls behind him. Which one would he choose to be fed to the dragon’s appetite first? Soleil caught his eye with her gaze. She raised her chin bravely and held her hand out to him, even though tears were still drying on her cheeks.

Finten took her hand, grateful that he hadn’t had to choose this time. He took a breath, turned and led her up the platform stairs towards Hadeaon.

His greedy eyes were fixed on her, the flames inside them blazed up. He dropped the robe from his shoulders to the platform and stepped towards her. “Well, aren’t you an eager little slut.” He breathed.

Soleil dropped to her knees, holding up her offering of clothing and food. “I offer myself to you, lord Hadeaon, on behalf of my people. I offer you my loyalty and the gifts of courtship.

Hadeaon gestured impatiently at Alvie, who rose and took the gifts from Soleil. Hadeaon took Soleil’s hand, raising her to her feet. Then he grabbed the front of Soleil’s dress in both hands and tore it down the center, jerking it off her body, and tossing it to the platform.

Soleil froze. Then she looked towards Finten with wide frightened eyes.

Finten’s body tightened with the effort of holding himself back from attacking Hadeaon. “Be brave.” He whispered through numb lips.

Hadeaon took Soleil’s hand again. “Since you’re such a slut for your lord, let everyone’s eyes feast on you.” She tightened her jaw and blinked her eyes to keep the tears back as Hadeaon turned her in front of the crowd. “Is she not a beautiful gift for your lord?” He called out.

There was a grumbling assent from the crowd, even though every person either bowed their head, or stared to the side of the platform, refusing to participate in the wyrm’s game. Mothers hid their children’s eyes in their skirts.

Hadeaon laughed again and pulled the girl into the pavilion. Finten could her a breath being driven out of her as she was tossed roughly onto the bed inside. He clenched his jaw and tightened his fists at sides. His enhanced senses painted him a vivid picture of what was happening behind the flimsy curtains.

Soleil was quiet as she cried just like Finten had instructed her. After a scant minute and a half Hadeaon dragged her back out of the pavilion. There was a smear of blood on her thighs and tears on her cheeks. Her eyes were vacant and blood was running down her neck from the clear imprint of human sized teeth there. She stumbled unsteadily and sank to her knees when Hadeaon let go of her hand. Hadeaon grinned down at her. “Your offering was acceptable.” He turned to Finten expectantly and Finten dragged his eyes away from where Alvie was administering a potion to Soleil made from Finten’s blood, to counteract the wyrm’s poison.

He stumbled down the steps to choose Hadeaon’s next victim.