The Cycles of Revelation Series

Artifact of the Dawn: Jevan (A Queer Sci-Fi Adventure)

Episode 1: Meet Jevan. He’s tall, charming, and has a way of finding willing bed partners whenever he desires. As a Medellan trader, he lives footloose and fancy free, until he encounters a beautiful male elf.

Jevan blinked awake as the sun glared through the open window. Squinting, he moved his face away from the stream of sunlight, groaning as he slowly sat up and oriented himself. The spot next to him in the pile of furs he slept on was empty, meaning his bed partner from the night before must have already gone to do her daily chores.

Rolling over as he yawned and stretched, it startled Jevan when he saw Taela watching him from across the room. Laughing at him, the pretty elf brought over a bowl of fresh fruit. “I thought you might be hungry. Do all your people sleep as much as you do?”

Laughing, he grabbed a piece of fruit. “No, most of the people in my village wake long before I do. Thanks.”

She settled down next to him, grabbing a piece for herself. “Where are you going next?”

“Home. Your settlement is the last one I trade with along my route,” Jevan explained, taking a bite of the fruit and savoring the tangy sweetness.

“What about Maala’naa?” she asked.

“I don’t dare go near that settlement,” Jevan replied. “The one time I got too close, their rangers warned me to stay away. They made it clear that my kind was not welcome there. I wish I could see it, though. I hear it’s the largest of the elven settlements, right?”

Nodding as she chewed on a piece of fruit, a red rivulet of juice ran down her pale chin. “Elder Syvan says Maala’naa has a population of over five thousand Athla’naa,” she confirmed, using the word her people called themselves.

Jevan reached out and wiped the juice away from her chin with his thumb before licking it off and making her laugh. He admired the way she laughed so freely around him when most of her people were far more guarded. Jevan took one of her pale four-fingered hands into his, loving the contrast between their skin tones, like night and day. Bringing her hand to his lips, he pressed a kiss against her fingers.

She rolled her eyes at him, before she ducked her head, her pointed ears flattening and tilting downward, in what Jevan had learned was her people’s version of a blush. She smiled and squeezed his hand before getting up. “I have to go. There is a rope bridge they have asked me to help repair. Please, finish the fruit. It is better for you than those rations you carry.”

“You’re not wrong,” Jevan agreed. “Thank you for last night. I enjoyed your company.”

“I enjoyed yours, as well,” she admitted, looking at him for a long moment with her dark, fathomless eyes. When she exited the dwelling, she looked back one last time. The sun shone brightly on the short, dark purple hair framing her ethereal face. A moment later, Jevan sat alone with his thoughts.

After enjoying the rest of the fruit, he grabbed his waterskin to slake his morning thirst. His mind wandered to the day before when he’d arrived at this settlement for trade. This was one of the few elven settlements that openly traded with his people, and Jevan was among the few traders who had even attempted to trade with them. Because of the tentative truce between their people, only two settlements had welcomed him within their confines.

Elder Syvan was unusually warm and welcoming compared to most elven leaders, so Jevan had added her settlement to his regular route. One thing he loved about visiting these settlements was how the elves were so open to having multiple partners. Once they had warmed up to the tall Medellan, they occasionally would welcome him into their beds. It was quite the contrast from the monogamous pair-bonding of his own people.

Jevan frowned as he recalled the argument he’d had before he’d left on this latest trading run. The ard, his village leader, had once again impressed upon him the necessity of planning his own pair-bond. That was something Jevan was not eager to contemplate, despite being almost too old at twenty-five.

Sighing, he slowly clambered to his feet. Jevan ducked to avoid hitting his head against the low ceiling of the treetop hut. The elves were not a tall people, so Jevan always had to stoop when inside their dwellings. Searching for his scattered clothing, Jevan unhurriedly dressed himself. After pulling on his boots and donning his cloak, he looked around one last time to make sure he didn’t forget anything. Jevan let his mind linger for another moment on the pleasant night he’d spent here, before picking up his pack and making his way toward the nearest rope ladder.

As he reached the ground, the elven elder stopped to speak with him. “You’re getting a late start, even for you, Jevan.”

“Good day, Elder Syvan,” Jevan greeted as he looked up to check the position of the sun in the pale sky. “Yes, I guess I am. Thank you again for your continued hospitality.”

“I’m not the one you should thank,” Elder Syvan said with a sly smirk as the breeze ruffled her short silver and purple hair. “Please don’t forget to bring more of that lovely cloth. It’s much softer than our roughspun.”

Adjusting his pack, Jevan smiled down at the elder. “Now that I know you approve of it; I’ll include a few bolts every time I make a trip out to these parts,” Jevan promised.

“Thank you. I won’t keep you any longer,” Elder Syvan said in parting. “Take care on your journey home.”

“Have a pleasant day,” Jevan said as he began heading northeast into the surrounding woods.

Jevan walked cheerfully as his pack of wares clanked in rhythm to his steps, making a pleasant cacophony to accompany the tune he hummed. The day had dawned clear and warm when Jevan had left the elven settlement, putting him in good spirits. It wasn’t until the mid-afternoon when clouds rolled in, and Jevan realized a storm was about to break.

Spotting a large, old, hollowed out tree that had fallen years before, Jevan made his way toward it, intent on taking shelter within. He took off his pack and attempted to crawl inside. It was a small space, and he wasn’t a small man, but he managed to curl himself up enough to fit, dragging his pack in after him.

Moments later, the storm broke, and Jevan was grateful for the modicum of protection the old tree brought. Storms like these could last until well past sundown, so Jevan made himself as comfortable as possible and let his mind wander. Unfortunately, his mind wanted to ruin his previously pleasant mood, as that last argument with Ard Mathias bubbled into his consciousness again.

“Jevan, be reasonable. It’s mid-summer and you are twenty-five winters old. You know you’re expected to pair-bond before you turn thirty!” Ard Mathias reminded him. “If you do not choose someone soon, you will force me to choose for you.”

What was so special about turning thirty? Not even Mathias would explain, other than to say it was the law. Everyone Jevan knew had pair-bonded in their early twenties, many caving to the pressure from their parents or village leader. Jevan wasn’t sure how much longer he could delay making a choice before Mathias would make good on his threat to arrange a pairing for him. The problem was, Jevan didn’t want to choose and become bonded for life with only one person.

Jevan became a trader so he could leave his village for weeks at a time. He enjoyed traveling and learning about other people and places. The elves had especially fascinated him because their culture was a stark contrast to his own. Elves took many lovers, living in large polyamorous families. While they rarely took Medellans as lovers, with his good looks and charm, Jevan found he could easily persuade any sex into a tryst or two.

Sighing to himself, Jevan wrapped his cloak about him and let his eyes drift closed. The steady rhythm of the rain, interspersed with the crack of lightning and rumble of thunder, lulled him into a restless sleep.

The next morning, Jevan pushed his pack out of the trunk with his feet before slowly unfurling his long limbs. He stood, stretching himself to get all the kinks and aches out of his tall frame. Hearing the gurgle of a small creek nearby, he grabbed his pack and made his way to the creek, where he freshened up. After eating some rations, he oriented himself based on the position of the sun and shouldered his pack as he began his trek homeward once more.

Once again, his mind wandered toward the inevitable confrontation with Ard Mathias when he returned home. Jevan debated the limited options he had, including the potential unpaired adults in his settlement they might force him to bond with. All of them were quite young, most barely past the age of twenty, and he had little interest in any of them.

Still completely lost in thought, a slight stumble over the root of a tree brought Jevan out of his reverie. Looking around, Jevan stopped when he realized his surroundings didn’t look familiar. He shielded his eyes and looked at the angle of the sun. Damn, I’ve wandered too far northwest. I’m deep into elven territory. Now I’ll have to back track if I want to avoid running into any of the rangers protecting Maala’naa. I’m damned lucky I haven’t run into one already.

As Jevan was about to turn around, a flash of silver caught his attention. Turning to watch as it disappeared into the undergrowth, he recognized the beast. A triwolf was a rare sight, especially one so large. Jevan stashed his pack and grabbed only his bow and quiver before following in the direction the creature had been heading. It may be foolish to go against a beast like this alone, but the pelt would be quite the prize.

He slowed his approach when he caught up with the beast faster than he’d expected. It had stopped, crouched low, having cornered its prey. Jevan crept silently around the beast to get a closer look at its quarry. The same instant that Jevan had spotted the elven ranger, the triwolf lunged forward, knocking the elf to the ground, poised to rip out his throat.

On instinct, Jevan nocked an arrow into his bow. He gave a yell to distract the beast as he aimed. His arrow flew true and hit the creature in the neck, dropping it like a dead weight upon the lithe form of the elf beneath it.

After the elf scrambled from under the beast, Jevan walked toward him and greeted him in his own language. “Yawen ior’uthera. Kerros’nor Jevan.”

At first the elf studied him, cocking his head to one side. Then he looked down at the beast, noting the arrow protruding from its neck, and looked back at Jevan and his bow. His ears rose as he looked up at the taller Medellan, and much to his surprise, the elf replied in Jevan’s own tongue. “Greetings, Jevan. My name is Ardyn. I owe you my thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Jevan said, putting on his most charming smile as he reached out his hand in greeting. “It’s always nice to meet such an attractive elf.”

When Ardyn backed away from him, Jevan’s heart stuttered a little. Oh, no. Is he afraid of me? Damn, why does that make him even more adorable?

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