by Katy Winter
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Trouble came to a head only two days later. The stranger, who answered to Eliana, decided to take matters into her own hands. To everyone’s surprise Eliana, when Belika was sent away on a foray to the outskirts of the forest area, turned her full focus on Javen. Taken down by the river, Javen was overwhelmed by impatient dominance and passion, as if the warrior woman could wait for relief and satisfaction no longer. He was hurried to respond. It was quite unlike what Javen had experienced for the last few weeks. He didn't enjoy it.
The stimulation gave him no relief. It became increasingly painful. With each aggressive encounter he felt increasingly weaker, on fire, in pain and deeply frightened. He had no control either over Eliana or himself. When he tried to cry out a mouth closed savagely on his. He almost choked and hands at his shoulders, fiercely strong, kept him prone as did legs twined mercilessly round his. When Eliana finally left him he was battered, bruised and crying helplessly like a child. He could scarcely stand.
It was Wind Dancer who found him. The Dom went down beside him, concerned, and quickly threw his cloak over the hunched figure. Then, when Javen lifted his head, misery and pain reflected in his eyes, Wind Dancer saw how ragged and torn his mouth was and how he sluggishly bled from the corner of his lips. Appalled, and with dawning comprehension, Wind Dancer yelled loudly for help. Assistance came in the form of several warrior women and Sapphire. Behind them came Quon.
“What the hells goes on here?' demanded a warrior woman sternly. Then she saw Javen. She went down beside him, crooning, her touch gentle. Javen shrank. She frowned. “Who did this?” Her stance was an angry one. She turned to glare at Wind Dancer. “You?”
“My good woman,” answered Wind Dancer tolerantly. “Do I look like a man able to do this?”
She eyed him.
“No,” she replied grudgingly, after studying him for a long minute. “But we've not seen you before.”
“These are my companions. I've just caught up with them.”
“Is that true?” questioned the warrior woman of Quon who'd arrived slightly out of breath.
“Yes, yes.” Quon glanced at Wind Dancer. “Gatril,” he said gloomily. Wind Dancer nodded. “Sapphire told me.” He sighed. “We must move on.”
“Not until Eliana is found,” said Wind Dancer quietly. He nodded at the Doms. “She did this, my friends, of that I'm sure. Where's Belika?”
“Out of camp,” frowned Saneel.
“Javen,” said Sapphire softly, down on one knee to the shivering man. “Was it Eliana?” Javen nodded.
“Find her!” snarled Saneel. “No one treats our guests in such a fashion. What tribe does she think she comes from?”
“No tribe, I suspect,” said Wind Dancer. “Earth,” he added in an undertone, “look at Javen's mouth. And you, Sapphire.”
Both men obeyed with questioning expressions. Quon drew back first, his eyes like agates.
“She could have killed him.”
“She took enough of his body juices to ensure she could drain whoever it is she seeks. She needs quite a deal of substance to maintain the form she's taken.”
“Jepaul!” gasped Quon. “Jepaul!! Where is he?”
“And Belika's not here.”
“I thought the boy was with you, Quon.”
“No!” Quon was on his feet and running as fast as age let him. “Find the boy! Everyone! Find Jepaul!”
The hue and cry brought Knellen from his pavilion. Saracen, the little man with a snatched up warrior knife in his hand, came bursting from his. They needed no second bidding to look for Jepaul, but there was no need to go far. He was found, as the Doms expected, in Belika's pavilion. Eliana was with him.
He lounged back on the bed. Eliana, beautiful and desirable knelt beside him, but even as she bent over him Jepaul pushed her back. As he did it was Sapphire who noticed she exuded a powerful, intoxicating scent that made Jepaul fall back rather limply, his muscles unaccountably weakened. Her hands worked swiftly. With urgent licking gestures she tried to make Jepaul open his mouth. Repelled but fascinated he stared up at her but kept his mouth shut. Quon tugged at Eliana's shoulder. Her response was to immediately clamber across Jepaul.
She still crooned in Jepaul's ear. He felt something probe deeply in it and gave a cry of sheer pain. The probe went even deeper. He writhed. He felt yet another probe enter and plunge into his other ear, diving down and hot. He tossed his head. As he did, he felt the same sensation up each nostril and probes begin to writhe about, uncontrollably, in his head as if they sought something there. They were like wriggling hot skewers.
“Open your mouth for me,” crooned Eliana. Her legs twined round his.
Jepaul opened his mouth to scream and again shook his head to get rid of the moving probes. Eliana saw his mouth open. She took her chance. Her tongue, flicking about his lips, dived into his mouth and plunged right down his throat with so much force and exultation the boy nearly choked.
Willing hands got her untwined from about Jepaul, but her sucking tongue stayed deeply inside, avidly feeding and keeping him helpless. The more she was pulled the harder she sucked.
“Knellen!” snarled Quon, enraged and scared for Jepaul. “Cut her hard from behind, up between the legs.”
Knellen blinked at him.
“Will that help?”
“Do it!” growled Quon. “She drains him. He can't help himself.”
Knellen drew his knife. He pushed his hand under Eliana from behind, hoped desperately that he went up between her thighs and struck with all his strength. Eliana's head snapped back so hard her tongue had no time to retract and flapped helplessly as she flipped off Jepaul. Knellen saw exactly what she was. Her long, thin tongue still flapped - she was a Succubus in woman's shape.
No one needed to tell the onlookers that inside her shape were tiny, needle-like protuberances that attached themselves to all accessible body entrances, each a sucker that drew life fluid. Quon knew that Succubi were dangerously unpredictable when roused and never more so than when feeding. Very briefly, he was uncharacteristically indecisive. As Eliana flung herself free of Jepaul he gave a howl of sheer pain as the flailing, barbed protuberances came from ears, throat and nose. He coughed blood and sat dizzily. Eliana, caught unawares, had partially lost her womanly shape.
“Behind me, Jepaul,” commanded Sapphire. “Saracen, help the boy.”
Knellen and Saracen were beside Jepaul in a moment and had him unsteadily on his feet, both men carefully guiding him back from Eliana who now stood. Her body form was a reality, the womanly shape gone. Quon took a step towards her but felt a restraining hand on his arm and turning, saw that Sapphire gave him a warning look from the bluest of eyes. Rage still boiled in Quon.
“No, old friend. Your anger hinders us.”
Quon swallowed and backed. Succubus eyes seared his back as he went to sink down beside Jepaul, then they turned in blazing fury on the nearest object. It was Sapphire. Eliana took a step closer to him.
“Stand,” said a quiet voice behind Sapphire. “Do exactly that, Water, and don't move. Same goes for you, Earth. I'm right behind you, old friend.” Wind Dancer spoke again, his voice devoid of emotion. “Passion, desire, fear, anger; all these give them cause to attack.”
Eliana stopped uncertainly. She waited for Sapphire to show emotion or move. He did neither. Irritated, she paused. No one moved. She saw nothing but blank expressions and indifference. Without tension about her, she shifted uneasily.
It was then that she spoke.
“They know about the boy. They sent me to seek him. His fluids would tell us much about him. I have them. I need nothing else.”
It was at that moment that Belika, a silent, frozen spectator at the entrance to her pavilion, attacked the Succubus from behind, her knife coming down in sweeping arcs with extraordinary speed and precision. Each protuberance was severed as it met the knife. The Succubus began a keening wail that had everyone moan and grasp their heads.
And still
Belika, possessed of an all-consuming rage, cut again and again. Fluid began to leak from the body form she attacked. The maddened attack lasted until the wriggling appendages lay on the ground and twitched, the Succubus shape an amorphous blob that swirled helplessly round and round in confusion. Belika gave a spit of loathing at it, then turned to cross to Jepaul. Kneeling, she gently took his hands in hers. Her eyes searched his face.
“Your mouth,” she whispered. “It hurt your mouth.”
“You've killed it?” asked Jepaul. He looked dazed.
“I hope so,” was the vicious reply. “Nothing hurts you, Jepaul, nothing, not while I live.” Very tenderly she drew his curly head forward and with great care she kissed him. Then she straightened and glanced at Quon. “Do you care for him, old man, or shall I?”
“I'll attend to his immediate hurts, my dear,” answered Quon, his fury abated. He shook a little from shock and spent emotion. “I've always cared for Jepaul.”
“I know,” whispered Belika, “but now he has someone else who will help you do that.”
“Are you offering to travel with us?” asked Quon, his gaze into her green eyes steady. “We face unknown dangers, young woman, and your home is here.”
“I only know, old wise one, that when I first saw Jepaul I knew my life would be entwined with his for better or for worse, and that where he goes I'll try to go with him. Every fibre in me tells me this is my destiny. I may die, I don't know, but be with Jepaul I have to be.”
“What drew you to him?” asked Quon, cradling the curly head that drooped to his shoulder.
“You think I wished merely to seduce an innocent boy, do you?” Belika's nostrils flared.
“No,” replied Quon placidly, “though clearly there was mutual attraction.”
“I offered him love of a kind different from the love you men offer him. It seems to me that something, or someone, haunts Jepaul. That being so I wanted him to be fulfilled in another way - in the only way I could.”
“You have done that, young one,” commented Knellen calmly. “Jepaul's a happy fellow in your company. He comes from you with a prancing step and a wonderful light in his eyes.”
“But your wish to have his child will fail,” pointed out Quon with a rather twisted smile. He saw Belika toss back her head defiantly.
“We can but try,” she challenged the Dom.
“And enjoy the endeavour,” chuckled Quon. He rose, holding Jepaul with Knellen's help. “Come along, Jepaul,” he added bracingly. “We need to attend to your mouth and throat.”
It was left to the two Doms to finally despatch the last of the dithering Succubus as she still teetered then whirled like an out of control dervish, faster and faster. She spun like a top. The Doms chanted together. The shape increased velocity. She became a column, then a spiral, then simply flew apart under her own speed. Fragments of her fell to the ground where still appendages lay.
Carefully, the Doms retrieved each fallen piece and carried them gingerly to the fire. There they watched them burn. Briefly, they saw an attempt at fusion before all pieces sizzled and became ash. They gathered the ashes. They were discarded to the winds. In silence they made their way back to the camp. Once there, Wind Dancer spoke meditatively.
“I'm quite astonished, Sapphire, that a Succubus would come so far on her own. Have you seen them about before?”
“Like you,” came the grim response, ”only in days of old. It seems many creatures from the past reappear and they do so with alarming boldness. Was it the Maekwies, sent by the Riders, that she spoke about?”
“I suspect so,” said Wind Dancer in troubled tones. “However, Belika slaughtered the wraith before we could do anything about why she was sent and by whom. We need to watch that boy very, very carefully.”
“And sort out why we were given gatril.”
They found out that evening when all were gathered in the clearing about a huge bonfire especially built by the tribesmen for the occasion. Jepaul had recovered. He sat contentedly next to Belika who played with his curls and occasionally stroked his cheek. Quon, thoughtful and reserved, sat beside the other Doms, but also next to Jepaul who turned often to the older man and spoke softly to him. Javen lounged indolently with Saneel, Knellen was surrounded and Saracen, rested, leaned back on his elbows so he could lazily watch the fire. There was much drinking, laughter, dancing and singing. Under cover of all this the Doms spoke together, until Saneel, leaving Javen to the attentions of another warrior woman, crossed to them and went down beside them.
“We'll miss you,” she said conversationally.
“I'm sure you will,” agreed Quon with a wicked grin and chuckle. “Not me though, I suspect, or my friend Marin.” He saw the dawning smile at his sally and went on, “We're sorry to be so disobliging, of course.”
“Not at all,” Saneel replied with mock courtesy, her teeth showing very white and even. “Those with you gave us what we sought though Belika has failed, or so it seems.”
“No,” contradicted Quon with a shake of his head. “She tried very hard but there are reasons why it would be unwise for Jepaul to cast his seed at this stage of his life, least of all his extreme youth. His seed isn't even mature, you know.”
“He can act the man, old one,” returned Saneel, her smile broadening, “so we can assume from that he can also father offspring.”
“Maybe,” cautioned Quon, “but not yet.” He added, “Or maybe never, Saneel. I do wonder.”
“What did you give him?' Saneel asked frankly, her eyes attractively alight. Quon thought her a most appealing creature. Her bare breasts lightly swept his raised hand.
“Not gatril,” he replied.
“No, we know it wasn't that. We could easily counter most drugs but you use something new to us. Did the boy know?”
“Yes,” came the unexpected reply. “Jepaul knows why he does most things. He clearly understood that now isn't the right time, if it ever will be. I didn’t want to take risks with the boy as his is a very long road that will take all he has to travel.”
Saneel looked down to Jepaul.
“Will it ever be the right time for him, Quon?” she asked softly.
“Only time will give us the answer to that, my dear.”
“And now, Saneel,” said Sapphire calmly, “why the gatril - as if we haven't already guessed.”
“We needed you to share yourselves with us. We see few people in these parts and our tribe is very small. Other tribes do come and we mate with them, but, like us they have small communities. Too much mating of close kin isn't the best for the future of our people.
Our need of fresh seed is very great. You are healthy males. You needed rest and comfort. We gave you these, but in exchange we took our comfort from you as well. The gatril was only intended to help you relax and wish to remain long enough for us to ensure the fertile warriors among us had a chance to conceive.
You have fathered many children and the fact that you offered yourselves freely means the gifts you give us are of more value than you could possibly imagine.” She glanced ruefully at Quon, then at Jepaul, and back again at Sapphire. “Among you, there are those who would greatly benefit us but we recognise reluctance and accept it.”
“Are you telling us,” asked Wind Dancer awed, “that your women all carry children?”
“You have been with us for four weeks,” reproved Saneel with a reprehensible gurgle of mirth. “Warriors don't have time to waste, you know, and even carrying children we must still be ready to defend our homes.” She saw the smile in Sapphire's eyes. “If you change your mind before you leave, Marin,” she offered, with a saucy grin, “I'm entirely at your disposal, though regrettably I have already conceived.” She shook her head at him too, then added, “Only Belika hasn't but then she travels with you, doesn't she, Doms?” She saw the startled looks cast up at her. “I'm no fool,” she told them simply. “I listen. I guessed who you might be, but not why you travelled so far. We know o
f the Island and Salaphon and those who serve him, but like most of Shalah we thought such things were from long ago. It seems not. Is it where you take Jepaul?”
Quon eyed her fascinated. He nodded.
“You've guessed the wraith sought him, haven't you?”
“Oh yes, I knew that,” she replied. “You need all the help you can get, don't you?” With that she was gone.
They went with horses. Saneel, a knowing twinkle in her eyes, offered them to Knellen who looked extremely gratified. Surprised delight lit his face. Seven horses, ready and saddled, were brought to the gathered men and woman. Belika already had her horse beside her. One horse was smaller than the others. It was a gift for Saracen.
“We traded for these,” said Karim, the warrior closest to Knellen over the preceding weeks. “They're healthy and sturdy though they lack speed. We find them excellent for reliability and endurance.”
“And again we thank you for your services,” said Saneel, aware other than the Doms had no idea what she was talking about.
Sapphire broke into laughter and strode forward to kiss Saneel on the cheek.
“You witch!” he teased playfully. “Next time we see you I'll not spare you, I can promise you that!”
“I hope you mean that,” answered Saneel, smiling up into his face and a hand gently tugging at his beard.
“Well!” muttered Wind Dancer under his breath. “You just never know, do you?”
The horses were indeed built for endurance. They were very large and built on generous lines with great chests and shoulders. They had very hairy hooves, long shaggy coats, were placid and wouldn’t be spurred to more than a gentle canter at most and that was reluctantly. Still, they were good-natured beasts. And riding meant they made faster progress. With mobility they turned north again, with Wind Dancer staying with them. The days began to lengthen and spring brought attractiveness back to a bleak landscape. Frozen rivers and streams melted.
They didn't encounter other mimoses. Jepaul grew again. By the time they reached the northernmost reaches of Dawn-Saith, Jepaul had passed his fifteen syn day and gone through the rites of passage from boy to man. The men gathered about him in support. He received simple gifts made richer by those who gave them. Later he went to Quon who rested against the bole of a tree. He sank to his knees.
“Quon, father to me, thank you for everything you've done for me.”
His voice was a whisper. A hand under his chin lifted his head until he stared into the old man's wrinkled, kindly face.
“I'm proud of you, Jepaul, as I'd be of any son I had. And you're that son to me. But, child, understand that your life just begins as you put childhood behind you and stride into manhood. There'll be joys and sorrows, trials, griefs and achievements - and while I still have breath, Jepaul, I'll live them with you.”
Jepaul sank down beside Quon and rested his head on the old man's shoulder. He felt the reassuring arm go about his shoulders.
Quon studied Jepaul the next day. He saw a youth of great height. He was slender, his carriage always graceful and assured and he always held his head high. He had considerable dignity and devastating charisma. The long curls swept back from an intelligent forehead were invariably tied back and the eyes, still oddly shaped and un-Shalahish amber, were as Quon always remembered in the boy.
The face that was very pretty in the boy was now remarkably handsome, even beautiful in the youth. The skin was flawlessly soft and cream. It contrasted with darkly lashed eyes and finely drawn but arched dark eyebrows. There was still no trace of a beard. His like was not seen on Shalah, so it was no wonder he should draw all eyes if he was to be seen among people again.
Quon felt an eerie sense of urgency to get the boy closer to safety. It nagged at him. Ever since the incident with the Succubus Quon sensed another leap forward in Jepaul's talent, though neither he nor the Doms could pin the elusive quality in the young man that made them all concerned. They were just acutely aware that Jepaul's development, whatever it was, began to accelerate with maturity. He needed to be in an environment where such talent could be evaluated and nourished, not wandering about vulnerable to the preying instincts of forces again loose on Shalah.