Sin and Soil 9

by Anya Merchant

  It opened and closed its mouth, revealing rows of teeth and a tongue that looked quite a bit like a smaller snake in the way it curled and moved through the air. Damon could hear the rustling of more snakes moving to investigate from behind them. There was no turning back, no retreating.

  He drew his myrblade, lunging forward without a second of hesitation. Ria shouted something, a warning which was probably justified, but impossible for him to heed. The giant sand snake’s tongue lashed out at him, and he struck it in the same moment.

  Driving his myrblade deep into the flesh of the roof of the sand snake’s mouth, Damon channeled the weapon’s ice enchantment. He forced magic into the monster in much the same way he’d dealt with the lidaragi days earlier, freezing it from the inside out.

  The snake thrashed against the tunnel from which it had emerged, shaking the ground so fiercely that Damon couldn’t see through the falling sand. He could feel the effect of his attack, however, as the monster’s movements slowed, and then stopped entirely.

  He blinked, staring at what was undoubtedly the most impressive feat he’d ever managed with his weapon. Ria pulled him forward by the shirt sleeve. He snapped back to the moment, realizing he could see light far down the tunnel ahead of them.

  They ran, quite literally, for their lives. The tunnel was collapsing into a mess of crumbling rock and sand even as they sprinted up it. Damon could hear the hissing of more sand snakes coming after them, eager for revenge.

  He pushed forward as they reached the end, helping her up over a small barrier of sand in between them and freedom. She spun around, seizing him by the arms and pulling him the last distance to the surface.

  It was nighttime, with a full ghost moon overhead, which surprised Damon. He rolled away from the crumbling hole leading to the tunnel, coughing sand out of his throat. Ria insisted on pushing him forward, and they continued their retreat for another few hundred feet before stopping to catch their breaths.

  “We’re safe,” said Damon. “Now all we need to do is finish crossing the desert.”

  Ria let out a long, tired sigh. “For now, perhaps finding a place to camp for tonight can take priority.”

  “Most definitely.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Two grueling days later, Damon and Ria emerged from the desert. Their journey after leaving the underground caverns had been stressful, though uneventful. They traveled from dawn till dusk, rationing food and water and pushing themselves to their limit.

  The region in between Amaryssan and the Old Wilds was a barren wasteland. The ground was hard, sunbaked mud with sparse patches of scrub grass, though the trees in the distance held the promise of more fertile land to come.

  “Yvvestrosai is not far from here,” said Ria.”

  “You’re sure?” asked Damon. “We were thrown off course by our misadventure through the caverns.”

  “I have heard descriptions of this area,” said Ria. “If we travel east, we should arrive no later than tomorrow night.”

  They made camp for the evening, wary of the black and gray clouds which had been gathering overhead since earlier that afternoon. Dinner was a cold, humble mixture of dried fruit and soon-to-be stale bread.

  It started raining as they finished their meal, and for once, the weather presented more opportunity than inconvenience. Ria gave Damon an ambitious smile from the edge of her tent as the downpour began in earnest. She wiggled out of her tunic and leggings, underwear soon following, and went to stand in the rain.

  Damon watched her for a moment as she began running her hands through her hair, letting the water do what it could to remove days of dirt and desert from her body. He joined her in a similar state, blinking as he felt droplets of precipitation pattering off his skin.

  It was cold, which again surprised him given the terrain. It still felt incredible, refreshing to a transcendental degree. He combed his fingers through his hair as it began to drip with water, only then turning his attention to Ria.

  She was soaking wet and shivering, but not uncomfortably so. The lines of her tan looked so intriguing, like a hidden, erotic pattern for Damon’s eyes only. He watched her bend forward to run her hands up her defined calves and strong, womanly thighs and found it hard to focus on taking his own rain bath.

  Ria began smirking as she saw the effect she had on him. She stood up, arching her back and rising up on her toes to her complete height before striding over to him, hips swaying, breasts moving with subtle jiggles.

  “You must clean yourself up, young Damon,” said Ria. “Did you never learn to bathe yourself?”

  “You’re one to talk,” he said. “I think you missed a few spots.”

  “Did I?” She made a face and reached an arm over her shoulder as though trying to wipe at her back. The movement pushed her breasts toward Damon. He felt his cock throb and pulled her close.

  “Not there,” he said. “Over here.”

  He pulled her so her butt was pressed snugly against his cock. He ran his hands over her body, letting one rest possessively on her hip, while the other cupped her breast. Slowly, he began rocking into her.

  “You are still dirty,” she whispered.

  “Am I?” He kissed her neck, letting his teeth gently drag across bare skin.

  Ria turned around, slowing the movement to let her butt slide over the entire length of his manhood. She brought her lips in close to his as though to lock into a passionate kiss, only to turn at the last second to tease him.

  “I would prefer not to share my tent with such a dirty man,” she said, running her hands over his shoulders and down his arms to wipe away spots he’d missed.

  “Your tent?” He let out a scoff. “I seem to recall that we agreed to share it.”

  “I agreed to share my tent with you,” she said, kneeling down and rubbing at his stomach. “I have always been charitable. You should know this.”

  She shifted, cleaning his inner thighs, doing an impressive job of pretending as though Damon’s cock wasn’t aimed in her face like the point of a dagger.

  “There,” she said, finally letting her gaze settle on his member. “Finished. Unless you think I should focus my attention somewhere else?”

  Damon took her by the shoulder and aggressively, but not roughly, pulled her up. “I think you should get in the tent.”

  “Ha!” said Ria. “You are adorable when you think you can boss me around, husband.”

  He slapped her butt. Ria stomped a foot and spun around, eyes narrowed to a degree that was a little overdone. He gave her a teasing push on the shoulder and then ran by her, pulling her by the hand toward their humble abode for the night.

  They fell upon one another as soon as they were out of the rain, kissing and caressing with the horny urgency of young lovers. They rolled around, both pushing to be the one in control, the leader, and butting heads as they often did elsewhere in life.

  Damon seized Ria by the hips after flipping her facedown underneath him. She rose up, letting her butt grind into him as she had outside. He squeezed her breasts and kissed her on the cheek, easing her forward, lining it up.

  He slid his cock into her, running a hand across her back as he did as though soothing a spooked animal. But Ria was anything but spooked. She wiggled her ass for him with horny movements, teasing his length even before he began to move on his own.

  He took her hard, but not punishingly so. Sex with Ria was so often about more than just pleasure. They were both in their prime, lovers and warriors, fit and aggressive. Sex with Ria was like fighting with Ria, fighting against her.

  He watched her butt jiggling with each of his hard thrusts. Ria moaned, occasionally making a sexy, deeper noise, so horny it bordered on feral. He squeezed her breasts hard enough to leave marks with his fingertips. She arched her back and set a hand on his hip, clawing him as a powerful orgasm reverberated through her.

  Damon wasn’t thinking as he came. It felt so natural to simply finish inside her that it wasn’t until the pleasure had him
floating within his own body that he realized what he’d done. He pulled back, breathing hard, in time to keep the last few blasts of his seed from filling her up.

  Neither of them said anything about it as they cuddled together on the bedroll. It hung over them like a hidden promise, like a new secret, a freshly uncovered fact that neither of them quite knew how to handle. They were too close now to truly care, in the moment, if he got her pregnant. They loved each other too much for that sort of hesitation to exist.

  “Are you alright?” he eventually whispered.

  “Mmm…” answered Ria. She snuggled closer into him.

  Damon kissed her on the top of her head and then, remembering his loved ones across the desert, fumbled his amethyst dreamspell amulet out of his pack.

  Ria lifted her head from his shoulder as he pulled the cord over his neck. It was dark within the tent, but he could sense the character of her gaze.

  “I haven’t heard from aesta in a while,” he said. “I’m starting to get a little concerned.”

  “Does she normally visit your dreams on a schedule?” asked Ria.

  “Not exactly.” He shrugged, fingers toying with the amulet’s gemstone. “I suppose I’m just worried about whether something might have happened.”

  “She is more equipped to handle herself than we are, husband.”

  Damon nodded, but he couldn’t banish the tension from his posture.

  “That is your main concern?” she said, reading him. “Or is there more?”

  “I mean…” He winced, considering his words carefully. “There was… a small thing that happened, before I left.”

  “A small thing,” teased Ria. “You have a way of phrasing your deeds that does you no credit.”

  “Aesta and I… We took things further than we usually do.”

  “You bedded her?” asked Ria. Her voice was curious, but also slightly jealous. Not in a cruel or insecure way, but a more familiar shade of emotion. Jealousy among family.

  “Sort of,” he said. “I did, or started to, but she has a way of pulling control back. Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring this up.”

  Ria started laughing. Damon felt his face heat up.

  “Young Damon,” she said softly. “You finally coaxed Malon into playing with you as a man, and now you fret over her not seeking you out in your dreams? Do you realize how that sounds?”

  “Shut up.”

  “You should think on whether your feelings are truly from a justified sense of worry for her and Velanor, or perhaps a different genesis.”

  “That’s… fair, I suppose.”

  “You should also remember that you are currently in a tent, with another woman whom you love and cherish.” Ria let out an amused sigh. “We will all need to sit down and have… a rather blunt conversation next we meet.”

  CHAPTER 15

  Damon awoke to the sound of voices the next morning, ones of a not so friendly tonality. He grunted, shifting into Ria, who was still naked against him, and reaching for his myrblade. It was raining outside the tent, a soft patter against the canvas shielding them from the elements.

  “Wait,” whispered Ria. “These are Rem.”

  “Your point being?” Damon glanced out of the tent through the flap. “They’re armed, and I count at least five.”

  “I shall handle this,” said Ria. “Pass me my tunic.”

  Damon furrowed his brow, but figured he could always step in if needed. He passed Ria her shirt, and she pulled it on before slipping out of the tent, foregoing girlshorts or pants. Her spiral tunic was long enough to cover the interesting parts of her body… if only barely.

  Damon found his own undershorts and pulled them on. He could hear Ria conversing with the men, her voice icy against what sounded like mocking and derisive questioning on their end. He readied himself to attack at the first sign of aggression—but never got the chance.

  One of the men drew a curved short sword from his belt. Ria waved an arm through the air absently. Thunder boomed overhead as a bolt of lightning struck the man who’d drawn his weapon, knocking him to the ground so abruptly that it felt separate from the rest of the encounter.

  She shouted something, her voice simultaneously confident and threatening. Damon caught one of the words he’d learned, thank you, and felt himself growing curious. Another one of the men stepped forward, not drawing a weapon, but glaring and jabbing a finger at Ria.

  Again, she struck with her tempesting, and again, it was over before it had even begun. Lightning struck the man in the chest, wrenching him off his feet and into a wild seizure across the mud. The remaining Remenai hurried to help their injured brethren to their feet, and the five of them retreated to the south at a speed that left no doubt to the degree of their terror.

  “You’re a monster in a downpour,” said Damon.

  She grinned at him. “So it seems. They knew who I was.”

  “As they should,” said Damon. “You’ve developed quite the reputation.”

  “Vaista Aestairius,” said Ria. “Queen of Storms.”

  “That’s what they’re calling you?” Damon fought to keep a teasing smile off his face. “Well, I’m sure it won’t go to your head or anything.”

  “You should be more respectful when addressing a queen,” she said, jutting her chin.

  “Right. Well, honored Queen Ria, we still have an hour or so until we need to pack up our camp, and I just noticed that you’re bottomless.”

  She let out a squeal as he pulled her into the tent and onto his lap. It would have been a lie for Damon to claim that his arousal was solely due to what she was wearing. Power was a turn-on.

  ***

  They set out again later that morning as the rain petered off into a damp drizzle and wispy fog. The muddy wastelands along the desert’s edge quickly gave way to a dense forest, the Old Wilds, as Ria had called them.

  The trees were healthy, but the underbrush next to non-existent. Signs of the area being heavily traveled were everywhere, which left Damon perplexed by how little of the land was cleared.

  Even as they began passing small wooden huts with thatched roofs, and occasionally small Rem villages, the forest still held dominion over the land. The region felt peaceful and calm, but occupied in a way that left Damon feeling as though he was being watched by hidden eyes.

  “We are almost there,” said Ria. “Yvvestrosai is just ahead.”

  “Where?” Damon furrowed his brow as she pointed at the tree line against the slope before them.

  It wasn’t until they stood atop the hill that he received his first glimpse of the aptly named City of Flowers. Yvvestrosai stood at the center of a partially cleared valley, a sprawling cluster of buildings and bright, beautiful vegetation.

  It looked nothing like a Merinian city, so much so that it seemed to war against the very definition of the word. Flowers and trees grew everywhere they could, flourishing under what Damon assumed was active cultivation among the local Remenai.

  There were no roads or streets, at least not any matching the typical definition. Instead, thin paths weaved through the huts and buildings in patterns determined by an uncountable number of footfalls across years, if not decades.

  Yvvestrosai looked as though it had grown in the same manner as the forest, a simple offshoot of the natural order. Damon stared at it for several long minutes beside Ria, wondering if the sight stirred her to the same degree it had him.

  “There’s no wall,” he noted. “I don’t see any watch towers, either.”

  “Do not assume that means the city is undefended,” said Ria. “You should wear your cloak as we travel into it. Keep your head covered, and avoid showing your face.”

  “Is the fact that I’m a Merinian going to put me in danger here?”

  He didn’t ask the question bitterly. He’d seen the way Ria had been treated in Avaricia and felt as though it would be petty to complain about shouldering similar prejudice to what she’d endured in the past.

  “In all likelihood,
yes, though I am not of certainty,” she said. “I have not spent time in Yvvestrosai, myself. The situation may also be different now that the clans are allied under the Athlatak.”

  “Will he be eager to have us in his city?” asked Damon. “The men we encountered outside the Old Wilds seemed to act as though your reputation was widespread.”

  “I do not know,” said Ria. “It would simplify our business if he were willing to treat us as honored guests, but… it is impossible to say for sure.”

  Damon took her advice and pulled on his cloak before they started down into the city. Aside from the obvious aesthetic differences, Yvvestrosai also smelled different from Avaricia and the other port cities. The ambient stink of humanity at its worst was replaced with a scent that was ripe in a positive sense, flowers and pollen and the musk of damp leaves.

  He did his best not to stare at the people. As exotic as the Remenai of Veridan’s Curve had seemed to him, witnessing them here, in the heart of their homeland, fascinated him on a new level.

  Many of the women wore the matridai on their faces, while the faces of the men and younger children had similar, though more understated markings denoting their clans. It made Damon uncomfortably aware of how much not only he must stand out, but also Ria, who’d been orphaned before receiving her own clan tattoos.

  He saw a young man seemingly bartering with an older woman over a bushel of fruit in a basket of woven reeds. No coin was exchanged during the transaction, but Damon still sensed a passage of debt, or favor, between them.

  The simple act of traversing the thin footpaths cutting in between the buildings felt like a coordinated, communal dance. People carefully slipped by one another in single file on some paths, while others seemed to lock travel in a single direction. Intersections oftentimes joined more than four separate paths, eight or nine in some cases, with people moving by one another in unspoken, casual grace.