Startled, Nizar fumbled for an answer.
“I...I don’t mean to scare you, pretty lady,” he stammered. Then regaining control of his wits, “My only desire is to please you.”
“Oh, you do,” Raven whispered. “I adore men who scare me.”
“Well, then, maybe I should pull a sword on you,” Nizar joked.
Her eyes dropped to his hilt, and froze. At first he thought he had made some mistake. Did she recognize the sword? Was she a friend of its former owner, King Aballion of Treversax?
“A steppe sword,” she said, hand rising to lovingly caress the long black hilt just peeking over her right shoulder. “I have a steppe sword, too.”
“I’m sure it is a fine blade – ”
“Ha! It’s better than fine, she’s a Named sword,” she declared, eyes flashing. “Her name is Tasheba.”
“Well, yes, Tasheba looks like a fine sword,” Nizar said, though not really knowing what would constitute a good sword, but warriors loved to talk about their weapons of choice. His weapons of choice were stealth and cunning. “Personally, I prefer a scimitar. Steppe swords are too light for me in battle, but they are a fine light blade for nights when I don’t expect to fight.”
The barkeep delivered her wine. While he paid, she sucked down half the glass in one long swallow. The barkeep took note, too, eyes dancing with mercenary delight. Nizar prayed she wasn’t too thirsty.
“Good wine,” she said. “Better than I had expected.” She made a face, “For some ungodly reason Lelts love sugary sweet wines. Gods, it’s enough to make a girl drink water.”
Nizar chuckled. He felt the same way. Nothing could beat a good dry wine.
“So, my swarthy savior, did the Kestsaxians ‘induct’ you into the army, too?” she said, signaling for a refill.
Nizar carefully kept his smile as he tossed the barkeep another crown copper. Tyrians were infamous for their ability to consume large quantities of strong drink. He prayed he had enough coin.
“No, I’m a prince of Tamera,” he said, noting the way her eyes brighten at that. “Though they did try to confiscate my mounts, but wisely backed down when I explained the situation to them.”
“Are you really a Tameran prince?” she said. “I’m a princess, too.”
He couldn’t tell if she was truthful, or playing him. Her smile could mean a joke.
“Really?” Nizar said, a smile spreading.
It was hard not to laugh, since it seemed as if every Tyrian claimed to be a royal, or at least a noble. Her father was probably some illiterate goat herder or farmer. Every tribe, clan, and family group had a king, so she could be a Tyrian princess. Not that it meant anything.
“I suspected as much,” he said. “Such grace and beauty couldn’t possibly have come from peasant stock.”
Her smile was radiant.
“I must confess, if you don’t stop smiling at me like that, I’ll be lost forever,” Nizar said.
“Do you really want me to stop?” Raven said, giving him the most sensuous look he had ever seen. She leaned forward, her head rolling back to expose a slender neck.
His belly became jelly, and his knees threatened betrayal as well. Never had any woman offered herself to him so blatantly before. Indeed, no woman had ever offered herself to Nizar before, period. Then she leaned even closer, revealing a generous amount bosom and a small silver medallion nestled in its milky depths.
His heart froze.
Ashtar’s Own! Nizar thought, seeing the medallion only Ashtar’s priests were permitted to wear. Dakar protect! I should have seen it! My God, she looks exactly like Ashtar! I’m a fool!
That last thought startled him. What if she was Ashtar? He was doomed. But he could find out, for he had “felt” Ashtar earlier in the raven. If he could just find the strength.
Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Nizar silently prayed to Dakar for His aid and protection. That done, he tentatively reached out with his priestly powers, all the while fearing Raven would detect his probing.
He felt resistance to his probing. Heart hammering, he pushed a bit more and broke through. To his great relief, he found she wore a talisman against magic somewhere on her person. Thankfully, it was no match for Godly powers.
Raven proved to be only a woman. But she had the “Taint” of Ashtar, thick as summer flies. She was definitely connected to Ashtar in some way, but not a priestess. Not a full priestess. There wasn’t the aura of power that surrounded a priest. An acolyte? Probably.
But still, one of Ashtar’s Own, he thought.
Raven snuggled close, nuzzling his cheek. He realized she didn’t know what he was doing, and might be misinterpreting his slight withdrawal. There was confusion, maybe even fear, in her eyes, well hidden, but there. Fear and uncertainty in equal measures. It fired him, deep down. She was afraid he didn’t want her.
Power. I have stolen her power, and she knows it. She is mine.
“I’ll get a room,” he said, feeling her tense.
He noted uncertainty claim her face, but he returned a look of utter confidence. As expected, she responded to his confidence. Raven relaxed, though wariness still owned her eyes.
“You won’t be sorry, lover,” she said, caressing his hand lovingly.
The way she watched him, watched his eyes, said she was still unsure of him. It was obvious she wasn’t used to being in that situation. And it seemed to make her want him even more.
He fought to keep control of his emotions. Nizar had never really wanted any woman, but he wanted this wicked woman, this Ashtarite. The swordsmith’s friend, his trusted comrade, Ashtar’s Own – and he would use her to capture Tane Kyleson.
Victory is so sweet, he thought. Earlier, I vanquished your Goddess, Raven. Tonight, I’ll make you my weapon with which I will destroy your beloved Arisens’ only hope.
Chapter 39
Tane and Quinn walked through the garrison gate together, laughing comradely about Raven’s antics in the bathhouse earlier.
“I have to admit,” Tane said. “I was afraid you might be angry with me.”
“Why?”
“Well, Raven was nude when she waylaid me,” he said. “She’s a very...uh...pretty woman. And, of course, she’s your woman.”
“Ha! My woman! Raven?” Quinn said. “My friend, Raven doesn’t ‘belong’ to any man.” He gave Tane a comradely clap on the back, saying, “She’s like a cat. Beautiful, graceful...”
“...Preens shamelessly...” Tane offered with a laugh.
“...Totally amoral...”
“...and always lands on her feet,” Tane finished with a laugh. “Raven is glorious!”
Quinn laughed merrily. “You sound like a man in love, except for that crack about her preening shamelessly.”
Tane shrugged in good humor, saying, “I admit I was more than a little smitten with her, at first. But she would kill me. She’s fire, and I’m water. We’re fine side-by-side, but never put us together.”
“You’re wise beyond your years,” Quinn said. He sighed gustily. “I thought I knew better, and I do, but....”
“But you’re not going to turn her away,” Tane finished as they reached the tavern. After consummating their “friendship” in the bathing pool, they had taken it back to the barracks and had at each other on Raven’s bunk. Twice. Tane was more than a little impressed, and envious. “I don’t blame you, old friend.”
“Old?” he laughed. “If you only knew. If you only knew.”
Before Tane could question the half-elf further, Quinn slipped into the tavern. Tane followed, and was immediately brought up short. Never had he seen such a place. The women were all scantily clad, and about half the serving wenches were topless. The men were some of the most dangerous he had ever seen.
“This is the tavern Raven is meeting us at?” Tane said. He was incredulous. Why would any woman want to patronize that tavern? It scared him. “If I were a woman, I wouldn’t even walk down the same street as a place like this. It
doesn’t look safe for armed men.”
“Raven doesn’t like safe,” Quinn said.
“I’ve noticed.”
All the tables were taken, so they found a clear spot at the bar in back. Tane looked around, but didn’t see Raven anywhere. Strange, since she had asked twice to ensure they would meet her there. Had she changed her mind?
“You see Raven?” Tane said.
“No,” Quinn said. “We’ll wait a bit, but if she doesn’t show soon we can leave and find a more...pleasant tavern.”
Tane looked around warily, saying, “We could wait at the door.”
Chapter 40
“Don’t stop!” Raven cried.
Nizar claimed her lips in another deep, passionate kiss. Mostly to shut her up. All the while, he continued to thrust into her receptive body. She grunted with every deep thrust.
“Ugh. Ugh. Ugh.”
Her sex tightened around him again. He released her lips to kiss a line down her neck.
“Yes. Yes, Yes,” she gasped out with a deep, breathless, lust-drenched voice. “Don’t stop. Just like that. Yes. Yes.”
Her hips thrust up to meet him. She ground her sex against him, even as her nails raked his back. Then her legs spread wide, knees locked straight, and an incredulous look spread across her face.
“Ooooooooooh.” Raven’s back bowed, belly quivering so hard Nizar paused to look down at it. “Yes.”
Nizar felt so powerful. He propped himself up with a forearm across her upper chest, grabbed a large, firm boob, and really started to thrust into her like a king. Instead of relaxing and basking in the afterglow, Raven cried out, gasped, and started bucking. Her hands clutched at him desperately, while her eyes rolled up and tiny animal sounds bubbled out of her slack lips.
“Please. Don’t stop,” she gasped out. “Almost… There…”
He pounded into her harder, faster. The wet slap of flesh against flesh grew louder than his grunts and her little cries of pleasure. And that wonderful rush filled him with tingles, and there was no stopping it. Nizar released deep inside Raven, and that pushed her over the top again.
Nizar slowly pulled out. She gasped, and then cried out softly in protest. He just rolled over to sit on the edge of the bed, breathing deeply to steady himself.
“That was great!” She gave Nizar a come-hither look, reaching out to rake her nails down his back. Her body glistened with sweat, her nipples still hard and erect. With a throaty purr, she begged, “Do it again. And again.”
Nizar laughed.
“And again,” she said.
“I get the point,” he said, chuckling wearily.
She was so terribly beautiful. Her breasts were larger than he realized, firm with youthful health and good breeding. Raven’s waist was tiny, while her hips were wonderfully flared and round.
Damn good breeding, Nizar thought, recalling how Raven had bragged during their loveplay of being a direct descendant of Ashtar. It makes my victory all the sweeter.
He reached out to stroke her warm, soft cheek. Raven pushed into it, purring with hedonistic pleasure. Nizar felt such power in her submission.
He spoke a prayer, and Raven tensed. All life instantly vanished from her adoring eyes. A zombie.
“Not yet, harlot,” he sneered. He stood, turning to study her on the rumpled bed. His to command. “At the moment, I desire a different kind of fun.”
Raven didn’t respond. He found little pleasure in her mindlessness. But he knew how to take advantage of that small deficiency.
“Off the bed!”
Raven slipped out of the bed to stand before Nizar.
“All fours.”
She dropped to her hands and knees.
“Bark.”
“Arf. Arf. Arf. Arf...”
“A big dog, stupid!”
“Ruff. Ruff. Ruff...”
“Silence!”
He started to kick her too pretty face, but stopped himself. With regret. A bruised face would put a kink in his plans for her. As it stood, he could make her forget everything that happened while she was entranced. In truth, Nizar only entranced her so he could prepare her sword.
Taking up her sword, Nizar pulled his belt knife and carefully trimmed off a fingernail. Then taking the sword, he froze. The feel of magic washed over him, though subtle. But it was obvious the sword’s magic was no threat to him, so he carefully worked the nail clipping up under the black leather wrapped around the two-handed hilt.
Since the nail clipping was a part of him, he could always divine its location. Anywhere Raven, and Tane, went, Nizar could follow. It was better than the bloody dagger he had used earlier, for the nail clipping would last for years. No amount of use or weather would strip it away.
Closing his eyes, he tested his plan by “calling” to the nail clipping. Nothing. He couldn’t find it, even though it was just three paces away. Then he realized the sword was the talisman against magic he noted earlier.
“Damn,” he growled, eyeing her balefully.
Turning back to Tasheba, he closed his eyes again and preyed for divine aid as he studied the enchantment. It was strong. Very impressive.
“A spell against magical attack?” he said. “Very Interesting. I could use something like that.”
He could just take it, giving her his sword in its place. A “suggestion” from him while she was entranced would keep her from realizing a switch had been made. That would solve his problem. But, if she returned to the barracks with a different sword her friends might question her on it. Such a blade was valuable, and not easily given up by anyone, especially not by a woman like Raven. And she wouldn’t know how to explain the new sword.
Maybe she could provide him something of Tane’s to enchant? That would be even better, since he wouldn’t have to worry about her surviving any battles to stay near the swordsmith.
“Do you have anything of Tane Kyleson’s on your person?” he said.
“No.”
“Damn,” he said, thinking furiously. “Does he need anything? Something he’ll keep on his person at all times. It’ll have to be something you could give him without too many questions.”
She was silent a long moment. “Armor. He lost his armor.”
A smile slowly claimed Nizar’s face. He had more armor than he knew what to do with. It would be a pleasure to be rid of it, too. The gambeson would be perfect. It was too big and heavy for Raven, so it was unlikely anyone would question her willingness to part with it instead of wearing it herself. The swordsmith would never suspect a thing, and wear it all the time. Perfect.
“Run if you want,” he said, well-pleased with his cunning as he finished secreting the nail clipping inside a seam of the gambeson’s cloth lining. “But don’t look back, for I’ll be one step behind you.”
Looking at Raven, waiting patiently on her hands and knees not five paces away, he found his ardor rising yet again.
“Is my little slave princess still hot for me?” he asked.
The sight of her Silk Slave tattoo had been another surprise for him. She was full of delightful surprises.
“Yes,” she said.
Nizar raised a single brow, surprised to have received a response, much less that answer. Yes, indeed, many delightful surprises.
“Hop back up on the bed, harlot.”
Raven obediently complied. He admired her form a moment, wondering if he should take her as a zombie. Would her touch be as deft, as thoroughly delightful? Would she be as sensuously stimulating?
Not a chance.
He positioned her exactly as she was when he entranced her. Then he positioned himself and reached out to stroke her cheek just as before.
Nizar said, “You will not remember anything that happened while entranced. But you will deliver the gambeson I will give you to Tane Kyleson. If anyone asks where you got it, tell them you won it dicing.”
“I understand.”
He spoke the prayer that freed her, and kissed her deeply before any confusion set
in. Let her believe his passionate kiss caused her momentary disorientation. Maybe she’d even believe it was love.
The thought amused him.
“Sweet Lyss, kiss me again!” she gasped, invoking the Goddess of Love and Passion. “And again. And again!”
Nizar took a fistful of silky soft, glossy black hair, jerking her head back. She gasped, emerald eyes burning with desire, body arched and trembling.
“You’re such a shameless hedonist,” he said.
“I know,” she whispered, voice deep and husky, as she slipped off the bed.
Raven pushed his knees wide, wrapped a hand around his rising member, and when down on him. He buried his hands in her thick, silky hair, and savored his victory.
Chapter 41
“Well, I for one am through waiting,” Quinn said. “I can forgive almost anything, especially where Raven is concerned, but I detest waiting for anyone. Especially when she almost begged us to meet her here!”
“Well, I’m sure Raven has a good excuse,” Tane said, hoping she did.
“Bloody right I do!” Raven said, giving them her most roguish grin. “Behold!”
Tane jumped in surprised, with brought a wicked little twinkle to her eyes. Quinn just frowned at her.
“You’re late.”
“I know,” she responded, but turned a bright smile on Tane.
Raven produced a chain mail gambeson with a flourish, her grin growing wider. Tane’s trained eyes noted it was a fine example of the armor’s art. She had lost her steal cuirass, so needed some armor. Unfortunately, Tane could see the armor was made for a much heavier, stronger person. He doubted if Quinn could wear it comfortably. But he was sure she could sell it for a hefty sum.
He idly wondered where she got it, but knew better than ask. Raven would probably conjure up some wild story to explain her newest prize. Most likely she stole it off a passed out drunk.
“I hope making us wait was worth it,” Quinn grumbled, though Tane noted a hint of interest in the mail armor. “Sweet Mother, we’ve been waiting for you for over three hours! And Tane and I have to report for duty at first light.”
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