by JG Jerome
Grace turns and kisses Myra’s lips chastely. “You humble me, my Queen.”
Then I kneel next to the first Goblin with an amputation. He has a serious cut in his leg, too. I heal the leg first and then close the open wound of his amputated right arm. Like I did with Selene and Sera, I seal the wound before I extend the bone inch by inch, with the skin stretching over them. Then the muscle, connective tissue, vascular system, and nervous network fill in the new arm and hand. I keep energizing the new limb until the basics are in place. He can strengthen it on his own. I tell him, “I’m only able to do this because of Grace’s gift to me. Remember, you are no longer an amputee because of her generosity and sacrifice.”
I work through another single hand amputee, a double hand amputee, and the last one has his right arm cut off just below the shoulder and interestingly enough, his right ankle. I heal each one and tell them the same message, “You are no longer an amputee because of Grace’s generosity and sacrifice.”
Then I go back to my Goblin lover. She’s back in uniform. I kiss her gently and offer her my arm. She takes my arm tentatively with a shy look on her face. Myra hooks my other arm and kisses me wetly. We walk to Salt sitting on the bottom step of his dais grinning.
He laughs saying, “Quite a show, Jack. Most of our women are going to want to join your harem after the way you took Grace in front of them all.”
I shake my head, “You’ll have to impress them, King Salt. I’m afraid you gave me the cream of the crop. All five of them are special ladies; although, Grace is in a category all her own.”
I hear a voice shout behind me, “King Salt, I challenge the Green Lord to combat for the honor of Four!”
I whip around, “Her name is Grace, asshat. Get it right.”
“She is my sister, and she was christened Four!” the Goblin roars at me.
I look to Salt and ask, “What is the custom?”
Salt shrugs, “Fight or be labeled a coward.”
“Is it like a duel where the challenged selects the weapons?” I ask.
He shakes his head, “Nope. Whatever you have on you is permitted.”
I nod and then face Grace’s brother. I call, “I accept your challenge.”
Grace’s brother is about my height, or maybe an inch shorter. He’s about twice as broad as I am with arms that are bigger than my thighs and thighs as big around as my waist. He pulls a bastard sword from over his shoulder and swings it across his body to warm up. I shrug my shoulders and bounce back and forth to loosen up.
“Are you ready, asshat?” I ask as I amble towards the center of the ring created by the spectators.
“I’m going to cleave you in half for how you shamed my sister in front of the court,” he bellows.
I yell, “Grace, did I shame you?”
She calls back, “No Lord. It was my honor to serve you and have you claim me as your woman in front of the court. It was glorious, Beloved.”
“I love you too, Grace!” Then I address the brother, “Hello, my name is Jack Jerome. I am the Green Lord. I’m assuming you are - what - Three? Two? One?”
“I am Riordak,” he calls. “Firstborn of Yorlandar, Lord of the Dark Moors. DIE!” He runs forward and hacks straight down.
I don’t even worry about blinking. I just skip forward to my left at about a 45-degree angle and then arc a roundhouse left kick down into the back of his right knee into the popliteal tendon. I hear a quiet pop as his knee gives way. I then I hammer my left fist into his kidney, which causes him to arch his back. I maneuver behind him and follow that by smacking my flat palms onto his ears. I grab his right ear and PULL down and back.
I skip back and hold his ear aloft as he screams and pushes himself up onto his one good leg to face me. When I’m sure I have his attention, I spit into the ear in my hand and clean all the crevices. I taunt him, “Do you ever wash your ears, One? Your mother would be appalled to know your hygiene habits.”
“Give it back!” he whimpers.
“Do you yield?” I ask.
“Never!” is his growled response.
I shrug and pop his ear in my mouth and chew it to a paste as I glide around him to keep him off balance. It’s not as potent as my lovely Grace’s gift, but the whiskey and energy drink aspects come across. I swallow and grin at him as I get a little charge of energy.
I call out, “King Salt, just to be clear. Your custom is anything I have or any ability I have is fair game.”
Salt call out, “That’s right, Jack.”
I nod and call out, “Grace, do you want me to keep him alive or make an example of him.”
Grace responds, “Lord, I will not shed any tears for anything you do to him. He was the architect of much of my suffering. He recommended my father name me ‘Four.’ He gave me many of the scars on my back when I was a child. I may not exhibit much grace in what I do to his corpse when you’re done with him, Beloved Lord.”
Salt calls out, “Jack, he’s a worthless piece of shit, but he is an able sword. Please spare him.”
I glide back to my right, “King Salt, how valuable is an able sword with no other useful attributes given your discussion with our Queen?”
Salt doesn’t say anything for a moment. Then he calls out, “You’re right, Jack. Do with him as you will.”
I reply, “I acknowledge your permission, King Salt.”
I slide closer, and Riordak swings. I pivot and ride his left arm to extend it and drive it down. As the elbow joint aligns, I hammer inward with my right forearm just above the elbow and will the humerus to break. He roars with pain.
I step behind Riordak, and punch his right kidney to stand him. He roars again and twists, pushing with his still healthy left leg and swinging his sword backward trying to cleave me in two. I stay close to his torso and ride his right arm. It’s too perfect! I repeat the same maneuver I did on his left arm and break his right humerus. The big Goblin roars in pain again as I pivot and thrust my elbow into his right tusk, snapping it off. I cross out and pick up his sword. Then I stomp onto the calf of his left leg, willing both bones to break. He roars again.
I circle around him slowly with the sword held in a reverse grip in my right hand. I ask, “Had enough yet, Riordak?”
“No more,” he rasps. “I - I was wrong, L-lord.”
I reply, “Yes. Yes you were. In oh so many ways.”
As I circle around behind him, I slide the sword back into its scabbard and then slide the scabbard from the baldric. I walk around to the front of him and set the tip of the scabbard on the floor in front of me, both hands resting on the pommel.
I look down at him as he sits splayed on the ground with his broken arms cradling each other. “You’re lucky I didn’t break both your collarbones,” I tell him as I regard his broken body and spirit. He struggles to sit up and manages to roll onto his ass. I ask, “Do you want me to stop breaking your bones, Riordak? At this point it’s just a matter of laying you out and methodically breaking each one. What do you say? I’m not going to kill you because then your suffering would be over. Do you want some more?” He’s bent over his arms shaking his head.
“Speak up!” I bark at him.
He looks up to show me the misery pouring out of his eyes. “No more, please Lord,” he whimpers.
“Okay,” I agree. “You need to apologize, and then I will stop.”
He immediately calls out, “I’m sorry, Lord.”
“Riordak, I’m not the one you wronged,” I tell him. “You wronged Grace. You tried to take away her name. You tried to diminish her generous gift that allowed me to heal your fellows. You showed disrespect to her love for me, and mine for her. You’ve treated her with disrespect her whole life. You need to apologize to her. If she doesn’t believe it, I’m going to start by powdering the small bones in your right foot. Are we clear?”
The broken Goblin warrior nods. He scans the crowd until his gaze finds Grace. I turn to her and walk up to her. I wrap her in my arms in a side hug, so I don’t bl
ock her view of her brother. Grace turns to kiss me gently before turning expectantly to her brother.
Riordak calls out, “Sister, I humbly ask for your forgiveness for my behavior here today and how I have treated you throughout your life. It was obvious from a young age that you were gifted. I tried to make myself look better by dragging you down. I even stole the sword that father gave you to use during your indentured service. I am sorry for how I treated you. Please forgive me.” He looks pitiful.
Grace turns to look at me, “You named me Grace, my Lord. You believe I show grace in my behavior?” I nod to her. “I would not have you think less of me, Lord.”
I place my fingers on her lips, “I’ve seen your wounds, Grace. God himself, or the Goddess herself, would struggle to forgive someone that abused them as you were abused by your own brother. I will not think less of you one way or another. I would remind you of only one thing. You are now a key part of a family that is all about celebrating and promoting the healing, creative power of love. Your decision will be met with the full love and support of that family, regardless of what you choose.”
I slide behind her and firmly wrap her in a hug from behind. She takes the sword from my hand, taps my wrist to let her go. Grace walks to her brother, calling out, “Riordak, firstborn of Yorlandar, Lord of the Dark Moors, eldest of my father’s children, I hear your apology. However, forgiveness must be earned, Riordak. My master will not heal you. You must heal with only the help that Medic Giordan is able to give you. You must rebuild your strength and refine your skills. You must learn some other skill not related to combat to help the Goblin people. Only when King Salt is satisfied that you have gotten strong enough, wise enough, and skilled enough in both arms and your new skill will I forgive you. At that point, this sword will return to you as a token of my forgiveness.”
Grace pulls the blade and settles it on each of his shoulders, “Riordak, firstborn of Yorlandar, Lord of the Dark Moors, eldest of my father’s children, this is your quest.”
She sheathes the sword and approaches King Salt. She genuflects with head bowed, holding the sheathed bastard sword out in both hands to him. Grace lifts her head and looks her former king in the eye, “King Salt, will you accept the responsibility to govern this quest?”
Salt lifts the blade and says, “I will, Grace. It is my honor to help you in this.” Salt lays the sword across his lap and calls out, “Giordan! Give him what help you can.”
“Yes, my King,” Giordan shouts from his place next to Selene. He runs forward and beckons stretcher bearers. Giordan gently manipulates Riordak’s legs, and then works with the bearers to get him on the stretcher. He gives the stretcher bearers instructions, then runs over to me as Grace is rejoining me.
Giordan snaps to attention in front of me and strikes his fist to his chest with a short bow. “Lord Jack, it’s been a privilege to work with you. Perhaps you could visit periodically to assess and help with some of my more troubling patients. Modern medicine doesn’t address the problems as a general rule. I think you do.”
I nod my head gently, “I do try, Giordan. I appreciate the assist. I could not have saved the General without your help. I’d be honored to return the favor from time to time.”
He gives a toothy grin and repeats his ‘roman salute.’ “I look forward to it, milord.” Then he dashes off behind the stretcher bearers, snagging both of his kit bags enroute.
I kiss Grace’s cheek and then leave her in place. I reach a hand to Myra and she clasps her hand in mine as we walk to stand before King Salt. We each bow our heads and Salt does the same.
Myra says, “King Salt, I feel like we have an auspicious beginning. Now we have to go. Until we meet again.
Salt looks at me, “If you ever decide you don’t want Grace, I’ll take her for my queen. She is a woman of rare distinction.”
“Yes she is, King Salt. Which is exactly why I will do everything in my power to make her happy in my household,” I tell him.
Myra kisses my cheek and says, “Smart man.” She looks at Salt, “It’s been a long weekend. If you still have the same Chamberlain, I’ll send him my contact information.”
Salt ruefully shakes his head, “Nope, he’s one of the dead ones. Snail mail to the gym address is fine. Be well, Queen Myra, Lord Jack. Much happiness.”
We call out, “You too, King Salt.” Then we take two steps back, wave, and turn to walk out. Corrina steps up and the guards array themselves around us as we were when we entered through the portal. We pass through the throng of Goblins, and many reach out their hands to touch palms. Once we’re through we march up the curving stairs, past the security office and out the metal entry doorway.
Chapter 53 - After Action
There is a blue school bus with 24 bench seats waiting for us in the parking lot. A lean male Sidhe dressed in a stylish dark brown Saville Row suit is standing by the door. Myra introduces the new folks to him. He’s Christoff, Myra’s PA.
We squeeze everyone into the bus and make our way back to Hartford. I tell everyone that our cover story for the weapons, costumes, tusks, etcetera is we are cosplayers returning from a photo shoot. I nap on the ride back, wrapped in Myra’s arms. We pull in front of the Residence Inn parking lot across from Constitution Plaza and file out.
Christoff sends everyone to the fourth floor, where he managed to secure five two-bedroom suites all on the same short hallway. He parses everyone out to a room, mixing all the groups to avoid parochialism. He explains that each suite has two king bedrooms, two baths, and a small kitchen.
Myra, Trina, Chelsea, Supreet, and Grace all end up sharing my suite. There is an adjoining door to the one next door. Geri, Liesel, Jessica, Sera, Selene, and Frannie are in that one. The suite across the hall houses Corrina, Daphne, Megan, Sowie, L’liana, and Karla. Trinity, Charli, Marisol, Sherrine, and Solange share the last one in the short hall. Louis and Christoff share the one on the T-Intersection facing down the hall towards the elevator. A stairway ends the hallway between my suite and Corrina’s
I ask Christoff to get everyone back here in two and a half hours and to arrange to have food for everyone brought to my room. Corrina gathers all the guard details and sets up a rotation of two guards in the hall and one on the stairs.
Myra and I head up to the ‘upstairs’ bedroom. She drops her gown immediately and starts reaching for my belt buckle as she kisses me. “Shower with me,” she demands.
I chuckle, “I’ve stayed here before. Standard tub showers.”
She shakes her head prettily. “I don’t care. I want to feel your skin on mine. We can save acrobatics for the bedroom. I think you can fit Chelsea and myself in before dinner.”
“I suppose so,” I tell her. “I definitely need to take some time with Chelsea.”
Supreet knocks on the door, “Excuse me, my King and my Queen.” She’s wearing a Raven skirt and blazer but without any footwear.
We’re both naked at this point, but we each open an arm to her. She steps into a three-way hug. I ask, “What’s up, Darling?”
Myra kisses her quickly before she can answer. Supreet gives Myra a brilliant smile before responding, “Uh, Solange and I are going to head over to the Goodwin and get a change of clothes for each of you. I’ll bring any electronics you left, too. Do you want me to bring anything special?”
“Office attire for tomorrow,” I tell her. “Are you staying the night here, sweetheart?”
“If I can,” she says hopefully.
“Of course,” Myra and I say in unison before laughing heartily. I lean in to kiss her lush, moist lips.
“I love you, Supreet,” I murmur to her.
“Mine,” she says.
I nod and say, “Mine.”
Myra kisses us both before adding, “Mine.”
Supreet looks at her with surprise. She whispers, “Truly, my Queen?”
Myra releases me to caress her cheek. She emphatically responds, “Truly, Supreet! My husband is yours as he is mine. Soon he will
be your husband, too. I would be your wife if you will have me.”
“Oh my goodness!” she exclaims. “Truly, my Queen? I’m of the host!”
Myra kisses her gently, yet passionately. I squeeze them both as I watch Supreet surrender to the growing heat of Myra’s kiss. Supreet begins to sag. Myra and I hold her up. Myra finally has mercy on my Indian beauty and releases her kiss.
Supreet’s eyes slowly flutter open. Myra says vehemently, “Yes, Supreet. I don’t care that your of the host. I will offer you a bite of my flesh as a token of my love and commitment to you. I don’t know you well, but I know Jack would not ask you to marry if you were not an awesome person. I will get to know you better, and on the day of your wedding, I hope you will marry me, too. I also hope you will soon learn to call me Myra,” she says as she leans her forehead into Supreet’s.
Supreet looks into Myra’s eyes, “I don’t have to leave right away, Myra.” She shrugs out of her borrowed blazer and tosses it across the room to land on the chair. She’s wearing nothing underneath. Her breasts grow and split as Supreet holds Myra’s face in her hands. Her emerging lower arms open and drop her skirt. She dances backward toward the bed swaying her hips and her top and bottom arms while beckoning Myra with the middle two hands.
I sneak in to whisper into Myra’s ear, “You’re in for a treat, Beloved. I may have to send you some help.”
She grins at me, “I’ll suffer through, husband.” Then she matches the swaying of Supreet’s hips.
I smile and head to the loo for a quick shower. I turn on the water, take a leak, and then pull the shower activator. I wonder, ‘I wonder what this thing is actually called. It’s always been the “thing you pull” to start the shower.’
I grab the provided shampoo, soap, and washcloth before stepping into the shower and arranging the curtain to minimize the water splashing out the cracks. I step under the spray, shampoo, soap up, and scrub clean. I’m done and turning off the water in less than 10 minutes. I pull back the curtain to find Chelsea standing in her birthday suit with damp hair, holding a towel out to me. Seeing her naked again is a treat.