by M. E. Thorne
After eating dinner, I retreated outside and sat on an old, driftwood log, watching the moonlight play across the waves. The air was much cooler by the water, and the ocean breeze pushed off the overbearing humidity that had clung to us under the trees.
The clean, fresh scent of saltwater, combined with the mournful call of seabirds was strangely restful.
Vexile found me and wrapped her arms around my shoulders. “You okay?”
I nodded, “I am, thanks.” I beckoned her closer, and she wrapped her tail around me as she took a seat on the log.
“I just realized I need to do a better job,” I said quietly, watching the waves lapping against the shore. “Today, I didn’t have a plan for when things went wrong, and I almost got us all killed.”
I was glad when Vexile didn’t try to argue or cheer me up. She just said, “So, do better next time.”
I hugged her closer. “I will.”
We were alone. The crawlclaw driver had opted to sleep near the animal. He was a nice enough guy, but he seemed a bit closer to the crustacean than his passengers. Garnet had opted to go asleep, clearly exhausted by the day’s events.
Eventually, we retired to our room, which was in a separate building from where Garnet and the driver were sleeping. Sitting with Vexile by the beach had been a relaxing experience, but when I tried to sleep, I felt strangely agitated, like all the adrenaline from the beast attack was still running through my brain.
Vexile, snuggled up next to me, chuckled in the dark. “Can’t sleep either?”
“No,” I confessed. I began to run my hands along her hips, my fingers caressing along the edge of her scales.
She laughed again, before rolling on top of me, pinning me with the bulk of her tail. “I’m not feeling particularly tired either.”
Leaning down, she kissed me, her tongue darting into my mouth, playfully at first, before becoming more forceful.
“I’m surprised,” she teased as she drew back, “you’re not scared of my fangs, after seeing what I did today?”
I ran my hands up to her face, caressing her angelic features. “Would you believe I find them kind of hot?”
She grinned venomously, before trailing her tongue along my neck and down my chest, her hands pushing aside my robe and tugging away my trousers. Making a show of flashing her fangs, she hovered above my cock, before wrapping her tongue against my stiffening mass.
Groaning, I felt her tongue constrict and squeeze me, even as she stared at me with lidded eyes. She pulled her tail back, planting her hands against my thighs as she dipped lower, nipping at my cockhead with her teeth.
I almost cried out as she relaxed her grip on my cock, only to sink her lips down and over my shaft a split-second later.
The way my body was burning up, I could have sworn I was under the sway of her venom.
She gently played her mouth across my shaft, whirling her tongue against me while she bobbed up and down, clearly enjoying the effect she was having on me. Pausing, she would hold me in her mouth, taunting me with her eyes, before continuing her assault.
“Vexile,” I moaned, my fingers playing through her hair and tickling along the sides of her ears.
“Yes, beloved?” she simpered, drawing back.
I drew her up, trailing kisses along her skin. “I want you,” I declared.
“As you command,” she slithered her hips above mine.
Thankfully, the goddess’s ascension had not remade my wife in such a way that made coupling difficult. The last thing I wanted to do was hump the end of her tail during coitus.
Instead, she pulled off her skirt and drew her dripping snatch over my cock. Scales gave away to soft, pink skin, which glittered wetly in the waning moonlight seeping through the doorway.
Gently, I removed her robe, loving the texture of her nipples against my palm as I cupped her breasts. She cooed under my touch; each time I pinched or caressed her she would dip lower, brushing her sex against mine. The contact was maddening, and I desperately wanted her, and yet I also never wanted that moment, that sensation, to end.
But in truth, neither of us could resist the passion and our need for much longer. Groaning with satisfaction, Vexile braced herself against me as she lowered her bulk down, impaling herself along my cock. Her weight was immense, crushing but also comforting. She made sure to use the length of her tail to take most of her mass, so she wouldn’t injure me.
Though, to be honest with myself, being crushed to death during sex doesn’t sound like that bad of a way to go.
Fully buried in her channel, I let her set the tempo, placing my hands along her hips and guiding her rhythm. She rose and fell, each down thrust accompanied by a bone-rattling impact that ground my pelvis into our makeshift bed.
“Vexile,” I gasped, as she slammed down, twisting her hips as she did.
She bent down, licking along the edge of my ear. “Yes?”
I grabbed her shoulders and rolled over her top half, forcing her lower half to follow suit. I popped loose, but only for a moment. Looking down at her, in triumph, I lined up my cock and thrust it inside.
“Robert!” she cried, all mirth and play gone, replaced by pure sexual bliss.
I dragged my glans across the top of her channel, playing it along her G-spot before I rammed it into her core. She cried out again, her tail twisting and thrashing behind me.
She was beyond words at that point, but so was I. All I could feel was the connection between us, and the burning ecstasy churning in my loins, demanding to be let free.
Grabbing onto her, I felt her tremble, her whole body twisting through some cataclysmic orgasm, which rang from the top of her head to the tip of her tail. The look of pure joy that danced across her face was the last thing I saw before I came, my senses leaving me as I emptied everything I had into her pussy.
Utterly dazed, I rolled off her, collapsing onto our bed.
Murmuring sweet nothings, she curled around me, burying her head against my chest as I fell asleep in the protective coils of her embrace.
Looking at Dougherty’s notes one more time, I said, “There should be a black iron shipment in the next few minutes.”
It was difficult to tell time, without a clock or sundial, but the old soldier had observed a convoy was due through before the sun hit quarter height.
The crawlclaw shifted nervously, but none of us were willing to run out and make a break for the causeway. The risk of being spotted was just too great; it wouldn’t just endanger us, but also the people at the watchtower and Gloomglow as well.
Garnet broke into our harvest and handed out some of the spiky fruit, feeding the leftovers to the nervous crustacean.
“I can sense something coming,” Vexile said, her eyes trained upon the west.
Soon, the rest of us could see the Luminark convoy, their presence announced by the massive plum of dust their wagons were kicking up. We crouched down further in our hiding spot, a blind made of brackish reeds and a tree trunk warped into driftwood.
The Luminark convey was composed of six wagons. The first and the last were dedicated to carrying their armed soldiers; their breastplates gleamed brightly under the morning sun. They carried a veritable arsenal of weapons, including crossbows, swords, maces, shields, and lances. Lounging in their seats, they were either bored or complacent with their duty.
The middle wagons were heavily loaded, their wheels creaking loudly as they carried huge crates and barrels, which were stuffed with spears, pikes, swords, and other weapons. They clinked and banged loudly together as the wagon rolled by. There were also boxes labelled to contain saws, sewing needles, and shovels.
The very things that Duskhaven was lacking.
Vexile hissed angrily as we watched the bounty of our land roll by, in the hands of our enemies. I placed a calming hand on her shoulder. Even if we took the Luminark, using her newly awakened magic, we would surely alert the empire to our presence.
“We’ll take it back,” I swore to her.
/> She seemed placated, but only for a moment. Then the train of slaves appeared, trailing in the wagons’ wake.
They were a pitiable lot, their clothing, hair, and skin caked in the dust. Stumbling and coughing, they marched at the relentless pace set by the soldiers that guarded and goaded them on.
“Move it!” one of the guards yelled, snapping his whip. “You better hurry up, you can’t afford to make your new master angry. Where you’re going, you’re going to miss how good Sanderson was to you!”
Old men, pregnant women, small children; it didn’t matter, they were all forced to keep moving at the same pace. If anyone slowed down, the soldiers weren’t afraid to use their spears or whips to keep them moving.
It took every bit of willpower for me not to snatch Garnet’s crossbow and take a shot at one of the cruel bastards.
Vexile went tense under my grip, and I knew she was in the same place I was; filled with boiling rage. But we could not afford to act. Four people, even with one ascendant, stood no chance against the Luminark troops. All we could do was watch as the slaves disappeared down the road, heading towards some unknown damnation.
“We’ll take it all back,” I repeated, maybe more for myself than for my wife, “including the lives they stole. I swear it.”
We were in poor spirits by the time the crawlclaw clambered back up to the watchtower. Dougherty didn’t say anything; I knew he had seen the same sight that we had. He wordlessly led us into the tower and gave us a room where we could wash up, get a drink of water, and put ourselves into sorts.
Afterward, we met in the courtyard and went over the spoils from our trip. We neatly divided the fruit and nuts, then the old soldier showed us their vineyard, where they grew the spicy berries.
“Things taste like biting into a hot iron, but it is still better than gruel,” he said during the tour. “Just watch for the sap if you prune the vines, if you get it onto your clothes you’ll never get it off.”
As we made our way back out front, I stopped him for a second. “Would you be interested in setting up an exchange?”
“We’ve got a farm up and running, and we’re working on building a bakery,” I stated. “We’d be happy to trade some of our food with you, or maybe some of our cloth, if you’d be willing to provide us with firewood.” I gestured towards a stack of wood lined neatly against the wall. “I assume you get that from Marshul?”
“We go once a week,” he answered, as he eyed my clothes. His own were well worn, repeatedly patched and repaired. He grunted, then kept walking. “Talk to Joey, he’s our quartermaster, I’m sure you two can work something out.”
Feeling bold, I asked, “If possible, I was hoping to ask a favor of you, a more personal one.”
He stopped again, cocking an eye.
“I was hoping to get lessons on how to use a crossbow,” I said. We’d already relayed what had happened with the owltiger. “I need to be better prepared for the dangers out there.” I thought of the slaves on their death march. “I want to be strong enough to rebuild this country, and to take back what is ours.”
He grunted again, then waved. “You should stay the night, leave in the morning. If there’s still light after dinner, we can take a few practice shots in the courtyard.”
We headed back towards Gloomglow the next morning.
Joey, despite his youth, had proved to be a shrewd negotiator. We had been able to strike a deal, where we’d get two cords of wood every other week, along with other miscellaneous supplies like paper, and in turn, we’d send the watchtower regular shipments of foodstuffs and cloth.
I’d also managed to work out weekly crossbow practice sessions with Dougherty, with the pretense that we were meeting together to strengthen security for the region. If we’re lucky, maybe we can negotiate to get some of their weapons for Gloomglow. They’d be good for defense and for our hunters as well.
As we approached Gloomglow keep, I was happy to see there was a white piece of cloth flying from a pole attached to the highest remaining tower.
“Seems like things went smoothly while we were gone,” I noted.
Vexile nodded, “I told you, I had complete faith in Ahkil.”
I laughed, “And Riggs?”
She shrugged noncommittally.
We had unofficially promoted the two of them to act as our lieutenants, leaving them in charge of Gloomglow while we were gone. It was a low-stakes test. We had assumed nothing of note would go wrong while we were gone only a handful of days, but I knew such events were the key to nurturing successful subordinates.
Entering Gloomglow’s main gate, I was overjoyed to see our citizens hard at work, either constructing and repairing new buildings, cleaning the haul from the last hunt or bringing in the harvest from the farm. I could spot where materials were being gathered to construct our first watermill; the water levels on the creek had risen to the point that we could build a water wheel and save ourselves from grinding our grains by hand.
But the most heartwarming sight was the people’s faces. They were hard-worked and tired, there was a light in their eyes that had been absent before. A look of hope.
Hugging Vexile close, I felt like we could do anything.
Chapter 12
“Where do you get these things anyway?” I asked, holding up the crossbow.
Dougherty and I were in Gloomglow’s main courtyard, taking target practice. We had begun lessons six weeks ago, and my work was paying off. I could usually hit the target, reload, and fire another bolt without missing the mark.
“From the Luminark,” the old soldier replied. He pointed to the gearwork at the rear of the weapon. “Like our paper, we claim them from their trash piles.”
Looking more closely, I could see that some of the parts were newer than the rest of the weapon; someone had replaced them at one point.
“The Luminark are flush with weapons and supplied,” he continued. “If a weapon breaks or a piece of armor wears out, they just toss it. They guard their supplies well enough, but their garbage?”
He pulled out the shortsword that was belted to his waist, it was surprisingly ornate for what I knew of the man. “This was once an officer’s longsword, but the fool must have broken it at some point. Rather than using the materials to reforge a new weapon, or just cutting it down to a shorter blade, they threw it away.”
“So all your equipment comes from there?” I puzzled.
He nodded. “Even if we were able to sneak into one of their armories or supply dumps, they would likely notice the missing inventory and either assume a Duskhaven prisoner stole it or an outside party. Neither is good.”
I sighed, then retrieved my bolts. Thinking about my fellow countrymen, bound in chains, was hard. Over the past few months, I had come to truly think of Turmont and Duskhaven as my home, and its people as my family.
Twice a week, I had taken the habit of having dinner with one of the local households, getting to know everyone. I had learned about Harriet and Jerom, and their three adopted daughters. The family had grown up in a workhouse in Luminark’s capital. When the children’s natural parents had died in an accident, Harriet and Jerom had taken them in, fleeing with them when the opportunity arose.
Then there was George and Dominic, who had grown up in an arena, raised as gladiators for the amusement of the aristocracy. They had put their skills to good use one day, beating up their guards and then starting a riot, allowing several dozen of their fellow warriors to escape. They were happy to be free and to have laid down their arms, but they swore they would fight again if it meant keeping their new home safe.
Victoria, Gloomglow’s premier weaver and seamstress, had once been a maid for a powerful Luminark family; her masters were distant relatives to a cardinal. They had treated her poorly, often beating and burning her for petty amusement. She had set fire to their fine mansion before fleeing towards Duskhaven.
And for each person who escaped, they told me about the others who weren’t as fortunate. Those that were
captured, arrested, tortured, and killed while trying to escape and make their way towards the ruins of Duskhaven and rumors of freedom.
Over and over again I heard their tales of hardship and hope, and I resolved that I would do everything I could for our people. Vexile and I would rebuild Duskhaven, with their help, and make it a bastion of prosperity and peace for them.
“You’re getting better,” Dougherty admitted begrudgingly, as I snapped off another shot.
“Practice makes perfect,” I replied, my mind still a million kilometers away.
Vexile had been practicing her new magic as well, slowly learning how to use the skills granted to her by the goddess. She had discovered that she could manifest her power as clouds of noxious miasma, which ate away at the rock piles she used to hone her aim.
“A blessing from the Goddess,” she had assured me, as I had watched a target meant to depict a Luminark trooper melt into colorless slag.
Similarly, she could generate clouds of poison, which muddled the thoughts of those who inhaled them. Her acolytes had volunteered for those tests, swearing doing so was a service to the goddess. Vexile always made sure to treat them well afterward.
Dougherty had come with a new group of refugees, who had recently emerged from the wilds of Marshul. They were the first group to have appeared in several months, and they were in ragged shape. The old soldier had elected to personally escort them to Gloomglow along with the biweekly shipment of wood.
“Dark Lord!” a voice called from the main hall. “Dinner is ready to be served.”
Dougherty chuckled as I returned the crossbow and retrieved my circlet, which had been sitting nearby.
“Time to put your airs back on?” he ribbed me.
I sighed and put back on the circlet and my black mantle.
During my time with Dougherty, I had learned to let my hair down, as it were, and just be Robert Grailmont, not the Dark Lord. He treated me the same regardless. But I found it nice to relax and just be myself; a liberty I was only able to enjoy with him during our practice sessions, and when in the privacy of the royal quarters with Vexile.