She flashed her eyes up, hastily swallowing a large bite of potato. “Oh, my love, he’s nothing, I swear. His name is Chandran. My former master, but now I serve you. I promise. If you’ll let me hold you tonight, I’ll be yours forever.”
Daghahen waved a hand. “I know, I know. What does he want?”
“He wants the sword you carry. He also wants to take you back to Ilbith, but if he can get the sword at least, he’ll be satisfied with your death. But I’ll never let that happen to my love, my love, my Daghahen.”
“As I expected. You know my name?”
“Yes. It’s the most beautiful name in the world.”
“Thanks, lass. It means ‘guardian.’”
She nestled against him, pausing her eating. “Well, I will guard you, my love, with my life.”
He sighed. “I know.” He rubbed her back. “Finish your meal before it gets cold.” She obeyed. “Tell me what Chandran is planning here tonight.”
Goggling at him over her bowl, bright-eyed and eager to please, she said, “He knows what room you rented. He’s hiding there now. He wanted me to drug your stew to loosen you up. I was to accompany you upstairs, making sure you got there, where he’d assassinate you.”
She reached into her bodice and pulled out a tiny drawstring bag. “Here’s the sleeping powder.” She opened all sorts of hidden pouches encasing throwing darts and daggers.
He hissed, “No. Please, put it all back. Don’t let anyone see them.”
“Oh, sorry.” She loaded her little assassination implements back into their compartments. “I thought you should know all about me and what I own. All you have to do is ask, and I will protect you.”
He motioned to the bowl, now almost empty. “Well, you should know I don’t want to be killed by Chandran, and I don’t want him to have my sword. Got it?”
“Yes, my love.”
“What would you have done if I didn’t want to eat the stew?”
“Used my best seduction techniques on you to get you to take me upstairs.”
“Why do you have to go upstairs with me if he’s already there?”
“He wanted you to be in another state of mind, whatever that might be. He also needs me in there to help him cast the difficult portal spell to get home.”
“To Ilbith?”
She nodded. “We were going to work together to subdue you and complete the spell. He can’t do it alone—not to cover such a distance.”
“I see.” Daghahen blinked. They wanted to drag him all the way back to Ilbith. “What if I didn’t want to have sex with you? What would happen?”
“He has a few extra plans. He might’ve decided to hide under your bed and stab you while you slept. And in the most extreme case, he wasn’t going to let you leave the building alive. He made me ward all the doors so you couldn’t walk out of here. They’re spelled especially for you. If you pass through either one, it will electrocute you to death. I also have these poisoned darts I could’ve used to kill you, in case you decided to stay here in the hall all night.”
“Oh, how dreadful,” Daghahen said. “I’m trapped in this place.”
“I know, my love, but it’ll be fine.”
“How in the world will I get out of here alive?” He took her tiny hand in his and rubbed his thumb along the back of it.
“I’m so sorry.”
He patted the side of her smooth face. “Forget about it. I’m grateful you told me these things.”
“Yes, anything, my love.” To deepen her infatuation, he rewarded her with a kiss to her forehead. She took it upon herself to peck kisses on his cheek, trailing to his mouth. He allowed a little of that. If Chandran happened to spy them, he’d be pleased to think her plan went well.
By the time Daghahen peeled her mouth off his, her chest heaved up and down. Her plump lips parted to breathe. She cradled his hand and pressed it to her bronze collarbone, covered with a few glittering necklaces.
“Can’t we slip away for a bit of privacy, my love?” She laid her head on his shoulder and brought his hand to her lips to kiss each of his fingertips.
“Only if you can help me leave this place alive.” She reached under his hood to stroke his hair. “No, no, no.” He took her hand away and secured his hood.
“Please forgive me.”
“Think hard now… What’s your name?”
“Rayna.”
“Rayna, are the windows warded too?”
“Yes, I had to be thorough.”
“What would you say is the best way to leave?”
She blinked her eyes slowly, staying fixed on him. She stroked his arm with her graceful hand, no doubt wishing she could do more. “It would take some effort to dispel the wards on the doors, though they’ll wear off after forty-eight hours.”
“I can’t stay here that long. Is there any chance you missed a window somewhere?”
She shook her head, her eyes relaxed as they gazed into his. “Obviously, I couldn’t get into all the guest rooms to ward their windows, and the window in your room is not warded. We saved our energy on that one because we’d both planned to be in there to prevent you from leaving.”
He reached out and stroked her face with the back of his hand. “Well then, I suppose I’ll have to go out through there, pretending to be seduced by you.”
“Leave Chandran to me. And let me be on top—I’ll protect you with my body.”
He rose, grabbed his pack with the sword attached from under the table, and offered his arm. She took it and they ascended the stairs together, locked in each other’s eyes, smiling. This lass and her talents could prove valuable to have around. He wouldn’t need to worry about the extra mouth to feed because she was so capable. She could probably bring many extra ideas to the table when it came to finding food and dodging the sorcerers. And all he had to do was relinquish his body to her every once in a while. Nothing in this world could ever redeem him enough to deserve a lover or any loving companion, but at least he’d treat her better than any of those horrible sorcerers.
He relaxed his face and put a drunken smile on it. “Stay sharp,” he whispered, hooking his arm around her shoulders.
“Of course.”
He nudged her into the dark room first as they stumbled together, laughing. Chandran should be wise enough not to kill his own thrall by mistake in some foolish ambush.
Daghahen dropped his belongings by the bed, snatched Rayna’s face in the dark, and kissed her mouth. She sighed through her nose and moaned. She didn’t have to do any acting here. He didn’t egg her on by touching her body, although she snaked her hands under his tunic hem to find the strings attaching his leggings to his codpiece.
He guided her to the bed. They couldn’t get too far into it. He needed his clothes on for the escape, but Rayna’s actions were very real, and her induced state of arousal would cloud her judgment; she needed him to help her stay sharp. If he decided to keep her in his company, the infatuation state would eventually wear off, and she would have already committed to the relationship by then—similar to the natural way for lovers. Daghahen’s initial spell helped to get the infatuation phase going by way of intense arousal.
He lay on the bed, and she crawled on top of him with a noticeably eager speed, hiking her skirts and perching herself right on his pelvis. She bent over him and continued the kiss. He guided her hand to her bodice, where she hid her arsenal of lethal instruments, just to make sure she remembered her duty. A blade grazed against squeaky leather; whether it was her blade or Chandran’s was anyone’s guess. She rubbed her body against his and groaned.
Concentrate, Rayna! If only he could say it out loud. He’d never find the mood for his own arousal in this hazardous situation.
Rayna sat up straight, arching her back, leaving Daghahen exposed beneath her. She rubbed against him all the more. Her hands were hidden down by her thighs and her bunched skirts, no telling if she had any knives ready to defend him. No sign of Chandran either. A blanket hung over the window to bl
ock out whatever moonlight might have revealed a third person in the room.
A rope looped and tightened around Daghahen’s neck. His attempted cry was squeezed off under its scratchy grip. Growling, Rayna sprang off of him. A man roared, and the noose slackened. Daghahen freed himself from the scratchy rope, which snapped a little spark when he dropped it—a spelled rope, but Chandran couldn’t complete the casting.
Daghahen sprang off the bed and tore the fabric off the window to flood the room in soft, blue moonlight. Rayna’s friend, the wild-eyed man, clutched his own neck while dodging her strikes. After another strike, he reached out and slapped her hard. Rayna dropped to the floor with a clatter.
Chandran glared at him next. Daghahen leaned over for the sword fastened to his pack. Pulling the knot in the twine, he shook off the sword’s wrappings so the blade could flash in the moonbeam. Chandran’s eyes widened in fear or lust—it was too hard to tell which.
Daghahen swung the sword in a nice, light arc. It was incredibly easy to handle, curling back on the rebound as if ready to rejoin his hands and make another attack. Its ease of handling unnerved him.
Chandran leaped backward and fiddled with the doorknob. The fool had locked it as Daghahen and Rayna were carrying on. Glass shattered behind Daghahen as he lunged.
Chandran fell through the door and into the glowing firelight of the merry inn, narrowly missing the blade. The people gathered on the catwalk shouted and scattered when Chandran crashed out, bleeding from his neck.
Daghahen slammed the door, locked it, and turned to Rayna. No longer sprawled on the floor, she had broken the window panes and secured Chandran’s rope to the bedpost.
“That’s my girl!” Daghahen said.
He tied the naked sword back to his pack, hoisted it, and climbed down the rope after Rayna. In the alley below, she took his hand and guided him away from the inn.
In the pine forest, immediately west of Tintilly, Daghahen and Rayna stopped to rest and she let her dark, flowing hair tumble down. She’d lost her wig in the struggle with Chandran. Daghahen preferred dark hair to light. When he studied hers long enough, a sharp pain stabbed his chest.
They built a small fire, for the persistent winter chill lingered in the new spring air. He opened his robe lapel wide and allowed her to huddle in its warmth beside him. The gesture would excite her, no doubt, but who was he to deny her some comfort in the cold night? He could finally let his hood fall since the stars were smothered by thick, rushing clouds as well as the protective pine canopy.
Rayna couldn’t be satisfied only to stay warm; her hands roamed all over him. Her lips stamped wet little kisses anywhere she could get them. He stared at the fire, happy to fill his eyes with its burning light and avoid any accidental glance at the sky, clouds or no clouds.
He avoided looking at her too. No matter where her hands managed to wander, he couldn’t quite find the heart to touch her in return.
Eventually, he smiled, kissed her forehead, and said, “Let’s go to sleep.”
“Do I not please you, my love?”
“You do.” He took her down to the ground with him and made sure to tuck her snugly into his robe. She nestled close to him, putting her arm around his body, her head under his chin.
“Goodnight, my love,” she said.
He closed his eyes and sighed. He hadn’t enjoyed the privilege of sleeping like this in sixteen years.
Chandran’s neck pulsed with pain. In his and Rayna’s inn room, he stitched his wound closed by candlelight—a task Rayna should’ve done for him. But this cut was that whore’s own work. Why? What had the shriveled old elf offered to sway her away from years of training and rewards? His forked tongue must be a smooth one too. Chandran had emerged now and again to check on them while they smiled and pawed at each other in the dining hall. Something that pointy-eared bastard said to her had made her turn on her master.
Early the next morning, he trudged through the blanketed forest where their thin trail led him, and detected wood smoke on the breeze. Hiding amongst these straight, pole-like pine trees would help little, so he took extreme precautions, treading gingerly and keeping his distance.
There she was. Rayna slept, wrapped tightly in Daghahen’s cloak on the ground, alone beside a pile of charred, smoking wood. Daghahen wasn’t around.
Upon waking, Daghahen tucked his cloak around Rayna as she slept sweetly and headed off to find the creek he’d heard babbling in the night during their trek through the forest. Rayna should appreciate some fresh water when she woke up.
He fastened his codpiece back in place after a long morning piss and hoisted his pack again. He trusted Rayna as much as he trusted his tried and true infatuation spell—not merely a spell, an ability he’d been born with—but it couldn’t trump the comfort he got from keeping the sword in his possession at all times.
When he found the creek, he filled his waterskin and splashed his face. If he was to even think about indulging what she wanted of him, he should do it the right way—and bathe first. But they had no time for tumbling now; they had to get far away from Tintilly and Chandran. Too many sorcerers cluttered Wexwick, so he’d turn them around and head back to Gaulice.
Along the way, he could pick flowers for Rayna. He could do some proper courting protocol first. A little protocol should make him feel better about the whole thing, and then…and then…
He glowered down at the reflection of the pale, wrinkled face framed in frizzy blonde hair in the water. Practicing sorcery again had rotted him, inside and out.
He laughed. “You hideous fool. Saehgahn can’t marry twice.” He swiped his hand across the reflection, and it scrambled into thousands of little blotches of colored light. Drawing up his hood, he started back to their campsite with his pack and his full waterskin.
A man with dark reddish hair straddled Rayna’s form. Strangling her. His eyes wide and teeth gnashing.
Angry bile boiled in Daghahen’s stomach, but he resisted his saehgahn instinct to charge forward in search of violent revenge. He jumped behind a tree, the thickest one near him, squeezing his eyes closed and clenching his teeth. Rayna lay motionless, already dead. The Creator only knew how long Chandran would indulge in his sick task before finally stopping.
In a whisper, Daghahen began the words for Gariott’s Blend. “Ernah, pah, toh gah. Lah ti oungeh…” As soon as he finished, he rushed off.
Goodbye, Rayna.
Chapter 9
Her Charity
Hoisting a hefty basket of linens on her back, Kalea trekked out to the stream where the water had been dammed for washing. Should she call Dorhen’s name, or would he already be there waiting for her, invisible? Though she had convinced herself to a degree that the stranger in the forest didn’t mean any harm—for now—she’d have to watch for the other stranger who did: Kemp.
What a nice thing it would be if she really could have Dorhen as her invisible guardian. She couldn’t deny the idea was more than a little intriguing. An hour of every morning was spent reciting practiced prayers, and when she wasn’t absentmindedly running through them, her mind’s voice slurred into prayers about the elf. Was he good? Could she trust him? Was it a sin to have been speaking to him so much? Other times of the day allowed for her own composed prayers, and she couldn’t stand to wait for those opportunities. She needed answers.
“Vivene,” she whispered to the mischievous novice as the two stood side by side during their biweekly choir practice. Vivene looked over, and Kalea buried her nose in her hymnal.
“What?”
“Shh!”
Vivene frowned and glanced around. Practice hadn’t started yet. All the novices were taking the opportunity to chat up the sanctum while they waited for their choir leader to arrive. “What already?”
Kalea opened her mouth and stopped short of the first word. She grabbed Vivene’s sleeve and ushered her down the choir steps to the darkest corner behind a column.
“What?” Vivene said again. Kalea leaned in
close to her, wringing her musty old hymnal in her hands. “Hurry and say it, or you’ll need a new book.”
Kalea took a deep breath. “What else does the love manual say about elves?”
A huge smile full of crooked teeth spread across Vivene’s chubby face. “Who wants to know?”
“Please… You said you had the book memorized. What else does it say about young…sae—what’s the word?”
“Saehgahn. It’s like ‘say’ and ‘gone.’ And the book doesn’t tell much. What do you want to know?”
“Anything you’ve gleaned about them.”
“Why so urgent? Oh, my holy shitty shoes!”
“Shh!” Some other girls standing on the runner between the pews leaned over to view the two.
Kalea slapped Vivene’s arm, but the girl ignored it. “Your face is all red. I don’t believe it. Does Joy know? I’ll bet you told her.”
“Can you please answer my question?”
“I’m going to ask Joy after this, you can bet.”
“Please! Tell me before someone comes over here.”
Vivene waved both her hands, one holding her own hymnal. “All right, let’s see.” Vivene tapped her chin and smirked. “What was it like?”
“What was what like? I didn’t do anything.”
“All right, all right. I’ll tell you what I know, and I’ll even keep an eye out for more material. But later tonight, I want details.”
“Hurry, before the sister gets here!”
“Fine, look. The book is just a bunch of romance. It paints them as loveable heroic types. And sad, they’re usually sad for some reason—I guess because of what it says about their culture forcing them to be celibate.”
“Do they really ask women for…for…um—that, in exchange for a gift or service?”
“Well, no. Saehgahn have an air of melancholy about them. They don’t expect earthly pleasures, at least in these stories. The women are eager to ‘get to know’ them because the saehgahn are inhumanly attractive.”
Sufferborn Page 16