by Nesa Miller
Etain made it into the shop just as she reappeared. Venturing deeper inside, she lit her body in a blue shimmer. Unfortunately, Cloud proved a glowing testament to his teachers of enchantments. She could shimmer, but couldn’t transport. With that option gone, she loosened the straps across her chest, trying to reposition the scabbard to allow for a proper wingspan, but then she couldn’t reach the blades.
“Damn.”
She moved into the back room and checked the two-way mirror, seeing the leader and several of his men headed toward the shop. She quickly released the straps, holding the shell before her and noted the curved edges. Hands on one edge, she called upon the Krymerian blood coursing through her veins, demanding the strength of warriors long dead. “For the High Lord of Kaos,” she growled through clenched teeth, pressing the side to roll it into itself.
Kromok stepped into the shop. “Quickly, men. Out the back. Don't let her get away.”
“Bloody hell,” she cursed, desperately working the circular piece of metal. Help me, Krymerian warriors of old, so I may protect his legacy. The metal moved…not much, but enough. She attacked the other side, curling the edge in. Just as Togor rushed into the room, Etain twisted the scabbard onto her back, tightened the straps, and ran out through the back door.
She cried out as her great wings extended, their boney supports rubbing against the metal edges, lifting her from the ground with a single flap. The dark-haired soldier lunged, catching her by the foot. Suspended in mid-air, her gaze locked with his deep blues. For a moment, she glimpsed the man he had been before the Bok…strong, handsome, innocent. She cocked her head, feeling an inexplicable camaraderie with him. When more soldiers poured out the door, grabbing at her other foot, Etain flapped her wings, kicking out at her would be captors. Unable to break free, her talons extended from both hands. With two grand swipes, the spray of blood, screams, and severed arms, she freed herself. Buoyed by a rush of adrenaline, she soared into the air, then swooped down, forcing those still standing to duck.
“See ya, boys.”
Charged with the duty of pursuit and capture, Lieutenant Cromorth gathered his small band of men and headed east out of Deudraeth. His second-in-command, Dex, a small man in stature, rode at his side. “I trust you know what you’re doing.”
Cromorth grunted. “Inside information from a very reliable source, Dex. They went north, but they’ll turn soon enough. The woman has connections in the south. You watch. We’ll run right into ‘em.”
The second lieutenant licked his lips. “I heard talk about her. Is it true?”
“Depends on what you’ve heard.”
He looked over his shoulder, lowering his voice. “That she’s married to the Krymerian and…” He scratched his nose, “there’s a reward for whoever brings her in.”
Cromorth cocked a brow, impressed. “Sounds like you have an insider of your own.” The other man laughed. “It’s true, but there’s no reward if she’s dead. He wants her alive.”
“He?”
“Forget it. I like my head right where it sits and, as ugly as it is, I’m sure you like yours too.”
“Fair enough, but can Kromok be trusted? He’s the one with the prize.”
“Well, now, the man’s gotta catch her first, don’t he?” The lieutenant clucked his tongue, urging his mount forward. “With any luck, she’ll slip through and, because we’ll have her best buddies, she’ll come straight to us.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I figure this lot can handle a little girly.”
18
Roadies
Faux threw back the covers and made a beeline for the bathroom, arriving just in time. Afterward, she moaned, resting her head on an arm stretched over the cool porcelain, wondering why they called it “morning sickness” when it hit whenever it pleased.
Freeblood had followed her, wet a cloth, and sat on the floor next to the toilet, dabbing her face. “Better now?”
“Yes. Thank you.” Blood rushed to her head as he helped her up, causing her to sway on her feet. He moved to pick her up. “No, I can walk. Give me a minute.” They held each other a little longer before giving it another go. By the time they reached the edge of the bed, she had recovered. “I feel like getting out of this house for a while. How ‘bout you?” She gave him her best pouty look. “Go out with me?”
“You were just puking up your guts and now you want to go out?”
“It doesn’t last long. Once it’s over, I’m okay. Please? I found Dar’s stash of cash. We can go anywhere we please.” She softly blew in his ear as her hands strategically roamed over his body. “We can do anything we want, anywhere we want, for as long as we want.”
“We won’t be going anywhere if you keep doing that,” he said, taking hold of a delinquent hand. “Where did you have in mind?”
A provocative leer in her eyes, she kissed his neck, her other hand slithering down his back to a firm butt cheek. “I know a great little place off the coast of Mexico where the margaritas and chile rellenos are to die for.” Her tail slinked around him in an embrace that was far more effective than her lustful hands.
“Mexico? You mean that little place Etain tried to make me forget with a memory meltdown?”
“Mmm-hmm,” she answered, nibbling his earlobe.
“I told you to stop that.” He playfully swatted at her and pushed her back onto the bed. “If we go, no margaritas for you.”
“But-”
“Nope.” He wagged a finger in her face, sitting next to her. “No alcohol for you, Mama. Maybe a virgin drink, but that’s it.”
“Virgins are no fun,” she said, thrusting out her bottom lip.
Freeblood laughed and gave her a thorough kiss. “I wouldn’t know about that. I’m too busy having fun with you.”
She giggled as he rolled, pulling her on top of him. “Me, too, but I would like to get out. Can we at least go somewhere, just for a little while? Take our show on the road?”
“In public, huh?” A mischievous smirk appeared. “We can do that.” He pulled his cell phone from the pocket of his jeans and tapped the screen. “Come to think of it, we’d be just in time for a killer rock festival going on in the German sector. Does that fancy your suit?”
“You have to tell me how you got that to work here.” She made a grab for his phone.
He rolled off the bed and danced back, a gleam in his eye. “Magic,” he teased, dangling it in front of her. “Watch.” With the cell phone in one hand, he extended his index finger on the other. His brows lifted in a wait for it moment. She rolled her eyes. The screen came to life with a mere touch. He wiggled the finger and touched the screen again. Faux giggled. A video clip of the festival played, its musical riffs blaring through the tiny speakers.
“I know how to work it, dude.” She was finally successful in obtaining the small miracle and showed off her finesse with the keyboard. “It’s that they usually don’t because of the magic.”
Freeblood cocked a brow. “If they aren’t used here, how is it you know how to work one?”
“Human toys,” she murmured, her attention on the phone. “Their sense of superiority comes in handy. I play dumb and they show me how to do things.” A new video played a savage tune. Her short black hair spiked out with her head banging. “My favorite. Metal.”
“So you go to the human realm often?”
She smirked, rolling her black eyes. “As often as I need to. Now, you gonna tell me how you got this to work?”
“It could have something to do with this.” He held his hand out, palm up.
“Yeah, yeah, the magic finger,” she said, obviously not impressed.
“Give it a second.” A tiny blue orb appeared in his palm and gradually grew into a gem, giving off a blue glow.
“Wicked shit,” she whispered, intrigued by the blue pulses.
“Yeah. I woke up in Japan in the middle of a concert and found it doing this to ‘Grief of War’. When I went to make a call, the phone was dead. I didn’t have a charger, so I go
t creative.”
“What else can you do with it?”
Freeblood chuckled. “How about that music festival?”
“Sex, drugs, and rock ‘n roll? Well,” she amended, seeing his look, “sex and rock ‘n roll at least. Let’s go.”
Something someone had said about realm shifting rang in his memory. “Wait. Isn’t the human realm forbidden?”
Faux eased a knee over his crotch. “You wanna play or not?”
Hearts thumping in rhythm to ritualistic drums, blood thrilled to the riffs of smoking guitars, the heady fragrance of premium pot drifting through the crowd. Freeblood disappeared into the mélange but was back in a flash with food and drinks.
“Snack?”
Faux grabbed a hot dog and bit down just as a hand landed on Freeblood’s shoulder. The two turned, ready for a fight, but were met with a huge grin.
“What’re you doing here, mate?” An Aussie with a woman on each arm smiled at Freeblood, then gave Faux an appraising eye. “How did I miss this little sheila?”
Faux smirked at Freeblood. “Another one of yours?”
“Faux, meet Ian. We’re here for the concert, man.” The men shook hands as he told Faux how they met during a fight in the Australian sector. “Why’re you so far from home?”
Ian bobbed his head toward the stage. “This isn't an ordinary concert, mate. It's a competition. Anyone who can beat Tristania’s guitarist in a solo gets ten thousand Euros.”
Faux draped an arm over Freeblood's shoulder. “Please tell me you know how to play.”
Before he could reply, Ian pushed him through the crowd. “He's a natural. He'll blow you away. Speed on up and show the locals what you're made of.” Ian fell forward when Freeblood rushed out from in front of him, climbing up onto the stage.
“Wir haben einen anderen Herausforderer (We have another challenger)!” The man with the microphone did not seem at all surprised to see him, but he noted the lack of guitar. “Wo ist sie ihre gitarre (Where is your guitar)?”
Freeblood caught the microphone in one hand and flashed his blue gem in the other. He had done this trick a few times. It was what had first caught the attention of the Aussie and his rogue crew. “Dieses ist meine gitarre (This is my guitar).” The gem flared with blue light, forming into a blue-gemmed guitar.
The announcer laughed. “Wie heisst du (What’s your name)?”
“Meine freunde mich Freiblut (My name is Freeblood).”
The audience cheered. Faux glanced at Ian, who laughed and shook his head. “Sheep to the slaughter.”
Anders, one of the guitarists in the band, stepped forward, looking him over. He smiled half-heartedly and pulled a few chords from their latest song as a test. Freeblood raked off a riff of his own, quick and simple to start, then gradually increasing in speed and complexity. Not to be outdone, Anders dove into a song that incited the crowd from roaring to ecstatic.
Freeblood smirked and cracked his knuckles. He built on the beat he had played before, taking it through an intense series of strokes. He then toned it down a notch, popping the frets with one hand, the other marching up the strings. Caught up in the execution, he poured his heart and soul into the performance, finishing in an ear-piercing scream of strings. With the final stroke, his hand came up in a salute. “Faux!” he yelled into the crowd. Ian patted her on the back, a huge grin on his face. The crowd cheered. The grandiose show of recognition for a girl made him a certified favorite. With an elaborate bow, he turned to his opponent.
Goth metal embraced Faux in its primitive darkness. Freeblood’s ability to tap into the emotions of the crowd awed her. The pure eroticism of his notes invoked a passion she had never before experienced. Other guitarists mounted the stage to challenge him, but his excellence, his speed, and his sheer charisma shamed them all. Although she knew he was proud and self-assured, this show amplified those attributes. Smiling up at this new Freeblood, she thought of how interesting it would be when they faced Dar and Etain again.
That'll be worth the price of admission.
Determined to grab her fair share of the spotlight, Faux flamed into a golden shimmer, forcing those nearby to turn aside. Anders and his bandmates, surprised by her sudden appearance onstage, kept playing. Mariangela added her powerful voice to the mix, owning the stage. The crowd roared.
Faux twisted, turned, and undulated in sync with Freeblood’s challenging chords. As he cranked the music up another notch, she slinked up behind him, rubbing her body against his. Her hands slid along his midriff, underneath his shirt, her nails raking over his erect nipples and down his belly. Her licentious tail slinked between his legs, curling around one. She flipped around so they were back-to-back, swaying with his every move. She kicked out a long shapely leg and rolled her hips and body toward the audience. Freeblood spun behind her to stand on her other side, his blue-gemmed guitar blazing. Faux shimmied away and he followed, all the while belting out riff after ear-piercing riff.
Center stage, she twirled into a hypnotizing undulation of hips, belly, and chest, her tail swaying and snapping to the beat. She stroked her body, tweaking her nipples until they stood rock hard against the fabric of her skimpy top.
Freeblood took it down a few notches, playing an erotic, gut-pulsing tempo. The drummer followed his lead and added a heartbeat thump. Intensifying the seduction, the bass player added a crotch-lubricating rhythm. Faux thrilled to the music, rivaling the moves of any accomplished belly dancer. Her still flat belly rippled as her chest heaved. Intent on Freeblood, she slipped a hand into the front of her jeans and threw her head back, the music adding a delicious hum to her already vibrating fingers. The people pumped and jived, smelling of sex.
Someone in the back began to chant. “Suc-cu-bus! Suc-cu-bus!”
Faux sidled past her guitar-playing lover, who lifted his guitar, snaring her between his instrument and his hot body. Playing to the crowd, she stroked his lips with her wet fingers. Freeblood sucked them into his mouth. She recognized the lust in his eyes, appreciating the confirmation pressing against her own ache. Claiming his mouth with hers, she trailed her fingers down between his legs.
The avant-garde musical warriors stole the show and took the prize.
19
The Blade Gathering
Dar’s days were filled with swordplay, elven martial arts, archery, and anything else Elfin and Wolfe could think of to keep him occupied. Between the banter of the two Alamir and the time spent with the Black Blades, he felt the fog begin to lift.
As Dar wiped down his blades one afternoon, Elfin shared a tidbit of information about an upcoming Blade Masters gathering. “We should enter.”
“You boys enjoy yourselves. It’s time to find my wife,” Dar said.
Wolfe looked from Elfin to Dar. “I’m up for it. What is it?”
Elfin grinned. “It’s mostly warriors, but sometimes others join in. The gathering pits blade against blade to determine who’s the best. You ought to join us, Dar.” He propped an elbow on Wolfe’s shoulder. “Surely it’d make the gathering more exciting if the High Lord were a contestant.”
Wolfe crossed his arms, stroking his chin. “I, for one, would like to see him in action. See if the stories are true or are just…stories.”
“The past few days haven’t been enough, Wolfe?” Dar gazed down the length of his sword. “I’d not taken you for a masochist.”
There was a twinkle in Wolfe’s eyes. “That sounds like a challenge to me. What do you think, Elfin?” He winked. “It’s as much as a slap across the face, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Aye, a serious slap,” Elfin said.
Wolfe attempted a solemn expression. “One that must be resolved in the ring, I’d say.”
Dar raised a brow and eyed one, then the other over the hilt of his sword. He could hear the whine of the line as he was reeled in. “When is this gathering?”
“Tomorrow,” Elfin said as straight-faced as possible.
The Krymerian shook his head at the ski
ll of their play, but he was not beaten…yet. “Entries have to be in weeks before the event. I doubt they’ll accept us on the day.”
Wolfe snorted. “Like they’d turn down the High Lord. Besides, we entered the three of us a week ago.”
Elfin didn’t give him the chance to respond. “Consider this, Dar. It’s a way to show Alatariel and the wizards you’re back to your old self.”
“And, when you lose, a way of showing penance for your sins,” Wolfe threw in for good measure.
Checkmate.
“When I lose?” Dar couldn’t help but laugh at the good-hearted smiles plastered on their faces. “Give me time to think about it. I’ll be in my room.” He slid the blade neatly into its sheath, placing it next to the others on a nearby table. “I trust you will ensure I’m given the privacy needed?” Without another word, he left the training hall before the boys had a chance to reply.
Wolfe called after him. “See you in the morning, Dar.”
Alone in his chambers, Dar considered the elf’s proposition as he examined the books lining the far wall. Elfin’s right. To participate would prove I have regained my control and presence of mind. Halfway through the bottom shelf, golden letters across the spine of a black leather-clad book gleamed. VonNeshta. He opened the cover with a gentle hand. Page after page contained names of the VonNeshta family, accompanied by the date of their birth and the day they died. It has been a long time since my last gathering.
Comfortable before the fire, he relived his family’s history from the beginning. Lost in the pages, the hours passed and sleep eventually overtook him. No sooner had he drifted off than the nightmare that had brought him to Nunnehi returned.