“Well, you know what they say,” Rorzan said. “It's not cheating if it's an orc.”
“People say that?” Vann whispered.
“No, nobody says that, I just made it up. Why are you sitting here pondering that?” He clapped his hands. “Less talkie, more stealie.”
Vann glared at the ghost and was about to yell at him when he remembered their current situation. His eyes scanned the shop, picking out what they'd need, while trying to tune out the sounds of Janaza going down on the shopkeeper. There were cloaks on a rack. Slurp. Past them he could see various odds and ends, including rolls of cloth bandages that Janaza could use for her feet. Suck. A small table in the corner held some loaves of bread, cheese, and dried meats. “Mmmm, so big...”
“Tick tock, Vann,” Rorzan said, sounding like he was about to burst out laughing. The ghost was enjoying this. Then again, Vann couldn't entirely blame him. There was nothing Rorzan could physically do save for watch, and he'd spent the majority of the past three centuries stuck in a secret chamber with no entertainment whatsoever.
Vann crawled out of the back room on his hands and knees as quickly and quietly as he could. He moved to the cloaks first, grabbing two off the rack. He spread one open and tied it together in every place that he could, forming a makeshift rucksack. He moved to the back table, where he grabbed a roll of bandages and placed it in the cloak.
As he did, his hand brushed another roll of bandages to the floor, It landed on the floor right in the middle of a gap in Janaza's eager sucking noises, and the sound seemed as loud as an explosion.
“What was that?” the shopkeeper said. He started to turn his head, and Vann ducked down, his heart going a million miles an hour.
“Just my knee,” Janaza said, getting to her feet quickly and pressing herself into him, her lips seeking his throat. “Just my knee, handsome.”
“Ah...” the shopkeeper groaned. “Gods, you're good at this.”
Vann risked a peek under the cloaks up at the counter. Janaza was necking the shopkeeper, her arm moving back and forth as she stroked his cock out of sight. Her eyes met with his. Vann was taken aback at the amount of lust in them. Something coiled in his gut at the sight, and he realized it was... jealousy. How was she able to do it? To give herself so freely and openly to others?
“I want you to fuck me,” Janaza said, her words in the shopkeeper's ear but her eyes looking directly at Vann. “Be loud. Be rough.”
The shopkeeper growled, his hands grabbing Janaza roughly and spinning her around, bending her over the back table. Vann averted his eyes and waited a moment. Then, the sounds of hips meeting hips filled the room, along with Janaza's loud noises of pleasure. “Oh! Oh! Yes! Yes! Fuck! Fuck me!”
“What a kinky gal,” Rorzan said.
Through a monumental effort of will, Vann ignored his overwhelming need to look at Janaza getting fucked against the back wall, instead busying himself with jamming all the food he could into the cloak. He even grabbed an actual rucksack that he found under the table and filled it with more food. He looked around for walking sticks, but couldn't see anything, and decided that he'd done enough. Supplies in hand, Vann crouch-walked back to the back apartment. From there, he got a much better view of Janaza getting railed, her hair masking her face from view. The shopkeeper hadn't even taken off her skirt, just parted the cloth folds as easily as his cock parted Janaza's cuntlips. She humped back against him, mewling her delight as he took her. Vann's cock ached in his pants, and he fought the urge to rub himself through the fabric.
“Damn, she can really go,” Rorzan said. “Sure you're still on the fence about trying to get with her?”
Vann was about to tell the ghost to fuck off when everything went sideways.
A knock came at the shop's door, and the shopkeeper and Janaza froze mid-fuck. “Galvin, you in there?” a voice called from outside. “I know it's late, but I've got the new patterns for the cloaks you wanted done!”
“Shit,” the shopkeeper muttered, sliding out of Janaza and hurriedly stuffing his cock back into his pants. “Fucking Rory, always late with his-” He turned, and saw Vann crouched down, fistfuls of the shop's goods in his hands. “What the?”
“Um,” Vann said lamely.
“Not even gonna fuck the lady to completion, what a dick,” Rorzan commented.
Jazana grabbed the shopkeeper and spun him around, a sultry expression on her face. “We'll finish this another time, alright?” she said. Then she floored the shopkeeper with a mighty punch to the face that sent him over his counter and onto the shop floor. Janaza moved, running over to Vann. “Let's go, let's go, let's go!” she said, grabbing a cloak and the rucksack of supplies. Vann turned and followed her as she chucked the pack through the open window into the alley, then wriggled through herself. Vann followed, and they grabbed their instruments and ran for the end of the alley.
“Well, that worked out quite well,” Janaza said.
Then a long, keening note sounded, echoing around the silent mountain town. In the distance, Vann heard men shouting and dogs barking. “You were saying?” he asked dryly.
Janaza laughed. “The chase is sometimes better than the catch!” She put on a turn of speed, and Vann hurried to keep pace with her. They turned out of the alley onto the main road that led up into the mountains. Lights were popping on all through the houses as they approached the edge of town.
“Coming up on the right!” Rorzan said.
Two of the night guards burst from the alley, brandishing cudgels and carved bone horns. “Hey! You two! Stop right there!” When Vann and Janaza didn't, they raised the horns to their lips and blew. Waves of force rippled out of the horns, kicking up dust and slush. Janaza simply lowered her shoulder and pushed herself through the force, her eyes flashing in the dim light. Vann stumbled a little. She whipped the bass off her shoulder and drilled one of the watchmen in the stomach, doubling him over. She turned, blocked the cudgel strike from the second guard on the instrument. Then with a roar that echoed through the street, she headbutted the guard, her skull thunking against his. His eyes crossed and he staggered backwards before falling over on his back.
“Mine's harder,” Janaza panted, setting off again with Vann behind her.
They passed the edge of town, hurrying across the small field between the border and the base of the mountain. “Home free, hah!” Rorzan cheered.
Vann looked behind them. “Not quite!”
What appeared to be the town's entire force of night guards was racing after them across the field, and ahead of them and gaining were hunting dogs, big black beasts that looked like they were half-wolf. “Shit,” Rorzan said. “That's a lot of guys.”
“Move!” Janaza said.
Vann was trying his best, but his lungs were on fire, and the rucksack on one shoulder and the guitar on the other both felt like they weighed a ton, especially as the ground sloped upward and became mountainous. Sticks snapped under his boots as he went, sweat beading on his face. Janaza was flying up the slope, her powerful legs carrying her forward with ease.
“Vann, come on!” Rorzan said.
“I...” Vann panted. “The slope's too much...”
“Ah, hells, you're not used to mountains. Janaza!”
The orc paused and turned around. She realized what was happening, and scurried back down. “Take my hand,” she said.
“What?” Vann panted.
Her hand grabbed hold of his, and she pulled. “Come on! We're in this together!” Those gold eyes bored into his, flashing with intensity. “You've got two legs, start using them! I know you can!”
Vann swallowed, looked back at their pursuers that were rapidly gaining on them. He squeezed Janaza's hand. “R-right!”
The two of them took off as one, hand in hand, the contact warm and invigorating. His legs and lungs still burned, but the feeling of the orc's fingers wrapped up in his own served as a motivator. They ran up the slope, their heavy breaths in sync.
“They're still
getting closer,” Rorzan said. “Hang on, hang on, let me think... wait, that's it!”
“What is?” Vann asked.
Rorzan swooped down in front of them, floating low over the ground beneath them. “There's a lot of moisture in the ground. We can take it and freeze it behind us as we go, make the ground too slippery for them to chase us!”
“How do we do that?”
“Gonna take the both of you,” he said. “Janaza, you know how to harmonize?”
“Aye,” she said, skidding to a halt and tossing the her pack down, unhooking her bass from her shoulder.
“Awesome,” Rorzan said. “Get with Vann and we can-”
“Wait, do what now?” Vann asked.
Rorzan stared at him for a second, then slapped himself on the forehead. “Fuckin' hells, you never got to that point in your training!”
Their pursuers were getting closer. “Explain it quick!” Vann said.
“Okay – both of you, play the same note, doesn't matter what! Just do an E-flat!”
It took Vann a moment to remember what string and fret on the guitar that was, and he strummed the note, feeling a tiny bit of magic come to him. At the sound, a cry went up from their pursuers, many of them stopping or turning around outright, not willing to face the might of the guitar. An identical tone sounded from Janaza's instrument, and Vann saw a spark of green magic hovering around her fingers.
“Now, Vann, don't shape the magic at all. Just reach out and mesh it with Janaza's while you play that same note over and over, hurry!”
Vann looked at the orc. She nodded encouragement. They both strummed the E-flat over and over again, and Vann directed the magic towards the orc. At the same time, he felt a curious sensation prickle along his shoulders, like a balm being applied to a sunburn. He felt the magic double upon itself, growing stronger in an instant.
He also felt Janaza. He became aware of her on a different level than normal, as if he was seeing through her. The orc's entire body was running hot, charged to the brim with a primal, older magic that was growing in strength in time with his own, working towards the same purpose. She was also alight with energy, thrumming through her, and it took Vann a moment to realize what it was – sex afterglow. He felt his face redden.
“Vann, you are a gods-damned natural!” Rorzan said. “Now, both of you, play this, fast as you can.”
The ghost's fingers flitted across the lower part of Vann's guitar, a complicated sequence of notes that Vann knew he never would've been able to follow normally, but seared themselves into his mind's eye as Rorzan did them while he was linked to Janaza. The dogs were a hundred yards away now and would be on them moments. Vann didn't think, and simply reacted instinctually. His fingers flew across the guitar strings, and he heard an identical, lower-pitched rumble from Janaza's bass.
They held the final note together, and the magic snapped free.
There was a long, continuous staccato cracking as every drop of moisture in a wide area in front of them came together, then froze in an instant, coating a large swathe of the mountain slope in ice. Dogs yelped and men cursed as they suddenly found themselves without a footing on the slope, slipping and falling on tails and backsides and slip sliding downwards.
Janaza laughed. “Let's see you try to climb that!”
“Keep doing that,” Rorzan said, his voice sounding full of awe. “Hold the harmony and back up slowly. Keep freezing as much as you can!”
As one, Vann and Janaza back up, playing the same sequence of notes over and over again, freezing up more and more of the ground behind them. Every time man or beast got some foothold, they'd slip on a patch of fresh ice and slide back down. The magical force whipped Vann's hair around, and his whole body felt white-hot. Or was that just simply his harmonious connection to Janaza?
After a few minutes, the slope below them glistened with a sheen of ice as far as they could see. “I think you've done enough damage,” Rorzan said. “Let's get moving!”
Vann felt Janaza's magic retreat, and their connection broke. He missed it within moments. But he swallowed the feeling and shouldered his instrument and pack. “Right.”
Without a word, Janaza took his hand again, her fingers hot in his. The two of them ran, up the slope and into the mountain forest above. Within moments, they were lost to sight to their pursuers, who would spend the rest of the night trying to scramble up the mountain. Though Vann and Janaza didn't know it, they'd actually frozen a two mile wide stretch of the mountain's base.
But Rorzan had seen it. And he couldn't believe his ghostly eyes.
***
Yilon knew that his father was lying to him.
It had been four days since Vann had left, and the Lord-to-be missed his friend. At first he'd been angry and confused. When his father had taken him into the secret chamber and shown him the guitar, Yilon had resisted the urge to reach out and touch the thing. The instrument had possessed a magnetism, the allure of the forbidden. But Fandar had explained that it was his duty, and eventually Yilon's, to resist that temptation and make sure nobody ever got hold of the thing. It's potential for evil was too great. So when the palace had been thrown into chaos when Vann had discovered the guitar, taken it, and fled, Yilon had felt a stab of ire and confusion. If Vann had just stayed, they could've put the thing back. Now that it was out there, if something happened to Vann, who knows who could get hold of the guitar and wreak havoc with it?
But in the days since, the young Lord-to-be had come to realize that maybe Vann had made the right choice. For one thing, Captain Ansel was gone. It was kind of an open secret that if Ansel wasn't at the palace, he was off doing something for Fandar, usually something where Fandar wasn't concerned with who got hurt along the way. Nor had Yilon seen any of Ansel's close confidantes from the palace guard, which meant that they were with Ansel, wherever he was. Not to mention Fandar had ordered the city's gates closed, with only essential military and diplomatic traffic allowed through. Something was up.
Yilon pondered this as he sat naked on his bed in his chambers, moonlight streaming through his window, Ventus sleeping next to him. The Harvest Festival was still supposed to happen in two days. He was supposed to propose to Lenire that night. He wondered under what circumstances it would be.
He missed Vann, the one person he considered himself close to. His father didn't count. His mother... definitely not. He had no friends among the peerage, merely the sons of the other lords who he would one day have to sit in conference rooms and talk about the dry business of running empires while also jockeying for position. It was a cycle, one that he was loathe to participate in, but had no choice in the matter.
A hand touched his waist, the touch feather light. “Can't sleep?” Ventus asked. He was a few years older than Vann, one of only two males at the brothel near the palace. He'd been Yilon's favorite for some time, ever since he realized that Vann was never going to pick up on his numerous dropped hints.
“No, just thinking,” Yilon said. He touched Ventus' hand.
Ventus shifted, his sculpted body pressing up against Yilon's back. “Want to talk about it?”
Yilon shook his head, leaning back into the other man. “Just... I feel like things are about to change in a big way, and that most people will fight tooth and nail to keep them as they are. But what if change is what we need?”
“I don't follow.”
Yilon sighed, his hand covering Ventus'. “Never mind. Just some restless thinking.”
Breath fanned warm on his neck. “Do you wish me to clear your thoughts?”
Yilon sighed. “I'm still worn out from a few hours ago.” He turned his head and kissed Ventus on the lips, quick and soft. “Maybe in the morning.”
Ventus nodded and laid back down, and Yilon joined him, Arms wrapped around his chest and hugged him. Yilon kept staring out his window, sleep continuing to elude him for some time.
Vann, wherever you are... I hope you're safe and warm, and in good company.
Chapter Six
– The Altar Of The Howling Elf
Despite Yilon's fervent wishes, Vann was only moderately safe, in questionable company, and most certainly not warm.
He and Janaza had scaled the smaller mountain in the night, arriving at the summit just as the sun began to rise. Despite their exhaustion, they knew that their best option was to move during the daylight hours, when the temperature became more bearable, if only by a few degrees. So after a break to eat and for Janaza to wrap her feet in the cloth bandages to protect them from the chill, and the eventual snow they'd be trekking through, they pressed onward. Vann's boots kept his feet insulated, but he had to hold the cloak closed to maintain any semblance of warmth within its confines. By contrast, Janaza strode confidently forward, her cloak flapping around her in the steadily increasing breeze as they went higher and higher.
“Any idea of where we're headed exactly?” Vann asked around midday, the first words he'd spoken in hours.
Janaza pointed ahead of her, to the tall peak rising in the distance. “It's on Mount Adagio, I know that much. The exact where is a little more up in the air. There's supposed to be markings on the rocks that point the way, like those Thieves’ Guild symbols from the forest.”
“And you do know what they look like, right?”
“More or less!” Janaza chirped, striding forward confidently. Vann sighed.
“Where was she when I was alive?” Rorzan muttered to Vann. “I don't think Arielle or I could've kept our hands off her.”
“Can we please not talk about that?” Vann muttered.
“Why not? It'll warm you up a little bit.”
Vann grunted and trudged forward after Janaza, trying his best to ignore the ghost. The trees were growing thinner and thinner, and snow was starting to crunch under his feet with every step. Despite the sun rising high in the sky with no cloud cover, the temperature was dropping around him quickly.
Another hour passed, and the trees stopped, leaving them open to the air. As they trekked forward from the tree line into the snow, Janaza stopped. “Spirits,” she murmured.
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