Echoes

by Nathan Ravenwood

  “I'm not hearing a no,” Janaza murmured, her fingers flitting around the catch on his pants.

  Vann's hands shot out and wrapped around her wrist, holding her in place. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, her fingers growing still. The moment hung suspended between them, the only sounds being the rustle of tree leaves in the evening air.

  “I...” Vann said. “I can't.”

  Janaza's voice was low. “Why not?”

  “I just... can't.”

  “That's not an answer, Vann.”

  He looked up at the hardness in her voice. Janaza's face was hard, not quite angry, but definitely disappointed. “Why not?” she asked again.

  “It's... it's complicated.”

  “Are you betrothed to someone? Keeping faithful?”

  “No.”

  “Then what's the problem?”

  “I don't know.”

  Then came the anger, her eyes flashing as they narrowed and she yanked her hand free of his grip. “So you'll let me jerk you off but you won't fuck me? Am I not good enough for you, Vann?”

  Vann was taken aback. “Wait, what? No, that's not even remotely it!”

  “Then explain to me what it is!” Janaza shouted, her voice echoing through the trees.

  “You're an orc, you wouldn't understand!” Vann yelled. He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, but they were out that, dissipating into the air like smoke.

  “Oh, so that's it,” she snarked, her fists clenching. “It's some human thing that the stupid animal can't understand.”

  “I didn't mean it like that!”

  “The fuck you didn't!” Janaza snapped. Her eyes were hard, but sad all the same. “I thought there was something different about you, Vann. I thought you might be different than all the others who've spat on me during my travels.” Her lip curled a little, making her incisors seem all the sharper. “Guess I was wrong.” She turned in a swirl of leather skirts and stomped down the hill back to the cave, her shoulders slumped.

  Vann stared after her until she ducked inside the cave, then sank down with his back against the tree. He felt ashamed at his outburst, at disrespecting her. But to voice his issues aloud would force him to confront them, and he wasn't ready to do that. Not yet.

  Rorzan shot up out of the ground as if he'd been fired from a cannon, making Vann yelp in surprise. The ghost floated down to Vann's eye level, his gaze pinched and disapproving and his arms akimbo. “What. The fuck. Was that?”

  “What was what?”

  “That!” Rorzan said, gesturing down the hill to the cave. “She was about to give you a ride you were never going to forget, and you turn her down? I set that up perfectly so I could have a talk with Arielle and so the two of you could blow off some stress, and you just...” He ran his hands through his hair. “Vann, buddy, what is up with you? Are you gay like Branna's sprog or something? There's nothing wrong with it, though it probably would've helped if you'd told me that a while ago, otherwise I would've-”

  “Wait, what?,” Vann interjected, getting to his feet. “Yilon's gay?”

  Rorzan stared at him. “You... didn't know? I had him pegged just from seeing him in the library.” An awkward silence stretched between them. “Wow, Vann, you must be pretty oblivious to the signs.”

  “Well, excuse me for not living a life of sexual excess like you,” Vann snapped.

  “It's just... wow.” Rorzan turned around and stared off into the trees, as if he could find new meaning in existance in the branches. “This is just something else.” He turned back to Vann. “Can you tell me what you can't tell her? Man to man?” He paused. “Well, man to ghost?”

  “I...” Vann found it hard to articulate, but he forced the words out. “I've only been with two women in my life. The first was a barmaid not long after I came of age. Yilon and I were both incredibly drunk.”

  “Normally in that scenario I'd have expected you to have bedded him,” Rorzan drawled. “But go on.”

  ***

  The barmaid giggled as she dragged him by the hand into the back room of the tavern. “Come on!”

  Vann took another sip of the bottle he was gripping tightly. The mead was made of honey and berries, and tasted sweet on his tongue, but not as sweet as the head-spinning kiss she’d just given him, his first ever. One minute Yilon had been toasting his success, and then somewhere along the line the barmaid had joined their conversation. Now he’d left Yilon sitting on the stool in the main room while the cute young woman was yanking him into the storage closet in the back of the tavern.

  “Nobody will bother us here,” she said with another tipsy giggle, shutting the door behind her.

  Vann took a few shaky steps backward before sitting down on a pile of flour sacks, almost breaking the bottle by whacking it on the stone floor. “Whoops…” he muttered before taking another drink.

  The barmaid came down to his level, pressing her body into his. Her young, perky tits smushed against his chest as she kissed him again, her hands cupping his cock and balls through his pants. “The First Gods blessed you indeed. Lord Yilon keeps good company.”

  She had a name, and he knew it. He’d asked it several times. Yet why couldn’t he remember it? He started to ask again , but then her mouth was on his and her tongue was sliding along his and everything else ceased to matter. He set the bottle on the floor and wrapped his arms around her, clumsily holding her close as her hand slid down the front of his pants and fingers that weren’t his own curled around his cock for the first time ever. “You…” he began.

  “Shh,” the barmaid said. She sat back on her haunches, almost tearing her shirt off. Her freckles extended down to her chest, dotting her breasts like the spots of a wild animal. Vann’s eyes went wide, then went even wider as she undid the catch on his pants and freed his cock, the hard length springing free. “Gods, it’s even better than I thought.”

  “Do you… like it?”

  “Of course!” the barmaid said. She hiked up her skirt, and Vann saw a flash of the femininity that he’d long fantasized about. “Who the hell wouldn’t?”

  Vann’s breathing hitched as she lowered herself down. Dimly, he thought he remembered hearing that you had to fool around a little to make sure that-

  Warmth surrounded his cock as the barmaid nudged her hips down eagerly, taking the first inch of him in. “There’s still so much more…” she cooed, rocking herself back and forth as she worked her way down. Vann’s hips bucked of their own accord, but the flared, eager head of his cock met resistance when he did, the barmaid yelping a little. “Oy, watch it!”

  “It’s not going in,” Vann breathed, nudging upward with his hips.

  “Ow! Stop!” the barmaid hissed, lifting herself back up a little. “You’re too big to just do that!”

  “Do what?”

  “Just spear into me like that!” She worked her hips back and forth, pressing down against him.

  “What should I do?”

  The barmaid rolled her eyes. “Just my luck, I find the biggest dick in the world and it’s on a fucking Voiceless who can’t use it right…”

  Vann felt his face burn with embarrassment. Being Voiceless was exactly the reason this was his first sexual experience. He'd thought she was different but she was just the same as all the others.

  “Let me just…” The barmaid ground against him, slowly trying to press down on him. But she wasn’t properly ready yet, and the mood in the room had already soured, Vann’s cock was starting to go a little flaccid. Eventually, the barmaid huffed out a frustrated breath and sat back on her haunches, staring accusingly down at the impressive, yet now limp, curve of Vann’s dick. “Fuck.”

  “I’m sorry,” Vann said automatically.

  She grunted and got up, something down her skirt and rebuttoning her top. “Yeah,” she said. “You should be.” And that was how she left him, humiliated and frustrated and half naked in the back room of a tavern.

  Well, at least she’d left him the bottle of mead.


  ***

  “Okay, I can see how that might have given you a bit of a complex,” Rorzan said “And the second?”

  “The second was Lady Branna. She-”

  Now it was Rorzan's turn to interrupt. “Hold up – you were with her?”

  Vann flushed and looked away. “Aye, she... well, let's just say that there wasn't much substance to that relationship.”

  “She just wanted your dick?”

  Vann glared at Rorzan. “You don't have to make it sound so tawdry.”

  “Sex is sex, Vann,” Rorzan said. “Though I think I'm starting to understand why you act the way you do. You've had sex, but it wasn't with someone who gave a shit about you.” He gestured to the cave. “Janaza clearly does. Why keep turning her down?”

  “Rorzan, she's clearly got way more experience than me. I could never satisfy her!”

  The ghost scoffed. “You can always learn. Also, that's totally not why you're turning her down.”

  “Then why am I?”

  Rorzan's tilted his head back, and he stared down his nose at Vann. “You keep turning her down because you're afraid to be emotionally vulnerable. Or you just don't know how. Most of your life you've lived at the whims of others. You were used like some cheap thing to be discarded at the whims of the Lords.” He floated down, and poked his finger into the center of Vann's chest. “But you're not some cheap thing. You're a man, a living, breathing human being with thoughts, feelings, a big dick, and a Voice.”

  “Why are you so focused on how big I am?” Vann asked in bewilderment.

  “Because I've seen a lot of dicks and yours is awe-inspiring. Now, don't interrupt me when I'm making a motivational speech.” Rorzan drew himself up so his eyes were level with Vann's. “I keep telling you that I can’t force you to do anything, Vann. But if you ever want to use metal's full power, you have to push past this. It's a dirty music, Vann, a sexy music. The rhythms that drive it are the same as the ones that you make when you make love to someone. It's a primal rhythm, akin to the one that drives our hearts, keeps the blood pumping through our veins. Well, your veins at least, since I don't have any.”

  Vann gave Rorzan a flat look. “Are you going somewhere with this?”

  Rorzan sighed heavily. “Look, all I'm saying is this: you can play metal as you are, and you'll be powerful. But if you want to feel it's true power, you're going to have to let go of whatever it is that's holding you back from Janaza, because that thing is the same thing that's going to keep you from playing metal as good as you can. It comes from here...” He reached out and placed a transparent hand on Vann's chest, just above his heart. Then the ghost grinned. “And from here.” He pointed at Vann's crotch.

  Vann sighed. “You give one hell of a motivational speech, Rorzan.”

  “It's a talent.”

  Rorzan left him alone after that, vanishing into the dirt beneath Vann's feet. Vann remained where he stood, trying to parse what Rorzan had been telling him. Was it a matter of Vann removing what held him back, kept him feeling like he couldn't do things? Had Rorzan been trying to tell him to have more confidence in himself? Why did he feel the need to get all metaphorical with it? Was he reading into it too much and getting the wrong message entirely? He put his head in his hands and huffed out a breath. So much had changed in just the last week. What were they going to do when they got to the Eastern Continent? Hells, how were they going to get there in the first place?

  One thing at a time, he thought. One thing at a time. He turned and walked back down the hill in the dark, following the light of their dimming fire to the cave.

  Janaza was already asleep, snoring loudly. Arielle was awake, staring into the fire as she nibbled on another loaf of bread. Her ear twitched as he walked into the cave. “Everything okay?” she asked.

  Vann sat down across from her, away from Janaza. “Fine,” he murmured, lying back and pulling the cloak over his body. “Just fine.”

  Under normal circumstances his restless mind would've kept him up for hours. But he was exhausted from climbing down the mountain, and fell asleep quickly, listening to Arielle hum an elvish song under her breath.

  Chapter Eight – Harmony

  The next day, Janaza announced that she was going to head up their group as they traveled further down the mountainous terrain back into the forests. She didn't take any objections and strode out, in front of even Rorzan. Vann brought up the rear, ready to catch Arielle if she stumbled and fell. The elf was doing much better, still a little wobbly in stride, but not complaining about their pace.

  Vann kept staring at Janaza's broad back, trying to think of some way he could approach her. She'd brushed him off that morning, and her body language was clear: don't talk to me. As such, the trek was silent and awkward. She was even ignoring Rorzan's joking attempts to start a conversation between the four of them.

  “Well, this is awkward,” Rorzan muttered as he dropped back from another dud joke.

  “Just leave her be, dear,” Arielle said. “She's clearly not in the mood.”

  “She didn't even laugh at the orc with one tusk joke!” Rorzan lamented. “That one always used to get a laugh out of the Blacktusk orcs!”

  Janaze held up her fist and stopped dead in her tracks. “Quiet,” she whispered.

  “Okay, look, Jan, I apologize profuse-”

  “Be. Quiet.” The orc's deadly serious “I will find a way to hurt you even though you're beyond the grave” tone made Rorzan shut up. The ghost flew up next to her, his head swiveling around as Arielle and Vann froze in kind.

  He glanced apprehensively around them at the trees that stretched as far as the eye could see. The air was still and quiet, only a faint whisper of wind through leaves audible. “I don't hear anything,” Vann murmured as loud as he dared.

  Janaza nodded. “Exactly. There's no birdsong, no nothing.”

  “Which means...?”

  “Someone's spooked them all off,” Rorzan said.

  Janaza slid her bass off her back, and Vann did the same with his guitar. Arielle made sharp motions with her fingers, but nothing happened, and a look of frustration crossed her face. “Dammit,” she growled.

  “Move slowly, I'll scout around,” Rorzan said, shooting off like an ethereal comet. He vanished among the trees as the party pressed forward, acutely aware of every rustle of loam under their feet. Vann's heart hammered in his ears, the guitar feeling about a hundred pounds heavier than it actually was. Something was hunting them. But what?

  Then, from up ahead, he heard Rorzan yell, “Your mothers suck cocks in hell!”

  Two voices screamed, and a nearby treetop came alive with motion as two soldiers dressed in the armor of House Branna leaped from their sniping position in a tree, a vengeful Rorzan in pursuit. The ghost dove around them, pulling faces and yelling similar obscenities at the two soldiers, who all but fell over themselves to get away from him. They left their weapons behind and took off running into the woods, screaming bloody murder.

  Rorzan was doubled over in a fit of laughter. “Oh, First Gods, I... I can't... oh, man, that was awesome!”

  “They were waiting for us,” Janaza said, leaning on her bass.

  “They were waiting for me,” Vann said. He picked up one of the crossbows off the ground, holding it in both hands as he examined the stock. The sigil of House Branna had been carved into the wood.

  Rorzan stopped laughing all of a sudden. “Oh, shit. They're going to get their buddies!”

  Vann dropped the crossbow. “What do we do?”

  “We run,” Arielle said, grabbing the other crossbow so she'd have something to defend herself with. “We put as much distance between us and them as we can and hope they lose our trail.”

  “Move, move!” Rorzan said, driving the point home. They set off at a dead sprint, all thoughts of being quiet thrown out the window in favor of pure flight. Vann held his guitar by the neck as he ran, wanting desperately to sling it back over his shoulder but knowing that he would
probably need it in the coming minutes. Janaza had thrown hers over her shoulder, running by pumping one arm back and forth.

  The ground sloped downward as they ran, and they slowed up a little, careful not to trip and break an ankle at the worst possible moment. As they did, Vann heard the call of a nightingale.

  “What's a nightingale doing out here?” Janaza asked, looking around for the bird.

  “That's not a real nightingale,” Vann said, recovering as he almost tripped over a branch. “The guards in Papreon use it as a signal!”

  “They're closing in on us,” Rorzan said, speeding off to scout ahead.

  They kept running, and Vann began to hear more nightingale calls on the wind. And then, to his horror, the voice of Guard Captain Ansel. “There they are!” the captain bellowed. “Run them down!”

  Vann chanced a glance behind him, and saw the Captain moving among the trees. For such a large man, Ansel moved at a speed that defied belief. He yanked the hunting horn off his hips and raised it to his mouth, blowing a single, keening note.

  The trees came to life around them. Heavy boughs that would take a man half a day to cut through with an axe suddenly swung around, seeking to bowl them over with their weight. Janaza and Arielle neatly navigated the lashing tree branches, but Vann was a bit slower on the upkeep, almost falling right on his face multiple times. High, keening notes kept sounding as magic missiles zipped around them, kicking up chunks of dirt and blasting bark off trees.

  “I count almost twenty,” Rorzan said, zipping back to join them as they fled. “Including a couple of ugly mugs I recognize from Briarhaven. They must've taken some secret passage around the mountains rather than over it like we did.”

  “They're rested,” Janaza noted, breathing like a bellows. “We just climbed up and down a bloody mountain.”

  “They're gaining on us,” Arielle noted, her voice strained. “I... I can't keep this up for much longer.”

  Rorzan turned around, his gaze flicking across the mass of their pursuers. “Time to stand and fight,” he said. “They'll run us down if we keep this up. If we stop now and don't run ourselves ragged we can take them!”