by Atlas Kane
“Well, let’s discuss a potential compromise then,” Ketzal suggested. “Surely, we must all agree that the safety of Camp Casmeer is important. But it does seem that eventually we might run out of Mana Shards anyhow.”
Cade cut in, knowing his own response would be preferable to Satemi’s. “We have yet to explore the depths of the dungeon. We did recover a small amount of Mana Shards on our last delve, and that was only on the second floor. Perhaps deeper within…”
“That is no guarantee!” Cha snapped, finally coming out with the venom she displayed so often. “And what of the dangers. If our very own Archon nearly died on the second level, how much risk is appropriate?”
Satemi finally let fly. “Why didn’t you start with this. Hiding your fangs all the while until the last minute? Yes, the dungeon is dangerous, and so are the psychotic amalgamations and every other beast in Antinium. By dropping the shield, we give all of that free and easy access.”
Cha bristled, her ruff rising from the back of her neck a few inches.
It was Havasham who stood up, hands to either side. He eyed Cade and seemed to ask for a bit of trust. Cade gave a subtle nod, and listened to what the man had to say.
“I am with Cha. This is not due to any prejudice. Yes, before I dove into the dungeon with Cade, I thought him—” he stopped and looked at Cade directly. “I thought you were an arrogant prick who only cared about tying down as many women as you can. But I saw that you care for those around you. I saw your own dedication to this society. And, quite frankly, I’ve come to like you.”
Cha scrutinized her only ally in the room harshly. He’s off script. They didn’t talk about this at all. Let’s see what Havasham’s cooking then.
The Councilman shook his head and continued. “I’m sorry, Cha, but I think I have a compromise. Let’s agree to take down the barrier shield. It is too costly to maintain, and you all know it. But to do so immediately is foolish. Let’s consider ten days to prepare, to build fortifications, train our guardsmen for the shift in security. We will press on into the dungeon, as we should. If we find untold stores of Mana Shards, we may reconsider. If not, then we have no choice.”
Sitting back down and ignoring the crackling anger that fumed up off the wolfkin next to him, Havasham sighed deeply. He seemed pleased with himself and relieved to be done with the difficult task.
The arguing wasn’t finished for the night, but the worst of it had been burned away. Satemi, thankfully, kept her tongue under control. In a way, this had been a win. Agreeing to drop the shield in ten days, but having the chance to avoid doing so should more resources be found, was all they could hope for.
Additionally, a larger task force of villagers would be sent down for another run as soon as possible. The exact numbers were yet to be decided on, and a balance between the hunters would need to be struck, but the dungeon runs were moved up a notch in priority. Cade also, begrudgingly, agreed to sit the next one out. He couldn’t argue though. If everyone was to have a chance to level up, they’d all need the opportunity.
They adjourned and separated, each seeking dinner and a cup of wine to settle their thoughts. A few jokes were made at Ronden and Dan’s expense, but everyone did seem happier. The competition had boosted everyone.
Cade found Gemma sitting with a few of her hunters and he told her what the Council had decided. “We will leave the exact number up to you. You may have anywhere from six to eight villagers, and you must stay together. But you’ll need to press on further than before and find the source of this mess if possible.”
“We will. Seven should be enough. Seven is the sacred number after all, and it will grant us luck,” Gemma said plainly, one of her hunters nodding behind her as if she’d stated a simple fact.
He left her to the planning of the expedition, which began immediately, and sought the solace of his shared shelter.
Cade slept deep and hard that night, his dreams a swirling mass of various tasks to perform.
When he woke to piss, he found his furs covered in sweat. Gods, I need to find a way to relax. I was not born to be this kind of a leader, he noted. But as he looked up at the silver moon above, and then around at the peaceful village still growing and beginning to thrive, he remembered what was at stake. It’s worth it, he told himself. All of this is worth it.
The chill of his furs being removed woke him a short time later.
At first he thought it must be one of the girls waking to relieve themselves. Sleeping amid a pile of assorted furs and long-legged women made such interruptions inevitable.
But when he felt deft hands tugging down the new pair of woven boxers Minda had given him before he’d fallen asleep, he knew something was different.
It was dark inside the hut when he opened his eyes to see who was undressing him. No lamp burned and only a sliver of dark-gray light pierced the hide flap entrance. Yet all about him a subtle orange glow suffused the air. The light was coming from Gemma’s hair.
She was aroused.
“Hey—” he tried, but she pressed her palm over his mouth.
Shaking her head, she shushed him softly and finished unveiling his manhood.
With a wicked grin, Gemma moved lower to engage in a practice the woman had come to love. Cade would never be the kind of psycho who discouraged such hobbies. If she wanted to go down on him three times a day, he’d pencil her in. And it wasn’t as if she was growing obsessive.
Rather, Cade could see that she enjoyed the pleasure it gave him as well as the sense of power it seemed to give her.
Plus, under the creative tutelage of Minda, Gemma had grown skilled. Cade had a hunch that she enjoyed it so much because she was good at it, could bring him to the brink in a few short minutes if she wanted or else string him along, pinging like a race car’s engine under the summer sun.
Okay, then, he conceded. If given a choice, I’d definitely choose this over a little more sleep anyhow. Maybe this is her way of saying goodbye before she departs for the hunt.
Her mouth was so hot it nearly burned him. As with any part of Gemma’s sleek body, she radiated an infinite fountain of heat. She was a drop of lava made human, given a form most elegant, and he was the lucky man who was capable of enjoying it.
Considering how the woman treated the brand scar, Cade had come full circle regarding his “bond” with Gemma. Like any hot-blooded American, Cade had thought being marked and claimed by his woman was insulting and more than a little disturbing. But he’d been wrong about it. It wasn’t her way of pissing on him like he was some fucking fence post in a field somewhere. The act was more sincere, intimate, and loving than that.
Cade sighed as she took the tip of him in her mouth, her hot tongue rasping underneath. She clutched him in one hand and ran the other up his chest. Finding the handprint there, she held it, as if recommitting herself to their bond once more.
All of his girls did this occasionally. The hand mark scar had become a site of their affection, a physical reminder of why they loved him, why they chose to be with him.
Another benefit, of course, was that the buff the branding had granted allowed him to make love with Gemma in the first place. Oddly enough, though the other women lacked the shared scar Gemma and Cade wore, they had all been a part of the wedding ceremony. Their inclusion granted them the ability to withstand her heat as well.
It was more than convenient. It allowed them all to intertwine as they wished, making love as a group, at least when all were available to do so.
The tracing of Gemma’s fangs down his shaft made him gasp. Expert indeed, he mused. Only Gemma and Minda could give a fanged blowie and make it feel good.
Cade felt the flames of his pleasure rise, matching the intensifying heat and light of her hair. Now, her mane burned a deep orange and red, like the stoked coals of a long-burning fire. She increased her pace, using both hands to ply his manhood, her mouth making the motion feel complete and unbroken.
He closed his eyes and dreamed of the scorching sea b
etween her legs. Each of the women felt different, as such matters go, but in a way, Gemma’s sex remained the most remarkable. She could burn him like a furnace, but rather than produce pain, it registered as an additional sensation.
Sensing his impending collapse, Gemma ceased her ministrations.
On all fours, the woman crawled over him, every bit the tigress.
He grinned, groaning a bit, and she huffed out a suppressed laugh.
The task of remaining quiet during the entirety of their sport was somehow appealing. It reminded him of stolen afternoons of love in high school, or after when he’d had to “respect” his roommate.
Gemma kissed his mouth. Pressing her lips against his, he stared up into the lit coals of her eyes. She held the embrace for several seconds, eyes studying his, then she pulled away and resumed her business as briskly and efficiently as a professional.
This time, Cade couldn’t stifle his gasp as she fell onto his sex. Grinding into her, Cade chuckled softly. “Gods, woman.”
“Shh. Hush or I’ll finish by myself,” she whispered above him, her response only stirring up more laughter. When she pressed the points of her claws into his chest and clamp her thighs around him, he found himself capable of a more subdued expression of pleasure.
Gemma moved faster, pressing into his pelvis. Then something shifted within the tigress’s ember eyes. She tilted forward and pressed her feet to the ground on either side of him.
Crouching over Cade’s building excitement, Gemma growled quietly, biting her lip and glaring at him. Her eye pulsed a few times, and as he felt his own tenuous control slip away at last, she burned out in a slow undulation.
The woman rested there, holding him inside her for a few precious moments. The still of the morning and a few villagers beginning to stir the only sounds other than their companions’ rhythmic breathing. Then she kissed him once on both cheeks and rose to dress. As she opened the shelter flap to depart, Gemma turned back and told him farewell and that she loved him with a single heartfelt gaze.
Cade sighed, lying there, damp and exhausted. No reason not to fall back asleep, he thought, as he found the edge of a fur and tugged it toward him.
His attempt to find sleep once more was frustrated as Satemi rolled over and leaned against him. With sleepy eyes, she greeted him silently. And for the second time that morning, he found a woman moving down below his belt line.
He sighed, giving up all prospect of sleep, and enjoyed himself as the warrior woman urged him back into a state of arousal.
It didn’t take long. One benefit of Lycan Metabolism was his infinitely rebounding stamina. He could hike all day, eat a plate of meat, and roll in the furs with Minda, Ketzal, or both all night. So after a few minutes of luxuriating in the gentle warmth of Satemi’s mouth, he pushed her away from him and onto her back.
When he climbed atop her athletic form, she grinned. The sun was brighter now, a dull silver, and bird song began to pester the morning’s sacred silence.
I’ll not be the only one disturbing the peace then, he thought as he kissed her neck and collar bone.
Satemi moved beneath him, eager for everything he could give her.
They played like lovers for half an hour, touching each other’s bodies with gentle expressions. Their passion mounted as inevitable as the rising tide, and soon, he dove into her depths.
Ignoring the same strict caution Gemma had displayed, Satemi moaned. Her intonation was deep and satisfied as he moved within her. She gripped his hips with strong legs, urging him to take what she was offering.
He didn’t disappoint her.
Cade felt the muscles in his back and chest begin to burn with the intensity of his exertions, his loins glowing with pleasure. Having already dulled his own senses, it was no surprise that Satemi climaxed first. She pestered her sex with one hand while he bucked between her legs. And then she broke, her groan turning into a more vocal response.
Had Cade not been close to finishing himself, he would have been embarrassed. As it was, Satemi’s mewling turned him on even more. He finished shortly after, his body shuddering with pleasure once more.
He collapsed to the furs, pulling them atop his tired body. His stomach growled, announcing it too had needs it wished to be met. Satemi laughed and pushed her butt against him, curling up to sleep as well.
A bout of giggles made him glance over to where Minda and Ketzal were rising from their places. Wiping the sleep from their eyes, they whispered to one another, obviously still enjoying the unbidden show they’d received.
Ketzal left the shelter first, and Minda turned around. In a voice just above a whisper, she said, “I know you’ve already had a busy morning, Archon, but your duties await. If you aren’t up in five minutes, I’ll come back for you. We’ve a dungeon raid to plan, and you are expected.”
She winked and left him to the confusing mixture of emotions the morning had evoked.
Twice pleased and feeling the wave of sleepiness that such efforts tend to exude, he was as happy as any man had a right to be. But knowing he had a full day of playing the chief for a village of people who needed his guidance… well, that just sucked.
Rather than allow himself to halfway drift off to sleep only to be woken up minutes later, Cade sat up and began getting dressed. And not for the first time did he wish Antinium had a plant a little stronger than simple tea leaves.
Oh, what I wouldn’t give for a mug of flaming hot coffee, blacker than the endless abyss, he thought, and emerged to see to breakfast and a day laden with responsibility.
11
Delegating and Dungarees
Only an hour had gone by and already Cade was feeling a headache coming on. A large group of fighters had assembled near the side of the warehouse, all adding in their own requests and suggestions for the next dungeon run.
“I know the dungeon may again insist on splitting up our group, and if so, we will have no choice. But I rather doubt it,” Vrin explained. “From what you’ve reported about the first floor, and our experiences on the second, we have no reason to believe there will be much repetition. So yes, we must have assigned groups, two at the minimum, and a contingency planned if a third group is required, but I suggest we enter as one squad. We start together and finish together.”
Havasham was nodding sagaciously, lending Vrin’s words additional authority.
The Councilman’s change of affiliation wasn’t complete. He still deferred to Cha’s judgement often, and Cade knew that they spoke about everything together. Yet, the man was no longer opposed to those villagers who naturally sided with Cade. It was a good change, one that very well may ensure the success of Camp Casmeer.
Cade raised his hand, beckoning to speak. It was a simple but effective means of organizing each group, and most of the others had been given ample opportunity to say what they needed.
Everyone turned to Cade and he finished with what he hoped would be a rousing enough speech. “I’m pleased with the group we’ve gathered. You are a diverse collection of fighters and support members. This time we’ll have two healers. Each will be guarded by a damage dealer whose sole occupation will be keeping those healers alive. And remember, though everyone has skin in the game down there, let the tanks do their job. The gods of Antinium made Ronden and Dan’s heads thick for a reason.”
This last produced a few chuckles for which Cade was grateful. What he had to say afterward would only add to the high-pressure situation. “Finally, you must balance two priorities equally. One, every villager is worth more than a mountain of gold. Don’t let a single one of your fellows fall down there. We simply can’t afford the loss, and nobody here wants another of their friends to die. Two, we need to take the dungeon. These two points seem opposed, but not if you consider it another way. Yes, we must and will take the dungeon. But if we do so carefully, and with all planning and precautions in mind, it should be possible without a tragedy occurring.”
Several nods passed through the ranks, and Cade observ
ed the next round of delvers with great respect.
Ronden and Vrin would lead one of the teams, Fenian as their healer and five more warriors at their back including Satemi and Minda.
In the other team, Dan and Polde would lead Sholl, Ketzal, and a handful of others; the woman from the day before, Shoorna, would be their healer. Two teams of eight, a total of sixteen villagers in all, would brave the dangers of the dungeon.
The group walked behind Cade as he made his way down to the Town Interface. As Interface Controller, Cade needed to be present to open the next floor. Their progress was made quietly, only the occasional clatter of armor and weaponry rising above the trodding of their feet.
Many changes had been made over the weeks. No time was taken for granted. Satemi had helped facilitate much of the construction, but her own skills were less specialized than they needed to be. She acted as the camp’s foreman, supervising, encouraging, shoving people about to fit in where they needed to be. One of her pet projects that she’d helped advance thoroughly was that of battle readiness.
Only one villager had Weaponsmith as an Occupation, one other had taken up Armorer. Both were given the collective aid of a handful of others who had one or more Occupations like Tanner, Smithy, Woodworker, Craftsman, and the like. Those were less specialized, but were necessary in order to produce the raw materials to create more complex pieces of equipment.
As the delvers strode along, the sound of newly forged scale mail, leather or steel pauldrons, refitted breastplates, and everything in between, was a fine music to Cade’s ears. It sounded like near a month of hard labor. It sounded like dedication and a more protected and empowered society.
It sounded like the articulations of war.
Though they were moving in a loose clump, the song of shifting equipment and clinking weapons still brought Cade back to one of a hundred road marches.
In some ways, by the time Cade had been trained as an infantry soldier, the staggered road march was an archaic and outdated practice. A too-heavy ruck on his back and a machine gun weighing down his arms, the practice was both painful and mindnumbingly boring.