The Trial

by James Hunt

  "It was given to me when I was nine," he said.

  "Is it a curse?" She breathed in awe.

  "Not as such as yours was," he smiled, and stroked her cheek with the back of his finger. "It's a simple brand, made with a hot bit of metal. But it will never go away. Even if our country heals itself, and I can go home, I will have had endured it... and I will never forget the trouble it caused." Kelria looked up at him and stared into his dark blue eyes, searching. He touched her cheek and held it. She understood his meaning once again. "I am so happy for you. You have had yours lifted" she dared to smile at him. "And I am so sorry that the pain will never fade."

  "They don't understand that," she looked away sadly. "Not even My Queen, whom I love so much." Kelria was now torn.

  "But I do," He lifted up onto his elbows and moved closer to her. "If we are so similar to be capable of the same hate and the same evil, is it possible we are capable of the same love?" She turned to look at him, knowing full well where he was intending to go next, but not afraid of him. Everything he had told her tonight was truth from his own heart, and she found herself enjoying his company more and more. Whatever his ultimate goals were, even if it was just to abate his loneliness, she still felt that they were kindred spirits.

  "Am I just a tool for you?" she asked in sincerity. The question was a challenge to his motives. But she was not afraid to ask it and did not shy away from his searching gaze.

  "No. You are the goal." He touched her cheek, and held her face as he leaned in closer. She did not shy away, but dared him to continue. Their lips met and she read in his kiss the truth of his words. It was the gentlest touch she had known in a long time. It reminded her of her lover in Lunar, and the pure moments they shared before her life turned to hell. That thought awoke an emotional storm within her and she tensed up. He felt her turmoil -the violent fury he had awoken- and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. She twitched at first wanting to smack it from her and release her fury upon him. But it was that kiss that stayed her hand. The truth in it could not be denied. She touched his face, feeling his features as they kissed. Even with her eyes closed she could feel that he was Zecairin, and she did not want to pretend otherwise. She felt his neck, and chest and the defined muscles that worked to keep him leaning in to her. There she stopped, and felt his heartbeat. Its soothing rhythm banished her turmoil and she pressed him back to the ground as she followed.

  Tamain held of her shoulders as she settled on top of him and let her body fall onto his. There they stayed and enjoyed the tenderness of their loving embrace as their kiss expressed the harmony their souls found. It was dangerous, she knew, to give in to such a temptation. But she was no Lady, not anymore, and she never wanted to be. And he was no Demon, and never was, and never could be. At last she was free to choose for herself. So she choose to spite the fears in her gut that he was dangerous, to deny the conventionalism that had abandoned her to a hellish nightmare that told her this was wrong, and to follow her own heartfelt desires that told her to seek out more. Their taboo commitment to each other exhilarated her, her heart began to race as his sensual touch walked the perfect fine line between soothing and arousal. His fingers started to dance down the part of her back exposed by the gown. They took a hold of her hair and in a few moments had her wet mass of curls free of the braid and cascading down her shoulders. She parted ever so slowly from his lips and looked into the sapphire depths of his eyes.

  "I feel like a mouse caught in your trap," she breathed, and ran her fingers through his dark hair. It was rather plain. She had seen many Zecairin males, they preferred garish styles to distinguish themselves - bright colors, intricate braids, or shaved heads with tattooes. His was normal, boring, cut short with just enough length for her to work her fingers through. She loved its lack of pretension.

  "My little mouse," he smiled and slowly rose to his feet. He shrugged off his shirt and cast it away as he walked to his bedroll. "Will you fall into my trap?" he smirked and parted the fur lined blanket. Kelria bit her lip and grinned despite herself, rising to her feet and coming to stand behind him. Her hands wrapped around his chest and she held his warm body to her. Daringly, she started to kiss the back of his neck, shoulders and the sweet spot between his shoulder blades the made him sigh in appreciation. Her fingers traced the contours of his chest again, feeling the defined muscles of his sides and abdomen. There was a purity to his form that she noticed; those Zecairin elves that had taken her roughly before, were course feeling... scratchy... boney. Tamain's skin was smooth as silk, hardened in some places and soft in others. He was dark, mysterious, playful, and honest... All the things she discovered she needed.

  He turned around. Gently he lifted her chin up as he leaned down to kiss her once more. Kelria drew in a sharp breath and let herself go, giving fully in to her desires. She threw her arms around his neck, and let the passion in their kiss grow. His hands caressed down her sides until they reached the beginning of the slit in her gown. As easily as it came on, he pulled it up and off. Not to be outdone, she went for his leggings, managing the buckles at the sides and pushing the lightweight material down.

  Tamain guided her down onto the furs, cradling her head in his hand, and brought himself down just above her. But there he stopped, searching her eyes for permission. Kelria was already enraptured with him, but when she met his searching gaze, this moment of consideration and kindness gave her pause. Her resolve did not waver however, his gentlemanly approach only enflamed her more, and she bite his bottom lip playfully before raving those dark lips once more with her own.

  Her muffled whimpers moved him on, and he traversed the side of her neck once marked with slow sensual kisses. She moaned and writhed against him, loving his attentions. Tamain proceeded slowly, giving her time to savor each touch, each sensation, and to give her a second helping when it was discovered she had certain weak spots. Behind the ear especially elicited a pleasurable sound that was part whimper and part squeal. His strong hands rested on her collarbone, caressing it with his thumb. As his lips moved south, so too did his hand; his palms glided over her ample breasts. He purposely hovered his palm over her nipple, let it barely touch as he circled it around, and then stroked it slowly with a single finger Kelria drew in a sharp, pleasured breath and arched her back involuntarily against his touch.

  When his lips found her neckline, his hand wiggle out from under her head and started to massage the tip of her ear. It quieted her squirming almost immediately and calmed her moans into deep, contented breaths. He took her other nipple in his lips as he continued to stroke the first. She let out a deep sigh, and found his head with both hands. Her fingers wound through his hair until she had a firm hold. But instead reflexively began to massage his scalp out of appreciation for his talents.

  Tamain released her ear and moved to one side, giving his newly freed arm room to roam her body. As his tongue circled her protruding bud, lavishing it with firm, wet caresses, his fingers caressed over her stomach until they reached her waiting womanhood. Out of wanton reflex her legs parted to give him room. He cupped her mound and rubbed it firmly with his whole hand. Delicately he allowed a finger to stoke her wet slit, it parted willingly, allowing him to insert one finger and then two inside her.

  "Enter me," she begged, between squeals of delight. "I cannot wait anymore. Please?" she whimpered and bit her finger. Tamain almost looked disappointed. But he could tell she was already well worked up.

  "So soon, my lovely mouse?" He cooed and stroked her clitoris with his thumb as his fingers massaged her warm pussy. "There is still much more..."

  "Another night, my shadow cat." She gasped. Tamain couldn't help but smile at his new name. He did as she wished, and slowly withdrew his fingers. With some repositioning, his hard manhood rested at the entrance to her warm, waiting pussy. Kelria placed her hands on the back of his neck and pulled him forward. He complied, and slowly, teasingly, parted her folds with his cock until it filled her. She sighed contently and brought his h
ead down to her until she could reach his neck with her lips. She bit down lightly and held onto the corded muscles of his neck as he started to slowly slide his member in and out of her. His slow, deliberate speed was tormenting her. But when she drove her heels into his haunches and he refused to acquiesce to her request, she resigned herself to his control and discovered that she relished it. With each upstroke, he would lean into her, relax, and lean into her again, in effect rubbing the tip his cock against the deepest parts of her again and again. It didn't take much of this to work the enraptured Kelria into a frenzy. Her breaths came in quick pants, forcing her to release his neck, until her panting finally caught in her throat and her body locked up as she rode out an entense orgasm. When they finally subsided, her body gradually went limp and she purred contently into his flesh.

  But Tamain wasn't finished with her yet. He lifter her legs up to his shoulders and leaned back to sit on his heels. He allowed her a moment to enjoy the remnants of her climax before he continued. Gyrating his hips up as he entered her, gave the delirious girl a whole new experience in pleasure. A few moments of this, and he had her worked up into another panting frenzy. Having already had her release, Kelria was too drained to do else by lie there. Her cheeks had long since turned a bright flush and her long brown hair had become a tossled, sex disheveled mess; Tamain had conquered her completely.

  Her dark skinned lover had turned his thoughts inward. His eyes were closed, and his head hung limp as he found an almost meditative breathing rhythm as he moved. But this time around his pace seemed to grow more feverous in step with her excitement. Even a few grunts of exertion managed to escape his reserved composure, as his own excitement was approaching its inevitable end.

  "Oh! Tamain..." Kelria moaned. "Oh! My shadow cat.." she gasped despite herself, her hands flailed about the air deliriously trying to find him. He caught her hand and sucked two of her fingers into his mouth. Running his tongue over their length and parting them with it. Suddenly her back arched upwards and her body was wracked by another powerful orgasm. Tamain stopped breathing, and drove his pulsing cock deep inside her warm wet sex as it erupted, filling her with his hot seed. His back shuddered with each spurt, and he could feel the walls of her womanhood convulsing around his man flesh squeezing and releasing again and again.

  Gently he collapsed on top of her, stroking her head and face affectionately as he struggled to regain his breath. Kelria only purred happily in between hot and heavy pants, She started running her fingers up and down his dark skinned, muscled back. When his breath finally did return, he surprised her in one fluid, deft motion, rolling onto his back and taking her with him without dislodging them. Not that she would have protested, having been fully conquered she would have happily complied with anything he wanted at that moment, but instead she buried her face into his chest and let her fingers dance over his body as her mind eagerly sought a blissful sleep. With one last dutiful exertion he managed to reach the edge of the bedroll linen and pull the cover over them.

  "Content, my beautiful mouse?" he panted, and kissed her forehead affectionately. Kelria didn't stir, but sighed very contently and let her hand rest on his chest to feel his heartbeat.

  "Very, my handsome shadow cat," she sighed. "To hell with the rest of the world." Tamain smiled and stroked her back until she drifted off. And soon followed her himself.

  ****

  Trent lit the candles to the chapel altar and sat back in reflection. This was his task for the next week while he meditated on his failings. To Trent it wasn't much different from being thrown in the hole back home – alone to think about your actions, no one to talk to, nothing else to do but sit and think. He smoothed the folds of his robe and adjusted the sandals on his feet – it was going to be awhile before he would be allowed to leave, so he needed to get comfortable. Pressing his fingers together and resting them in his lap, he began his meditation. The events of his time in Hornsdale came to mind, the actions he took, the inactions he made, and their foreseeable outcome. Per The Father's instruction, he changed what he could and didn't do in his mind, and tried to foresee an alternate result.

  "Stupid Zek, should have killed her when I had the chance." He sighed. Something hard stung his back, right between his shoulder blades. It was a deadly shot, and he could feel his back muscles reflexively tensing up painfully, and his arms going numb. The Father growled his disapproval from behind him. Trent didn't even know he was there. "My apologies Father, I didn't mean it. That was childish of me." He immediately spouted out despite the agonizing pain brought on from one whip snap. Another caught him behind the ear, and he crumpled to the ground clutching his head, his voice caught mid-scream from the searing pain. It was all he could do to lock himself up and ride it out. If he wailed, he'd be struck again. If he tried to move, he'd be struck again. It had been a long time since he had experienced The Father's fury, but he knew the rules.

  "Reflect." The Father commanded in a gruff voice. Trent eventually gathered himself up, turned to face The Father, and bowed apologetically. He was surprised to find there was no lash in the Father's hand; the old man was using his fingertips to snap out pain and punishment. The Father was truly a terror when he was crossed. Trent spun around and immediately resumed his meditation.

  The Father opened a book and began to read quietly to himself while standing vigil over his student.

  ****

  The Mischievous didn't like Helrith's needles. It wasn't the pain, it was the fact he always had to draw blood from a different place on her body, and delighted in finding a vein that gushed out more than the last one. The delight he took in exploring the more detailed elements of her physiology were disturbing, even for a Zecairin. It was all to find a cure for her, he would tell her. But secretly she knew better – Helrith was no more a healer, than she was a pious Sister.

  "That should do just fine my dear. How are the nightmares?" he asked.

  "Better," she sighed and rubbed the spot just above her left breast where he had just drawn blood. Helrith poured the blood he had extracted from the tubule into a glass jar. Fifteen similar pricks had to fill that small jar. Fifteen bruises, and fifteen moments where she was tempted to jab him in the eye for it. "I don't dream of myself anymore. I dream of a different place, where there are more people like me. I am a soldier in my dream and I go on long walks through caves, and through the forest. Is this what I used to be? Was I a soldier?"

  Helrith only smiled. She found his smiles creepy; the way only one side of his face seemed to work when he did it, and how he made a point of squinting his eyes together to make it seem more genuine. But he didn't respond immediately this time, but seemed more engrossed with the sample he had just collected, and cleaning his used tools with grain alcohol.

  "Can I go now?" she asked. "I have lessons." Helrith waved her away. He was unusually quiet today. Something had changed here, in all the monastery in fact. She had detected a different mood in the faces of the acolytes as well as the normally stoic Huanguard. It was as if she was no longer the oddest thing here, but she hadn't heard of anything new taking her place. Perhaps it was some news from a distant town. Trent had covered their tracks in Hornsdale. The guardsmen questioned them, but the few eyewitnesses that had survived claimed a wild Zecairin had gone on a murder spree. She doubted that was the source of the uneasy atmosphere, however.

  The Mischievous was so lost in thought she almost bumped into a giant of a man as he walked down the corridor towards Helrith's laboratory. Rasj was a ghost in the Monastery; she knew who he was by his reputation and description but this was the first time she had seen him. He towered over her by a good two feet. His enormous red-skinned chest was a brick wall that blocked her view. Unlike the other monks here, Rasj was the only one that carried himself with the arrogance of a man that actually speaks to a god. She didn't recognize the style of his garb, a golden sash crossed his chest, and his leggings were a type of skirt in two parts, a left and right that folded over the other and made of heavy
material. His arms were thicker than some trees, and she found herself wishing she could swing from them naked.

  "You are the Zecairin," He stated, and folded those giant meat trunks across his chest. The Mischievous bit her tongue lest she lick her lips involuntarily. "When you meet god on the battlefield, will you bow before him? Or will you slay him, knowing him to be false?" The question broke her trance and she pondered it for a moment.

  "I..." she started to say, but reconsidered her answer. "Would ask him if he fancied dark women." she finally said with a smile. Rasj let loose a hearty laugh.

  "If such a god existed, what would he need with your flesh? He could enslave your whole race and make concubines of all your females." Rasj retorted, and shook his head in disappointment.

  "I did not say I would give him my body, I would merely ask him if he fancied dark women."

  "And if he didn't?" Rasj's humor had ended, and he was now scowling. The act of which told her it was time to end this conversation and find somewhere safe in a hurry.