Chasing Earth and Flame

by Adonis Devereux

  But the ache in her heart did not disappear.

  ****

  “Have you ever done this before?” Nevia was lying on her back with her legs open, staring at the pavilion draperies above her.

  “Yes, Domina.” The slave-girl looked up from the pot she held. “Many times.”

  “Why?” Nevia made a conscious effort to keep the flesh around her pussy warm. “It is not the fashion for Nirrion noblewomen.”

  “Nor is it for pleasure slaves, Domina, at least not usually. But there are those who like to play that the pleasure slave is their new bride.”

  “Ah.” Nevia understood. “Or perhaps that she is still a child whose hair has not come in.”

  “Yes, Domina.” The slave hesitated, the wooden paddle poised above Nevia’s skin. “It may burn slightly, Domina.”

  “I am ready.” Nevia closed her eyes. Melenius had had her continue to shave her pussy throughout their honeymoon. He said that he liked the way she looked shaved. It was unlike any other woman he had had or seen. She also suspected that he liked the way her bare skin felt beneath his fingers. So now Nevia lay still while a slave slathered every fold of her pussy, any part where any hair grew, with hot melted sugar and honey. Once it hardened, the sugary mess would be ripped off, leaving silky skin beneath.

  “Oh, wife, you are too luscious.” Belamal burst into the pavilion. Nevia sighed. Belamal no longer seemed merely to enter anywhere. Her fires always crackled before him, and his entrance was always noticeable. She wondered idly if there would be anything left of him once the Kindor had fallen. He burned more brightly than she had expected.

  “I want you.” Belamal stood over her as she lay exposed, and his hand reached for her breast.

  “But you know that your oath and my flames bar us.” Nevia, at the slave’s silent gesture, flipped over onto her front, but she lifted her ass into the air, giving the slave full play of her so that no finger’s breadth of her would not be smooth.

  Belamal growled, and his hands were on Nevia’s ass before she could speak.

  “General!” Nevia snapped her fingers. “There are three girls waiting for you.”

  Belamal moved across the pavilion from Nevia, and there, while he stared at Nevia’s naked body, he fucked the three slaves, one after the other. Their cries filled the tent and, Nevia had no doubt, carried well outside. It was a common enough occurrence. Daily Belamal fucked at least half a dozen girls, more if there were no training exercises. The girls were noisy, but Nevia could not tell if it were from pleasure or pain. What she did notice was that Belamal never climaxed.

  By the time Belamal had worn out the first girl, Nevia’s cosmetics slave said, “The honey has hardened, Domina.”

  “Pull it off.” Nevia braced herself as the girl jerked the strips of cloth. The sting was slight in comparison to the satisfaction that Nevia derived from the absolute smoothness of her skin. “Wash me.”

  As the girl bathed Nevia, Belamal pounded into the second pleasure slave. “We meet the enemy in battle tomorrow, wife.” His voice was raised enough to carry over the girl’s screams.

  “I have no doubt that you will be victorious.” Nevia wished that Belamal were gone. She had seen Melenius earlier that afternoon. His pavilion was nearly at the other end of the procession, but she had invented a need to tour the army. She had seen him, and Garalach was not with him. Instead, he had stood there, surrounded by the smooth-faced men of Nirrion, and in her eyes he had been a wild King surrounded by fragile sycophants. He was a true man, surrounded by creatures as low as beasts, and he was hers. And she was his, only his; flesh and blood, Fire and Earth, she belonged to Melenius.

  But his waters had been troubled. Nevia knew that it could not be for lack of Garalach that Melenius was disturbed, for if he had wanted Garalach, Nevia was sure that Garalach would come at Melenius’s call. Despite Garalach’s declarations of love to her, Nevia could not conceive of anyone who, having once passed under the yoke of Melenius’s fucking, would be able to resist his summons.

  The thought of Melenius’s cock sent a rush of dampness between Nevia’s thighs, and she again wished Belamal gone. He considered her a cold, unfeeling maid, incapable of passion, and still he could hardly keep his hands from her; if he saw her touching herself, she did not trust his oath.

  Belamal thrust the third pleasure slave out of the tent. The girl had been so thoroughly taken that she could barely walk.

  “What are you doing, wife?” Belamal only now seemed able to see what Nevia was doing.

  “I am having my privates sugared.” Nevia spoke with the euphemism she knew Belamal expected.

  “But why?” He came to stand beside her, and she saw his beet-red cock standing erect. Clearly, he had not ejaculated yet.

  “Though it is not yet time for you to make trial of my virginity, I am preparing myself against that day.” The lie rolled off Nevia’s tongue, and she sat up, closing her legs. The cosmetics slave draped a cloak over Nevia’s shoulders. “You will soon enough have retaken Vieta, and then you are for the Kindor’s own lands. It is my responsibility to keep myself ready for my husband.”

  Belamal grabbed Nevia by the shoulders and kissed her mouth. “The truest wife in the republic.”

  “I hope to be so.” Nevia rose and pulled away from Belamal. “But your oath still holds.”

  As she moved back, Belamal gave a cry like a wounded animal. He balled his hands into fists. “Kanfiran eat my eyes, but you are beautiful!” He pushed Nevia’s cosmetics slave down onto the bed Nevia had just vacated. As he thrust into the slave, Nevia retreated to the edge of the tent. Only when she was assured by the slave-girls screams and Belamal’s own bestial grunts that no one was watching her did she dare to slip her fingers inside her own aching pussy. Tomorrow would be the day of Belamal’s battle, and by the following day he would be gone. Less than two days separated her from Melenius, and the thought made her wet as spring rains.

  Chapter Twelve

  The battle had been fierce and hard fought. Melenius had watched it from a hillside, but since it was over – Belamal was victorious – he descended and walked among the dead and wounded. Blood and piss and shit. Men crying for their mothers. Splintered bones and hewed limbs. Soldiers expiring face down in the mud. Spring, the season for war, had indeed come. Any earth but this would have drunk the blood of the republic’s brave dead, but not this soil. It was blighted.

  Not a thing lived, nor tree, nor any green bush. The Kindor had done their dark god’s bidding, beheading citizens of the republic and raping the land.

  Melenius had gotten his first look at a Kindor soldier. Their skin was pale, and their cheeks were scarred with ritualistic grooves. Their red hair lent to the ferocity of their countenance, and they had fought with wild, merciless abandon. But Belamal was inspired. He led his men like a shining star, like a burning brand. Melenius was already convinced that Belamal’s name would go down in history as the greatest of Nirrion’s generals. He would have busts and statues made of him. His face might even appear on silver coins. And it was all because of Nevia. Melenius ached for the fire of her touch – not her physical caress but the depths of her elemental soul that he had only tasted. He wanted to feast.

  The far-off trumpeting of an elephant ripped Melenius from his reverie. The Kindor had retreated south, leaving everything behind – tents filled with booty, supplies, and their elephant mounts, which were giving the Skenje soldiers a hard time. No man of Nirrion had ever before seen an elephant, much less taken one by the reins. Melenius’s airs echoed his internal mirth as he watched men slung aside by the mighty beasts’ swaying heads. Elephants were not common in Faror lands, either, but Melenius had at least seen them on occasion when he had returned to the land of his father for visits.

  Another sound took over the blasting of annoyed elephants, the moaning of a woman in Belamal’s tent. The battle was scarce over, and the general was back to fucking. Melenius’s anger shot through his earth, sending quakes to the core of
his being. His Nevia had her legs wrapped around Belamal’s waist, pulling his cock deeper inside her. Belamal sucked at her breasts and tongued her hard, pink nipples. She playfully slapped his ass, just as she had done when Melenius had first taken her. Nevia would take Belamal’s seed and treasure it as she had never treasured Melenius’s. She considered Belamal her true husband now, turning her back on that which was not profitable, like a true Akar.

  When Melenius had seen the lack of her signature on the wedding document, he had assumed Nevia was opposed to the match, that she was true to her oath with him. But every night on the road from Nirrion to Vieta, when they set camp for the night, Melenius had always heard Nevia’s howls coming from Belamal’s tent. Something had changed her mind. She fucked Belamal whenever he wanted, which was as often as he could manage to get off his horse. She was his sex toy, his plaything.

  The moaning stopped, and there was a crash inside the tent. A few moments later, Nevia emerged. She was dressed in a stola of blackish-purple with a mantle of white over it. Her beauty arrested Melenius, but when she turned her wintry eyes upon him, his jealousy flared up higher than his esteem for the woman he still considered his wife.

  Melenius spat on the ground.

  Nevia’s perplexity swirled around her like a torrent of fire, and Melenius was drawn to that flame like a doomed insect.

  But Belamal then stepped from the tent. He snatched Nevia up in his arms, and he shone with her glory. “I must away.” He called one of his captains. “Gather the men. We march for Kelnapontum at once.”

  “Of course.” The centurion saluted by slapping his chest and trotted off to do his general’s bidding.

  Belamal leaned in toward Nevia, clearly fishing for a kiss, but she shied away from his advance. This only angered Melenius more. Why would Nevia care? She never tried to keep her voice down, letting the whole camp know she was Belamal’s whore. Why so coy now?

  “Alaxton go with you, Belamal Triumphant,” Nevia said, straightening the buckles that held his soiled, bloodied cloak of crimson to his shoulders.

  “Thank you, wife. I will take every league of Kindor land for you. Every foe I slay, I do so in your name.”

  Nevia’s elements did not respond, and Melenius knew that Belamal could not understand how she felt.

  “Go, brave soldier.” Nevia gently pushed Belamal away. “Bring the light of the republic into the dark places of the world.”

  Belamal straightened himself up, beaming with pride, his eyes burnished bronze. “I leave your brother in charge of Vieta. He will oversee its rebuilding from the temple.”

  Nevia did not watch Belamal go. She walked over to Melenius immediately. “We must discuss the healing of the land, Lord Firin.”

  Melenius noticed that many sets of eyes watched them, but Nevia’s decorum did not seem to alert any of them to the true nature of their relationship.

  “Yes,” he said, unclear as to the cause of Nevia’s inconsistency.

  Nevia indicated Belamal’s tent. That was the last place Melenius wanted to be, but he followed anyway. The tent smelled like sex.

  “Everyone out,” Nevia said, clapping her hands together twice. “We Lorin must discuss how to proceed.”

  A half-naked, sweating pleasure slave rose, grabbed a handful of clothes, and scampered out. The guards, too, left. And Melenius understood at last.

  Understanding was not the only thing that struck him. Nevia slapped him across the face.

  “How dare you spit in my presence!”

  Melenius’s hand shot up to his stinging face. “I thought you—” He indicated the fleeing slave girl.

  “Bastard. No, it was not I who could not keep her private parts tucked away.” The temperature in the tent dropped, and Melenius’s breath was visible before him. “Garalach told me you fucked him.”

  “He told me you didn’t want to see me anymore.”

  “And you believed that lie?”

  Melenius’s confused waters rushed through his earth, seeking an answer. “Why would Garalach lie to me?”

  Nevia’s eyes flashed. “Because he is in love with me. He told me so just before I left.”

  Everything fell into place, like a child’s puzzle when the last piece fits and reveals the whole picture. Garalach had drawn him in so that he could later tell Nevia about it and turn her against Melenius. And it would have worked if Nevia had been as gullible as Melenius.

  “Garalach has deceived me.” Melenius moved in and crushed Nevia against his chest. “But I can’t blame him. With such motivation, I would’ve done the same thing in his place.”

  “I would smack you again if I were not so happy to see you,” Nevia said.

  “And I would be sorry, if I could be sorry for anything while holding you.”

  Nevia smiled in her airs, and Melenius knew she was satisfied with his answer. He did not grovel and beg, nor was he without contrition. Besides, Nevia had fucked Belamal at least once, anyway, so they were even.

  “I would’ve come to take you away from Belamal’s house, but Garalach brought me your message. That was a lie, of course. What did you tell him?”

  “Nothing,” Nevia said. “I did not see him that day. My father drugged me with the same potion he used on you. I woke up naked in Belamal’s bed.”

  In his sudden burst of jealousy, Melenius’s winds threatened to tear the tent down. “I could tear his head off.”

  “Why?”

  “For penetrating you.”

  “He did not!” Nevia pushed Melenius away from her. “You saw the slave. Do you really think I would let him take me?”

  “But he is cloaked in your fires.”

  “Yes,” Nevia said, “but not because he fucked me. He wanted me, truly, but he wanted victory more. I told him he could have one or the other, though even that offer was false. I would never let him taste me. He chose the republic anyway, so I used my elements to inspire genius in him. It will burn him up in the end, and he knows this. He will expect to return to me and take his marital right then.”

  Though Melenius was relieved to hear this, he felt like a crawling insect before Nevia. His joy warred with his guilt, so he ignored his churning emotions and grabbed Nevia by the shoulders. The ice of her lips on his when he kissed her ignited his passion. He held her fires in his hands once again, and his elements leaped up in response. His guilt fled from him, and Melenius did not miss it.

  “You shall fuck no one unless I first approve of them,” Nevia said after their kiss broke, “and then only slaves. You will never know the torments I have endured over this journey, thinking of you with Garalach, a man more real to you than any human.”

  “And I’ve been thinking of you with Belamal all this time. You’ll fuck no one ever except me.”

  Nevia hugged Melenius tightly. He knew how much his possessiveness aroused her, and he was happy to please her. Her breasts against his chest, the warmth of her elements all around him, Melenius hardened beneath his tunic. He wanted to bend Nevia over and take her right there. Nevia’s eyes invited him to do so, but he did not dare. Belamal’s guards were right outside. They would hear, and they would alert their general to the activities of his adulterous wife. Melenius would have a whole army chasing after him.

  “Soon, my little snowflake,” Melenius said, and he kissed her again.

  The scuffing of boots alerted Melenius and Nevia to the imminent entrance of a soldier. They parted and tried to assume natural postures, so when the guard ducked inside, he would only see two Lorin discussing the grave matter before them.

  “So, what we need to do, Lady, is locate the largest tree around,” Melenius said, as if he were continuing a line of thought. “Its long-reaching roots will tell us what the land needs.”

  “Your plan is excellent,” Nevia said. “It would be best if the tree were an oak.”

  Melenius’s elements showed his assent.

  “I will send word through the armies to begin searching immediately.” Nevia turned to the guard. “
Do as I command.”

  The guard saluted. “Yes, my lady. And begging your pardon, I am come to tell you that Lord Judal the Younger has entered Vieta and will take up residence at the temple.”

  “Very good.” Nevia dismissed the soldier.

  ****

  Melenius forced himself to spend the night away from Nevia. He simply could not risk a confrontation with Belamal, at least not yet. Not until Nevia’s purpose was complete. Once Kelnapontum fell and the mighty general returned to Nirrion, Melenius would deal with him. As Nevia was surrounded by Belamal’s personal guards, Melenius had to tread carefully. He was Lorin, so he was not concerned about anyone discerning his desire for Nevia. To humans, he was nothing more than a statue, expressionless and unfeeling.

  The morning dawned cold, and Melenius sat before a small fire in his own spacious tent. He rolled two flat stones around in the palm of his hand as he traced Nevia’s naked curves in his mind’s eye. He had masturbated the previous night while lying in bed, and the first thing in the morning, he brought himself to climax again. He would have just fucked one of his slaves, but he respected Nevia’s decision: he would fuck no one without her approval.

  A guard entered. “Sir, we have found the largest tree in these parts, just as Lady Belamal ordered us.”

  “Take me to it.” Melenius rose but said nothing about Nevia’s name. He could not chastise the soldier. “And inform the lady.”

  In no time, Nevia and Melenius stood side by side in a chariot, being led out across the dead land, through dead woods to the location of a mighty oak tree. When Melenius saw it, he knew it was the tree he sought. It was easily a thousand years old, and its girth proved it. Though everything around it was dead, Melenius could only hope that a residue of life still resided in this ancient tree. Its towering height, its majestic branches – it was the king of the forest. There was nothing to touch its size.

  Melenius called the chariot to a halt. He dismounted and escorted Nevia to the tree. “This is it, I am certain.”

  “What would you have of me, Lord Firin?” Nevia maintained her distant demeanor, though her fires were alive with love for Melenius.