by Regina Watts
“They raided Soot—oh, the very day you lot left, they attacked the village in broad daylight and ransacked every building. Erdwud, oh! He tried to—he tried—Erduwd!”
With a violent sob, Lively pressed her tear-stained face to my breastplate and wept in a way that caused convulsions. My heart sinking into a great bog of remorse to think of Erdwud losing his life in such a sorry way—not to mention, to do so the same day I had left the town—I eased Lively gently upon the edge of the bed once again. Kneeling before her, I took her hands in mine and told her, “It’s all right to cry, Lively…I am so sorry.”
While Lively dissolved into tears, the Mongoose’s innkeeper—and, of course, Erdwud’s friend—at last spoke up. “She said they had a woman with ‘em.”
Remorse deepening, I looked at Sharp before turning my questioning gaze upon Valeria.
“Yes,” agreed the Materna of the durrow, assessing me expectantly. “She was looking for you.”
“Screaming and screaming and screaming,” said Lively with a shudder, her hands lifting to either side of her forehead. Her eyes squeezed shut. ““Where’s Burningsoul? Who’s hiding the paladin? Bring me the slave of Weltyr!” On and on and on, every time she found a new person to scream at.”
“And did you tell her?”
Nodding, Lively said, “When I heard her in our inn and Erdwud was cornered, I came downstairs. I said, ‘He’s not here! He’s not here, he’s gone to Skythorn!’”
“Did she believe you?”
“I—I think. But—oh, it didn’t matter. This is my punishment, I know that it is! I ought not to have told you about her. She told me she’d keep Erdwud—all of Soot!—hostage to the gimlets until you came to meet her.”
Relieved to hear that, at the very least, Erdwud may still have been alive, I patted Lively’s hands. “And so I shall—”
“Rorke!” Her eyes ringed with terror, Branwen leaned forward and said, “You can’t! If this woman really is a faerie—”
“If she really is a faerie, then she’ll be able to find me wherever I go…if that’s what she really is, and what she wants is me, then it seems to me she’s capable of far worse than what she’s already accomplished in the name of opening a dialogue.”
The embrace of Gundrygia’s hot arms; the whispers that shook me, even without my clear recollection. It all rushed back while I knelt before Lively.
I confess to you and you alone, my friend: my heart was full of dread in that moment.
I had been so glad to leave Soot behind! Not only because it meant that we were truly free of the shackles of the Nightlands. In truth, I was glad to be away from Soot because I was frightened of Gundrygia. I was frightened of her knowledge; I was frightened of her power; I was frightened by my own yearning for her, which I had failed to recognize as such until the very moment I learned that I needed to see her again.
And Weltyr, finding my heart emptied by this fear, filled it up again with courage. Valeria, my prize from the underworld I had already escaped, came to my side and knelt with me before Lively.
“I can promise you, Lively—if there is one man in all Urde capable of ridding Soot of its captor and liberating your husband, it is Rorke Burningsoul.”
“He saved me, remember,” said Branwen, who might have been ill-positioned with me in that moment but nonetheless received an appreciative nod in exchange for her vote of confidence.
“Yeah,” agreed Odile. “As far as people who talk about religion all the time go, he’s very dependable in battle.”
Indra, clasping Lively’s hands, added with a nod, “And kind! I’m sure he’ll be happy to help you.”
“Of course I will be,” I told her, eliciting a few more tears of gratitude and a kindly little sob. “Yes, I will certainly be happy to help—but please, you all must be very careful in the city without me.”
“You must let us come with you,” Valeria insisted, her slim hand sliding along my shoulder.
Branwen nodded. “After last time, if she takes you away it could be forever.”
“Someone has to stay here and be of comfort to you,” I told Lively, standing.
Odile, looking relieved to hear me say such a thing, suggested, “Aye, and someone has to buy those airship tickets.”
“The airship is out,” I told them, eliciting four sharp glances in my direction. “I’ll explain it when I can—but to some of you, that may not be for a couple of days. I have to ride to Soot. Indra and Odile, why don’t you two stay here with Lively. Valeria and Branwen, you two come with me.”
While rising, I patted Lively’s hand one last time. “You didn’t walk here, surely, Lively?”
“I think she aimed to make me, but I walked to the Dardrie ranch and stole a horse. They didn’t seem to be needing it, what with their being brought into town and made captive with the rest of us. Think the gimlets were planning to eat the horses…”
Her lips trembled and, watering eyes fixed upon me beneath her furrowed brow, Lively said, “What could they want, sire? Why would the gimlets attack now, after all this time?”
Leaning forward in her seat, she asked in a hoarse whisper, “What does she want with you, Master Rorke?”
How I wondered!
Yes, how I wondered. I wondered it in between all the other things I wondered. There got to be so much wondering flying about my head that I seemed to think of nothing at all. Instead I numbly washed my face and hands while Branwen packed up for us. Valeria, examining my stern countenance, pushed upon my shoulders until I sat at the edge of the bed. With Odile and Indra getting Lively settled down to sleep in their room, Valeria perched upon my knee and tenderly took the rag from me. After dipping it in the water and sponging my brow, she remarked, “This is quite some life you have brought me into, Burningsoul.”
I chuckled softly, shutting my eyes as her delicate hand soothed my overheated skin. The armor lay to the side, at last removed for the time being. While Valeria’s cooling cloth was guided down my neck and into my tunic, I assured her, “Before I went down to the Nightlands, nothing ever seemed to happen quite so fast…certainly not so—well, busily. Nor so dangerously. And that’s not all—”
I was about to mention the duel when, amid little more than a brisk knock at the door, Odile let herself in with Indra upon her heel. “Out like a candle flame after a cave-in, the poor woman. She’s exhausted.”
I shook my head. “It sounds like she’s lucky to be alive after her ordeal.”
“No kidding.” Folding her arms beneath her round breasts, Odile looked me over and asked with an arched brow, “Now—what’s all this about not needing the airship anymore? I thought that was half of why we came here, or something.”
“The information was only partly correct,” I told them. “Grimalkin and Hildolfr stayed at the inn together, but they didn’t really leave at the same time…and only one of them has the Scepter.”
“Not the one you found, I imagine?” Odile rolled her eyes and rested her head back against the wall. “We’re never going to get the ring back, are we?”
“Be patient, Odile,” admonished the Materna, lifting my tunic and moving the cloth over the planes of my stomach. Her lovely eyes fixed upon me, Valeria said in a tone of adoration, “We must take these things one step at a time…though, did you have an opportunity to ask after Roserpine’s Ring, my love?”
I shook my head and confessed, “Amid the trappings of Weltyr, I was focused on the Scepter only…and, well—I saw an old friend. I might have remembered to ask about it after, had it not been that I stepped into an altercation she was having…”
Pausing her soothing caresses to see the tense expression on my face, I explained, “She is being treated in a way that—well. It doesn’t matter. It won’t be an issue once I’ve defeated the Commander. We have a duel set for four days hence; I must return by then.”
“My brave warrior,” cooed Valeria. The rest of the women produced shocked noises ranging from worried to annoyed.
Indra
leaned forward, her hand upon her heart. “A duel! Aren’t you afraid, Rorke?”
“I’m only afraid for Elishta-bet if I don’t make good on my challenge. She’s being forced into an unjust marriage. I do not and cannot believe Weltyr will allow such a thing—especially not in his Church.”
Odile tapped her foot. “So what will we do after this duel? Surely dueling isn’t legal.”
“Not conventionally,” I said. “But within the confines of the Order, it is an acknowledged tradition. However…you are right to wonder what will happen after it’s all over. I wonder, too. I do not think, given the stature man I have challenged, that I will be welcome into the Order one way or the other. In fact, it might very well take reclaiming the Scepter to earn anything approaching forgiveness.”
“And if the trip to Soot takes longer, Rorke?” Branwen studied me with concern. “If we can’t make it back here by the duel?”
I spread my hands. “We must. I suppose, if the gimlets haven’t eaten the rest of the horses, we could trade off at Soot. Ride ours all night and all day save for small breaks, get there in 36 hours or so to deal with Gundrygia, and then switch out and ride back.”
Scoffing, Branwen asked, “And what kind of condition will that leave you in for a fight?”
“If my victory be Weltyr’s will,” I told her, “then I will be in condition to win…whatever condition that is. As it happens, after I challenged Commander Zweiding to the duel, I found Grimalkin…and he had more to say than ”
“O-oh?” Flush-faced at once, Branwen turned away to secure the strap of her pack. “And what did he say?”
“That he and Hildolfr had a disagreement, and Hildolfr walked away with the Scepter because Grimalkin wasn’t interested in a fight…and he was willing to be bribed.”
Odile, trying not to sound annoyed, asked, “So this Hildolfr is the one who has it?”
“It would seem so. Where he intends to take it, I don’t know…but I also have no evidence or indication that he came here to Skythorn.”
“Fantastic,” sad Odile. “In other words, we’re running in circles.”
“Not so. If I win, the duel will be the perfect time for me to consult Father Fortisto again. He can guide me to Hildolfr and Roserpine’s ring; it was his expertise in reading Weltyr’s messages that led me to find Grimalkin.”
After another dip of the rag in the bowl, Valeria pressed her breasts to my chest and repeated the operation of washing—now, under the back of my tunic. The scent of her hair and weight of her body produced a primitive ache that thrilled me beyond all reckoning. My hands slid over her thighs of their own volition while she told me, “When it be Roserpine’s will that we find the ring, that is when we will find it…I am patient in these matters, and so is she.”
“With all due respect, Your Holiness”—Odile leered at the scene developing before her, her hand sliding up the door jamb to hit the lock—“it seems to me like you didn’t actually enjoy being the Materna anymore, and that you’re just having fun running around with your boytoy…some of us had actual lives we’d like to get back to somebloom.”
With a chuckle, Valeria enfolded me in her arms and slowly ground her body in my lap. I exhaled while, smiling into my face, she suggested, “And you will, of course, return to the Nightlands when it’s the right time…but why not take advantage of the opportunities provided? These gifts from our gods…one must seize pleasures while they remain available.”
I could not help my sigh. My hand slid up beneath the fabric of her dress and over the smooth, supple flesh of her rump. Tilting her head, Valeria kissed the corner of my mouth, the burning flesh of my cheek, the curve of my ear. The heat of her body inflamed mine and, while Indra and Odile looked hungrily on, Valeria rocked to pleasure herself upon the aching protuberance yearning for freedom in my lap.
“That might be wise…you two, come here—surely you’ll miss me when I’m gone…”
Though she snorted in a jovial fashion, Odile nonetheless strode forward and bent over me and Valeria. Her lips brushed mine and she said, “I don’t know about missing you, Paladin…but I’ll pray for your safe return.”
I sighed with pleasure as Valeria pushed my tunic up and away. By the time my vision was once more unobstructed, smiling Indra had appeared to my right. She took her turn for a kiss while the Materna and Odile, each with their hands roving over me, glanced over at Branwen.
“Well?” Odile arched a brow expectantly. “You in, or out?”
For just a flash I wasn’t sure if I even wanted her involved—not that the options of cuckolding or rejecting her were any better—but the bite of her supple pink underlip and the desire filling her eyes overwhelmed me. How dear she was to me! Amazing to think that Branwen was, strictly speaking, at least twice my age: she was selfish in the way children were selfish. Thoughtlessly, without malice. Somehow this notion made me pity her, and while she vacillated between the scene unfurling and the door to the room, I extended my hand.
“Come, Branwen…for all we know, this will be the last time I’ll be able to hold you before a wicked faerie queen whisks me off to another world.”
Savagely rolling her eyes, Branwen kicked off her boots and climbed upon the small bed with us. Her lips struggled against a smirk until they drooped over me. Then, they parted for a kiss.
I obliged with joy, reaching up to caress her face and the long blond locks that tumbled around me when Valeria let down Branwen’s elegant mane. Soon she moaned softly against my mouth, her pleasure produced not just by our kiss: Odile and Indra lifted hands from me to caress her, and a look of the most delicious embarrassment crossed her reddening face.
She was only able to look reluctant for a few seconds. While the durrow undressed Branwen amid sensual caresses, Odile caught the point of her chin and drew her close for a consuming kiss. I watched with unabashed satisfaction, knowing my observation heightened her embarrassment and subsequently her pleasure. When she glimpsed me in the middle of turning to kiss Indra, it were as though she checked to make sure I still watched. The thought of such a thing made me all the more hungry for her and the other women around me—for Valeria in my lap, who rose only to help me remove my boots and breeches before sliding out of her own clothes. The sumptuous globes of her dark breasts, already struggling to be contained in Lively’s old dress, burst from their confines. Her nipples were beaded with excitement, and while her eyes flickered often to the scene with Branwen behind me, she climbed upon my lap and let the soft flesh of her sex brush my exposed nerves.
How wet she was! Valeria’s performative nature thrilled me as much as her generous heart. She pushed me down gently upon the bed, that treasure at the apex of her thighs poised to tease the organ of my lust while together we watched as Branwen was pleasured by the rogues.
Odile, by kisses and caresses, guided Branwen down upon the pillows and with Indra’s help divested the high elf of her underthings. When naked, Branwen gasped and attempted to lay hands between all our hungry eyes and the rosy tips of her breasts or the patch of fuzz crowning the cleft between her legs. She did not try very hard to keep them there and in fact seemed thrilled when Odile and Indra each caught a hand and exposed her to our eyes. Indra, squeezing between her pale legs, sighed with pleasure up at her friend.
“Oh, Odile! She’s dripping. Look”—the younger durrow spread Branwen’s labia for her friend—“she loves to be watched almost as much as the Materna!”
“I’d think a thing like that to be impossible,” commented Odile, reaching down with her free hand and experimentally tickling her fingers along the displayed flower of bright pink petals and shimmering dew. The durrow’s eyes widened and she laughed, saying, “Why! Maybe you’re right, Indra.”
“Please,” whimpered Branwen, “please, oh, it’s so embarrassing—”
“But you like being embarrassed, don’t you…” Chuckling evilly, Odile slowly worked Branwen’s clitoris beneath the tip of her finger. The high elf moaned to be so indulged. “Su
re you do…you want to be used by all of us. Watched by Rorke as we get you nice and excited for him.”
Gasping, moaning, Branwen made a feeble protest while Odile slipped a pair of fingers slowly into the hot heart of her femininity. While the high elf’s bare toes curled with delight, one foot twisted out toward me. I caught it in my hand and kissed the delicate arch, yielding a sharper moan of surprise from her as I caressed my way down to her toes. Valeria, meanwhile, worked her wet vulva slowly over my length, teasing back and forth but not yet taking me into her. Occasionally her hand would lower to press my head just to her quivering entrance, and she would pump me against herself before reaching down to tickle my testicles.
Together we marveled at the sight of Odile’s dark fingers working steadily in and out of pale pink Branwen, each of us more inspired by the second. When those fingers were removed and Indra bent down to her apply her mouth to the task, Valeria at last lowered herself upon my aching cock.
While my fingers sank into her thighs we moaned as one, the pleasure that rushed through the both of us no doubt equal in its sublimity. As much as it relieved me to find her soft body so tight and wet around me, it paradoxically served, as always, to deepen the ache. One hand lifting from her thigh to again press Branwen’s dainty toes to my mouth, I watched how this sweetened the high elf’s pleasure and couldn’t help but count her lucky. With Indra’s tender kisses between her legs, Odile suckling at her nipples and caressing her breasts, and my mouth at work upon her foot while the woman who rode me moaned in approval, Branwen was no doubt in a state of ecstasy.
Indeed, she thrashed wildly—but, for as enraptured as she was, she never looked away from the sight of Valeria writhing upon my prick, her dark body working up and down and her magnificent breasts bouncing with every self-impalement along my length. So far as I could tell, Branwen’s eyes themselves were an outlet of pleasure equal to, or perhaps exceeding, all the others. The longer she took in the sight of me fucking another woman, the greater her pleasure grew until it overflowed from her with a cataclysmic cry of bliss.