The Lotus Ascension

by Adonis Devereux

  “What was wrong with the balloon?” asked Sillara. “Is it secure for tomorrow morning?”

  “It is.” Konas did not look her in the face, and Sillara knew he was keeping something back.

  “What is it?” she asked. “You look as you did on my Sunjaa coming-of-age day, the day you knew His Grace had not written, and you did not want to tell me so.”

  Konas caught her face in his hands and kissed her lips with bruising passion. “My Sillara, my Fair Star, the goddess of my heart—all I have done, I have done for love of you.”

  A chill fell on Sillara, and she looked up in Konas's eyes, searching their green depths. “What have you done?”

  “I forced the crash.” Konas crushed her against him, and she could hear his heart thundering beneath her cheek. “I sabotaged the balloon so that we would crash.”

  “You risked our lives—why?”

  “No, there was no real danger.” Konas seemed eager to explain. “I controlled the descent. I was not as good at the direction as I had hoped, but we should be able to return to the oasis by nightfall tomorrow. But the crash itself I controlled.”

  “You cut the rope.” It was not a question. Sillara was not exactly angry. She was more confused. “Why?”

  “I knew that if I had asked you to marry me in any other circumstance, you would not have answered according to your own desire.” Konas kissed the top of her head, right between her horns. “You are your mother's daughter, and you would have remained true to my brother—though he has never seen you and does not love you as I do!”

  “So you forced this crash in order to sully my reputation in His Grace's eyes. He would not have wanted me any longer, and I could have accepted or refused you?” Sillara saw the flaw in the plan. “And if I had refused you? What then? You would have sullied me to no purpose.”

  “You cannot be sullied.” Konas kissed her again. “But I would have made it right with my brother. I would have convinced him of your virtue.”

  Sillara smiled. She had never wanted to marry Tivanel anyway. “I do not mind, Konas. I am glad to be able to remain in Arinport, and you are a better lord to me than your brother could ever be.”

  “But you haven't met him.” Konas seemed more anxious than Sillara could account for.

  “But he does not love me,” she said. “You do. You know me, and he does not.”

  “I do love you, Sillara, more than anything else in the world.”

  “Then show me your love.” Sillara smiled, pushing away from Konas and lying back on the blanket. “For I am already forgetting it.”

  Konas laughed, his anxiety disappearing, and he pounced on her. They did not rise from that spot until dawn.

  ****

  “We must hurry,” said Sillara as Konas helped her into the balloon. The sun was just above the horizon, and she shivered. “Soren will be worried for me.”

  “I've no doubt that Merieke will keep him occupied and cheerful until we get back.” Konas was busily tugging on the ropes, revealing the black silk to the desert sun. “Or maybe Nathen will.”

  Sillara bit her lip. She did not doubt that Nathen and Merieke would both be anxious to please Soren. Who would not be? And she knew now what that pleasure was that Soren derived from coupling. She would never wish him to be denied any pleasure. But for some reason she could not explain to herself, the idea of Merieke being the one to give Soren that pleasure stung her, stung her in a way that Nathen giving Soren that pleasure did not.

  “Sillara?” Konas smiled at her, and the sight of his innocent joy brought an answering smile to Sillara's face. “Don't worry about Soren. We'll be back soon enough, and they will probably be so worn out from their orgy that they won't have the energy to worry.”

  Sillara kept her smile fixed in place, but her heart wilted. The others might be exhausted, but Soren would not be. He would be worried for her. She resolved to make it up to him as soon as she saw him, and she knew, too, that he would be relieved that she was not to leave Arinport. She knew he had shared that dread, and she looked forward to telling him that their threatened separation would never take place.

  This thought was so comforting that Sillara was still smiling when Konas set the balloon toward the east. It took some time to find the right wind current, but they were flying over the sands toward the east and the oasis where Soren and the others awaited within an hour of the sun's rising.

  “What will we say to your father?” asked Konas suddenly. “How can I explain our marriage?”

  Sillara laughed out loud. “You never thought so far? We will simply tell him the truth.” She shrugged.

  Konas put his arms around her, pulling her close. “And that might get me executed for treason by my own brother.”

  Sillara kissed Konas's mouth, feeling her arousal growing at the depth of Konas's love for her. “I doubt my father will mind. For some reason I think he still dislikes King Tivanel.”

  “They were rivals for your mother,” said Konas.

  “Hardly.” Sillara nestled against Konas's chest. “How could there be rivalry when her heart has rested in my father's bosom since their first meeting? No, His Grace fruitlessly sought to divide the indivisible, and he broke his heart on the bulwark of their love.”

  Konas shivered in her arms, and Sillara felt his heart begin to pound beneath her cheek, just as it had last night. “I hope for better for us,” said Konas.

  Sillara slid her hand up beneath Konas's tunic and tweaked his nipple. “But truly, if you explain that His Grace would not have wanted me anyway, I am sure that my father will accept what we have done.” She shook her head. “He will have to, for we are wedded. No one can sunder us now.”

  “Yes.” Konas's triumphant kiss put a stop to further speech, and Sillara gave herself over to pleasure.

  But their pleasure did not last long, for a sudden gust of wind shook the balloon. Konas released her and darted to the ropes.

  “Another crash?” asked Sillara teasingly.

  “I pray Abrexa no.” Konas strained at the rope. “Sillara, look east.”

  Sillara obeyed, and she understood Konas's fear. To the east, only a little ways off, a monstrous sandstorm was blowing—and heading straight for them.

  “What should I do?” she asked.

  “Keep down, your head below the level of the basket.” Konas's words were strained by the effort he was making to pull on the ropes. “If I give you a rope, hold it.”

  Sillara ducked down, putting on her cloak and pulling up her hood. The stinging sands could blind, and she needed to protect her eyes. “Is there a way to avoid the storm?”

  Konas looked at her with horror-filled eyes. “No. I will try to ride it out.”

  That was the last time he spoke for the next hour. The sands whipped them, and the storm tossed them. Sillara could see nothing, hear nothing above the howling wind, and were it not for the two ropes she held, she might have forgotten altogether that she was in a balloon. It felt like she was lost in a harsh wilderness full of keening souls.

  But whenever she closed her eyes, she could see the rose-bower of her childhood dreams, and this time it was as full of a dark purple flower as it was of roses.

  Then the howling changed, took on a different quality, and Sillara knew they were plummeting, falling out of the sky. She held tightly to the two ropes Konas had given her, but she did not open her eyes. The sand was too thick, and to open her eyes would be to lose them. She could hear Konas screaming. Still, the odor of roses and those purple flowers was in her nostrils, and then everything went black.

  “Sillara!” Konas's voice seemed very close, but there was something wrong with it.

  Sillara opened her eyes. Everything was dark, but the air was quiet and still. The storm was over, and the sun hung low in the west, its rays unable to pierce the last shreds of dust-cloud.

  “What happened, Konas?” asked Sillara, but the sheer misery on his face moved her to pity. She pulled him down to her breast and stroked his filthy hair.


  “We crashed, a real crash this time.” Konas's voice was ragged, and Sillara realized his throat must be raw from the sand-filled winds. “And the balloon is destroyed.”

  Sillara understood at once. “The water?”

  “I was able to salvage it, but there is not very much of it. I was expecting to be back at the oasis by this afternoon.” Konas kept his face buried in her breast, muffling his voice.

  Soren is days and days of walking to the east. Sillara knew perfectly well that they would die of thirst well before they could have walked back to where Soren and the others waited at the oasis. “West then.”

  “What?” Konas looked up, and his green eyes were red and inflamed.

  “I will lead you. You must keep your eyes closed to allow them to heal.” Sillara continued to stroke his hair. “We will go west, for there we have some hope of finding one of those oases Nathen spoke of.” Sillara knew, of course, that the next oasis Nathen had spoken of was far behind them. She did not know if there were any oases ahead.

  “Sillara, I have killed us.” Konas's despair was palpable.

  “Not yet, my lord.” Sillara kissed his brow. “Do not think that.”

  “West.” Konas repeated Sillara's earlier word. “Perhaps we are not so far.” He struggled to his feet, and Sillara rose, too.

  “They will be looking for us, too,” said Sillara. “So we are not without all hope.”

  Konas held her close and kissed the top of her head. “They will think us dead, my love.”

  Sillara did not bother to dispute him. Soren would know she was alive, but he would know, too, that she was actually wracked with panic and fear, which was more than she could let Konas know.

  “Let us go west as long as we can walk,” she said. And hope that we find water—or Soren finds me—before Nistaran takes us to his halls.

  Chapter Twelve

  Soren dug the heels of his palms into his itching eyes as the rising sun warmed his back. Day had come, and he had not slept. The sky lightened quickly, but still the west was cloaked in gloom, much like Soren’s heart. Sillara had not returned, and it was anyone’s guess where she was or what had happened to her. The orgy had continued long into the night, but as Soren’s head cleared, he had realized Sillara was long overdue. He had extricated himself from Nathen’s and Merieke’s arms and made his way out into the freezing desert night, and there he had stood, watching the west, hoping for some sign of them returning on foot.

  Soren watched his shadow lengthen before him, and with each moment, his anxiety mounted like the burning sun in the sky. He wiped his brow with his forearm. Merieke’s perfume still clung to him. Soren shifted his gaze from the horizon to the sky. Now that it was daylight, they might be returning by balloon. Many times he fancied seeing a small black speck in the limitless blue, but every time it was his imagination, his hope making him see what he wanted to see. Where were they? Where had Konas taken Sillara?

  “I’m sorry.” Nathen’s voice startled Soren out of his reverie. “I would’ve thought they’d be back by now.”

  Soren did not turn to his friend and lover. “It’s a solar balloon. It can’t fly at night.”

  “So, once the sun set, you knew something was wrong?”

  Soren nodded and squinted. “If I hadn’t been … preoccupied.” He hated himself for not realizing until too late that Sillara was missing.

  Nathen put his hand on Soren’s shoulder. Soren felt him press up against his back. “You can’t blame yourself for having a good time. It was what Sillara wanted.”

  That, at least, was true.

  “I’m riding out to look for her,” Soren said, turning.

  Nathen let his hands slip off his friend’s body. “I’m going with you.”

  Soren forced a smile. “I’d like the company, and we can ride just within sight of each other and cover more ground.”

  “What are we waiting for, then? Let’s go rescue your sister from the clutches of that damned Ausir.” Nathen started off but then turned back. “No offense.”

  Soren waved off the comment. “None taken.” The clutches of that damned Ausir. Nathen was right. Sillara had spent the night in Konas’s company. Konas was an orgy-master, and pleasure was his business. On top of that, he was Sillara’s tutor and was closer to her than anyone else in the world, save Soren.

  Soren could not help but make up all kinds of horrible things that might have happened between them in the desert night. It would have been cold. They would have had to have snuggled together to keep warm. He would have turned her away from him so that he could hug against her back, and she would have nestled her ass back into his crotch. Then Konas would have responded the way any man would: his hard cock would have pressed into her backside. Sillara would not have looked back, but she would have hummed her pleasure at his arousal. She would have pressed harder against him, and he would have started gyrating his cock against her. Then that slut Ausir would have rubbed her ass and caressed her sides. He would have slipped his hands up her gown and shuddered at the smoothness of her skin. Breathing deep of the herbs in her hair, Konas would have let his hands travel farther up until they reached the soft mounds of her perfect breasts. He would have pinched her nipples between his forefinger and thumb, and when she turned her head back toward him, he would have whispered “I love you” to her. “I always have.” Of course he loved her. How could he not? How could anyone not love Sillara? Konas had worked with her side by side for years—he was smitten with her. Sillara would have reached back and freed Konas’s cock from its breeches, and Konas would have calmed her fears by kissing her neck as he kneaded her breasts. He would have taken it slow, not wanting to risk her displeasure, not wanting her to realize she was making a mistake. Konas would have overwhelmed her with the force of his passion, and just when she did not expect it, he would have slipped his cock between her pussy lips and entered the sanctum to which no man had ever gained admittance. He would have violated her chastity and stolen her virginity from her rightful husband, from the soul she was meant to be mated to. That thief of love did not know how lucky he was! Konas would not have lasted very long though, for Sillara’s sex would have been too much even for the likes of him. She was a sex goddess, Abrexa’s own rival, and she would have proven too much for her tutor and ravisher.

  When it was over, Sillara would have kissed Konas’s nose and brushed his hair with her fingers. She would have secretly pitied him his inability to keep up with her. Konas would have lain back exhausted, and Sillara would have fallen asleep unfulfilled, dreaming of a lover who could satisfy her.

  “What are you smiling about?” Again, Nathen’s voice surprised Soren.

  Soren composed himself and forced his thoughts of Sillara and Konas back into the secret compartment of his mind. “I was just thinking about finding Sillara.”

  Nathen came leading two white horses already saddled.

  Soren took the reins of his own horse and patted his mane. “Is that enough water?”

  “It’ll get us to the next oasis,” Nathen said.

  “And from there, we re-water and move on.” Soren’s frustration grew. Balloons flew like birds and were not constrained to hopping from oasis to oasis. Sillara could be anywhere. Konas could have taken her anywhere.

  “It’s all we can do.” Nathen put one foot in the stirrup and leaped into his saddle. “But they must have had to put down for water anyway, so we’re sure to find them at one of them.”

  “How many are there?”

  “From here, I’ve seen three more, but they’re far out. If we don’t find Sillara at the first one, we won’t be making it back to this camp today.”

  Soren did not care how long it took. He would look forever until he found his sister. Without another word, he got into his saddle and turned his mount west. Orien and Merieke saw them off.

  “We’ll stay here until you return,” Orien said.

  Merieke blew Soren a kiss. “Hurry back.”

  Soren’s night o
f sex with her seemed so long ago. He was weary with worry.

  Once the pair of friends were away from the camp and the unremitting sun scorched the burning sand all around them, Nathen pulled his horse up alongside Soren’s.

  “You need to prepare yourself.”

  “For what?” Soren asked.

  Nathen’s response was slow. “For the possibility that she is dead.”

  “She’s not dead.”

  “You can’t be sure. She’s lost in the desert.”

  Soren locked eyes with Nathen. “I am sure. Not only is she not dead, she is unharmed.”

  Nathen sat back in his saddle in surprise. “But how can you know?”

  Soren focused on the sloping dunes ahead. “She’s my sister. We’ve always known things about each other.”

  Nathen changed the subject. “Did you have fun with Merieke last night?”

  Soren nodded. “Of course.” He could still feel her lips on his cock. “The best I’ve ever had.”

  Nathen chuckled. “Glad to hear that.”

  Soren caught Nathen out of the corner of his eye. “I guess I should give my compliments to her teacher.”

  Nathen laughed and bowed forward in his saddle.

  The two friends trekked across the desert sands until Soren saw the shimmering image of the first oasis on the horizon.

  “Not a mirage, right?” Soren asked.

  “No. That’s it. Are we stopping for lunch?”

  Soren scanned the sky. No sign of Sillara. “Let’s eat while we ride.”

  “I’d be fine with that,” Nathen said, “but the horses need to rest. And they need to be watered.”

  Soren wanted to push on. He could not find his sister fast enough, but he knew Nathen was right. The mounts needed a break, and an hour nap in the shade would do Soren some good. His head swam with drowsiness from lack of sleep and the extreme heat. Besides, after this oasis, they hit wurm country, and they would have to have their wits about them.