“He just…wouldn’t.” Gossimer knew how hopeless the words sounded, for if one person were to bring war to Wynne, it would be Lucian Margoux.
“I’m fearful too.” Elenor lowered her eyes. “I fear war like the rest o’ them.” Her soft voice was barely audible as she confessed her fear. “Ye don’t hear what’s said on the streets Gossy. The tension’s been buildin’ o’er the months. Valvius’ troubles, an’ mister Lucian’s pushin’ in the council is causin’ trouble with the provinces.”
Elenor shifted in her seat, leaning even closer as her voice became no more than a whisper. “Lines are bein’ drawn, Gossy. If mister Lucian goes to war with this Order…I think more then them two will get to fighting, the common folk know this too.”
“Del Morte be good.” Gossimer cursed. “This is bigger than Valvius isn’t it?”
“Aye.” Elenor leaned back into her chair; gutting her cigarette in the same manner Gossimer had moments before. “If war comes to Wynne, the whole realm will bleed.”
“Does the council know this?” Gossimer asked.
Elenor laughed that sweet laugh again. “Who d’ye think is drawin’ the lines Gossy?”
Gossimer’s cheeks burned hot as the lovely creature across from him managed to embarrass him once more.
“Oh Gossy,” she said through a heart melting smile. “Yer too much fun.” Elenor reached across the table and took his hand in hers. “Let’s get outta here.”
Gossimer raised an eyebrow. In all the time they had known one another, and after all the visits to the Talking Goose, she had never suggested leaving together. “And where shall we go?”
“Ye could walk me home?” A flutter of arosal fed Gossimer’s veins once more as Elenor bit her lip in a deeply suggestive way.
It made his knees numb and heart weak. For the first time in all his life, someone genuinely wanted his companionship. Elenor had no obligations of needing Gossimer by her side the way master Lucian had; nor did she send him away like his mother. Here was a person who wanted to spend time with him. It was an odd feeling, but a good one nonetheless.
“Of course miss Elenor.” He said, giving her delicate hand a gentle squeeze.
Smiling, Elenor led the way from the table to the coat racks where the pair donned their winter garments before facing the chill night without.
They took their time, enjoying each other’s company. The streets of Gossac were very much the same since that first blizzard, snow laden and slippery with ice. In many places, the deep drifts sat proud and defiant in the southern city, daring the heat to return. Tropical fronds and palms were wimpy, and sad to look upon in the frozen wasteland the city had now become. Many of the tropical beasts fled the island, perhaps in search of warmer locales. The once noble city was now a desolate shell of its former self.
Every so often, the pair would pass a group of destitute men walking alongside peculiar constructs. The machines were four legged contraptions, which prowled the streets salting the icy cobbles underfoot. The mechanical constructs were an interesting design. Each leg operated free and independent of the others, allowing for maximum maneuverability in the treacherous winter weather. Their steel body ran a length of six feet, were a mere three feet wide and four feet high. In the center of their frame was a large copper bin, filled with coarse chunks of salt. The underside of these bins looked very much like udders of a cow; several spring-loaded dispensers protruded from the bottom of the central bin, showering the streets in salt.
Most of these machines, called salt golems, were of the obsolete steam powered design. Sitting on the back of the constructs were large, bronze and cast iron boilers. The steam from the boilers generated energy that fed into a simple, central power node at the fore of the machine, giving a rudimentary sentience ideal for the task of salting roadways. Many of these black smoke belching beasts were a gift from the Syntaran people, for they no longer required the services of the salt golems due to the sudden lack of snow in the northern province.
Gossimer watched as the group of men surrounding the constructs shoveled away snow, spread out the salt over a wider area, and feed the antique boiler with fresh coal. It was amazing to see the destitute of Gossac given a chance to earn a better income, though Elenor informed him the wages were insulting for the amount of work involved.
“Never thought I’d see the day when salters would walk the streets o’ Gossac.” She had said after they passed the salting crew. “’Tis a sad thing if ye ask me.”
Gossimer said nothing, letting the moment pass.
They continued north and east, passing under everflame street lamps between momentary patches of darkness. Each time they entered the shadowy world beyond the light of the street lamps, Gossimer found himself looking to the stars. Tonight they shone bright and vibrant. The moon hung low and heavy, hugging the city’s reaching horizon of peaked, slanted rooftops. Peaking over the northwest horizon the silent effigy that was the Grand Tower of Time stood, shadowed in the soft luminance of the lunar light.
Elenor led the way from the Talking Goose Alehouse and through the sleeping city, into and beyond the central gardens of Gossac, and finally to a small side street of peculiarly angled houses. Standing before a looming, two storey building, Elenor hooked her arm tightly around Gossimer’s, staring at the silent building.
“Thank ye for walkin’ me, ser.” Her voice was just as sweet as ever, despite being muffled by a thick scarf. “An’ for the drink.”
“It was my pleasure Elenor.” Gossimer smiled. “Perhaps we shan’t wait so long to do it again?”
“Perhaps.” The moonlight caught her eyes, illuminating their wonderful colour with its soft light. Elenor removed her arm from his and walked towards her home. As she reached the bottom step that led to the front door, Elenor turned to face Gossimer again.
“What is it Elenor?” He asked.
With a gloved hand, she lowered her scarf, revealing her full lips.
“Would…would you stay with me tonight? Our talk this evening has frightened me.” She gave a weak smile. “I just don’t want t’ be alone s’all.” Elenor took his hand. “Please?”
“Elenor,” Gossimer paused, licking his lips. In his heart of hearts he had yearned for such a moment as this, but, now that it was finally upon him, he was unsure. “What would the Lady Schernoff or Master Lucian think?” It was a weak excuse for his timidity, but it was all he could muster.
“I dunno Gossy.” Gossimer couldn’t tell if annoyance or embarrassment fueled Elenor’s tone at his apparent rejection. “It shouldn’t matter anyhow, since ye aren’t a steward no more. No reason fer them to care.”
Her lips gave that angelic smile again, the one no man could ever refuse. Gossimer licked his lips again, heart racing against his chest as Elenor pulled him towards the front steps of her home, through the precarious doorway and into the cozy warmth within.
A singular everflame wick, mounted on the narrow press of the walls, dimly illuminated the interior of her home, or, rather, the landing to a steep and narrow stair that ran to the second floor. It was a curious entrance, and made no real sense to Gossimer. He simply could not fathom any logical reason behind the main floor of one’s home being no more than a stairwell. Yet, it still managed to maintain a sense of homely relaxation, despite the harrowing climb to the living section on the upper floor.
Elenor led the way, taking Gossimer up the haphazard stair at an unsettling pace. He could not count how many times he stumbled as he tried to keep up with the lovely woman. His breath was ragged by the time they reached the upper most landing. Unlike the lower entryway, this space was much wider with a precarious looking door and a large cupboard for their outerwear
“You have quite the climb.” Gossimer remarked, taking a minute to catch his breath. Elenor gave a cheeky sideways grin as she removed her winter garments
“Aye,” She admitted, removing her body length coat. “But ye get used t’ it after awhile.” Elenor turned to face Gossimer, who was still
very much adorned for a deep, arctic excursion. With a raised eyebrow, she eyed his attire with impatience.
“Oh,” Gossimer said, making to remove his waistcoat. With a quick snap of her hand, Elenor caught his, stopping him from continuing.
“No worries.” Her voice was soft, sultry almost. “They won’t be stayin’ on ye much longer.”
Gossimer swallowed the lump in his throat as his member quickened with Elenor’s implication.
He suspected what waited for him on the other side of the threshold; any man would have known what was to come. Trying with all his might Gossimer buried his nagging worries, trying to allow himself to fall into the moment he had dreamt of since he first laid eyes on the beautiful Di Delgan.
Elenor led Gossimer through the small confines of her apartment, letting his mind wander absently over the mundane and simplicity of her daily life. It was with passing interest, or distraction, he noticed the small kitchenette, the modest mantelpiece above a cold, dark hearth, and a small shelf lined with many, neatly organized books. The one feature, it seemed, to hold his attention the most was the simple, down filled bed with neatly tucked sheets beckoning his every step.
It was to the foot of the bed Elenor led. Sweat formed under Gossimer’s beaverskin chapeau as the two stood at the foot of the waiting mattress, eyeing each other with the same lustful looks. Gossimer adored the way she bit her lip, as if she hungered for him, yet still tried in vain to maintain her modesty. She still held his hand, grip growing as the awkward moment dragged on.
“Oh bollocks,” breaking the condemning silence, Gossimer let his urges take control. The soft, short hair on the back of Elenor’s neck tickled Gossimer’s palm as he placed his free hand behind the beautiful Di Delgan’s head. Her large, firm breasts pushed against his body as he pulled her close, planting his lips upon hers. If Elenor strained to maintain her modesty before, she now let it all go as the pair began to explore each other’s mouths with their tongues.
Wasting no time at all, her hands found the buttons of his coat and worked to remove the heavy garment. Not wanting to put her through all the work, Gossimer tossed his hat aside and worked at the lacing of his breeches. All the while their lips found each other. The only time they separated was to remove his pull over linen shirt.
Now Gossimer was as naked as naked could be. His member was tall and proud, despite the cold air of the small apartment. It was hungry, eager for the spoils to come. Not wasting anytime, Gossimer tore into Elenor’s blouse. He pulled the garment open, bursting its buttons as he did so. She did the rest. With as much longing as he, Elenor wiggled herself free of the torn garment, revealing her breasts in full.
Now she took control, shoving Gossimer onto the waiting bed. In the time it took him to fall upon the down stuff mattress, Elenor had removed her skirts. Gossimer’s eyes went wide as he caught sight of the mound of course, blonde curls between her legs. His stiffness began to hurt, eager to take the naked beauty crawling her way towards him. Elenor threw a leg over his body, straddling him and his member all at once. Her soft hands gripped his shaft and led it to the waiting wetness of her deepest secret.
Gossimer held his breath as a new, wonderful sensation flirted through his veins as Elenor lowered herself onto him, letting his member slide deeper and deeper inside her. The way her body writhed to and fro as she moved her hips up and down, back and forth, was like a mystical dance of some wonderful siren from the sailor’s tales. Her bosom rose and fell with a wonderful rhythm, nipples stiff in the cool air. Gossimer watched completely transfixed by the moonlit body above him.
His muscles began to tighten in his loins, hinting at the desire of releasing his seed into Elenor’s depths. His breath quickened, struggling to contain himself. She seemed to sense his mounting pleasure and increased the speed of her writhing, seemingly hungry for his seed. Gossimer gasped as Elenor dug her nails into his chest, the new sensation being the final catalyst needed for his body to reach climax. Elenor slowed her rhythm, bringing the moment to a slow, euphoric end.
Gossimer admired Elenor’s firm breasts as she sat astride him, lightly illuminated by the moonlight without. Her chest rose and fell as she caught her breath, and a broad smile played across her delicate lips. She gave his member a little squeeze with her pelvic muscles, sending a final euphoric sensation through Gossimer’s body before she slid off to nuzzle up beside him.
Long minutes passed with the two young lovers entwined in each other’s arms. Before long Elenor’s breathing came in deep, slow breaths, indicating sleep had taken her. Gossimer stroked her mussed blonde hair, as his own eyes grew heavy, threatening sleep. As he lay there, finally at peace with his life, Gossimer let his eyes give in to the calling urge of sleep.
“Gossy?” Elenor’s panicked voice beckoned through his sleep. “Gossimer wake up.”
“What is it Elenor?” He winced as the morning light struck his eyes. Outside a peaceful, soft snow fell undisturbed by the tumultuous banging from below. The strikes were methodical, heavy handed, almost inhuman, causing the walls of Elenor’s small apartment to shudder under each blow.
“I dunno but I’m scared.” She said, wincing as another thudding knock echoed through the apartment. “Jus’ a’fore the bangin’ started, the mornin’ bells were singin’ a diff’rent song. I…I think somethin’ bad happened.” Elenor paused, pulling her bedding close as another rap from below caused dust to fall from the rafters.
“I’ll put a stop to this annoyance.” Gossimer said, reading the worry in Elenor’s eyes. “Surely these blokes should have something better to do than to bother honest people.”
Swinging his legs around the edge of the bed, he found the cold floorboards eager to greet him; the chill of the wooden panels sent chills up his spine as Gossimer rose to find his breeches. He quickly pulled them on upon their discovery, more for the sweet embrace of warmth rather than haste of dealing with the disturbance on the front step below. Gossimer found his linen shirt nearby in a crumpled mess on the floor. A smile lined his face as memories of the previous night filled his mind as he bent over to retrieve the garment.
“I’ll be right back.” Gossimer said, donning his shirt.
“Please don’t be too long,” Elenor replied, biting her lip with a worried look in her big blue eyes.
With a smile, Gossimer departed the chambers and began the long trek down the dangerously angled stair to greet the heavy-handed caller. A sense of confidence fueled the young Valvian’s heart, a feeling he had not known since…well, ever. He took each of the precarious steps two at a time, letting his budding pride drive him forward.
It did not take long for Gossimer to reach the lower landing. Upon setting foot on the floor, he was surprised to see large running cracks up the walls of Elenor’s home. Some of the lines were beginning to deepen with each new summoning blow. Down here, on the opposing side of the assailing caller, the rapping rang thunderous and threatening in Gossimer’s ears. The lad didn’t know how to proceed with dealing with whatever hung on the door, but he knew doing nothing would do more ill than good. With a deep, steadying breath, Gossimer reached for the door handle.
Taking one more moment brief moment to prepare his nerves, Gossimer pulled open the door to the outside world, ready to shout obscenities and curses at the caller. Instead of threatening the noisy intruder, the lad found himself jumping back in fright and landing on his ass with a heavy thump. Staring at him from the outside world was the emotionless, copper face of a fierce warrior with glowing blue eye sockets.
“Nine!” Gossimer shouted, confused. “What in the thrice-damned hells are you doing?”
“The one called Nine has come for ser Gossimer.” The construct’s electrical voice replied as it cocked its large plated head to the side. “You must come with the one called Nine.”
Slow, heavy fingers of steel and bronze, pistons and coils reached through the opening of Elenor’s home, grasping after Gossimer.
“Nine, what are you doing?” Gos
simer demanded, trying to avoid the reaching machine. “Put me down!” he shouted as the golem grabbed his ankle, lifting him like a child’s doll off the floor.
“No.” Nine said flatly. “There is no time. Ser Gossimer must come with the one called Nine.” The construct flopped the still struggling Gossimer over its plated shoulder and retreated from Elenor’s front step with slow, heavy steps.
“Where are you taking me?” Gossimer asked, trying in vain to wiggle free of the machine’s iron grasp.
“Ser Gossimer must leave with the Master Lucian for Pozo.” The lumbering beast said.
“Pozo?” Gossimer repeated. Looking back at the house, he noticed Elenor had made her way to the doorway. She said not a word, but only looked Gossimer in the eye, as if telling him that her fears and the fears of the common folk must have come true. There was a hurt in her eyes, as if begging for some sort of forgiveness.
“Yes. Ser Gossimer will be joining Master Lucian in Pozo.” Nine replied.
“Why?” Gossimer asked, feeling as if he knew the answer. “Why Pozo?”
“War, Ser Gossimer.” The emotionless voice of the golem gave the weight of the word ‘war’ a terrible, ominous sensation.
“We’re not at war Nine. Even if we were,” Gossimer paused as Nine removed him from its shoulder, placing him squarely on the ground beside a fifteen-foot auto of ebony wood with a small scratch running down the length of the body.
“Even if we were,” Gossimer continued, recognizing Lucian Margoux’s vehicle. “Why would we go to Pozo?”
“Ser Gossimer must know there is war. The master Lucian declared so this morning.” Nine replied. “War is come to Wynne. Pozo is where Master Lucian desires to assemble.”
Gossimer turned to face Elenor one last time, hoping to give her a proper farewell. His heart broke when he did not find her standing in the open doorway. With a heavy sigh, the young Valvian patted his mechanical friend on its armature and entered the waiting cabin of the auto to be whisked away to certain despair.
The Spark Page 28