“Oh, yes, hells and dragon bells, play with my tits,” she told him, pressing her chest closer to Pol to ease his access. He sucked at one nipple before switching to the other, Rouran rewarding him moans and gasps, begging him for more.
“I should’ve had this every night for the past six years,” she moaned. “A thick cock and a warm mouth. Everything else would’ve been beside the point.”
“You’d have gotten tired of it,” said Pol. Rouran lifted back up onto her knees, her hips moving softly against his, pushing into the mattress.
“No, never of this,” said Rouran. “I’d never tire of a cock like this.”
Pol’s hands traveled down her body to rest on her hips, too exhausted to do anything much but enjoy the ride. Rouran seemed more than willing to handle herself, using him for her own purpose. She bounced on top of him, squeezing and teasing her own nipples until they were too hard and sensitive to abuse anymore, before turning her attention to her own clit, gently circling it at first before sending her fingers rubbing against it in hard slow strokes.
As her pace increased on her clit, she grew more reckless and wanton with his cock, spearing herself with heavy pumps, her moans rebounding through the rooms at the apex of each meeting.
Her orgasm was even more enticing from this angle, Pol watching with rapt attention as she began to shout at him, profanity mixing with words of encouragement, cut off by the repeated pauses to gasp for air, her breasts raising as she filled her lungs. She collapsed forward on him, and he could still feel her hand at her groin, working hard to keep her climax going.
“Oh, come for me, Pol. Please? I want to feel you gushing inside me again.”
“I don’t know if I can,” said Pol.
“I’ll help,” said Rouran.
She lifted higher on her knees, so that his cock came most of the way out, leaving his head and the top of the shaft embedded in her pussy. Without relinquishing the assault on her clit, she tucked her other hand between her legs, grasping the exposed length of Pol’s cock, slick with her juice and his own cum from before, stroking him with a vigorous firm grip.
“Oh, fuck,” cried Pol. His cock pulsed again, his orgasm catching him by surprise in its violence, his cum rushing hastily out of him.
Rouran broke into a broad smile, releasing him so she could sink back down, burying his spurting cock deep inside her again.
“Oh, Vash,” she gasped, finally allowing her clit some rest so she could cup Pol’s face in her hands. “This was just what I needed.”
She collapsed on the bed next to him, hugging the pillow to herself, giving Pol a radiant smile.
“Just what I needed.”
* * * * *
“A Sorcerer with the Dragon Clans?” Waldrin rumbled. His voice was uncertain, doubtful, suspicious.
“Three of us have seen it,” said Princess Fione. The Guild had ordered her arrayed in borrowed silks and finery, and she held herself with a commanding presence at the High Council’s table, staring across it at Waldrin, Heldi, and Garen.
“We have heard nothing of this,” said Heldi.
“Neither would we have expected it,” said Garen. “The Clans are opposed to magic. Dragon jade is so central to their culture, it makes a society inhospitable to sorcery. If any of their children manifest as warlocks, they are exiled to the plains.”
“He did not appear to be of the Clan,” said Kiera, from the chair they had given her away from the table.
Tau, sitting next to her, nodded. “He wasn’t tattooed, he didn’t wear a clan crest, or topknot.”
“We understand this,” said Garen. “But you must understand, that leaves a single source for a Sorcerer in the West. And we are reluctant to countenance that one of our own has driven the Clans against us.”
“He killed Pol,” spat Kiera. “Drowned him in the Joi without so much as a blink. You may be reluctant, but I guarantee you this Sorcerer is not.”
“While I do not appreciate Lady Kiera’s tone, I recognize the truth of her words,” said Princess Fione. “You have succeeded in freeing me from my captivity, and in my absence, Tia Joi will suffer at the hands of the Clans. Our enemy is known in full, and the Guild must honor the Compact of the Metropolises and combine the armies of Tia Vashil with those of Coulain and march on Tia Joi immediately to liberate my people.”
The Sorcerers traded glances. Waldrin cleared his throat.
“The Rite of Renewal works slowly, and now with Acolyte Pol’s death, we do not currently possess enough strength at this time to provide the proper magical aide necessary to give our armies a strategic advantage over the Clan behind the walls of Tia Joi,” he said.
If Princess Fione had been a Sorcerer, Waldrin might have quickly disintegrated under her furious stare. As it was, he simply shifted uncomfortably.
“Princess Fione,” said Heldi. Her voice was soft, the gentle tinge of her accent cutting through the room. “I apologize on behalf of the Guild. I convinced my fellow Councilors to fail in fulfilling our ancient duty to Tia Joi in order to seek a warlock, the Sorcerer Pol Burr, to renew the Guild’s flagging strength.”
The princess’ gaze slipped to Heldi, but the Sorcerer barely seemed to pay it any heed at all.
“You live with thousands of my subjects’ blood on your hands, Mistress Heldi.”
“I know this,” said Heldi. “I consider it every day, and most nights. But I would do it again, and readily. And with what you and Lady Kiera and Sir Tau have told us today, I am more and more convinced that this was the right course.”
“I am more convinced of the opposite,” said Fione.
“Did the Sorcerer who killed Acolyte Pol have red eyes?” Heldi interrupted. Garen and Waldrin started in their seats, staring at their colleague in surprise.
“Is this relevant?”
“It very well may be,” said Garen. “Please answer her question.”
“We weren’t close enough to see his eyes,” said Kiera. “Only Pol was.”
“Describe him, as best you are able,” said Heldi.
“Average height. Brown hair, bearded,” said Kiera.
“Odd clothing,” said Tau. “It seemed... antiquated, like something in a picture of someone from centuries ago.”
The Sorcerers traded glances again.
“It could be him,” said Garen. “Without seeing his eyes, it would be hard to say, but it would explain how the Clans knew we were weakening.”
“He was devoted to the Guild and its craft, though,” said Waldrin. “I have a hard time believing he could have joined with our enemies. Or that our enemies have joined with him.”
“Who knows where his studies might have led him, though,” replied Garen.
“This murmuring is all very interesting,” said Fione. “But would you mind treating me not as some simpleton on the street who cannot comprehend the wisdom of Sorcerers but rather like the fucking ally I am?”
“We apologize, your highness,” said Waldrin. “But we must insist that this not leave this room, except for the Exarch’s ears, Lady Kiera.”
“I so swear,” said Fione. “Tell me.”
“And Lady Kiera and Sir—”
“They swear too,” said Fione. “Tell me now.”
Waldrin frowned at Fione’s impatience, but he spoke without pushing the issue.
“Twenty five years ago, one of our most prominent members, Master Jorga, our then Master of Lore, departed this Guild. While we don’t know for sure, we suspect, based on your description and our own familiarity with our Guild’s history, that this is the Sorcerer you encountered in Tia Joi, and that he is the reason the Clans have come East to invade. He would have felt the weakening of magic around the Metropolises and sought to capitalize on it.”
“Why did he leave?” asked Kiera?
“There are two arts that the Guild has, by necessity of needing to rule Tia Vashil, outlawed its members from investigating. Necromancy and blood magic. Jorga was discovered to have practiced both. He refused to cease his studies, a
nd in exchange for his life, he agreed to leave the Metropolises.”
“That was a mistake,” said Tau.
“At the time, Sir Tau,” said Garen. “Master Jorga was one of our most devoted members. If he had not sought out evil, he might be sitting in Waldrin’s chair.”
“You said you were weakening, though,” said Kiera. “Surely Jorga would be weak too?”
“Certain magics are not affected by the flow of magical source around the world,” said Heldi. “They draw their power from another source instead. Sex magic, for instance, draws its source from love and birth, which is how you were able to aid us in the Rite of Renewal.”
Tau cocked his eyebrow at this last, looking from Heldi to Kiera. Kiera didn’t meet his gaze. Princess Fione looked intrigued.
“Necromancy and blood magic draw their power from death and the life of other people. Like sex magic, their applications are limited, but powerful,” said Heldi. “And poorly understood. Necromancy aids destructive force, that we know, but that’s about it.”
“So how do we fight him?” asked Kiera.
Waldrin frowned.
“By biding our time. Coulain’s army must march a long way to reinforce us, and we must wait longer still if the Guild is to be at full strength to fight the Clans. In the meantime, we train and prepare, and hope Chief Olene and Jorga have made a mistake.”
“That’s the strategy of a tortoise,” said Kiera.
“And the wisdom of one as well,” snapped Waldrin. “I thank you, Lady Kiera and Sir Tau, for your courage, your ability, and your aid. At the next meeting of the High Council we will deliberate for some time on how best to reward you for your action. Princess Fione, you are a guest of the Guild, and we will install you in your own apartments here in the Rock.”
* * * * *
When Heldi left the meeting, she did not make for her own apartments. Neither did she follow Garen to his, although she knew he was expecting her appearance. Time for that later. Instead, she descended down to the great storerooms in the basement of the Guild, looking for Tudon.
“Do you have any water from the River Joi?” she asked him
“Of course,” said Tudon. The resemblance to Princess Fione was rather uncanny, now that Heldi looked at him, his vai Joi blood strong on the surface. “What do you need it for?”
“A hunch,” she said.
“Ah, well, for a hunch... no.”
“Tudon, this is important.”
“Then it’s important to tell the Master of Stores why it’s so important that you get water from the River Joi from the Guild’s stores.”
Heldi examined Tudon’s face. Perhaps she had behaved poorly from his perspective. She had always valued her privacy highly, and it seemed today it would undo her if she let it. She must simply not let it.
“I wish to do a water scry,” she said.
“Along the entire River Joi?”
“Acolyte Pol was dragged beneath it. I wish to find his body.”
“What for?”
“I feel... responsible... for him.”
Tudon’s features softened, though only slightly.
“Heldi, you cannot blame yourself. He ignored your command to stay. You are not responsible for wild youths.”
Heldi said nothing.
Tudon sighed, then disappeared back among the massive shelves of the storeroom. It was dark down here, though thankfully not damp. A fire flickered in its place by the wall, and Heldi took a seat at the nearby table, warming herself.
Moments later, Tudon placed a basin and a stoppered glass jar next to her. He unstopped the jar, prying the cork out with his teeth, and poured the contents into the basin.
“A water scry of this magnitude is rather a lot of effort to find the sodden corpse of a foolish thief,” he said.
“He was one of us, Tudon, even if it was only for a moment.”
“Nonetheless.”
Heldi nodded at him, dismissing the concern. He turned to go, and she placed a hand on his arm.
“Will you stay with me, Tudon? Until I complete the scry? As you say, it’s rather taxing, and I would appreciate your help.”
Tudon looked down at her hand, and she removed it hesitantly.
“As you wish,” he said. “I will say, Heldi, that I greatly disagree with your decisions, but I respect your loyalty, even to fools like Pol Burr. And I know Garen holds you in high esteem and I hold a great respect for him.”
“Garen has great respect for you, too.”
“Get on with it,” said Tudon, settling into the chair opposite her.
Heldi cupped her hands under the surface of the water, drawing them out from the basin. She sipped from the water, then let it fall back in. With one hand, she slapped the surface a couple of times until the water was choppy, then drew it still with magic, still smacking it with her palm.
When it was perfectly still, her hand making no impact, the surface smooth as glass, she gave Tudon one parting look, then pressed her face into it, opening her eyes and mouth and breathing deeply in.
High in the mountains, the River Joi roared silently, the waters of its aquifer surging deep underground. Bugs burrowed through it, and Heldi could feel the worms and beetles moving through her body. It moved east, splitting out of springs, seeping out of the ground into a vast lake far north of the Great Eastern Forest, where fish and salamanders and frogs swam through her. There the waters plodded along, pushing forward against itself as it found the mouth, the source of what the maps said was the River Joi proper, the river’s water surging into its banks.
As it met the confines of its banks, it began to race towards the east, faster and faster, so that only hearty turtles and the strongest fish could survive within it. Here and there, beavers and muskrats had made dens, and birds waded through the shallows. Heldi could feel boats on her surface, the stroke of oars, the sound of men chanting to keep time in their river galleys, the traders from the Northwest who peddled their wares in Tia Joi. Then she could feel the river tear in two as the city split it apart, locking it in place with stone and concrete and wood. The city felt a great distance away, and the feelings became fuzzy and difficult to separate from one another, the dragon jade from the collected Clans interfering with the scry. In fact, it was their presence alone that indicated to her it was Tia Joi, and not some other split in the river further upstream. Further east of Tia Joi she found corpses, the fish and bottom feeders nibbling on them, but none she recognized as Pol. The water was in every living thing here, and she could feel drops of it on willow trees nearby, could feel it sitting in the deer and foxes and squirrels.
And there it was, a heartbeat among other heartbeats, one familiar to her, one she’d felt in the Guild’s training yards weeks ago. Pol Burr.
She tried to race back up the river, to locate him at a point in relation to Tia Joi, but suddenly there was another blurring of the scry. More jade. She raced east, hoping to place him in relation to the mouth of the River, but just beyond Pol was another jade blockage. She retreated from it slightly, until her image of it had just managed to coalesce into clarity. Within a few minutes, it was blurred again.
Tudon ripped her head out of the water, and Heldi coughed and sputtered, heaving the water out of her body into the basin.
“Alive,” she coughed. “Pol’s alive. But he’s surrounded by Dragon Clan.”
Chapter 13
It was probably the alcohol running through her system, but Kiera’s heart raced as hands traced her sides, lifting her shirt to bare her breasts, reaching up to stroke at the soft flesh on the bottoms, before tugging on her nipples.
She moaned once, and a hand hastened to cover her mouth. The warm body behind her pressed against her, and she caught herself against the rack of wine casks in the cellar. She could feel his cock, firm and hard in his breeches, pressing against her ass as she leaned forward a little, pushing her butt back against him.
Oh, Vash, she wanted him, she wanted to feel him inside her, to feel his skin agai
nst hers. The hand remaining on her nipple was teasing it back and forth, and she moaned again, muffled by the palm covering her mouth.
She’d forgotten his name, the man who was with her in the cellar of the Wandering Wilder tavern. The Amazing Marris? The Supreme Erran? A mon-to box player, anyhow. A musician of some skill, though his easy looks, the dashing scruff and single small, gold hoop hanging off the top of his ear, helped greatly to exaggerate his ability with the instrument.
He’d sung beautifully, though. For a Kiera four tankards in over the space of an hour, it had been beautiful, at least. Especially when he’d sung “The Thief’s Bride.” He had one of those rich, deep voices that sounded like pawns tapping against an oak board.
His hands, the fingertips rough from where they played the strings of the mon-to box, slipped down into her pants, pushing through the soft tangle of pubic hair, rubbing against her clit and setting her to moaning again, purring in her throat as he pulled her back to him and kissed the back of her neck.
“By Vash, you’re wet,” he said, his lips grazing her ear. His shirt was undone down the front, hanging off a lean frame, less like Tau, more like Pol. His finger was licking the lips of her pussy, the skin slick with the juices of her need. His hand was going to be coated if he kept this up, and Kiera groaned, feeling the fingertips probing at the entrance.
With one practiced motion, he pulled Kiera’s pants down, the fabric collapsing over her boots, and he pushed her shoulders down. Her tits, freed from her shirt earlier as they’d made their way down to the cellar, swung in the air as she leaned forward.
The sharp smack as the mon-to box player spanked her ass with the hand that had been slipping along her folds was echoed by her own exclamation of delight.
He spanked her again, eking out another intoxicated, impassioned cry, his hand staying put on her ass cheek, squeezing the firm flesh hard. He ran his fingers across her smooth skin, pushing at her pussy.
One finger slipped inside her, and Kiera moaned into the darkness. He began to pump his digit inside of her, his finger gliding between her folds with ease, her pussy aching to be filled. He slipped another finger in, crooking them to press into the spongy surface of the wall of her pussy, making her gasp and lean again, helping him to probe deeper.
Dragon Jade Chronicle: The Warlock And The Warrior Page 31