by Lora Leigh
“I ache for you, warrior,” she whispered. “For both of you. We near the Vale, I feel it within my spirit, calling to us, tempting us.”
“Aye, it tempts,” he whispered as a moan slipped from her lips, the feel of potent magick easing deeper in her rear, sliding free and returning. Burning pleasure-pain she craved, that sent shivers racing over her flesh. “But to take you now would cause you harm, sweet. We will never cause you harm.”
Harm? It was harming her to wait.
Gripping his thighs with hers, she rode the hard ridge beneath her, the heavy erection hot and throbbing, driving her mad with the need to feel it inside her as she felt the warrior’s magick taking her.
She moved against him, their touches, caresses driving her to the heights of pleasure yet never allowing her to fall over, never allowing her to find the release for which her need was only growing. The need burned. It rose inside her like an inferno she could neither avoid nor ease. The agony of it was unlike any she had ever known.
This must end, Caedan groaned across the link he shared with his brother. “I do not know if I can hold back my release much longer.”
Their magick was a spiraling haze of color and power that the other Ogre were careful to keep their distance from. The depth of it, the strength of it a barrier that only the greatest of magicks would be able to penetrate.
We near the Obsidian Fortress, Daelan assured him then. We are but moments from haven, brother.
Moments? Could he last moments?
Daelan could feel his brother’s pain as though it were his own. Ogre twin bonds were more sensitive than any other, save for Wizard Twins, for the very fact that rarely were twins born to the warrior sect. Only in past generations had twins been born to the Ogre sect since the separation of Sorceresses and Wizards.
The Ogre had protected the Causeway since the dawn of human and magick separation, their power to blend in with either sect their greatest defense. They could slip into magick lands and track any human who may have made it past the Causeway, or slip into human lands and trick those there to rescue the magickal beings taken from their lands.
Their magick was hidden from even the greatest powers of the lands unless they wished it to be seen. Once slipping into human lands, no magick existed within them until their return to the Causeway. Their strength and ability to deflect blows was their greatest power there.
Here within the Causeway they were more powerful than any but the gods the One had selected to watch over Sentmar as he slept.
We are here! Daelan felt relief pour over him as the Obsidian Fortress rose before them. Unscalable walls of magick-infused obsidian surrounded the main fortress. None but Ogre magick could pass through it, and for those assigned to rule the land, the magick of the stone would conform to their demands. Whether in creating a chair, a bed or warding off an attack. The Obsidian stone was tied directly to the Guardian or in the case of this rule, the Guardians of Obsidian—the darker magicks.
The stone portal slid open as the Torcs stopped before them, the shadowed opening parting for the warriors.
Daelan slid quickly from his mount and moved to his brother, the warrior nearly lost in the pleasure wrapping around him in the form of the princess’s magick.
Gripping her hips, he eased her into his arms, near gasping at the pleasure, increasing a hundredfold from what it had been without contact with her flesh. How in the name of the One had Caedan born such pleasure without finding his release?
“Warrior.” Muse stepped into their path as they entered the Great Hall, intent on bearing their Consortress to their quarters where they could touch her freely, together.
“Guardian,” Daelan gritted out. “Allow us leave to pass quickly.”
Her smile was somber, filled with regret as she lifted her arm and gestured to the heavily robed maidens who gathered often to do her bidding.
“My handmaidens will take her for but a moment, warriors. Preparations for her Joining must be made.”
“What say you!” Caelan growled, obviously surprising the demi-goddess. “She was born of human lands, not magick. Sorceress she may be, but without the defenses one of magick lands would have provided her woman’s spirit.”
Her eyes narrowed, brilliant hued, snapping with sudden ire.
“Know you for certainty her magick defenses, warrior?” she snapped. “Which would have greater knowledge of what preparations she would need? Warriors infused with the hunger of her magick or a Guardian who has sought the wise council of the great Garron, a magick that harkens only to the Sorceresses of Covenan?”
In that moment, iridescent magick filled the hall, bringing even the Twin Kings to their feet as they watched curiously from their thrones.
Garron, the great dragon of magick and lore, had come to the Causeway only once before, it was said, on the eve of the conception of the Ogre twins to the King of the Causeway and his mate.
Colors of rainbow hues rippled over the scales of his powerful body as he stared down at the Sorceress who lay within Daelan’s arms.
Her magick was sizzling now, snapping against their bodies, somehow greater, brighter for the presence of this being.
“What manner of visit is this, Garron?” King Aherin and his brother moved from the throne dais to the floor of the hall as Garron’s head tilted to the side, watching the magick of the Sorceress as it began to shift in color, violets and blues and sparks of multihued greens.
“Ah, the Twin Kings.” Garron’s voice was a hiss of amusement as he turned and glanced at the two powerful warriors nearing him. “The Ogre rule has never been so strong as it is now, the land whispers. All of Cauldaran and Covenan owe you a great debt for your protection.”
“We do that which our One commanded us to the best of our strength and our magick,” Aherin deflected the compliment. “We need no thanks for what is ours to do.”
Garron nodded at this. “Humble as well. Wizard Twins would have much to learn from you.”
He turned back to Arabella as she stared up at him, mesmerized by the magick flickering over his body, snapping in his eyes.
“Sorceress,” he said softly then, lifting a clawed hand to wave before him. “What magick fills you, Halfling, and how did such come into being?”
Daelan felt his brother’s surprise merge with his as their magick parted from their princess, easing back to them beneath Garron’s command as Muse stood silently to the side.
He had called her Halfling? Halflings did not possess such power. It was unheard of. It was impossible.
Lifting both clawed hands, Garron silently called her magick to him, watching with eyes black as the Ogre, yet filled with such pinpoints of color, such powerful magick that surely he could awaken the One with it by thought alone.
“Such power,” he crooned as her magick twined about his hands, spreading over his fingers, lingering against his touch with the impression of a child seeking a father’s favor.
He spread his hands farther and spiraling threads of magick moved back to the princess, easing inside her, calming as a measure of control returned to Daelan and to his brother.
“Be at ease, Ogre,” he said quietly as though only now aware of the dozens of Ogre that had moved into the hall, their hands braced upon their swords as though prepared to battle. “There is no dark magick here. Your Guardian Muse can attest that I am not the twin whose evil seeks to fill this place.”
Shock resounded about the hall. Even Muse had seemed unaware of the battle they fought daily to weed out the infecting dark evil attempting to turn the dark magick of the Causeway against its protectors.
All magick that had been drained from Sorceresses and other creatures of magick during the birth of evil had been gathered here within the Causeway, its hatred of humans a barrier against them. Yet somehow humans always found their way across it. A pathway would create itself, the evil of hatred parting the magick to allow those seeking magickal beings to transport across it and feed the depravities of those awaiting it on th
e other side. Before the Ogre could reach it, it would dissipate and then reopen elsewhere.
“He is Garron,” Muse attested. “I visited his lair the moment the princess entered the Causeway and sought his counsel.”
Her beautiful, mystical voice eased the tension gathering among the warriors.
“Give your princess leave to be prepared, Ogre Dungarrin,” Garron requested then, or rather ordered gently. “She will come to no harm, and when she returns to you, you will find a power you have never beheld in your lives. This creature found your Vale and her warriors because Sorceress magick commands such powers. She will always move to it, long for it, just as the Castle Covenan and its Sorceress will always command that which lies beneath it. To attain her power, to learn her own secrets, before merging with the power of her warriors, she must first merge with the power of the liquid magick you protect the gateway to.”
The handmaidens, guided by Muse, eased Arabella from their protection then as Caedan and Daelan stared at the great dragon in shock.
“She is indeed a Sorceress then, just as we sensed?” Daelan whispered.
“Aye, Dungarrin,” Garron assured him, the title of their house one of great respect from the creature of absolute power they faced. One greater even than that of Muse. “A rather unique Consortress you have attained. One who cannot be lured by magick, by wizard or by the designs of any greater magick. The lure of this Sorceress Halfling was one of the heart. The awakening of her power, long held dormant, gathering and strengthening over the centuries for lack of sharing, has created a power none have yet known. The power you have found, Ogre, is one even history has not heard of. She is the Seed. The Ogre of Dungarrin is the Rain. Together, the power the Kings of the Causeway have prayed to the One to grant them, to protect its treasures, has been granted you. Shall we see now how the Ogre shall use the newly awakened strength that will soon emerge within it?”
Chapter Six
Arabella was bathed within the pools of the Vale that had been calling to her, yet the laws of the Ogre had forbidden her to step into it.
She was laid upon a smooth slab of black obsidian, its cool, polished surface easing the heat raging through her as the reemerging curls, torn from her flesh by her father’s mistresses, were magickally removed completely. There was no abrading of her softest flesh, no discomfort, but the sensitivity of it…
A moan slipped past her lips as her hips arched, the invisible magick of the Vale caressing her, whispering over her and drawing the slick warmth from her woman’s flesh well.
As she lay there, nothing covering her, comfort and warmth surrounding her, she was aware of the handmaidens moving slowly away. Their golden eyes and dusky skin had been a surprise she hadn’t expected when they’d disrobed.
In their place stood Muse, the Guardian—daughter of the Sentinel Select.
Arabella stared up at her in fascination, amazed at the heightened power she felt within herself, and the power she felt within this being.
Violet eyes, pitch-black hair flowing around her. Dressed in warrior’s leathers, a sword at her side, her creamy flesh so pure and pretty it was enchanting.
She was a being with secrets though. Dark secrets she dare let none reveal so she kept them close to her spirit. Secrets that could rock the hierarchies of power…
“I cannot hide from you, just as Garron predicted,” Muse sighed. “How humbling for one called a god to realize there is a power that can see into the spirit she keeps carefully hidden.”
Arabella licked her lips nervously. “Your secrets are safe with me, Guardian,” she promised. “As are the secrets of those you claim as your own.”
Muse ducked her head for a moment before sighing as though weary and staring about the Vale where she often found solace, Arabella thought.
“This place is within Nirvana,” Muse told her then. “Did your warriors tell you this?”
Arabella shook her head as she sat up slowly, staring around.
Spora—that was the feathery stuff drifting through the air. Pure magick in its second form after leaving the liquid pools where it bubbled and swirled and played like living particles of dampness merging together.
“I had not known of Nirvana until I was drawn here,” Arabella revealed. “I knew of the One, though humans call him by a different name, and give him a bearing of retribution which does not sleep.”
Muse nodded. “Perhaps our One does not sleep exactly.” She smiled. “He always seems to know when we are in need though. This land, Sentmar, it was created by him for magick. There was only peace here until the humans invaded our lands.”
“They say they tricked the Sidhe to come to this place, for magick is evil, no matter its place, no matter its type.”
Muse nodded. “Humans twist what they do not understand. Perhaps the One created their plane without such magick, and the two were not to merge.”
“Perhaps.” Arabella thought this might be true. “What do we know of such beings’ thoughts though?” She shrugged.
“And now we find ourselves here, Halfling,” Muse sighed. “You are unique among our kind, among all magick. A creature created by untold generations of building magick and careful tempering by the land around it. The magick of your family line is of all magicks of the land. Over generations magick has merged with magick as magickal beings have added to each generation’s addition until the creation of the Seed emerged. You are the Seed Sorceress. A creature of all the magicks of Sentmar brought into one. You will birth a new magick in this land, one that may well prevail against human and evil in future generations.”
Arabella blinked back at her in surprise. “Mother said my line is Spry, not any other magick.”
“Perhaps she knew not of your other magick,” Muse said softly. “It is a magick you have fought, have you not?”
“I have come to it with reluctance,” Arabella agreed. “I knew the Vale drew me. I knew the warriors were mine. But I did not believe I would be gifted with the chance to have them as they seem to believe we should be.”
Muse smiled back at her. “They are to be yours forever, Arabella. This place of magick we call the Vale, the Causeway they protect and all its mysteries will one day breed a magick that no being can trespass or manipulate without the protector’s knowledge. That will be your gift. The magickal children born of you and your warriors, merging one day with the children of the rulers of this land. Never fear, my reluctant Halfling, your place within your warriors lives. This land, and magick itself, is assured from this moment forth.”
“You will help me with this?” Arabella wondered if she possessed the knowledge, the wisdom to be such a person.
“I must leave soon…”
“You must not.” Reaching out, she grasped the hand of the one magickal being called a god and became trapped, pulled into knowledge, into secrets, into a world of a woman’s aching needs, the torment of twins she believed would not be hers and the passions they shared.
“No!” Muse jerked back, cradling her hand to her chest, shock and despair filling her violet eyes. “You were not to see such things.”
Arabella sat back then, not at all sorry, pleased to know this exceptional woman before her had her own place within the magick Arabella would come to know.
“So many secrets the Guardians know,” she whispered. “And so much you do not know. You will not leave me here within this place alone, for we are to be honed within this place by a most powerful friendship. This place, the Vale, the Causeway, merges our destiny, Guardian. I wish you to stay for a while longer, as is my right as the Sentinel of the Land, the first seeded by the magick of the lands and planted by the One who created us all.”
Lips parted in surprise, Muse drew in a harsh breath as Arabella revealed the destiny even she herself had been unaware of.
“Sentinel of the Lands?” she whispered.
“There will be four,” Arabella told her then. “Princess Serena will be the second once she has found her path back to her magick. Sentinel
of the merging Cauldaran and Covenan lands. The third shall merge the hidden magicks.” The third, Arabella knew, would be this gentle child of the gods of Sentmar. “The fourth shall be found in human lands once more, to rebuild the magicks humans have desecrated. That land shall be painted with blood,” Arabella whispered sadly. “Sentmar was created to protect all magick, and the humans brought with them the evil that would destroy it. They will become beings of magick, or they will die upon the blades of their own hatred, it shall be their choice.”
“And what of Sentmar’s Guardian Select?” Muse whispered. “The gods who have guided this land for so many eons?”
Arabella smiled, a smile of brilliant peace, of love and joy. “The One gave them a promise, Muse, long before humans came to this land. When they alone heard his message and tamed the magick beneath the lands. Would he break the covenant he made with them?”
Muse shook her head. “He swore it was ever reaching.”
“Ever reaching for the unit they became and for the children who followed their teachings and the magick the One created,” she agreed. “Have no fear, Muse, for your destiny as well is far more than you could ever imagine.”
*
Caedan and Daelan entered their chambers, the hunger haunting them becoming a vicious beast as they saw their Consortress awaiting them.
Her magick reached for them, merging with the luminous threads of pale-white magick the Ogre possessed as it began curling from within them, reaching out to her.
Clothing was shed instantly, their magick obliterating it with no more than a thought, leaving muscle-hardened, battle-scarred flesh bare, the powerful spears of their erections standing out from their bodies.
Going each to the opposite sides of the bed, they crawled upon the fur-draped sponge stone harvested and molded into the bedding magickal beings slept upon.
It firmed instantly as their weight was added to it.
Immediately, their Sorceress Halfling reached out for them, awaiting them, well prepared for the hunger she was meeting.