by A. C. Ellas
Ioli looked like he wanted to remain also, but Rak pointed the younger priest at the inn. “You are the envoy now, remember? Go on, I will see to everything in here.”
“I can’t leave you to do all the work alone. I’m Thezi, too.” Ioli had a stubborn set to his shoulders and a mulish expression on his face.
“S’Ioli, this is not a matter of duty. I just need some space. I need to think without having my elbow jostled. I am uneasy and I do not know why.”
Ioli’s expression cleared and he nodded.
Rak was relieved that his junior understood, but then, Ioli was a Dreamer, so he would be familiar with using grooming as a form of meditation.
Finally, everyone cleared out of the stable except for Kennit, who took his duties as the avtappi stable manager seriously. He started on the far end from Rak though, which gave him plenty of space to be alone with his thoughts, immersed in the familiar, comforting task. Rak let his mind drift as he worked, hoping for answers.
All of the avtappi were groomed, watered and fed before Rak gave up and trailed Kennit into the common room of the inn. Not an inkling of whatever it was had been forthcoming. Rak was about as frustrated with his prophetic gift as everyone else usually seemed to be. Or, to quote Tyll, fuck prophecy. He found Jisten by feel, letting the bond draw him directly to his mate across the crowded room full of travelers, traders and merchants.
Jisten smiled at him and patted the empty seat beside him. “Any luck?”
Rak shook his head and sat down. “Whatever will be, will be, and not a hint of it am I privy to at the moment.” He dug into the large bowl of stew that Jisten set in front of him. He was starving. Of course, he was always starving, particularly now that the last stage of the pregnancy had been reached. He had an obvious, unmistakable belly now. Fortunately, most who saw him would assume an ale belly.
As he ate, he felt Jisten’s hands stroking his wings. The gentle pressure against his wing sails calmed him, the tactile information shivering through his core in a manner that was close to delightful. Rak contemplated this as he ate. Had his bond with Jisten deepened to the point where the man could pleasure him just by stroking the topsides of his wings? Or was he just horny, and the tactile pleasure was feeding into his need?
A sudden commotion broke his train of thought. A deep male voice boomed, “Hey, Gerruld, there’s a Loftoni here.”
Rak looked up from his meal. A large man, mail-clad, stood pointing at him.
His companion, Gerruld, was dressed in leathers, the badge of Viuscu House on his left breast. “Yes, it’s a Loftoni,” the slaver drawled as he walked over to their table.
Jisten fixed the man in a level glare, while Jethain leaned back, nonchalantly resting a hand on his sword.
Pikara, Dolron and Ikayone pushed back from the table, drew their swords and came up behind Rak and Jisten smoothly.
The slaver paused at the display of steel then shook his head and addressed Jisten and Jethain. “I have a buyer offering a five hundred royal bounty on the live capture of any winged Loftoni. Hand him over and I’ll split it with you.”
“No, thank you,” said Jisten coldly.
“We don’t sell our friends,” Jethain said in a voice equally as cold.
“Touch the Thez and I’ll carve your organs out and shove them down your throat,” said Pikara.
Gerruld’s eyes ranged over Jisten, Jethain and Pikara. He settled his gaze on Rak. “Loftoni are classified as subhumans by the laws of this kingdom. I made a fair offer to avoid unpleasantness, but if you don’t want to cooperate…” he shrugged. “Men!” Half the people in the room stood up.
Rak quickly surveyed them. All armored, all armed. He leaned in to Jisten and murmured, “They must be en route to Loftos. End this now—tell them I am already collared.”
Jisten did no such thing. He stood, drawing his sword. “The only way you’ll get him is over my dead body.”
“Now we’re talkin’!” Pikara crowed as she and the rest of the dark guard moved to cover Rak. Jethain’s guards were up and moving, too, taking position beside their counterparts.
Jethain stood up and drew his sword. So did Ioli.
Liast sighed, pulled Tebber and Kennit back out of the way and proceeded to fish around in his pockets—probably looking for chocolate, Rak thought as he stood and came up beside Jisten.
The innkeeper, obviously fearing for the structural integrity of his inn, quickly interposed himself between the two opposing forces. “Stop! Stop! No fighting! Gerruld, really, is this necessary? You know better than to start something under my roof. And, for the love of little apples, have you lost your mind? That’s the crown prince you’re harassing!” He turned to Jethain next, “Your Highness, please, I know he was bothering you, but what do you expect? That’s a Loftoni you have there. They’re very valuable. You can’t just flash one around and expect people to ignore it.”
“The Loftoni is not for sale,” Jethain said firmly. “Capture laws don’t apply here, not with a collared slave.”
Gerruld frowned and stepped forward. “Collared? You’re saying this Loftoni’s already a slave?”
“Yes,” snapped Jisten shortly. “He’s mine.”
“Prove it,” Gerruld sneered. “Let’s see his brand.”
Jisten bristled, obviously outraged.
Rak touched his arm, drawing his attention. “It is a legal request, master.” Rak stepped forward, turned and pulled the side of his pants down. He displayed the gladiator’s brand to the slaver since it was the older brand and therefore on his right hip, which was the traditional hip for branding. Once Gerruld grunted an acknowledgement, Rak bent his neck and fingered the lock on the torque.
Gerruld reached out and tested it, too. He also read the inscription on the silver parts of the torque. He pursed his lips, glanced at Jisten’s allies then at Rak’s wings and backed off a step. “It’s a legal collar,” he grumbled. “I’m sorry to have bothered you. My most sincere apologies, Prince Jethain, Captain Jisten.” The man offered a bow before he backed away.
The main room slowly returned to normal as the soldiers put their weapons away, sat down and resumed eating and drinking. Once the mercenaries had all sat down, the combined palace-and-temple guard also sat, except for Pikara, who seemed glued to Rak’s back.
Rak returned to his seat at Jisten’s side but kept a wary eye on the slaver. “Somehow, I get the feeling that this is far from over,” he muttered.
“You are so right,” Pikara replied. “And it doesn’t take a talent for prophecy to figure that out.”
Once everyone had eaten, Rak and Ioli spread out a map showing much of the north of Ydron, including Koilatha and Loftos, which was the area they focused on. Rak’s finger stabbed down to mark Riftinmoor then traced the road north into Loftos. “Here is the only road into Loftos. The Valers may know of smaller trails, but if there are any, they are well hidden.” His finger moved back to the town, then north and west, landing in an empty spot on the other side of the Dacti River. “Here is the Barony of Relyt.”
Ioli studied the map. “There is no direct route into Loftos from the barony. To reach the temple, I will have to head north from here.” He frowned and glanced at where the slaver’s men sat drinking. “I don’t want to leave you unprotected.”
“Our best protection will be speed. And Scorth—he is just north of the town right now and will provide aerial coverage.”
Ioli nodded. “Travel at night,” he signed.
Rak nodded at that. “We will rest here tomorrow and head out just before sunset.”
“You take the wagon, as agreed. We will travel faster without it. With any luck, the slavers will follow me and leave you be.”
Over the rim of his tankard, Jethain quipped, “Don’t you just love it when the priests make plans for us without even consulting us first?”
“I trust in S’Rak’s good sense,” Jisten replied.
The dark guard burst out laug
hing—even Pikara laughed at that. “Sense, Captain Handsome? Sense? Who dropped you on the head?”
“Some chaos mage,” Jisten replied cheerfully.
“Did you have an opinion as to which way we should go?” Rak asked of Jethain in a notably sweet voice.
“Not which way. When. We should leave tonight, together, and split up under cover of darkness. And S’Ioli should take the wagon—the slavers will follow the larger force.”
“I think the prince has a good idea there,” Rak told Ioli. “If you take the wagon, I will ask Scorth to cover you until you reach the temple.”
The younger priest nodded after a moment’s thought. “We should order another round. Wait until the slavers’ men are all asleep then leave.”
Jethain grinned and signaled the innkeeper. “Another round of your excellent ale, please.”
Chapter Seven: Sentinel
Dεktεra Ligo, Aoranz Fεngari
10th day, 1st week, Auranz’s moon
Several hours later, Rak glanced back as they rode out of town. They had chanted the midnight rite in the rooms they’d rented for the night, but once the rite was over, they’d crept back downstairs and out to the stable. From there, it was short work to saddle the avtappi and ride out. The draft avtappi trotted easily with the wagon in tow, and once they were well under the cover of the northern forest, Rak signaled a conference by asking all the avtappi to stop. Once more, he spread out the map.
“I had an idea,” he told them all. “We stay together for now.” His finger slid north along the trade road, which paralleled the Mezi River all the way north to Loftos. Close to the mountainous border, he paused. “Jisten and I turn west here.” His finger then headed almost due west until he reached the Dacti River and Relyt. “It is a longer ride for us but has the advantage of keeping us together until the border. And if the slavers overheard our earlier plans, they will be in for a nasty surprise.”
Jisten, peering over Rak’s shoulder, agreed. “Good plan. I wasn’t excited about splitting the guard forces with slavers coming after any of us.”
“S’Ioli, summon your ayel, please.” Rak rolled the map up and returned it to the map case. By the time he’d done that, Ioli’s vranyxia were trotting through the trees to either side.
Jethain snuck the map case from the pack Rak put it in, he offered a guilty grin when Rak caught him in the act and lofted an eyebrow at him. “I just want to study it,” he said.
“Of course,” said Rak. “You can have that one—I have another copy.”
“Thank you!” Jethain beamed like he’d just received a long-dreamt-of prize.
The men remounted their avtappi, and once everyone was moving, Rak asked Vyld to gallop. The avtappi pounded down the road at a hard gallop for a time but eventually settled into the ground-eating lope they used for long journeys.
The eastern sky was greying when the vranyxia flicked out, translating to the spirit realm to shield themselves from the light of day. Rak led them all off the road, following a track barely wide enough to allow the wagon to pass, and so overgrown that they were all forced to duck more than once.
After a solid quarter hour, they broke into a clearing in the process of being overgrown. A ruined farmhouse stood in the center, and the waist-high brush was creeping from the trees inward, along with saplings showing a few years growth. Rak guessed that in another decade, only an expert eye would be able to tell that man had ever disturbed this place. “Hostile territory rules,” he said tersely as he rode Vyld around to the backside of the farmhouse.
Dolron and Ikayone dismounted at the caved-in entrance to the farmhouse and ducked inside.
Rak came back around to the front. “There is a good spot for the wagon back there.” He clucked his tongue and the two draft avtappi followed him with the wagon in tow. He switched from Vyld to one of the broad backs of the drafts and mentally directed the avtappi in backing the wagon just so. Once he was satisfied, he unhitched them, laying out their harnesses over the drivers’ seat of the wagon.
Jisten came up to help him, and Rak bumped into him affectionately. “I think we should go back to the road, just the two of us, and put on a show those slavers would never forget.”
“S’Raaak,” moaned Jisten, his face scarlet.
Rak’s lips twitched as he tried hard not to laugh at his partner’s expression. “Ix? Fine, then drag me deeper into these woods and make love to me until I shriek.” He ran a stray leather strap through his hands and quirked his eyebrows suggestively.
Jisten grinned. A moment later, he grabbed Rak and pulled him through the trees away from the clearing. They walked for another quarter hour, until Rak was pretty sure they were out of earshot, not that he cared. It was Jisten who was inhibited by an audience.
Spying a hollow under a large sentinel pine, Rak darted forward, pulling Jisten in his wake. He knelt, pushed two branches aside and slid into the surprisingly large space beneath the lowest branches. By the time Jisten had pushed his way into the natural tent, Rak was deeply involved in the process of undressing. Jisten helped him by smoothing his wings through the slits of his tunics then pulling off his boots.
Once Rak was naked, he turned his attention to Jisten. He gently undid the lacing of Jisten’s pants and pulled the front flap open. He nuzzled Jisten’s package through the thin fabric of the shorts.
“S’Rak, undress me,” Jisten murmured.
“Ix. I want you dressed.”
“Another hunch like the collar?” Jisten frowned and glanced about.
“Very much like that, yes.” Rak looked up at Jisten. “Allow me to give you pleasure now?”
Jisten reached down and stroked his wings. “Very well.” He sat down carefully, setting his back to the trunk of the pine. He watched the woods as Rak knelt between his widely spread legs.
Rak brought Jisten’s cock and balls through the flap in the Koilathan shorts, grateful that his mate wasn’t wearing an Okyran wrap, which lacked such a convenient flap. He kissed Jisten’s balls, the base of his cock and the large head before he started to lick it sensuously.
He felt Jisten’s hands on his wings, stroking the leading edges up to rest against his chest and shoulders. The tactile contact shivered through him pleasantly, and the scent of the captain’s manhood lingered in his nose and mouth. He took the shaft into his mouth, pushing his face down its length, relaxing and swallowing as the large cock slid down his throat. When his nose brushed against Jisten’s pubic hair, he hummed and backed off a few inches. Then, he plunged his face down, burying his nose in the coarse hair only to repeat the humming as he backed off.
Jisten groaned quietly and flexed his hips, thrusting himself into Rak just as the smaller man plunged down again. His hands went to Rak’s head, pressing Rak into him as they settled into a solid rhythm.
Rak closed his eyes against the onslaught, allowing Jisten to pummel his mouth and throat, giving as much pleasure to the massive cock as he could. He sucked and hummed, and snatched a breath every chance he could, but he didn’t try to push Jisten into a quick climax.
He took his time, savoring the taste and firm heat of the blood-engorged organ. Every so often, he’d peek up at Jisten, enjoying the way his man’s head was thrown back in pleasure, his eyes half-lidded, his lips parted as he made soft, quiet noises of enjoyment. Rak continued his steady action until Jisten finally gasped, clutching Rak’s head, and shot his load down Rak’s throat.
Rak’s only regret was that he hadn’t gotten to taste it. He slid the pole from his throat and lapped the sweat off Jisten’s balls before taking the scrotum into his well-stretched mouth. He massaged the balls with his tongue as he sucked on the sac, infusing Jisten’s jewels with his magically enhanced saliva.
Jisten relaxed in the aftermath, gently stroking Rak’s wings as he enjoyed Rak’s continued oral service. “I love you,” he murmured. “I’d do anything for you. Anything.”
“I love you, too,” said Rak once he’
d disengaged from Jisten’s balls. “But you should be more careful of your words—make no promises you cannot keep.”
“I can keep it,” Jisten asserted.
“You cannot know that, not with one hundred percent certainty. An open-ended oath is a recipe for disaster. Zotien takes the second law as seriously as the first.”
“Okay, love. I’ll be careful. But that wasn’t an oath.”
“Good.” Rak kissed his cock. “Now, strengthen your baby so we can move on to you making me shriek.”
Jisten chuckled and pushed Rak down onto the pile of his clothes. He straddled Rak, resting his package on Rak’s groin as he considered the mound of Rak’s belly. “You’re getting a lot bigger a lot faster now.”
“We are in the last third, so that is to be expected. We kironi do not show much until the last third of it.” Rak rubbed himself against Jisten’s erection and moaned. “Want you in me.”
Jisten stroked Rak’s belly, almost playing with the gaping opening. Abruptly, he pulled Rak up into a standing position and spun him about. He pushed Rak back against the trunk of the pine and pressed himself against Rak’s body. “This seems the best solution,” he said, and his cock was brushing against the opening.
Rak opened his mouth to protest and Jisten’s lips locked over his, his tongue thrusting in commandingly as his cock thrust into Rak’s kironi opening with great vigor. Rak shuddered and moaned into Jisten’s mouth, the kironi magic was so strong now, he didn’t get a chance to tense up before the magic and the pleasure took over.
He could feel his will draining away with each thrust of Jisten’s cock, feel himself working his body to increase Jisten’s pleasure, sense his whole being shifting into a state of being where all that mattered was Jisten’s pleasure, Jisten’s will, Jisten’s wants, Jisten’s needs. He submitted and became Jisten’s in a way more real than any regular sex-induced submission. Via the kironi magic, Rak submitted at a soul-deep level and gave himself to the father of his baby.
Jisten pumped steadily in and out of Rak’s body, grunting with each inward thrust—not even his Valer could remain silent in the face of the kironi magic’s pleasure. As he often did, Jisten pulled his mouth back and gasped out, “This is the best sex ever. So good. So good. It’s awesome. Don’t want it to stop, not ever. Want you, love you, forever.”