by Mark Eller
Dakar’s smoky image smiled. Reaching out, he caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers. Fox tingled to the touch. Her body warmed. Calm spread through her entire being, her mind slowed, and the need to escape disappeared. The desire to please him became paramount.
“Good, I have your word then that you will help me?”
Fox nodded. Of course she would help. He was her god, and he would reward her. “Yes, yes, my word.” Her voice had suddenly turned husky.
Dakar gave her a deep throaty laugh, thick with the promise of things dark and delicious. “For your service you will be granted great riches,” he whispered. “I will make of you my personal thief. I will show you treasures you never knew existed.” Stepping closer, he tilted her head upward and kissed her.
Fox sighed.
Smiling, Dakar’s hands slid down her arms. He gently gripped her elbows and pulled her to him. Fox rose up on her toes, placed her hands on his hard chest, and kissed her god again. His lips devoured hers. He felt so warm— so real. Only the slightest shifting of his lips indicated he was only a shadow.
Fox’s body tingled, and her belly tightened. Dakar’s shadowy arms wrapped about her body, slid down her back. Fox couldn’t believe how solid he felt, how sensuous his hands were as they kneaded her butt. Breaking the kiss, he lowered his face to her neck. Fox groaned at the sensation. His lips were warm and getting warmer. Dakar tightened his hold upon her. A pinprick of heat, intense, painful, burned into her skin just below her earlobe. Gripping him tighter, Fox cried out, half in pain, half in pleasure. The two sensations exploded within her. Her body clenched in ecstasy. With a shuddering gasp, she climaxed, and then her body went limp in his arms.
Dakar held her close, breathing hard. Fox felt the hard length of him pressed against her body. “By the shadows, you sure as hell feel real.” Fox closed her eyes, overcome by exhaustion. “I wonder what it would be like if you used more than your mouth.”
“Wait until I am fully able to come into your world, Fox. I shall grant ecstasy you have never known, give you riches beyond your imaginings. I will make of you my queen, my sweet, little thief.”
Fox wanted to object to being called sweet but his voice was so soft, so relaxing. Closing her eyes, she drifted to a land far away, in a forest deep and quiet, and a temple long forgotten. One last thought touched her before she drifted away. He had promised to make her his queen. It was good to hear because she now knew even the gods could lie.
* * * *
Two months later, Fox stood on the deck of the heaving cargo ship as it neared the Port of Yylse and thought of doing a bit of heaving herself. Waves slapped viciously at the worn wooden sides. The slapping made her think of the slaves in the bowels of the ship being tended by the caress of their master’s whip. Sheso wanted to be home in Oria, the hidden city of the thieves’s guild in Illian. At this moment, she would give anything to be in her soft bed beneath the mountain, tucked in tightly with her lover, Taymor. But no, her god demanded she make this wretched passage across the sea to some foreign city named Yylse.
Fox’s stomach lurched when the ship crested another swell. She covered her mouth with the back of a hand. Bile rose strong and vicious up her throat, then unbidden, spewed out over the ship’s side. Clutching the railing with white knuckles, she cursed the fate that had brought her here. What had she done to deserve this? Why did her god pick her for this stupid voyage? Fox hated water. She couldn’t swim. The only time she ever wanted to be wet was while soaking in a hot, sudsy tub.
“Aye there, young master,” a rough voice said beside her. “Come away from the side. We’re heading into rough seas, and ye’ll want to be in yer cabin strapped down. Another day and we’ll be on Yernden’s shores. Not a good thing if ye ask me. Too many ill-fated things happening there.”
Shaking his head, the first mate patted Fox on the back. His deeply tanned, bare chest glistened with sea spray, and his long brown hair lay wet and curled against his head. In all, he was a tempting sight for a woman’s lust or would have been if she hadn’t been puking her guts out the entire voyage. Two weeks of unusually rough seas, tossing and thrashing her about in her cabin, had left her body abused and her brain fuzzy. If not for the rancid smell of her own vomit polluting her cabin air, she wouldn’t be above deck now.
Glancing at the first mate through slit eyes, Fox tried to appreciate his fine looks. At any other time, in any other place, she would have been hard pressed to keep her hands to herself. As it was, she didn’t want to ride on anything that might toss or rock, no matter how tempting. Besides, there was also the matter of Taymor to consider before doing anything so rash.
In all, about half the ship’s crew were fairly young and attractive, dark skinned and well-muscled. The others were older men whose looks could scare sea monsters back to their quiet, dark holes. It was the second half who worried her. They had been at sea so long they found anyone attractive, even a woman disguised as a man.
The first mate watched her intently, dark eyes lit with part amusement and maybe just a touch of sympathy. Mostly amusement, Fox decided. She scowled.
“Man overboard!”
Almost too sick to care, Fox lifted her head and watched as some poor bastard thrashed about in the water while the ship quickly left him behind.
“Damn, there goes another slave,” the first mate muttered. “Fool. Once the creatures get a whiff of him, he’ll be food.”
Fox felt sorry for the captives held below deck. She remembered what it was like to be a slave, to be used unmercifully. She understood the desperation for escape, but that time was in the past. Now, for this time, Fox served no one but herself. She was nobody’s pawn. Even the god, Dakar, paid dearly for her service.
Absently reaching up, she touched the warm spot on her neck just beneath her right ear where Dakar had laid his kiss.
“Come now, boy, let’s get ye battened down for the night. Plenty of time to become sick later. We wouldn’t want the king’s personal advisor accidentally getting tossed overboard.” The mate’s smile was open, inviting, and absolutely stunning, his chocolate brown eyes devastating. Gods, she wished she were not sick. But no, she wasn’t here to bring joy to either herself or any of these depraved, lust filled, gorgeous sailors, especially not the ugly toothless ones. She was here to suffer, to throw up her insides, and to carry Dakar’s stupid eye back to his stupid temple in the stupid mountains of Yernden.
Stupid, stupid, stupid, everything was stupid.
She eyed the mate again, wondering about future prospects. “What’s your name again?”
“First Mate Heldar, Lord Marwin,” he replied.
She smiled weakly. “I’ll remember to tell his majesty how helpful you were to me.” And if ever Taymor and she should part, she would hunt First Mate Heldar down with a vengeance— at least while they were on land.
He laughed. Such a joyful sound. Fox wondered how the hell anyone could be so happy on this sea while being tossed around like a sack of grain on market day.
“I thank ye,mam. Mayhap there be a little something extra for me in this before ye leave.” His smile morphed to knowing, and his gaze heated. “I came to yer cabin the first night ye boarded. The door was cracked, and ye warn’t quite…dressed.” His voice constricted. “I fancied to see ye had quite a nice...” His voice fading off, he allowed his gaze to drift downward to stare pointedly at her chest.
Fox narrowed her eyes. Cute or not, Heldar was pushing the boundaries. No one got the jump on her. “What kind ofextra are you looking for?”
He shrugged. His smile slipped a notch. His eyes grew hungry. “From what I seen, yer a might beautiful woman. When ye’ve been out on the sea for as long as I have, a man’sneedsget neglected. I know ye carry a great bounty with ye’, but I have money a plenty. Right now, I’d rather have the touch of yer hands on my body than anything else.”
Fox sighed, feeling resigned. Because her belly felt like it was splitting open, she didn’t particularly want to have
to resort to sordid means while on the ship. On the other hand, she also didn’t want to give away her identity. Then again, she certainly didn’t want to betray Taymor’s trust either. Killing Heldar was out of the question as well. All things considered, the horny sailor left her no choice.
Fox smiled, slow and seductively, with a twinkle in her eye. “I see, First Mate Heldar. Since you seem to be an honest sort I suppose one night ofobliging you won’t hurt, but seriously, I’m far too ill to be interesting.”
Heldar’s eyes grew large, his features excited. The muscles in his chest tensed.
“Well now, as to that, I have something’ll help with yer sickness. My shift ends in the wee morning hours. I’ll come to ye then an’ ye won’t mind so much as ye’ll be feeling better.”
Fox nodded, but she wanted to smack him alongside the head so hard his ears fell off. How dare he have something for her stomach the whole time and not bother giving it to her until he was in the mood for a tumble? The fool would be lucky if she didn’t leave him tied to the mast naked, covered in honey and bread crumbs.
Looking at the horizon, the darkening gray sky told her she didn’t have much time to come up with a plan. Night approached. Fortunately she was Fox. A plan would soon form.
Lurching from side to side on the unsteady deck, Fox followed her sex-starved sailor back to his bunk where he fished out a bit of a pasty substance wrapped in waxed cloth. When she tried it, the paste tasted absolutely foul, but strangely, her stomach seemed to settle almost immediately.
“Later,” the mate promised her.
“Later,” Fox agreed and headed toward her cabin. If all went well, she would be in Yylses’s port by early to mid-morning. From there she would travel across land toward Yernden’s capital city, Grace, before slipping from the trail and disappearing into the mountains.
Fox’s stomach spasmed at the thought of all that lay before her. “How in the dark realms did I ever get myself entangled in this farce?”
Greed my girl, greed, whispered her inner wise woman.
Yes, greed was definitely a reason, but her renowned skill as the best thief in Illian was a larger factor. When her god, Dakar, had taken great notice of this skill he had recruited her to his cause.
Fox snorted. Recruited? More like pounded and threatened til she gave in. But again, she had only herself to blame. Her and her big mouthed, hugely inflated, self-delusional, and overly proud ego.
Upon reaching her cabin, Fox stumbled inside and locked the door before throwing herself on her bed. The ship rocked, creaked, and rolled and shifted beneath her aching body, making her hammock sway in ever increasing arc, proving the paste was only partially effective.
“If only the nightmare would end. I’d do anything to make it stop,” Fox whispered to herself, and then she tensed. Hadn’t saying she would do anything to keep from being caught during a botched job gotten her into this mess?
“Just kidding my dark, greedy, deceptive god.” She couldn’t afford to owe her god anything else.
If only she had run when the little fox on the door had spoken to her.
* * * *
Fox smiled at the sight of the drugged first mate lying in her hammock. He would wake up in a few hours with a hell of a headache but mostly unharmed. Unable to fight the temptation, she bent down, kissed his slack lips, and ran a hand over his muscled chest. Straightening, Fox sighed. She would have liked to have bedded him. It would have been easier and much more entertaining than drugging the fellow, but Taymor waited for her back home. He believed in their love. Fox wished she was equally sure on the matter, but until she knew one way or another she wouldn’t screw things up by foxing around— well, except with a god, of course. Taymor couldn’t exactly fault her for being unfaithful with a god.
Chuckling, she closed the door quietly behind her and checked for the pouch hidden beneath her traveling coat to make sure Dakar’s eye was still tucked neatly away. After all, as long as her god had sought the thing, she doubted Dakar would be understanding if she lost it now.
Fox slipped up the stairs, out onto the deck, then down the gangplank. The late afternoon sun sparkled across the deep blue of the bay like tiny diamonds. A scattering of merchants were already out shouting their wares, but otherwise the streets appeared empty. For some reason, there seemed to be an unusually nervous air about the people on and about the docks. They watched each other out of the corner of their eyes while their hands strayed near their weapons. Everyone seemed on edge, almost as if they expected an attack at any moment. Fox hesitated before continuing. Something in her gut told her to avoid this city with its rumors of demons and dark gods, but she had a task to perform, and the task required her to come this way.
“Here ye go, Lord Marwin.”
Fox turned. A burly sailor threw her pack at her. Fox nearly dropped the bag as she caught it. “Wait a minute!” Fox scowled. Who in hell did this fool think he was?
The fool in question turned to go back on the ship.
“Hey there! You’re supposed to take me to the Dancing Unicorn Inn. Where are you going?”
The sailor stopped and half-twisted to look at her over his shoulder. “Change of plans. Yylse has been officially put off limits to all members of this crew. We need all the hands we have and can’t afford ta’ lose any to no hell creatures, by order of the captain.” Turning away, the sailor continued up the plank.
Fox growled. Her face warmed. “At least point me in the right damn direction you coward!” she shouted. Her Anterian accent slipped the angrier she got.
The sailor kept going, not even bothering to challenge her insult, and she found this alarming. Illian men hated to be insulted. What was it about this port they were they so afraid of? Were the rumors true, or did the captain just believe they were true?
Fox turned her gaze to the dismal faces all around her. There had to be someone who could tell her how to get to the Dancing Unicorn. She walked up to a young man dressed in dark robes and tried to address him, but he scurried away before she came within five feet.
Fox frowned. Why was she being avoided? The problem couldn’t be her clothing, not when they were the finest to be had in Anterian nobility. In fact, there were no finer silks in all of Illian than what she presently wore. Fox did a quick visual check to make sure there were no stains on her trousers or overcoat. There weren’t, and her black leather boots were polished to a high sheen. She was the perfect picture of an Anterian gentleman.
She tried several more times to speak to someone, but most either moved away or told her to bugger off, which rather pissed Fox.
“My my, what have we here?”
A voice sounding of long, steamy nights wrapped itself around Fox’s body. It wove tendrils of hot desire, making her wet. Fox turned as if an invisible hand had hold of her shoulders.
Like a puppet on strings, Fox stumbled forward into the arms of a tall, blue-skinned woman, feeling her body explode in sensations only Dakar had ever raised in her. Without thinking, she stepped further into the woman’s embrace and tilted her head upward in anticipation of a kiss.
Smiling, the woman touched Fox’s chin with a finger. “What a treat. Such a beautiful little thing. I thought Illian men were bigger, though? Are you truly a man or did you forget to grow?”
A long, taloned finger plucked at an errant black curl from Fox’s queue. The hand continued down the side of her face, across her throat, and slid seductively over Fox’s breasts. The blue woman’s hand stopped to fondle Fox, running her thumb in slow circles around Fox’s raised nipple.
Groaning, Fox pushed her breast further into the woman’s hand. In the haze of pleasure, she didn’t notice a growing pain until it started to sear her flesh. She gasped when Dakar’s mark burned fiercely on her neck, driving back the blue woman’s magic.
Fox’s eyes widened in panic at how easily she had been taken. With a jerk, she tore herself from the woman’s embrace and stumbled backwards. Knees giving way, she sat heavily on the street and sc
rabbled away from the seductress.
Green hair, blue skin, lips the color of fresh blood, the woman screamed of a creature from Hell. Apparently the rumors were true.
“Hmm. Interesting,” the woman mused. “Not many can resist me. Tell me girl, what exactly are you?”
Fox froze. Her heart beat loudly in her ears as she pulled herself to her feet. “I know not who you are, but I do know my business is not with you. Move on.” Fox met the woman’s stare head on. Dakar stirred in her mind as his power flowed through her body. Apparently, he was not happy with this turn of events.
The woman narrowed her eyes. “I am Belthethsia, and you should take care to address me with respect. Unfortunate things happen to those who do not.” The blue-skinned woman took a step toward Fox.
Within her, Dakar’s power flared hot and angry, freeing Fox from the bitch’s influence. Pulling her rapier from its scabbard with a fluid jerk, she took a fighting stance.
Belthethsia took another step closer, inhaled deeply. “What are you? What god do you serve? The power riding you is strange, not of the Seven or Two. One of the mongrel godlings, perhaps? A foreign outcast? Maybe you would be worth something to Athos— enough to get me back into Hell. Or perhaps I should drain the power from your body and add it to my own?”
Fox ground her teeth. This blue seductress was sadly mistaken if she thought Fox would go anywhere with her. Fox’s gutter slang returned with a vengeance. All pretenses of being Anterian nobility burned away in her fear and anger. “Back off bitch! I ain’t nobody’s prize.”
Belthethsia took another half-step forward, closed the distance, and stopped so close Fox could almost feel her breath. She cocked her head to the side as if listening to some silent call, before turning her gaze to Fox once more. “For now, I have more important prey. I suggest you not stay in Yylse or ever come back when you leave.”
She took off in a blur of blue speed.