Treasure Revealed

by A. S. Etaski

  ~She knows. She knows me. She still wants to please me.~

  The Tragar stiffened as my dagger wavered closer to her skin, and my other hand closed on one of her large breasts. I growled low in my throat, fondled the tit absently as the heat in my groin generated sweat between us. Her scent was pleasant to me. Her presence, a comfort.

  Even though she had run away from me.

  “Stop,” she whispered. “Tell me what else you want, Davrin, you said you would not…”

  ~Help me, Lana.~

  She fell silent after that plea. Rightly so.

  ~Free me. Don’t leave me here. Take me into yourself, find me a new body.~

  Her revulsion was putrid in our eye contact. Her thoughts, surging raw and honest, were so bitter of a backlash that I sucked in a startled breath.

  ~Never!~ the bald female sent back. ~You deserve this, Kain! I don’t know how the Black Elves did this, but I’m glad it happened!~

  ~Shut your mouth!~

  I had always known she had never enjoyed me, though we never said it. The Tugren submitted, bent over when I told her to, or spread her thighs while on her back. As was my right. She was passive, a warm sheath to hold my pole when it ached. Because if she didn’t, she was beaten. She had never questioned, never fought back.

  Now she resists? Now she hurls venom at me? What changed in so short a time?

  ~Talk with me.~

  I felt memories swirl and mix in a dark spread of stone, metal, and smoke. Her naked, curvaceous body was Kain’s to use as he saw fit, and he worked her very hard, in many ways. She expected his brutality, and this proved to the other kregbur that Kain’s Mind-Lifter Wife was no weakling, while he was still powerful enough to control her.

  Especially with her gift of the mind.

  ~No longer can you control me! You’re dead, Kain! You’re dead!~

  Like a crossbow triggered, I relived that death yet again, and Lana saw it. She cried out in disgust and horror at the way that it had happened.

  ~What did they do to you?! Why?~

  Psychic hooks snagged hold of my memories, my real memories of my Sisterhood trials which led to it: the ritual on the altar, the divine magic and fever-pitch lust that sang a song entirely alien to the psionic Dwarf. My life was the tale of horror and dread Lana had been told to expect of my race. I was the very nightmare whispered about the Davrin Queen and her Magus Inquisitors. Now, that fear and hatred was clear, true, and justified in the sequestered female’s fracturing mind.

  I was not sane and, like all the other Blood Elves, I relished living that state.

  ~How can you?!~ Lana screamed. ~How can you not know what the next waking will bring?~

  I knew what she meant. She spoke to Sirana, the child. Sirana, the Noble. The Red Sister. Lana saw the continuous plots and cruel, extended effects of Davrin magic, magic which no other race possessed, and how we used it against each other… this frightened the Tragar to her core. It churned her vitals, this thought of it never stopping, the rules changing all the time.

  And I hadn’t even grown up in the thick of it.

  ~At least our beatings and deaths are direct and expected!~ the Tragar claimed.

  I couldn’t help but laugh, an unsettling sound which filled the crawlspace of our heads. In return, I saw her upbringing, her cyclical waking moments, filled with control and fear. Harshly physical and immediate, but no different from mine in its tenant: the stronger will overwhelms the weaker.

  Those most brawny in the ways which matter make the rules. Endurance, fortitude, stubborn determination. Those with the will to work another cycle, to worship a violent, uncaring Chief who granted no mercy to the weak. The Chief’s Tragar crawled over the bodies of the dead to find their place, to find the ore, the water, and the food.

  Find the ore…

  I saw what it looked like, at last. Thick, hard-worked hands dug it out of hardest stone.

  In true light, the ore was the deepest blue.

  ~Do you have any? I must find it for my Elders.~

  Tears leaking out of Lana’s white eyes. Again, she shook her head in defiance.

  “You deserve this as well, Davrin. For killing my new Vungren.”

  I did not have to try to understand that word. The male counterpart to the Tugren; the dominant, the one in control. Kain had been her first Vungren, but I knew, I could feel how Lana had much preferred the second. She had enjoyed him even before Kain disappeared. I saw it in her mind: her silent pleasure-peak had come for the first time in her life when this other kregbur had his cock patiently stretching her dirt hole, teasing her in slow, full strokes.

  Unlike Kain’s painful pounding as he made her wail for other males to hear outside their burrow.

  ~That weakling left his leavings in her shitter? They… these two may have been doing it even while my own cock was buried between a spider-slattern’s narrow buttocks!~

  How I relived that pounding. Vividly.

  Climaxing from a stubby, fat, Dwarven meatpole.

  I had come because I was insane at the time.

  “Cheating whore!” I hissed aloud, shaking my head. ~I cannot stay! Separate us! Free me, now!~

  Lana’s eyes widened, still wary of the stained dagger held by a red glove, so close to her eye. I wouldn’t accept her refusal; I moved the blade to the side and leaned down to kiss her. So much flesh to her lips, soft and full. It felt like I pleasured a swollen, highly aroused set of female netherlips.

  ~Just touch her, touch her skin.~

  There was a flash in the back of my skull that caused an even greater disconnect between my mind and my body. I was aware of Lana formless, nude in another way, both familiar and foreign, and forced the merging of our consciousness together. The first feelings to pierce through the veil were grief, denial, and fear. There were no actual words, no language, but I still struggled to understand them, forcing them into some type of translation so I would not fall irreparably insane in that very instant.

  ~Confess, Wife! Tell me every filthy thing you did with him after I left!~

  ~It’s mine! You’re only a ghost, Kain, an echo! I won’t help an echo, I won’t be tricked! You deserved this punishment! You earned it! Stay out!~

  I became enraged; it was hot and immediate. Burning so hot, I had to strip off her clothes, make her yielding holes vulnerable.

  ~No! You’re dead! No, please! Don’t! Stop!~

  ~Be still and accept me! Do your duty and free me!~

  In the middle of the struggle, intense pleasure flooded through our connection. I felt it, I shared it, but in her I recognized the shock and denial, because I’d felt it our last time together, too. A prick she very much didn’t want had invaded her body.

  My prick.

  Serves the cheating wisp right!

  I surfaced only enough to feel the hard stone scraping my knees as I pushed forward, her trousers stretched tight across her ankles and partly in the way as I scrabbled to settle myself between her thighs. Overbalanced, I flopped down on her breasts. I felt her body’s dryness and discomfort, and the impulse was there to chastise her for not being ready for me. She’d had plenty of warning that I was ready for her, how dare she try to refuse me?

  ~I’m glad you’re dead, Kain, I’m glad!~ Pure, hateful emotion surged balefully between us. ~It brings me rare joy that a stronger female killed you with your prick hanging out!~

  ~The Sloppy-Second was no better,~ I sneered, both insulted and with an odd urge to laugh in pure satisfaction. ~He died with great dignity. Hooked in the balls by the very Davrin he hunted, with his own barb!~

  The surge of genuine grief, feared but now confirmed, infuriated me. Made me jealous, possessive. My pride was wounded, and all I wanted to do was make her sorry she’d said she felt more for him than me. I thrust harder and she strained; spikes of pain jumped between us—I wallowed in it, knowing it meant she received her punishment. So much better than coupling with a non-psion where I couldn’t
feel it so clearly.

  She was my prize, not his. Mine.

  ~You’re mine…~

  ~No—~

  ~MINE!~

  ~What have I done? You’re not Kain!~ the Dwarf pleaded. ~Don’t drown in the echo! I’m sorry, Davrin! He’s not the pure Will! You are!~

  I kept fucking her harder, hurting her. I’d strangle the very breath of the cheating, ungrateful Tugren when I was done and my male seed dribbled out of her hole—

  ~Sirana! R-Red Sister! Listen to me, you must remember!~ Lana took a great risk to wrench loose a memory foreign to her. ~Please, tell me. Who is this?~

  I slowed down my pace, a bit of warmth returning to my cold chest.

  Who?

  ~He is Micraen. My first bua. The first eve I wasn’t alone when I awoke at the Palace.~

  Lana nodded, unquestioning. ~And him?~

  Ohhh, Goddess.

  The Royal Consort at the Worship Ball.

  ~Auslan. My hidden treasure… So beautiful.~

  Then she switched my focus to another male. ~And him. This bua. Who?~

  ~Callitro.~

  The Wizard’s Tower. I had to go back. I wanted to return.

  ~He makes me something. A gift. I want him again.~

  ~Yes. These buas are all treasures, I see.~

  Lana held and soothed me, cooled the fever; she stopped a rise leading to a violent murder. Our struggle eased, and her pain stopped crackling through my head. I stopped, and we were breathless, me lying atop her. Still connected in body and mind.

  ~So many mates,~ she murmured. ~All of your own choosing, Davrin. Tell me, why so many?~

  ~Fun.~

  I knew she was confused by that. ~And…?~

  ~Desire. Challenge. I want them.~

  ~Not for children?~

  I laughed inside our head. ~A different challenge. My Elders bet I will avoid children. The Priestesses bet I won’t.~

  ~Strange choice.~

  ~Games. Our Goddess commands that we play.~

  ~I have heard. I think a Tragar would be driven mad in such play, to take on the death-memory of a Davrin. You, Sirana, have taken the memory of Kain and live with it. You shall continue living.~

  A fearful surge tried to come up as I gripped her harder. My mind’s voice deepened to Kain’s. ~Surely there must be something you can do, Tugren!~

  Lana painted my long line of buas across our linked minds again like a thick blanket, and Kain’s maleness was smothered. It was Sirana with whom she communicated, not her old Vungren.

  ~It’s not Kain in your mind.~ She seemed to be thinking to herself, no longer panicked or spouting mental vitriol. ~It’s not possession. Just a shard causing a wound not healed. I feel shame for talking back to it, for making him real again. Kain is dead, and I’m well rid of the middens he was.~

  She spoke and smoothed out the hot spot in my head while her fingers touched my hair. Inside, it felt like different fingers were spreading and patting it down like damp clay. Her body shifted with discomfort, and I became aware enough to withdraw the Feldeu from her cunt without climaxing. She sighed in relief that I was not pressing so deep.

  For the first time when under magic’s influence, I did not feel the need. I was not driven, not compelled to seek completion. I could still feel its heat, its stiffness, but it was controlled. I controlled it. I had hesitated to believe this was possible.

  ~You absorb the shard, Sirana. In time, you will be well.~

  I believed her, but Lana’s thought felt tired, as if she’d given up and submitted once more. As she had been doing for her whole life.

  ~That thing attached to you… is helping you but, with time, you will not need it. The shard loses its cohesion and will become one with you. You understand that no Tragar would want to dissolve into chaos.~

  Cautiously, I nodded. ~He died that way.~

  ~Yes. He knew it as he died.~ Lana’s thick, full lips turned upward in satisfaction. Her tone held no accusation whatsoever, no regret. ~And he is dead, Sirana. You killed him.~

  Only this Mind-Lifter and me within this crawlspace. No one else.

  I was myself and always would be.

  Lana spoke with her physical voice then. It was hoarse, wheezing, and I heard that she wanted to weep. “Kill me now, Blood Sister. For my help, I beg you… make it quick and clean. No magic. No further torment.”

  I had to work to see the details around us with my own eyes. Pants down, skin scraped, weapons askew, moisture and heat pressed between bare thighs. I still gripped my poison dagger in one gloved hand and the other held her throat.

  “Why?” I asked, easing the pressure on her windpipe so she could speak more easily.

  “I know too much about you.”

  She could not have been more accurate if she had pinned a beetle with a dart from twenty paces. Only one of us could leave this tunnel, but I was confused at her lack of spirit after our first contact and her bold words.

  “You don’t want to fight for the chance to live?” I asked, prepared for a bait and switch. “You’ve taken it as a foregone conclusion it will be me who walks away?”

  “My second Vungren is dead, and I have no protection now,” she whispered, blank eyes not seeming to see me as her face fell to passiveness. “There is nowhere to go.”

  “Wouldn’t your knowledge of me be of some worth to them? A bargaining coin for your life?”

  She shook her head. “The men would not believe me. And they do not deserve to have what I know. I will miss my Vungren too much, and I am tired, Davrin. I am ready to stop working.”

  Ready to stop.

  To say such a thing back at her Stronghold, I knew, would mean the Chief would oblige her only after a sound whipping and wringing the last bit of work that he could from her hands and arms and back. Digging stone, moving any cart or crate that needed to be moved. She’d stop working only when her malnourished body failed her for the last time.

  “For my help,” she said again, “make it quick and clean.”

  I could grant her that, yes. And once I did, the entire group would be dealt with according to my mission.

  “Have you any of that blue ore?” I asked.

  Lana shook her head, face hardening. “We never found all of Kain’s old sign. But the Chief might bid us return. That none of us return now means there will be more Tragar next time.”

  I nodded. I still pressed the Feldeu to her thigh, and I shifted on top of her clumsily. She winced and cursed at me, trying to close her legs against the false phallus, and it was apparent that her muscles were cramped. I got off her, crouched so my head and shoulders barely missed the low ceiling, and I scooted backward from her, placing my blade behind me to tug up my leathers and cinch my loosened belt. I would have to double-check all my pouches again before leaving here.

  Lana sat up, pulling up her pants, and watched as I gave a cursory cleaning to my dagger before sheathing it. She glared at me, her white eyes flashing dangerously.

  “You will not kill me, Red Sister? You should, or I will kill you.”

  “I already did,” I replied. “It won’t take long.”

  The Dwarf blinked and reached to the side of her neck with her bare hand; I could see in her face the moment she felt the sting of the scratch. Lana withdrew her hand and saw the blood on her fingers.

  “You said this poison would… s-stay my life… to watch the harm you do.”

  I shrugged. “I lied. It will kill you instead. Surprised?”

  Lana shook her head in the negative, even as the deep-seated fear of dying was clear on her face. I sensed a surge of mental threat in the tunnel and moved fast. I retreated as fast as I could scramble. I did not want to be anywhere near another psion at her moment of death.

  I left the psion to suffocate as the poison seized her muscles and, eventually, her lungs.

  CHAPTER 8

  So focused was I on getting out before Lana died that I hauled myself up and out wit
hout checking the exit. It must have looked as if something was biting my toes.

  “Sirana?”

  I took Panagan’s voice—and genuine surprise—as a peace sign, as she had remained waiting at the mouth of the tunnel. Belatedly I realized the Feldeu was still between my legs, straining my pants, and now I couldn’t remove it with Panagan watching. I grabbed my cloak where I’d stuffed it for the added cover against that hard ridge and tried not to be distracted by a magic erection rubbing against soft leather.

  *What in the Abyss happened down here?* the archer demanded with loud hands.

  *Did you hear anything?* I asked first.

  *Distant Tragar tongue, two voices. Were there more down there?* She looked me over; I knew I was disheveled. *You are injured?*

  *Mild, and yes, another lay in wait,* I responded, glad she couldn’t understand the Grey Dwarf language. Even more interesting that she hadn’t been able to tell it was me. *The Tragar planned to escape with one left behind to watch their mounts.*

  *And you killed them both?* she asked earnestly. *I saw none surface, though I paced this entire cavern.*

  *Both poisoned, dead,* I affirmed. *No witnesses to tell tales.*

  *Grab any proof? Ears, fingers, organs?*

  Fuck.

  I shook my head. *Dangerous to touch psions when they die. But you can check the edge of my dagger for Dwarf blood.*

  Panagan agreed and gestured that I show her my blade. She gripped my wrist to hold it steady once it was unsheathed and sprinkled a bit of powder on it while murmuring a word. There was a reaction which I assumed she could read, as she narrowed her eyes at mine before either deciding to believe me or figuring my Elder could weigh the burden of proof herself. For certain, she wasn’t going down in that crawlspace to check on what I claimed.

  *We catch the recruit if she makes it to the border,* she signed.

  *Impossible,* I complained. *Her lead is too large.*

  Panagan rolled her eyes. *Back to the jump circle. We’ll arrive ahead to lay in wait.*

  I blinked. *Can you use it?*

  The archer nodded. *One time. Elder gave me a home gem.*

  Abrupt excitement flooded my belly as my eyes widened. *And if we catch her?*