Follows
from “Sigrid’s Gambit”
“…[o]f
the Deities most dear to the Elven blademistress is Sehanine Moonbow, the Mother
Goddess, the Moon Huntress – the Silver Queen whose brilliance banishes the
Shadow…(and) most beloved of Sehanine was Tyrithina who led the final battle
against the wicked Green Wyrm whose name amongst mortals was Adremonnailech,
the Boundless Ruin. At the summit of the Shattered Tower, she struck the mortal
blow with Sehanine’s own Moonblade, whereupon her Goddess rejoiced and rewarded
Tyrithina with a Queendom and nine nights of passion in her embrace…yet, even
if valiant Tyrithina’s progeny have scattered throughout the Crystal Sphere,
each in turn founding the cities of the Grey Elves – so named in honour of the
silver light of their Goddess – none has yet been found worthy of her legacy or
of her Moonblade…”
- Excerpt from the Third Scroll of the
Chronicles of Imej
Early evening spread its warm orange and suffused
red hues onto the icy frost that blanketed Yssinel’s garden. A single
levitating sphere of red light provided warmth and a most agreeable
illumination, for it mirrored the phases of the sun and shone a bright yellow
at midday and grew progressively dimmer as the day came to a close. After whiling
away effortless hours in Yssinel’s amiable company, Aerylle began to feel as
though she had never left. A simple yet magnificent lunch of assorted pine-nut
pastries had given way to a long and reassuringly lighthearted conversation
about the passage of time and their respective emotional lives. Yssinel had
listened, curled up in her couch, with rapt attention as Aerylle described a
city so vast that its horizon stretched beyond view and curved upwards, for the
plane on which it stood was shaped like a great cosmic wheel. Aerylle, for her
part, was simply relieved to speak Elven again and find before her the friend
who had been so achingly close yet so distant during those months when all they
had was long, effusive letters to speak to one another. As the subtleties of
Grey Elven courtship and the desires of the heart dictated, what lay beneath
those letters and what hid in the affectionate glances they exchanged was a
sentiment that no words, save poetry, could convey. Aerylle knew the moment she
had taken her place on the couch in front of Yssinel that the Enchantress’
feelings for her had only grown more intense with time and distance.
“I must thank you,” Aerylle began, taking a sip
of warm elderberry tea from an ineffably delicate azure ceramic cup. “You have
made me feel at home after all this time. I always missed the sound of your
voice, the grace of your smile, yet now that I have these pleasures again, I
fear I may never choose to leave Imej again.” Aerylle felt a pang of guilt for
speaking with such naked passion about Yssinel. If she had been in Min’s place,
she would have been jealous. That said, the Elven librarian had never seen Min
behave possessively. The tiefling was fiercely protective, to be sure, but in
no way overbearing. If only, Aerylle thought ruefully, her fellow Elves could
be convinced of her newfound bonded lover’s virtues.
“It has been my pleasure.” Yssinel replied.
She stirred in her couch, each movement measured and infinitely delicate, and
reached out to clasp Aerylle’s hand. In that moment, Yssinel knew that her
hopes had not been in vain. She felt Aerylle’s pulse quicken ever so slightly
under her fingers, just as the librarian’s soft, pearly white skin grew almost imperceptibly
warmer under her touch. “Your departure left a great emptiness in me. I had
begun to fear that I would never see you again.”
The garden was magnificent as ever, arranged
so as to resemble a naturally fertile forest glade, even if the flowers and the
wild-grown ornamental bushes were covered in a thin layer of frost. No water
sang from the stone wall at the far end of the garden. The winter chill had
frozen it over. Aerylle waited until she felt it was the right moment before
finally speaking. "Tahllea's love has brought you much joy, I have asked
for your forgiveness many times in my letters, but I thought I should say it in
person once more: I am truly sorry I could never give you the same
happiness."
Yssinel acknowledged Aerylle's apology with
an understated nod and brought the librarian's slender hand to her lips. She
could smell the rosy sweetness of Aerylle's perfume. Yssinel's heart began to
beat a little faster. That smooth, sensual skin beneath her lips was like the
finest silk. Aerylle had a poetess' hand. Yssinel could only dream of those
long, elegant fingers tracing the sensitive outline of her pointed ear, or
slipping under her dress to find the moist, yielding warmth of her sex. "I
still need you, Aerylle. Sometimes, I feel like a fool for saying this, after
so much time," the Enchantress said fervently, her gaze fixed passionately
into the sapphire-blue pools of her friend's eyes, "but I have always
needed you. Tahllea is magnificent and I could not wish for a better lover, but
I could never recapture the way I felt when I posed naked for you to draw, or
the way my soul burned when you left those long, beautifully flowery and
wonderfully erotic love letters on my desk..."
"We were but girls..." Aerylle
replied, desperately trying to suppress the light blush that had begun to
spread so endearingly across her cheeks. "I was so...awkward..."
"No, you weren't." Yssinel
interrupted indignantly, gracefully rising from her couch to kneel on the snowy
ground by Aerylle's side. Her silver, star-patterned gown fluttered with each
movement, for the fabric was paper-thin, but specially enchanted so that it
shaped itself to Yssinel's whim, to be coy or provocative as the situation
dictated. "The words your wrote lifted themselves from the page like hawks
in flight to capture my heart. I spent whole evenings alone with your letters
and read about you undressing and ravishing me a thousand times and each time
was more real than the last."
"Yssinel!" Aerylle reprimanded,
gently pulling the Enchantress up from the snow to sit beside her on the divan.
"We promised we would never dwell on that youthful passion. You and I both
know that's why we went to different Academies..."
"And there isn't a single day that I
don't regret that decision." Yssinel interjected fiercely. She clasped
Aerylle's waist. The cool, finely-wrought silver chains that held the two
sky-blue gossamer strips of the librarian's dress together felt heavy in her
hands.
"Hush!" the librarian replied
firmly, taking Yssinel into her embrace. "We cannot continue to live in
regret. Be happy with Tahllea, just as I have sworn to be happy with Min."
"I know." Yssinel whispered, gently
nuzzling Aerylle's neck. The librarian's golden-blonde tresses were just as
silky and fragrant as she remembered. "Forgive me. All this time apart
and...the moment I saw you, my heart burned with need."
"If you like," Aerylle conceded,
"we could spend a day together alone. Perhaps we could go up to the
"Of course," Yssinel replied,
stealing a soft kiss on Aerylle's ear. "That place is sacred to us."
"But you must promise me that even if we
decide to make love, you will not try to change the past and undo what both of
us have built." Aerylle felt an uncomfortable pang of guilt at suggesting
that she and Yssinel be intimate. She had chided Min many times for her casual
dalliances and now, what she was proposing to spare Yssinel's feelings was
beginning to sound decidedly hypocritical. But Aerylle was only flesh and blood
- Yssinel's beauty and affection were as alluring as ever.
"If I falter in my promise, then you
must stand firm." Yssinel smiled and pressed a loving kiss on Aerylle's
soft, pink lips.
"I shall do my best." Aerylle
chimed, pleased that Yssinel had overcome her initial surge of emotions. In
truth, there was a part of Aerylle that believed the reason that she and
Yssinel had never brought their timid courtship further was that she feared the
Enchantress' complex, all-consuming passion. From the moment they had met,
Aerylle noticed that Yssinel had the almost unnatural ability to make sure she
obtained anything she wanted.
"Thank you," Yssinel purred,
huddling closer to Aerylle, just to feel the librarian's slender, willowy frame
pressed against her again. "You were always the sensible one."
"And you always used to get
Tahllea into trouble." Aerylle shot back jokingly. It was useless to lie
to herself: it felt wonderful to have Yssinel in her arms again. "Always
playing with her pride to get her to act out your wicked little plans."
Tahllea had briefly become infamous in Imej for sneaking into the
"Well," Yssinel retorted, affecting
irritation, "she was the only one I could ask. You were always too
concerned with what your mother would do to you if she found out and Ennaeli
had a rather irksomely over-active conscience."
"She still does." Aerylle noted.
"The last I heard, she was still helping rebuild that Wood Elf
village..." There was no need to go into the details. Green Dragon attacks
were sudden and horrific. Accounts of the effects of the poisonous, acidic
breath that the great wyrms issued forth before tearing through Elven villages
and cities were seared into Aerylle's memory.
"I suppose that makes her the brave
one." Yssinel said, settling on the couch so she could lean her head
against Aerylle's breast. Her long gold and silver hair fell like a marvelous
treasure trove over the cobalt-blue fabric of Aerylle's gown. "I pretend
to agree with Tahllea when she says that Imej is dry and uninteresting, but at
least we're all safe here."
"Beauty can be found in the most
dangerous and chaotic of places." said Aerylle as she instinctively began
to run her fingers through Yssinel's hair in long, winding motions. "The
Hive, the place where Min grew up, is dark, mysterious and menacing, but it's
full of life, of energy."
"She will make a fine bonded lover for
you." Yssinel said knowingly, mentally preparing a suitably dramatic
entrance for the surprise she had been planning for over a year. "But, if
I may, there is one gift which I would give you. Take it to be a gesture of my
devotion to you."
"The Blessed Sehanine favours me,"
Aerylle said reverently, planting an affectionate kiss on Yssinel's cheek. "You are, as
always, more generous than I deserve."
"Then please, don't be startled."
the Enchantress said. With a voiceless mental command, she bade the tiny silver
bell at the vine-grown gate at the garden's entrance to ring. As if by magic,
the gates slipped open and Mjrina stepped into the garden with fleet-footed
grace.
Aerylle froze for instant, thinking the Wood
Elf maiden's sudden appearance a mirage or an illusion. Perhaps a trick of the mind,
still absorbed in those joyous moments so long ago when she and Mjrina had been
one. But, sure enough, there was Mjrina, clad in the flimsy, verdant-green
shift that complemented the gorgeous, sylvan colour of her hair and woodland
tan skin. No, there was no doubt about it. None other than Mjrina now stood,
every bit as astonished as Aerylle was, the very picture of simple perfection -
beautiful and sensual as the ever.
"Why..." Aerylle began, pausing to
clear the knot of emotion she felt building in her throat. "Why did you
never tell me she was here?"
"I would have," Yssinel replied
with a satisfied smile. "But I knew you would have returned before it was
time. When you first wrote to me about Min, I knew you were destined for each
other and I certainly had no intention of driving you apart as your mother had
driven you and Mjrina apart."
Aerylle only heard half of Yssinel's
explanation. As if in a trance, she rose to her feet and rushed blindly to
throw her arms around Mjrina, drawing the Wood Elf maiden into a tight, angry
embrace. Mjrina did not utter a single word. All her desperate prayers to the
Forest Mother had been answered. Now, all she could do was sink into the
reassuring warmth of Aerylle's breast and listen to her mistress' heartbeat and
run her hands over familiar curves, like a child searching for her mother in
the darkness.
There was nothing to be said and nothing that
Aerylle could say. She was overjoyed and did not dare break the sanctity of
that moment with words. So it was Mjrina who spoke first.
"Mistress..." she whispered. Even though she was weeping, her voice
was soft and measured. Being in Aerylle's embrace calmed her, so that the only
emotion she felt was a profound sense of loving peace.
"My lovely Mjrina," Aerylle replied,
drawing Mjrina closer so she could smell the pine-needle fragrance of the Wood
Elf girl's hair. A perfume which she had long ago thought lost. "Why did
you go?" Despite Aerylle's best efforts, the question was tinged with a
note of resentment.
"Your mother told me that we would only
bring each other suffering and that was why she wouldn't allow me to stay any
longer...I was frightened...forgive me, Mistress, I should have waited. You
would have defended me, I'm sure of it..." Mjrina took a deep breath and
clutched Aerylle for dear life. There had been no arguing that fateful day
Aerylle's mother told her to leave. Mjrina had known that even if she had
protested or waited for Aerylle to return home, it would merely have prolonged
the agony of their separation.
"All is forgiven, my treasure,"
Aerylle cooed, gently taking Mjrina's hands into her own. "But there is
one thing you must tell me. My mother said she gave you a year's wages
to..."
"I threw the coins into the river,
Mistress," Mjrina said with a pained smile. Aerylle's face was blurred
through her tears. "By the Forest Mother I swear, all of them. I shouldn't
even have taken them in the first place, but I did not want to offend your
mother."
Aerylle felt a spasm of guilt deep in her
soul. She should not have asked. Mjrina was anything but materialistic. Yet
there had always been a trace of unbearable doubt in her mind. Now, Aerylle
resolved to trust Mjrina unconditionally for as long as she drew breath.
"I...I am truly sorry I asked, my love. Never in my life could I have
imagined my return to Imej being so wonderful."
"It's lovely to see you two so happy
together." Yssinel enthused. In that moment she knew that she had earned
Aerylle's undying gratitude. "Your devotion honours my humble garden."
"You have my eternal thanks,
Yssinel." Aerylle said. She eased Mjrina onto the divan and took her place
by the Wood Elf girl's side. "But fate certainly favoured you. How else
did you come across Mjrina before she had a chance to leave Imej?"
"She was distraught, poor child."
Yssinel explained, even as she envied Mjrina, who lay pressed against Aerylle's
breast with sweetest smile imaginable on her lips. "I found her weeping
under the great oak in the garden by the Blessed Hanali's temple. At first, I
thought she had lost her way, but when I approached her, I heard her whisper
your name. She had spent the whole night in the garden begging the Forest
Mother for forgiveness, thinking she had betrayed you. What else could I do but
take her in? As chance would have it, you had already left Imej and since
Mjrina had nowhere to go and I needed a Handmaiden, I only thought it right for
her to stay with me."
"Thank you..." Aerylle breathed,
her voice choked with emotion. She rocked Mjrina gently in her arms, as if the
Wood Elf maiden were a little sister. For a moment, she toyed with the idea of
asking Mjrina to come back to serve her. That would definitely have taken care
of Min's tendency to turn every room she lived in into the physical embodiment
of chaos. But that was but a fleeting whim. She knew she had been immensely
fortunate just to see Mjrina again and that the Wood Elf girl would have
everything she ever wanted from Yssinel. There was no point in burdening Mjrina
with the deeply unfair choice of whether to stay with Yssinel or, eventually,
leave with Aerylle. "You have taken such good care of her, I would be
honoured if she continued to be your Handmaiden. So, from now on, whenever I
write to you, I shall always add a page or two for Mjrina."
"Certainly," Yssinel nodded.
Everything was unfolding just as she had planned. "But now enough crying
or I fear I'll start, too. We should all have dinner together when Min and
Tahllea come back. Perhaps, Mjrina, it would be more appropriate if you sat
with us, this time, rather than serving."
"If my Mistress so wishes..."
Mjrina replied demurely, planting a soft kiss on the hollow of Aerylle's neck.
Now that the emotion of meeting her first mistress again had passed, all she felt
was an aching, raw desire to make love Aerylle once more. She hated herself for
that surge of desire, but there had been nights when she had let Yssinel take
her with her face pressed against the pillow, just so she could imagine it was
Aerylle's hand filling her sex and caressing her bottom.
"It would be our pleasure." Yssinel
smiled wryly. She knew that glint in Mjrina's leaf-green eyes all too well.
"Then," Mjrina said happily.
"I would like nothing more." That, Mjrina thought with just a little
wickedness, was the first time she had not been entirely honest with Yssinel.
***
Twin
Stars
Citron-scented steam rose from a porcelain
footbath which had been cast in the shape of a great Dragon Turtle. Tahllea
sank deeper into the sinfully plush softness of the vast armchair where she
reclined, her eyes covered by a chamomile-soaked cloth. Her short, azure
dressing gown streamed down her lithely muscular frame, held in place by a
flimsy satin sash tied around the waist. She did not often indulge in frivolous
cosmetic treatments, but that evening Tahllea decided to make an exception.
With the next dawn, the Celestial Sisters Festival would commence and with it,
the fateful day of her duel with Sigrid would dawn. For that occasion, she
decided that it would be inappropriate for her to look anything short of
perfect.
"The water is ready, Lady Tahllea."
Dzelha said with the fluid, singsong intonation of the Star Elves. She blended
a little sandalwood essence into the steaming footbath and knelt diligently at
Tahllea's feet.
"Then begin." Tahllea ordered.
Dzelha nodded to her twin sister, Jylzaela, who was busying herself with
cleansing oils she poured from tiny, but intricately shaped crystal bottles
into the blending vial on the cosmetics table next to Tahllea's armchair. Sweet
steam mingled with the aroma of slow-burning violet-oil candles which cast a
deep, violet glow onto the frescoed walls of the bathing chamber. The marble
floor was slick with condensed moisture, while a low-hanging lamp, shaped like
a crescent moon, emitted a dull, silvery light.
"Before my sister begins, Lady
Tahllea," Jylzaela said, setting aside her vial of expertly blended
aromatic oils, "perhaps you could give us a general idea of how you would
like us to work." The Star Elf maiden was deliberately cautious. They knew
Tahllea quite well from the Bladesinger's numerous excursions to their native
city of
"I wish to appear faultless."
Tahllea mused. Jylzaela nodded and removed the chamomile-scented cloth from her
eyes so that the Bladesinger could finally contemplate her surroundings. Thick
steam obscured the walls of the chamber, giving Tahllea the impression of being
in some great, underground cavern. She generally had no interest in the culture
of pampered leisure that Yssinel so adored, but the opportunity of letting all
her worries fade under the capable, sensual hands of Jylzaela and Dzelha was
too rich an opportunity to pass up. The Star Elf twins were arrestingly pretty,
possessed with the sharply beautiful features so typical of their kind, and
blessed with smooth, glacier-white skin and silvery eyes, like polished
platinum. As was the tradition of their icebound city, they wore their long,
deep blue hair in numerous thin, intricately woven braids: each strand was
unique, like a snowflake, and bore a profound, symbolic significance. It was
said that Star Elf women could read one another's life-paths merely by glancing
at their braids. What appealed to Tahllea most, though, was that the twins,
though they were graced by a certain elfin elegance, had been tempered by the
harsh elements of their northern home, so that they had a lean, athletic
musculature - so different from a soft, Imej-born Grey Elven noblewoman.
"Faultless how, Lady Tahllea?"
Dzelha inquired softly, carefully easing Tahllea's feet into the footbath. The
steam had condensed on her white icicle-patterned silk shift, making it cling
to her elegant, conical breasts. Her blueberry-violet nipples were stiff against
the clinging fabric. Star Elven women made generous use of the dye of the Blue
Sun Lichen. Tahllea found that it brought out the best in the twins' features,
for they wore it on their lips and around their delicate, almond eyes - a
gorgeous contrast with their skin that mirrored the sapphire-blue of their
hair.
"As I am now, child, only
more...polished." Tahllea said. The precise terminology of beauty
treatments was alien to her.
"Your hair curled as usual, then, Lady
Tahllea?" Jylzaela said softly. She dipped her hands into the bowl of
blended cleansing oils and began to trace firm, circular patterns through
Tahllea's short, raven-black hair.
"Naturally. I like the effect."
came the curt reply. Ever since reading the Chronicles of Krynn in
Yssinel's library - indeed, one of the few books Tahllea had ever bothered to
read - she had become infatuated with the exploits of a tragic anti-heroine
from that world and chosen to style herself on that mighty female warrior's
image.
"Some nail paint for your feet?" Dzelha
suggested without thinking. Kneeling in front of Tahllea gave her a tantalising
view of the Bladesinger's long, firm thighs and, at their juncture, the
slightest shadowy hint of a rich, pink treasure.
"Don't be ridiculous, girl."
Tahllea growled. "Who do you take me for?"
Jylzaela shot her sister a reproving glance
and Dzelha nodded apologetically, returning to her dutiful work applying a
hard, but invigorating pressure on strategic points on the soles of Tahllea's
feet. A luxuriously peaceful silence followed and Tahllea allowed herself to
sink into the limb-loosening relaxation of strong, but expert massaging
fingers. Far from the clanging blades of her duelling hall, she finally had
time to contemplate the day's developments. Dinner with Min and Aerylle had
turned out to be a surprisingly pleasant experience. To be sure, the
Bladesinger had been delighted to see her friend again after so long, but Min
had been by far the most pleasant surprise of the day. The tiefling was an
endlessly fascinating and dangerously seductive woman, the sort of
swashbuckling rogue Tahllea could imagine flipping a coin just to decide
whether she felt like fucking or backstabbing to pass the night away. As far as
Grey Elves were concerned Min may well have been a crude barbarian, but her
nonchalant, sensual drawl and earthy language made for endlessly interesting
conversation.
That was the official explanation. In truth,
Tahllea was fascinated by Min's effortless sensuousness. The tiefling had
seduced her with the sway of her hips, the lusty danger of her smile, the glint
in her slanted, orange eyes. Tahllea's only regret was that Min had sauntered
off before she had time to return the tiefling's favour. Now, the Bladesinger
found herself imagining what was under Min's skintight, red leather breeches.
She badly wanted to feel the lithe muscle of Min's thighs, the curve of her
bottom, to explore the petal-like folds of the tiefling's sex. Would it be
salty and musky, or tart and spicy? Either way, Tahllea could see herself
spending whole nights with her face buried in Min's pussy.
"Lady Tahllea..." Dzelha whispered,
gently lifting the Bladesinger's feet from the basin of warm water to dry them
with a heated towel using swift, feather-light strokes.
"What is it, my rare beauty?"
Tahllea replied airily. Thinking of Min had radically improved her mood and
made her forget all about the upcoming duel with Sigrid.
Dzelha blushed a light violet. Flattery from
Tahllea always quickened the blood in her veins. "I am now going to file
your nails and condition your skin."
"An excellent idea..." Tahllea
hissed. She absentmindedly reached out to the small, round table beside her
armchair to retrieve the envelope she had pilfered from Yssinel's study. The
moment Min had wandered off earlier that day, Tahllea had made a quick dash to
her lover's desk where, just as she had suspected, the Enchantress kept the
records of her research. It had taken Tahllea's sharp, perceptive gaze only a
few moments to sort through the neat stacks of paper and find a clear, blue
fabric envelope labelled only 'Sigrid'. Now, in the privacy of her own bathing
chamber, she felt ready to explore the mysterious Aasimar's past.
"Would Lady Tahllea prefer rosehip,
orange blossom, iris? Or perhaps something a little smokier..." Jylzaela
asked as she pressed her index and middle fingers against Tahllea's temples in
a slow, circular pattern while her thumbs trailed firmly over the Bladesinger's
forehead.
"Nothing too flowery," Tahllea
noted. She flipped the envelope open and extracted a creamy-white folio bound
with silver wire. Dzelha had slipped tufts of silk soaked in bergamot-essence
between Tahllea's toes and proceeded to glide over the Bladesinger's toenails
with an enchanted platinum file.
"Cedar?" Jylzaela proposed,
instinctively reaching for a fancifully-shaped crystal vial that had been made
to resemble a pine cone.
"Why not? Your expert hands could never
disappoint me." Tahllea said with a coquettish smile. She returned to
envelope to the table and turned the first page of the folio. Her smile
widened. Yssinel had, predictably, performed a very thorough research and noted
everything down. The forest-fresh scent of cedar-wood wafted into the air as
Jylzaela poured a thin stream of amber liquid onto Tahllea's forehead, allowing
the warm liquid to seep down her scalp. "Today the Blessed Pole Star Queen
has been generous to
"How strange that you would say that,
Lady Tahllea," Jylzaela breathed suggestively, carefully massaging the
rich cedar-wood oil into the Bladesinger's hair. "We share exactly the
same opinion." Star Elven courtship was stylised, ritualistic and deeply
complicated, much like Star Elven society as a whole. The only times Jylzaela
and Dzelha could enjoy casual, relatively informal company was when they
travelled.
Jylzaela's voice faded into the background,
Tahllea was far too busy revelling in each detail Yssinel had scribed. Sigrid,
just as Tahllea suspected, was an upstart novice from an off-world militant
order staffed mainly by humans. Her parentage was uncertain and she had
systematically lied her way through Imej's high society, an affront that
Tahllea could not tolerate. It was infuriating enough that Sigrid had become
the talk of the town and the half-baked adolescent fantasy of many a
starry-eyed Grey Elf girl, but the fact that it had been publicised that
the Aasimar had challenged her to a duel was doubly maddening. The terms of the
proposed duel suggested that she and Sigrid were in some way equals. But now,
the truth was out in the open. As Tahllea's suddenly smug, golden eyes focused
on Yssinel's elegant cursive script, she decided that, unless Sigrid
cooperated, it would be revealed to the whole city that the Aasimar bitch was
nothing but a girl masquerading as a blademistress and one raised by barbaric
humans as well.
All of a sudden, Tahllea felt infinitely
better. "Lady Tahllea," Dzelha said, replacing the file in the silver
cosmetics box and carefully releasing the silken strips between the
Bladesinger's toes, "as requested, I went for simplicity, would you like
to inspect my work?"
Tahllea smiled wolfishly and set down the
folio. "I am certain that your work has been flawless. Perhaps you would
like to make yourself more comfortable." Dzelha felt her sex
tighten as a pang of desire flooded through her loins. With slow, deliberate
grace, she rose to her feet and loosened her shift, allowing the snow-white
garment to slide, damp with condensed moisture, down her slim, but tautly
muscled frame. The shift pooled at her feet. Tahllea sighed and admired
Dzelha's subtle strength. Firm, compact breasts gave way to the hard, flat
expanse of her belly, delicately lined with muscle like that of a dancer, and
then to the plump, hairless mound of her sex at the union of her sublime
thighs.
Unperturbed by her sister's nudity, Jylzaela
concentrated on the finishing touches of Tahllea's hair, using a warm, silver
wand to activate the firming agent in the cedar oil to give the Bladesinger's
hair the desired shape and definition. "I see that I am to your liking,
Milady Bladesinger." Dzelha said coyly. Her throat felt dry with desire.
She could hear her heartbeat hammer between her temples.
Wordlessly, Tahllea loosened her dressing
gown and let the offending garment slip open. The small, but perfectly formed
hillocks of her breasts glistened with condensed moisture in the dull glow of
the candles and the overhanging lamp. Her light rosehip-red nipples were hard
as arrowheads, piercing the hot, humid air. She parted her thighs. It was only
then that she became aware of the rich stickiness that hung like dew between
her nether lips.
"Lady Tahllea..." Dzelha gasped.
Between those athletic, alabaster thighs, a bright, pink flower nestled, just
waiting to bloom. She drew a deep breath and her belly and thighs tensed in
anticipation.
"This is the flower of a goddess."
Tahllea said huskily, parting her thighs further to reveal a glistening, pink
heaven. "You should feel privileged that you will be allowed to drink its
nectar."
Jylzaela surreptitiously slipped a hand under
her own shift and began to caress the fat, juicing mound of her sex in long,
languid circles. She silently cursed the curling iron for taking its time with
Tahllea's hair. Dzelha swallowed and then spoke, her voice trembling with need,
"Yes, I feel blessed."
"Good. So come to your goddess."
Tahllea purred. Dzelha took two steps forwards and knelt between Tahllea's
thighs, running her fingers reverently over the soft skin of the Bladesinger's
inner thigh. Tahllea moaned softly. Dzelha dipped her head and placed a soft,
wet kiss on the Bladesinger's navel. Tahllea's belly strained under the erotic
tension as Dzelha flicked her tongue out into the little furrow - a taste of
things to come. The Star Elf girl trailed her tongue down the hard expanse of
Tahllea's belly and then placed a second, firm kiss at the very apex of the
Bladesinger's sex. As if she were handling a blooming flower, Dzelha traced the
inner lips of Tahllea's pussy with her thumbs and tugged the wet, dewy petals
apart. The scent of iron, musk and womanhood filled the air. It was a warrior's
sex.
Jylzaela sighed in vicarious pleasure at the
sight of her sister's long, sapphire-blue tresses spilling like a mat of
tropical vines all over Tahllea's thighs. She swiftly set aside the curling
iron and disrobed, tossing her shift across the room. Dzelha hovered for a
moment above Tahllea's sex, admiring the blooming nether lips and the strands
of pearly, gooey nectar that streaked the velvety inner flesh. Then, ever so
slowly, she drew her tongue over the lust-inflamed petals. Tahllea gasped and
reached out for Jylzaela's waist. Long, skilled fingers clasped the Star Elf
girl's taut bottom, digging into the firm muscle. "Attend to my
breast!" Tahllea hissed and Jylzaela happily complied, kneeling by the
side of the armchair to place the lightest of kisses upon the Bladesinger's
engorged nipple.
Dzelha paused for a dramatic moment between
Tahllea's thighs and then began lapping lustily. She was deliberately languid,
eager to raise the level of Tahllea's sensual tension rather than simply bring
her to climax. The Bladesinger's taste was addictive. Tahllea's pussy had the
delicious floral sweetness of a High Elf, but it was so rich with feminine
muskiness that even Dzelha was taken aback. She licked, her tongue gliding over
the neat, glistening folds and tasted steel. Just a trace of metallic richness,
for Tahllea had scrupulously flushed the slick issue of her cycle out after her
encounter with Min, but enough to drive Dzelha into a frenzy of lust. Tahllea
had the flavour of pure, powerful womanhood.
Tahllea felt herself sink into a misty,
sensual dream. Jylzaela's tongue was trailed wetly over her breast, leaving a
slick trail all the way to the hardened peak of her nipple, where the Star
Elf's soft, violet-painted lips clamped down. An electric jolt of pleasure shot
up Tahllea's spine. She arched her back and thrust her earthy pussy into
Dzelha's face while Jylzaela suckled diligently at her nipple, her breath hot
and moist against the painfully swollen peak. Tahllea ran her fingers through
Dzelha's braids, drawing the Star Elf maiden in closer. Dzelha did not
disappoint. With loving reverence, she gently slipped two fingers into the
aching, hot
The Bladesinger bit her lip to stop herself from whimpering. Dzelha would be
punished for her impudence. But, in the heat of the moment, all she wanted was
Dzelha's tongue against her clit to dance in rhythm with the fingers thrusting
in her channel. The Star Elf maiden between her thighs did not disappoint.
Dzelha began to concentrate her licks on the glistening little jewel of
Tahllea's clit. She lapped in a slow, provocative pattern, her tongue flat
against the stiff little pearl, slowly savouring the rich nectar that coated
her lips and cloyed her mouth. Tahllea gasped, her breathing growing ever more
ragged with each lick of Dzelha's infuriatingly expert mouth. She seized
Jylzaela by her braids and pulled the Star Elf maiden into a fierce, ravenous
kiss. Jylzaela submissively parted her lips and let Tahllea's tongue master
hers in a wet, lusty dance.
Tahllea's back arched as she felt the first
spasms of her climax building like a knot of pleasure deep in her loins. She
thrust her hips forward, mashing her pussy into Dzelha's face, drawing the Star
Elf maiden's fingers in deeper. Then the tide of passion overwhelmed her.
Tahllea's hips bucked hard three times as she came with low, moaning breaths,
suffocated by the glorious softness of Jylzaela's lips. Dzelha continued
licking, even after Tahllea had come. She was lost in that savoury ocean of
nectar and silk. Only when she felt the sharp pain of Tahllea seizing her
braids and roughly pulling her head up was her reverie interrupted.
"You impudent little harlot,"
Tahllea purred dangerously, leaning forward to devour Dzelha's lips with a
deep, hungry kiss. "Never enter me unless I give you permission,
understood?"
"Apologies, Lady Tahllea...but you were
so irresistible." Dzelha said breathlessly. Tahllea smiled and twisted the
girl's braids viciously, eliciting a surprised yelp of pain from Dzelha.
"Such an impertinent little
strumpet," Tahllea continued, lasciviously running her tongue over the
sensitive surface of Dzelha's pointed ear. The Star Elf maiden whimpered in
pleasure. "Silly, giggling girls like you need a woman to show them their
place. Elves, my dear," Tahllea began, measuring each word with a wanton
lick on Dzelha's ear, "know very little about punishment. That is one
thing we have neglected compared to humans. Humans, you see, often say 'let the
punishment fit the crime'. What do you say to that, my sweet little
strumpet?"
"Uhm...sounds fascinating, Lady
Tahllea." Dzelha sighed. Jylzaela was behind both of them, lovingly kissing
the slim, athletic muscles of Tahllea's shoulders as she thrust her moist,
swollen sex against the Bladesinger's back, leaving hot, slick trails.
"Is that so?" Tahllea hissed,
biting down maliciously on the tip of Dzelha's ear. The Star Elf maiden mewled
in delicious pain, a single tear trickling down her cheek. "Then maybe you
would like the honour of having both my hands in your
Dzelha gasped. "No! I...mean, Lady
Tahllea...I could never...I would bleed..."
"I certainly have no objection to that.
Do you?" Tahllea retorted sadistically. She tugged hard on Dzelha's
braids, forcing the girl to present her throat. The Bladesinger then trailed
wet, predatory kisses over the soft, white skin of the Star Elf maiden's neck.
"Please, Lady Tahllea..." Dzelha
whimpered piteously, hoping her sister would intervene to support her.
Jylzaela, though, was far too busy lavishing Tahllea's ear with wanton licks to
pay any real attention.
"I may choose to be merciful this
time," Tahllea snarled, tracing her lips in the valley between Dzelha's
breasts. The Star Elf girl was strong as she struggled against the
Bladesinger's iron grip, but Tahllea was stronger. "But remember, girl,
never play with fire." Another sharp jerk of her braids caused Dzelha to
arch her back even more sharply. Tahllea smiled triumphantly and enveloped a
stiff, violet nipple between her lips and bit down, hard, tugging the stiff
little peak until Dzelha begged her, sobbing, to stop.
"Yes..." Dzelha hissed. "Lady
Tahllea, show me my place."
"Very well." the Bladesinger said
imperiously. "Jylzaela, lie on the armchair and hold your thighs
open."
The Star Elf hastened to obey. She spread
herself out on the couch, her bare feet planted on either armrest, nectar-slick
pussy obscenely parted and blooming. Her inner lips were a deep pink, verging
on lavender and drenched with milky arousal. Tahllea felt her mouth moistening
with anticipation. The girl smelled of fresh violets and blueberries and forest
undergrowth. She could not help but kneel between Jylzaela's thighs and place a
few long, wanton exploratory licks on the hot, sodden folds. The Star Elf's
nectar, rich and thick like cream coated her lips, trickled down her tongue.
Jylzaela was glorious, spread open like that, her eyes squeezed shut as she
tried not to thrust her soaked pussy too violently into Tahllea's face. Her
clit glistened with juice. Viscous nectar drenched the neat petals of her inner
lips and a single bead of moisture flowed provocatively down to the dimple of
her anus - her tight, delicious violet-bud. Tahllea licked it off.
Satisfied with her inspection, Tahllea rose
and shrugged off her dressing gown. "Dzelha, take my place and pleasure
your sister."
"Lady Tahllea!" Dzelha gasped. She
could not even begin to describe how depraved an act Tahllea was suggesting.
Any further protest was silenced by Tahllea seizing her to draw her into a
lusty, possessive kiss. Dzelha could taste the fresh, flowery musk of her
sister's excitement, mingled with the steely heat of Tahllea's kiss. It was
like a drug that opened a world of wicked, forbidden sensation. Tahllea's hands
wandered freely over Dzelha's taut, athletic frame. The girl was perfect:
snowflake-white skin over taut, yet undeniably female muscle. And, of course,
as any Bladesinger worthy of that title knew, Star Elves had bottoms to die
for. Elegantly curved and so firm it would put a Spellsword to shame.
"Now my kiss has brought your sister's
essence with it," Tahllea, her throat cloyed with desire. "There is
no further impropriety you should worry about."
"Jylzaela," Dzelha began
hesitantly in Star Elven, "iiyh atiiej kheii dhiaitei tehaHanaliin?"
Jylzaela bit her lip and considered the
burning need in her sex and the uncoiling, liquid fire in her loins. Her skin
burned. Like her sister, her pale skin was flushed, tinged a light violet from
the mounting passion that flowed thickly through her veins. "Aidhi,
kysa iiyha." she whispered, blushing furiously.
Dzelha gathered her courage and knelt between
her sister's thighs. The perfume was so familiar, so reassuring. So too was her
sister's breathing. Tahllea, for her part, padded silently to the cosmetics
rack and chose a vial of lavender oil, before returning to the armchair to give
Jylzaela an encouraging nod. Without stopping to think, Jylzaela gathered her
sister's long, sapphire-blue braids and drew her in closer to her sodden sex.
Dzelha tasted nectar and saw her sister arch her back and thrust the blooming
flower of her pussy forward. After that, nothing else mattered. Dzelha started
licking with the same hunger she had shown Tahllea's sex. The tart, flowery
taste, the soft, velvety texture, those were her own. In Dzelha's mind, it was
like tracing the familiar contours of her own pussy, moist and yielding, all
those times she and Jylzaela shared their family's vast, granite steambath,
huddling close to each other for a sisterly chat or withdrawing to a steam
filled corner when they needed time for themselves. Dzelha had first savoured
the thick residue of her own passion in just such a secluded moment and it came
as no surprise that her sister tasted exactly the same.
"Good girl," Tahllea purred
sensually, gently caressing Dzelha's taut, arched back. The scene was so deliciously
wanton that even Tahllea felt she had surpassed herself. Dzelha licked
hungrily, eyes closed, her lips and tongue drenched with her sister's milky
nectar. Jylzaela writhed in the armchair, her toes curling against the soft,
red fabric of the armrests, as she clasped her own breast in her hand, rolling
a painfully stiff nipple between her fingers.
Tahllea knelt behind Dzelha and sharply
slapped the girl's bottom. The sound reverberated throughout the chamber.
Dzelha groaned against her sister's pussy. The stinging sensation melded
deliciously with the dull ache in her sex. Tahllea slapped the taut,
deliciously firm globes thrice more, leaving an ever-expanding violet
impression on the pristine white skin. Her more perverse side wanted to brand the
Star Elf twins and Ilmaeria and Sigrid like humans did with cattle, so they
could all be where they belonged: her cute, obedient little playthings with a
tiny 'Tahllea' in cursive script seared into their buttocks. Tahllea quickly
discarded the idea: to leave a physical mark was so crude, so human; a
more Elven way of doing things was to master the mind and soul.
Dzelha shuddered as she felt warm, soothing
oil being poured onto her stinging bottom. Tahllea was behind her, caressing
the globes of her buttocks, trailing a malicious thumb between the tight
crevasse of the two ivory mounds until she reached the drenched petals of the
Star Elf's nether lips. Tahllea parted the inner lips of Dzelha's sex and
slipped two fingers in, drawing a surprised gasp from the Star Elf maiden.
Then, the Bladesinger poured half the vial's contents onto her outstretched
palm, letting the thick liquid flow down her fingers. A third finger, slick
with fragrant oil, was added into Dzelha's channel and then fourth. Tahllea paused,
carefully flaring her fingers into her lover's channel, stretching the tight
passage with each, coaxing thrust of her hand, forcing the budding violet into
full bloom.
Jylzaela bit her lip and gyrated her hips on
the armchair. Her sister's infuriatingly quick tongue was flicking long and
hard against the stiff bud of her clit. She ran her fingers savagely through
Dzelha's hair, her moans growing a breathier and more ragged with each lick.
Her loins felt like molten metal, thick and pulsing and full of burning
tension. Then Dzelha whimpered against her sister's clit. Jylzaela knew Tahllea
had finally slipped her thumb inside Dzelha's stretched pussy.
The Bladesinger pressed herself against
Dzelha's back, her nipples hard against the Star Elf girl's violet-flushed skin
as she forced her mouth further against her sister's sex. Using Dzelha's
strong, tautened thighs for balance, Tahllea thrust all five clenched fingers
into the Star Elf's sodden pussy in one, hard thrust. Dzelha grunted and
submissively spread her thighs further. Tahllea slipped her free hand against
Dzelha's breasts, stroking the Star Elf maiden's hard nipples. Then she began
to fuck Dzelha with long, steady thrusts, her fingers balled up against the
sensitive inner walls of the girl's channel, exploring deeper until the Star
Elf's defeated pussy clamped down on Tahllea's invading wrist.
The pain was sublime. It hurt, but Dzelha
wanted it to go on hurting for an eternity because each thrust of Tahllea's
hand fed the tight ball of tension in her loins. Soon, Dzelha thought, soon.
Jylzaela came under her sister's expert tongue, her mewling gasps flooding the
chamber, her hips bucking so hard that stray droplets of pearly nectar spilt
forth to stain the armchair's upholstery. Dzelha continued to lick as if
nothing had happened. She hooked her hands under Jylzaela's bottom to hold her
still and used her thumbs to pry the sticky lips of her sister's pussy. All she
could see was heat, sex and moisture, so when the pads of Tahllea's fingers
rubber against that sweet spot deep inside her canal, Dzelha felt like she was
being born again.
Dzelha gave a low, ragged cry and bit down,
hard, on the inside of her sister's thigh as she felt the first spasm of her
climax course through her loins. A tidal wave of heat and energy flooded her
sex. Tahllea held firm and continued fucking Dzelha, just to show the girl that
orgasm or no orgasm, she was always in control. The contractions of the Star
Elf maiden's pussy against Tahllea's hand were sublime. So too were Dzelha's
whimpering moans as she felt the waves of ecstatic agony continue to sweep over
her. Her belly and thighs tensed with each spasm, but Tahllea would not stop
thrusting until she was certain that Dzelha was too exhausted to climax again.
Then, once Dzelha's breathing had eased,
Tahllea withdrew her hand, thick strands of juice streaking across the Star Elf
maiden's thighs. "That was divine, Lady Tahllea..." Dzelha cooed,
nuzzling the inside of her sister's thigh.
"Of course it was." Tahllea said,
planting a soft kiss on Dzelha's fragrant hair. "Jylzaela, I believe it is
your turn to be punished for being such a wanton slattern."
Jylzaela nodded vigorously and climbed out of the armchair to present herself
to Tahllea on her hands and knees while Dzelha stood obediently by, waiting for
her mistress' instructions. It was then that the Bladesinger realised that
something was missing. She had ordered Ilmaeria to join her in the bathing
chamber before leaving the duelling hall earlier that day, but the wretched
girl had never turned up.
***
If
only
"Isn't it getting a bit late?"
Sigrid complained amiably. The sun had long since set and both silver moons now
dominated the frigid, Imej skyline. The great moon, Sehanine, was full, casting
her luminescent radiance on the great glacier on the horizon, while her younger
sister, Faenya, was on the verge of full brightness. That, to Sigrid, was the
celestial reminder that the next day would be the day of judgement when she
would either put Tahllea in her place or fail spectacularly in the attempt.
Although the challenge had been made in the heat of the moment, the more the
Aasimar thought about the situation rationally, the more it occurred to her
that calling for a duel may well have been a little too hasty.
"Are you chasing me away?" Aravae
whispered, almost inaudibly. As Sigrid had grown to know the Grey Elf better,
it dawned upon her that the young Bladesinger's main flaw was her infuriating
tendency to slip from being distant and formal, to meek and vulnerable in the
space of a few moments. So, there she was, curled up defensively on Sigrid's
bed, hugging her knees and gazing out blankly at the night sky. She still wore
her sky blue duelling tunic. It was, Sigrid had to admit, a flattering outfit,
for it complemented Aravae's long, slender limbs and elfin physique to
perfection.
"No, silly," Sigrid sighed. If she
had to be honest with herself, she was tense. Mjrina had not turned up for
dinner and, Sigrid imagined, the Handmaiden had been caught up in one of
Yssinel's shadowy dinners with fellow sorceresses. She had badly wanted for
Mjrina to cheer her up before facing her destiny, but, upon further
consideration, she decided that it was for the best. Mjrina's presence would
merely have made her more nervous by filling her with an even greater anxiety
to win. "But I thought you had to report to Tahllea."
"I do." Aravae sulked. Sigrid
shrugged and unbuttoned her white and gold tunic, cast it aside on the chair by
her desk and reached for the cobalt-blue satin nightgown Mjrina had laid out
for her that morning. The fabric was cool against her skin, almost soothing. A
light aroma of Kuythan Iris wafted into the air as Sigrid dressed for
the night. Mjrina knew it was her favourite.
"Do you want something to eat? I'd
rather not drink before the duel, but we could get some elderflower
cordial..." Sigrid began.
"No. I'm not hungry." Aravae said
wearily. Then her voice dropped to a soft, plaintive whisper. "Can I
stay?"
"And if Mjrina comes?" Sigrid
retorted, turning to face Aravae. The Grey Elf maiden looked so lost,
frightened even. There was suffering in her silvery grey eyes, as if she were
reliving a terrible memory.
"I...I'll sleep on the floor, I don't
mind...please, Sigrid, please..." Aravae certainly did not beg, but for
the first time, Sigrid imagined that she was not far from doing so. Whatever it
was that made the normally self-assured Bladesinger swallow her pride, it was
certainly a serious matter.
"You take advantage of me," Sigrid
teased. She tossed open the hardwood lid of her clothes chest and retrieved the
first nightgown she could find. "You know I could never refuse you."
She padded over to the bed and sat on the clean, crisp sheets by Aravae's side
to hand her the nightgown. "Here, get changed, you've been prowling around
in that fencing tunic all day."
"Isn't this a little...pink?"
Aravae joked. As if by magic, her mood had been restored by the prospect of
spending the night in Sigrid's room.
"I know, it's horrible, but most of
these clothes were chosen by Yssinel and who am I to criticise her
tastes?" Sigrid could only chuckle softly to herself as Aravae neatly
folded up her fencing tunic and stepped into a garment the Aasimar would quite
conceivably have died before wearing.
"Oh, Goddess, this is ridiculous,
is it not?" Aravae sighed, stealing a brief glance from the long, oval
mirror. Sigrid had dimmed the lights for the evening, so that the only source
of illumination was a brilliant sphere which revolved slowly, like an astral
body, filling the room with a warm, cozy glow.
"Absolutely. But you would look
wonderful wearing anything." Sigrid replied with sincere admiration.
"You're always so...graceful, like a sprite floating in the
wind..."
Aravae smiled warmly as Sigrid trailed off.
It took Sigrid a few moments to notice that the Bladesinger was blushing.
"You are too kind."
"Not at all. If you looked around and
actually noticed how many people find you beautiful, you'd realise that
life doesn't begin and end with Tahllea." Sigrid felt her stomach churn
involuntarily with renewed nervousness at the mention of Tahllea's name.
"Maybe," Aravae concluded sadly.
She joined Sigrid on the bed and watched the glow of the light-sphere shimmer
over the gold thread of the tapestry that hung across the far wall of the room.
"Lady Tahllea told me to join her for the evening. I would never have the
courage to decline that kind of invitation, so, I suppose, the best solution is
simply never to turn up."
"Why not today?" Sigrid inquired
curiously, wrapping a comforting arm around her friend's waist and drawing her
into an embrace. Sun-blonde hair, shimmering like the gold thread in the
tapestry, swept over Sigrid's breast. If only she knew, the Aasimar
thought, if only someone told her.
"My Mistress is...temperamental. On
nights like these, she likes to be the conquering heroine, the warrior-goddess.
Some nights, she will cradle me as we make love and whisper the most
heartbreakingly beautiful compliments, but not tonight. Tonight, I saw hunger
in her eyes." Aravae drew a deep breath and tried to remember the mornings
when Tahllea was in a good mood. Then, she was allowed to have breakfast in bed
with her and, almost inexplicably, Tahllea would make her tea and be the first
to massage her with a soft sponge when they bathed. If only, Aravae
thought, if only every morning could be like that.
"Was she going to hurt you?" Sigrid
said indignantly, reflexively clenching her fist. The more she learned about Tahllea,
the more she loathed her.
"Almost certainly," Aravae
confessed. "But not physically. I enjoy passionate lovemaking as much as
she. No, I think her plan was to make me share her bed with some other lovers
of hers and that...that I could never tolerate. I would do anything she
asked of me in the bedchamber, but never with another. That has always
been my solemn promise."
"You deserve someone who will love you
every day for the rest of your life." Sigrid said, indignant that Aravae
allowed herself to be treated like a toy.
"I think I have already exhausted all
the platitudes to describe my life." Aravae said wryly. She knew that her
situation seemed ridiculous to Sigrid. The Aasimar was a free spirit and
certainly suffered the authority of no other. For that Aravae admired her to no
end. But Aravae was, first and foremost, a woman of principle. She owed Tahllea
everything and had no intention of betraying her mentor, her lover - the one
who had taken her out of the odious kitchen in which her mother worked and the
dead-end life it promised.
"Then I love you Aravae," Sigrid answered
fiercely. The word she used was ‘liy’, which in Grey Elven faithfully
represented what she felt: the love of a sister. "And..." Sigrid
fervently kissed Aravae's soft hair, hoping to relieve the awkwardness of what
she had just said.
"I know." Aravae said, huddling
closer to her friend, her head pressed against Sigrid's breast to hear the
comforting song of her heart. "But thank you for telling me."
"All right, all right," Sigrid
sighed, feigning impatience. "Lie on my lap." Aravae happily
complied, while Sigrid reached over to the bedside table and opened a
lacquered, walnut box. She slid the box's mechanism open and carefully withdrew
a pristine silk handkerchief, a specially concocted skin lotion that smelled
faintly of heather and was stored in a tiny, alabaster jar and finally a reed
like object, perhaps a finger long, with a small silver scraper on one side and
a spotless cotton tuft on the other.
Sigrid set the objects on the bed and gently
pulled Aravae's shoulder-length hair to one side to reveal her lovely,
delicately pointed ear. She poured a little lotion on her fingers and began to
massage the fragrant liquid onto the sensitive skin of Aravae's ear with the
lightest of touches. Despite herself, Aravae purred with pleasure. Sigrid's
movements were infinitely dextrous, so when she slipped the silver end of the
reed into Aravae's ear, the Grey Elf Bladesinger felt virtually nothing at all,
just a soft, pleasant pressure.
"Sorry if I'm not doing it right,"
Sigrid said, scrupulously cleaning nook and cranny of Aravae's ear, "I
asked Mjrina to teach me, but I'm sure it feels a lot better when she does
it."
"No..." Aravae said dreamily.
"This is positively lovely. It was difficult to find much
relaxation when I was a child. Do not be fooled by all the Grey Elves here who
live in luxury, there are just as many who have no House and live in the Lower
Bands of Imej. I suppose you always need cooks and gardeners, right?" Any
bitterness in Aravae's thoughts was soon drowned out by the sublime caress of
Sigrid's reed.
"No House? So that means your name is
just Aravae, right?"
"Yes, though Lady Tahllea could allow me
to join her House once she judges me a worthy Bladesinger." Aravae noted.
"Turn over." Sigrid ordered, before
returning to the topic at hand. "Would you accept?"
As if in a trance, Aravae turned on her side
to present her other ear to Sigrid's expert attention. She now found herself
pressed close to Sigrid's belly, so close she could smell the subtle perfume of
the Aasimar's skin. "Perhaps. Maybe we should leave that decision for
another time."
"In a way," Sigrid confessed
between deft flicks of her reed, "I don't have a House either."
"How so?" Aravae inquired. She had
always been curious of the customs of other cultures, especially if the culture
in question had given birth to a creature as fascinating as Sigrid.
"I was born among humans, humans from a
world called Ortho. In my culture, your second name comes from you father,
which is no good at all when your father refuses to acknowledge you. I was just
Sigrid and though my half-sister could call herself Sigurdsdottir as well, I
could not. Then, when I became a novice at the Order of the Radiant Path, all
that was forgotten. Novices shed their second names and we all became
sisters...at least in theory, but it was a good enough idea. Why would I want
to carry my father's name, anyway?" Sigrid said defiantly.
"So it never pained you not to belong
somewhere?" Aravae inquired. Sigrid's fingers were like feathers against
her ear as the Aasimar applied a little more scented lotion.
"To be quite honest, it did, but only
for a while. In time, I learned that being just Sigrid meant that I was free to
decide what being Sigrid meant. When you take on other names, or become part of
something bigger than just you and what you love, then you can no longer
decide: you're told where to go and what to do and who you can be friends with.
You give part of your being, your destiny, to someone or something else."
Sigrid carefully ran the cotton end of her reed one last time in Aravae's ear
and wrapped the reed in the silk handkerchief, setting it aside in a separate
silver container to be cleaned.
"Thank you, I do not wish to sound vain,
but I think I needed a little affectionate attention." Aravae said,
placing a grateful kiss on Sigrid's belly.
"It's nothing." Sigrid shrugged.
"I should be thanking you for taking my mind off tomorrow."
"Please, Sigrid, do not let the duel
haunt you." said Aravae. "Mjrina and I will not think any better or
worse of you, whatever the result."
Sigrid nodded absentmindedly and swiftly
changed the subject. "What actually happens during the Celestial Sisters
Festival?" The looming, silver-bright moons in the sky made her more
curious than ever to penetrate into the rich mythology and folklore of the Grey
Elves.
"Well," Aravae began, raising
herself up from Sigrid's lap and letting herself fall back on the plush pillows
behind her. Sigrid smiled and followed, so she could wrap her arm around
Aravae's waist as they both stared out into the yawning night that spread out
from the bedchamber window. "As you know, the sun is Corellon Larethian,
the Creator God, whose bonded lover is Sehanine Moonbow, the great moon and the
Mother Goddess, who, in turn, has a sister, Faenya, our second moon, and
another bonded lover, the Pole Star Queen, the Goddess of the Star Elves and
the brightest star in the night sky. In the Age of Dreams, the Progenitor Wyrm
of the Green Dragons abducted Faenya and set her to dance on his pillar of
skulls. She was rescued by Sehanine, her sister, who inflicted the Three Divine
Wounds on the Progenitor Wyrm: she struck his eye with an arrow, his wing with
her sword and his belly with her dagger. Thus, he was forced to release Faenya
back into the world, which is why she is the second moon to become full."
"Her sword?" Sigrid said in wonder,
the mythic scene from beyond the dawn of time filling her mind with images of
epic battle.
"Yes, Sehanine's Moonblade: she broke it
into two weapons - a sword called Beam and a dagger called Crescent."
"Do they really exist?" Sigrid
asked.
"Every Bladesinger likes to think
so." Aravae replied. "It was said that they were last granted to
Tyrithina who became Queen of Muriith Ayr tens of thousands of years ago.
But...you may find them tomorrow. Weapons of legend are not found, they
find their wielders."
"Maybe we'll find them together."
Sigrid ventured, giving Aravae's cheek a quick, but tender kiss.
"Perhaps...some day. I have never been
far outside Imej and there is such a vast, wondrous world out there, so that I
would love to have the freedom to travel." Aravae mused. She knew that Imej
was in the northern regions of the world. Often, she dreamed of travelling
south, until she reached the legendary
"I'm cold." Sigrid shivered. They
plunged together under the pristine white covers. Aravae instinctively snuggled
up against Sigrid, nestling her head against the hollow of the Aasimar's neck.
"Sigrid?" Aravae murmured, feeling a little foolish.
"Hmm?"
"Can we have breakfast in bed
tomorrow?" Aravae clutched Sigrid's waist tighter, drawing herself close
enough to hear the lifeblood pulse in the Aasimar's throat.
"Uhm...all right."
"Thank you."
Aravae, as always, fell asleep almost
immediately, transported to a world of dreams where, for the first time, Sigrid
was by her side instead of Tahllea. It turned out to be one of the happiest
dreams of her life. Sigrid pondered the two moons for a while and, when she was
very certain Aravae was asleep, she whispered those three, fateful words again.
If only.
***
The
Ritual
"Are you certain you want the ritual,
Mistress?" Mjrina asked with a little trepidation. The
"Yes, my dear Mjrina," Yssinel
replied fervently. "And you are the only one who knows how to call
her." The air was cool and moist and redolent of vegetation. The
"It is a very...earthy ritual."
Mjrina said, her pulse quickening at the sheer wantonness of what Yssinel had
asked of her.
"Be that as it may, I need it. It is the
only way I can have what I so desire." said the Enchantress. She felt
awkward and out of place. Mjrina, on the other hand, looked as though she had
been born to exist in such a wild setting. As always, the voluptuous Wood Elf
wore her loose, provocatively succinct green shift and, had it not been for the
vine-grown walls that surrounded them, Yssinel was sure that Mjrina could have
passed for a druid in the deepest, virgin forest. Even in her simple, cream-white
satin gown, Yssinel felt strangely overdressed.
"As you wish, Mistress, it would be my
honour to call her, but you must follow my lead." Mjrina explained. It
pleased her to be in control from time to time. Now, she was in her element.
The moist earth felt delicious under her bare feet; the cool, damp air reminded
her of timeless nights in the heart of the forest. It was time to show Yssinel
what Elves had lost by taming the Woods with cities of stone.
Yssinel nodded wordlessly. Mjrina retrieved a
small silver sickle from the pouch slung around her waist. Reverently, the Wood
Elf maiden approached the tree and knelt by its roots. With a swift flick of
her wrist, she sliced some midnight-black mushrooms that grew in the damp,
shady refuge under the mighty roots. Then, she carefully lay the sickle onto
the ground and covered it in a handful of black, fertile earth before taking
the mushrooms and chewing them carefully, one by one, to release their bitter
juice. Yssinel followed behind Mjrina with two bowls carved from an ancient
pine and set them by her Handmaiden's side. Mjrina continued to chew the
mushrooms, her head growing lighter and her blood heavier each time she
swallowed more of the narcotic liquid.
"Undress, Mistress." Mjrina said
quietly. In a swift, fluid motion the Wood Elf maiden stripped off her green
shift and cast it aside. Her woodland tan skin, a gorgeous, rich
chestnut-brown, was glorious in the moonlight. Yssinel felt a pang of desire in
her loins. Mjrina was kneeling in the most coyly provocative of positions, her
back arched, firm, generous breasts pressed forward against the trunk of the
tree, her flared bottom so rounded and tempting, hiding the moist treasure of
her womanhood.
Wordlessly, Yssinel released the golden sash
that tied the gown around her waist and let it fall to the ground, followed by
her bracelets and platinum necklace, lest the presence of metal offend the
Forest Mother. Finally naked in the silent expanse of the garden, Yssinel
realised she did not feel cold. Even in the moonlight, she knew that her skin
was already flushed with desire. Something was happening, she could feel it in
the air. So she approached Mjrina and knelt behind her handmaiden. Warm, moist
earth yielded under her knees, between her toes and on the inside of her
thighs. Tentatively, Yssinel wrapped her arms around Mjrina's waist and brushed
aside the Wood Elf girl's verdant-green hair to lavish soft butterfly kisses on
her pointed ear.
Mjrina drew a deep breath and began chewing
the last of the mushrooms. She felt the state of heightened awareness build in
her and could smell Yssinel's perfume. Not the rich jasmine and elohiy lily
blend the Enchantress normally wore, but a more primal, ancient scent of
femininity. She could feel Yssinel's hands trail up her taut belly to cup her
rounded breasts, thumbs pressed passionately against the hard, coffee-in-milk
peaks of her nipples. When the last mushroom had been swallowed, Mjrina knew it
was time. She tilted her head slightly and Yssinel pounced upon her, capturing
her Handmaiden's soft, sensual lips in a moist, passionate kiss. Mjrina's mouth
had an odd, medicinal taste from the mushrooms, but Yssinel's tongue danced
happily with its playmate nonetheless, eager for her dose of the druidic juice.
"Now watch." Mjrina ordered softly.
"When she comes, do not speak to her before she speaks to you, otherwise
she will be frightened."
Yssinel nodded, absorbed in a deepening
trance. She instinctively focused on Mjrina's thighs as she peered over her
Handmaiden's shoulder. The Wood Elf girl's breasts heaved rhythmically with her
breaths. Then Mjrina sighed and parted her thighs, her belly tensed as she took
a deep, cleansing breath. A stream of fluid, glistening in the moonlight,
issued forth from between her thighs. Yssinel gasped as she felt her excitement
mount - something raw, forbidden and dirty stirring in her loins. Mjrina was
emptying her bladder, just as she would have done in the middle of the forest,
the clear liquid redolent of ferns and herbs as it trickled onto the fertile
earth below, soaking into the roots of the tree.
Something stirred in the canopy of the tree.
Mjrina remained motionless, her keen eyes and ears alert to any sound, any
movement. The canopy rustled again, even if there was no wind. A shadow passed
across the darkened expanse of the inner garden, gaining substance and shape as
it moved closer to the kneeling women, until, finally, something stepped into
moonlight. A woman. A beautiful, wild forest spirit. A dryad. She was short,
but lean and muscular, like an idealised Sylvan Elf woman, with golden-tan
skin, chestnut-brown hair tangled with twigs and flowers, and wild, green eyes
like the moss of a deep, dark cave. Her features were sharp and alluringly fae,
but her body was voluptuous and fertile like the tree to which she was bonded:
breasts rounded and heavy, like swollen gourds, capped with big, walnut-brown
nipples, her hips flared and a dancer’s firm, but gently rounded belly. She was
clad only in a simple loincloth made of knotted vines in full bloom.
The dryad cocked her head curiously to one
side, attentively scrutinising the look of quiet fascination on Yssinel's face
and the loving reverence in Mjrina's eyes. Smiling, the forest spirit
approached Mjrina, who reverently leaned forward to kiss the dryad's feet,
cooing softly in Wood Elven. The dryad smiled and extended her arms, inviting
Mjrina to rise.
"You have called me, Daughter of the
"Blessings, Mistress, Keeper of the
Grove." Mjrina replied formally, rising to her feet. Yssinel followed,
unsteadily. The Enchantress had read about many druidic rituals, but the
thought of participating in one had always made her uneasy, as if she were
dealing with a primordial source of magic over which she had no control.
"This House honours me, so I am bound
to bless it. How may I serve you?" the dryad inquired.
"My Lady seeks the favours of her
love, the ties from the Earth that bind." Mjrina explained.
"So I see from her eyes."
the dryad nodded, before finally turning to Yssinel. "You, I know as
Yssinel, you may know me as Ljra, an ancient name a forebear of yours gave me
uncounted centuries ago."
"Ljra..." Yssinel breathed and, for
an instant, it was as if she had known the dryad her whole life. Ljra
approached, smiling, and drew Yssinel into her embrace. The dryad's skin was
warm, warm like fertile earth. Yssinel felt her sex tighten, her blood burning
with need.
"I know that what you hunger for has
returned. You have great yearning, so I shall grant you my blessing."
Ljra murmured sensually into Yssinel's ear, before running her tongue playfully
over the sensitive skin. The Enchantress moaned softly, only to find her lips
covered by Ljra's. The dryad's mouth tasted of sweet sap and flower pollen, her
tongue moist and cooling like a meltwater stream. In those eyes, Yssinel saw
the green heart of the forest, the same heart that now beat close to hers. The
Enchantress ran her hands over Ljra's firm, muscular flanks that gave way to wonderfully
soft, yielding breasts. Ljra's nipples pebbled under Yssinel’s touch, hard and
hot against the Enchantress' fingers.
Mjrina joined them, pressing herself against
Ljra's back, thrusting her sopping sex desperately against the taut curve of
the dryad's bottom, leaving slick trails of nectar. Her nipples pressed into the
dryad's back as she fumbled for Ljra's loincloth, tugging the moist, almost
living garment down to pool at Ljra's ankles. Mjrina clasped the dryad's
bottom, feeling the density of muscle, the strength of the forest spirit's hips
as she circled around, sliding her fingers down to the inside of Ljra's thighs.
It was already damp there, damp with dew, sweat and nectar.
Yssinel allowed her slender, elfin frame to
be explored by strong, expert hands. Ljra's touch was as firm and loving as
Tahllea's as it coursed down the Enchantress' pert, conical breasts. There was
nothing Yssinel could do but surrender to that hypnotic sensuality and, before
she knew it, they had all sunk to the ground, surrounded in warm flesh and wet
earth. Yssinel inhaled the intoxicating perfume of wild forest flowers as her
fingers trailed through the dryad's conrsilk-soft hair. Ljra's kisses were
fierce on her lips, trailing down her throat, licking, exploring, leaving wet
trails on her breasts before finally latching onto her arrowhead-stiff nipples
and suckling each in turn, as if she were plucking a fresh berry with her mouth
to taste its juice.
Mjrina lapped at the deep, musky crevasse
between Ljra's bottom and trailed her tongue over the dryad's back. She forced
Ljra's thighs wider apart and parted the velvety petals of her sex. The dryad
was drenched, her sex the colour of a blooming poppy, but clinging with thick,
viscous juice, more like sap or flower nectar than a mortal woman's arousal.
Ljra happily allowed herself to be explored as she continued suckling at
Yssinel's breast. She worshipped the sensation of stiff, rubbery flesh under
her teeth combined with the regular, frantic pulsing of Yssinel's heart. The
Enchantress simply submitted to Ljra's power. There was nothing she could do,
pinned as she was under the firm but loving strength of the dryad.
Ljra thrust her hips up to meet Mjrina's
fingers. A strand of sticky nectar dripped from her swollen inner lips onto
Yssinel's thigh. The Enchantress shuddered, lost in the delights of Ljra's
expert mouth. Mjrina dipped her head between the dryad's thighs and licked at
the silky petals of her pussy, her tongue gathering up the rich, sweet, viscous
juice. The taste was heady, like a mixture of musk and honey. Mjrina lapped
frantically, drawing satisfied moans from Ljra, who had begun to trail further
down Yssinel's belly, her kisses fiercer and more insistent. Ljra knew she was
the House's guardian. She would take what was hers.
Yssinel yelped in surprise as Ljra suddenly
seized the Grey Elf woman's hips and thrust her thighs apart, wantonly exposing
the Enchantress' moist, inviting pussy to the glimmering moonlight. Yssinel,
however, was beyond caring. She spread herself out lustily, leaning back on her
shoulders, her long gold and silver hair spread out on the rich black earth
like a heap of fallen treasure. The Enchantress was rewarded by a quick,
masterful tongue on the velvety, swollen nether lips of her sex. That tongue,
fierce and hungry, mastered Yssinel's pussy, flowing upwards to flick
provocatively against the tiny pearl of her clit. Yssinel wrapped her legs
around Ljra's arching, lithely muscled back for support, her toes curling in
delicious pleasure as each lick of the dryad's tongue sent a jolt of liquid,
limb-loosening pleasure up her spine.
A blurred ocean of sound, scent and sensation
flooded Mjrina's mind. Her mouth was cloyed with the sweet muskiness of Ljra's
pussy, sticky and wet on her lips, copious and free flowing. She reached for a
pinewood bowl and set it between the dryad's thighs. Mjrina gave Ljra's fertile
sex two more quick licks and thrust in three fingers. There was no resistance.
The forest spirit's sex was sodden, loose and welcoming. She added a fourth
finger and, with no effort at all, bunched her thumb into the yielding, soaked
passage of Ljra's canal. The dryad groaned against Yssinel's pussy. Her thighs
and bottom tensed with pleasure. Mjrina was wrist-deep inside of her. Ljra's
toes dug into the ground as she thrust herself back wantonly on Mjrina's
invading hand. The Wood Elf maiden obediently began to fuck the dryad with
firm, rolling thrusts of her fist, dragging the pads of her fingers hard
against the sensitive inner walls of the forest guardian's canal.
"Goddess!" Yssinel whimpered when
she felt Ljra's lips latch onto her clit, followed by a long, sweeping motion
of the dryad's tongue against her Hanali's Jewel. Mjrina bit her lip, envious
of her mistress' ecstasy, she felt uncomfortably wet and needed relief for the
smouldering knot of desire in her loins. Spurred on by Ljra's moans, the Wood
Elf maiden mastered the dryad's stuffed tunnel, her free hand idly rubbing her
lover's clit. Then it began, with Mjrina fucking the sweet spot deep in her sex
and Yssinel's melodious moans filling her ears, Ljra felt the roiling energies
within her loosed. She bucked her hips against Mjrina's invading hand, her
belly tensing, and then she surrendered herself to her pleasure. High, keening
wails of pleasure filled the garden as Ljra climaxed with savage passion. A
thick spurt of cloudy juice, hot with the dryad's passion, spilled forth into
the pinewood bowl. Then another, and another, so when Mjrina withdrew her hand,
long strands of thick nectar trickled down from the dryad's stretched, but
deliciously satisfied pussy, dripping into the bowl beneath her.
Yssinel peaked within a few moments of Ljra,
her soft and plaintive cries mixing with the dryad's in a passionate chorus.
Mjrina and Ljra, though, knew there was no time to lose. The dryad swiftly rose
from Yssinel and dragged Mjrina to her feet, kissing her long and hard and then
thrust the Wood Elf maiden to her hands and knees. Mjrina grunted in pleasure,
raised her hips and parted her thighs. Her nether lips were creamy with desire.
Ljra seized the second bowl and eased it between Mjrina's knees.
"Are you ready to receive me?"
the dryad whispered. In thousands of years guarding her tree, she had rarely
seen such a delicious sight as Mjrina's firm bottom and spread, deep pink sex.
"Please, Mistress, I need it so much..."
Mjrina mewled. Yssinel did not miss the occasion. Ecstatic with desire and the
forbidden realms of the ritual, the Enchantress squatted in front of Mjrina,
wantonly spreading her sex and mashing her wet, sweetly musky nether lips
against her Handmaiden's face. It was so raw, so spontaneously passionate.
Yssinel felt her heart throbbing in her chest as she cradled Mjrina's head
between her thighs, arching her back, thrusting her sodden pussy rhythmically
against the Wood Elf maiden's lips. Mjrina instinctively started licking,
hooking her hands under Yssinel's pert bottom for support, she buried her face
in the moist, flowery heaven of her Mistress' sopping sex. The smell of earth,
sweat and passion fused together perfectly.
Ljra parted the hothouse flower of Mjrina's
sex and thrust three fingers in. Mjrina gasped and curled her toes into the
earth, steadying herself. There was no question of her being tight. The dryad
withdrew her fingers from Mjrina's canal. They were slick with long strands of
pearly nectar. Mjrina was ready. Ljra licked the rich, salty-sweet liquid off
her fingers and thrust in once more, this time with all five of her fingers
bunched up in a wedge. Mjrina gasped and thrust up her hips to bring Ljra
deeper into her deliciously stretched pussy. Ljra twisted her hand and slipped
inside, mastering Mjrina's lust-slick tunnel until she felt hot velvety flesh
around her wrist. The Wood Elf maiden lost herself in a torrent of passion, her
tongue flicking savagely over Yssinel's clit while Ljra fucked her pussy in
winding, languid thrusts. A pulsing, erotic tension began to build in the
secret spot deep in Mjrina's sex. Ljra was pressing her fingertips against her
Hanali's Heart, twisting, stroking, stoking the fire of lust deep in Mjrina's
belly.
Mjrina rocked between her two lovers, her
breasts swaying, nipples hard as they pierced the cool air. Ljra flowed into
her, her fingers circled over the Wood Elf maiden's sweet spot, grinding,
thrusting. Mjrina felt the wave of need loose itself in her loins. It was a
sudden, searing flash of pleasure. The Wood Elf maiden climaxed with
whimpering, ragged sobs, her nectar spilling forth abundantly into the pinewood
bowl, pearlescent in the moonlight, the creamy essence of femininity. Gooey
liquid hung from Mjrina's rich pink nether lips, her bottom swaying enticingly
with the last spasms of her climax. Ljra withdrew her hand and let the last few
streamers of nectar trail into the bowl before licking her fingers clean.
Exhausted, but deeply satisfied, Mjrina
gathered both bowls and presented them to Yssinel under Ljra's watchful gaze.
"These are our offerings to the Forest Mother," Mjrina explained,
proffering the bowls to her mistress. "They are sacred because of the
blessings on this place. Now you must drink and invoke the name of your
beloved."
Yssinel nodded and sat down on the earth
between two great roots, Ljra and Mjrina by her side. First, she took the bowl
of Mjrina's pearly passion and tentatively brought it to her lips. The aroma
was divine: just a hint of herbal, floral sweetness and the heady, savoury
richness of musk. She thirsted for that dense, earthy juice. The moment the
thick liquid touched her lips she realised it was still alive with heat and
sensual energy. Yssinel drank until the first bowl lay empty, then she took the
second. Wild honey, salt, sap: the fruits of the Earth. It was a little thicker
than Mjrina's and clearer. Yssinel tipped the liquid to her lips and felt a
brief spasm of ecstasy. For just a moment, she thought she was between the
thighs of the
The name she uttered was heard only by
Yssinel herself: "Aerylle."
Their passionate revel lasted until dawn.
***
The
Duel
Tahllea stirred in her vast, canopied bed. An
impatient knock at the door had disturbed her reverie. She pulled a
silk-encased pillow over her head and pretended the knocking was not there. The
jarring sound repeated itself.
"Kyrithii...my love, we should be
at the duelling hall soon." It was Yssinel.
"Fuck." Tahllea snarled in Common.
Neither Grey Elven nor High Elven allowed her to curse with any degree of
satisfaction.
"Kyrithii..."
"Wait!" Tahllea snapped. She had
overexerted herself the previous evening. Sunlight poured through the enormous,
double-paned windows which occupied an entire wall of her room, leading to a
verandah with a view of the city.
Something firm and warm pressed suggestively
against Tahllea's leg. It was Dzelha teasingly trailing her foot up the inside
of Tahllea's thigh. "Mmm...is it time to get up?" the Star Elf
sighed.
"Yes." Tahllea said, stretching
languidly on the soft, silk sheets. "I take it you will both be in
attendance."
"Of course," Jylzaela said
sleepily, throwing the covers over her head to block out the searing light. In
her home city, the sun did not dawn until well into the afternoon in the Season
of the Mother’s Sleep.
"Kyrithii..." Yssinel called
once more. "Can I come in?"
Tahllea was about to answer in the
affirmative when Dzelha dived under the sheets and sank between her thighs.
Soft, teasing butterfly kisses began to flow down the Bladesinger's abdomen.
"Maybe you could give us just a moment to...compose ourselves."
Tahllea called and, mercifully, Yssinel stopped rapping at the door.
"Perhaps Lady Tahllea would appreciate a
little help waking up?" Dzelha said lasciviously, easing the Bladesinger's
thighs apart.
"I don't know." Tahllea said dryly.
"It could spoil your breakfast."
"This is all the breakfast I
need..." Dzelha purred. Her pink tongue flicked out from between her violet-painted
lips and began to coax Tahllea’s glistening little clit out from its hood.
Ilmaeria, Tahllea thought, owed Dzelha a debt
of gratitude. She had woken up thinking of various, unpleasant ways of
punishing her upstart apprentice, but Dzelha's skilled tongue was doing wonders
for her mood. There was, in retrospect, no better way to start the day.
***
Sigrid dressed grimly. The day was
marvellous: bright and pleasantly cool, with a breeze that shook the canopies
of the trees in Yssinel's garden. But that was not all. In Sigrid's heart was
the leaden weight of her upcoming trial. She had woken at the first break of
dawn, when Aravae was still slumbering, immersed in peaceful distant dreams.
With the light filtering from the window still blue from the previous night,
Sigrid had taken her sword in hand and found it heavy. Heavy and cold, a
feeling that even a long, warm bath and hearty breakfast whose remains were
scattered on an elegant silver tray on the bed, could not quite remedy.
"You look perfect." Aravae noted as
Sigrid stared glumly in the mirror. The Grey Elf maiden adjusted the collar of
Sigrid's tunic and gave the outfit a quick, final glance to make sure that
everything was in order.
"Thanks." Sigrid replied
listlessly. It was her best formal tunic, of a pleasantly stylish military cut
and finished with gold thread which did much to bring out the pristine
whiteness of the fabric and the brilliant shine of its rectangular, platinum
buttons. For the sake of ease of movement she had decided to forego the
breeches that normally accompanied her formal dress in exchange for a lighter
warm-weather variant with a skirt cut off a little above the knee in lieu of
leggings. If she was going to beat Tahllea, it was on sheer athleticism and
certainly not technique. Sigrid, despite all her bluster, had become keenly
aware of the limits of her technical skills in watching Tahllea practice with
her disciples. Nevertheless, she was, as ever, convinced that where there was a
will, so too would there be a way.
"Sigrid..." Aravae murmured,
wrapping her arms reassuringly around her friend's waist. "I truly wanted
to spare myself the embarrassment of telling you this, but, I tell you on my
honour and by the Blessed Sehanine that I will be rooting for you."
"Really?"
"Never doubt a fellow Bladesinger's
word." Aravae replied, stealing a quick kiss on Sigrid's cheek. "But,
as I said yesterday, win or lose, my feelings for you will be the same."
Sigrid allowed herself a wan smile. Outside,
Imej was in full festival mode. The Mage's Council had covered the towers of
the city with shimmering gossamer streamers which swept across the gilded
spires like fluttering rainbows. Glowing spheres of eldritch light swept
through the city's skyline, leaving shimmering trails of enchanted motes that
fell to the ground like snowflakes, covering the city streets in golden dust.
"Are you ready?"
"It is I who should be asking you
the same question." Aravae teased.
"Am I?"
"I think so." the Bladesinger
whispered affectionately into Sigrid's ear.
Sigrid drew a deep breath, took her sword in
hand from her weapons rack by the desk and led them both out of the room.
***
"So explain to me how this works
again." Min said, a little bored with all the Elven pomp and circumstance.
The flight on the floating disk up to Tahllea's duelling hall on the glacier's
face had been impressive enough, if only because it provided a rather
breathtaking view of Imej's dreaming spires. The garden of the duelling hall
had been meticulously prepared by Tahllea's apprentices for the now
much-publicised encounter. At Yssinel's invitation, a good part of Imej's
young, bored nobles had turned up, clad in outrageous, decadent fashions with
their hordes of admirers, assistants and casual lovers.
"It really is very simple," Aerylle
explained, sinking effortlessly into her dreaded schoolmistress like demeanour.
"The first to land a hit judged decisive wins. Of course, safety is of the
utmost concern in these exhibition bouts, so they wear enchanted duelling
broaches which evidence the victor and ensure the vanquished is not
injured."
"So...it's like a game or
something?" Min shrugged dismissively. In her view, the only fights that
counted were those in which life and death was involved. One misstep in an
exhibition duel and, at most, one was humiliated. Where Min had spent her
formative years, one misstep meant death or, quite often, worse.
"Let us just call it a ritual." the
Elven librarian replied. As Yssinel's guests of honour, they had been ushered
to the very front row. The ice garden of the duelling hall had been raked
smooth by Tahllea's apprentices and a system of braziers with flickering blue
flames had been arranged around the fencing arena to demarcate it. Although she
had never so much as taken up a sword in her life, Aerylle had an amateur
interest in the arts of the Bladesingers and Spellswords and, as a girl, had
eagerly devoured long and sensual romances about their exploits. So, she only
thought it right to wear the dress she had always imagined herself wearing upon
meeting a true, swashbuckling heroine. It was a radiant, sun-yellow robe
crafted from the finest gossamer silks and bordered with an enchanted fabric
which came, quite literally, alive with constantly flowing streams of Elven
calligraphy. The dress was daringly slit down Aerylle's thighs with an elegant,
curving cut and its plunging neckline was made particularly tasteful by a
single, brilliant topaz which emitted a low-frequency glow which caused the
tiny gems embedded in the dress' fabric to shimmer like the Ocean under the
sun.
Min, sensibly practical as ever, had elected
for a skintight, sleeveless grey blouse and brown leather leggings. Even if she
was, by Elven standards, very much underdressed, she had already caught the
admiring eye of many an assembled noblewoman. That fact alone allowed the
tiefling to walk with the smug satisfaction of secretly stoking the lust of the
same haughty aristocrats who publicly looked down on her. "Your friend
Mjrina looks exhausted." Min noted, her long, ember-red hair fluttering in
the breeze. Both she and Yssinel looked like they had slept the best part of an
hour, at most, the previous evening. Yssinel had even summoned a floating disk
of force so she and her handmaiden could both recline under a warm,
hippogriff-down blanket.
"Poor thing," Aerylle cooed.
"I suppose we kept her too long at dinner last night."
"Yeah...but, say, I've really got to
ask, but how do you Elves manage to eat that stuff?" Min grimaced.
Virtually every dish served at the previous evening's lavish banquet had been
sweet.
"It's cultural, my love." Aerylle
replied patiently. "I, for instance, cannot understand why you are so fond
of spices."
"Better than sweet," Min growled.
Although she had reassured Tahllea the previous evening of her support, Min was
indifferent. Tahllea, as far as the tiefling was concerned, was an exceptional
fuck and there was no way Min could see that changing with victory or defeat in
a silly exhibition match.
"Oh, look, here they come!" Aerylle
said in awe. She did not even make an effort to hide her excitement.
Tahllea and Sigrid came from the tunnel
leading to the duelling hall walking side by side. Sigrid walked as if in a
trance, visualising her every movement in the duel she had played out in her
mind countless times. Tahllea strode forward with her usual arrogant gait in a
pleated, high-necked fencer's shirt and pure white doeskin breeches with
matching knee-high boots, keenly aware that every woman and girl in the
audience had her eyes fixed upon her. Or did they? Sigrid, with her brilliant
indigo hair and entrancing, violet eyes had been receiving far too much
attention for Tahllea to bear. It was time to put the upstart halfbreed in her
place.
Behind the two blademistresses came their
sword-bearers. Tahllea had been eager to ensure that Sigrid knew exactly where
Aravae's loyalties lay, so she had ordered her apprentice to bear the legendary
heirloom-blade of her family, the lethal Blue Mithril Sword known in history
books as Ilmaeria's Sorrow. Sigrid, however, walked with the conviction
that the joke was on Tahllea, since the High Elf had appointed, of all people,
Dzelha to be her challenger's sword-bearer. Sigrid had exchanged a knowing
smile and an almost flirtatious glance with Dzelha who, much to the Aasimar's
surprise, turned out to be a very promising apprentice Spellsword in her home
city. So the Star Elf wore an elegant, snowflake-patterned suit of magically
hardened crystal chainmail which reflected the sunlight in a dizzying pattern
giving her the appearance, quite appropriately, of a star.
The party paused at the entrance to the
duelling arena where Tahllea and Sigrid both drew their weapons and stepped
forward, boots crunching the soft, morning snow. Blades dazzled the audience
with their savage, deadly beauty. It was the first time Sigrid saw Ilmaeria's
Sorrow and she had to admit that not even in her dreams could she have
imagined such a flawless weapon. It could as well have been crafted from
sapphires, because the blue metal shone like a deepwater lagoon under the sun.
Unlike the curve in the cutting edge of Sigrid's magnificent adamantine blade,
Blue Mithril found better synergy with a long, straight blade. Sigrid mentally
noted that Tahllea would have an advantage in terms of reach. Nevertheless,
adamantine was both lighter and more flexible than Blue Mithril, advantages
which played into Sigrid's emphasis on speed and unpredictability.
A hushed silence ensued as the two
blademistresses gathered their thoughts. Then, Tahllea spoke. "Lady
Sigrid, Kithela to Yssinel of House Ceilanith has challenged me, Tahllea
of House Ahlirian and Mistress Bladesinger of this duelling hall. Do you
acknowledge that you made this challenge, Lady Sigrid?"
"I do." Sigrid replied, trying to
keep the mounting tension out of her voice. It was too late. Tahllea had
already noticed.
"So be it. Are we agreed that the victor
will have to land one clean blow on the vanquished, as decided by our duelling
broaches?"
"We are." Sigrid silently cursed
herself and bade her hand to stop trembling.
"Will Lady Aravae and Lady Dzelha give
the signal when they judge us ready?" Tahllea called.
"Assume your positions." Dzelha
called, a shiver of excitement running down her spine.
Sigrid sank into a defensive pose. She knew
Tahllea had an aggressive style and would pounce first. So she closed her guard
and reduced her target by placing her left foot forward and the tip of her
blade a few inches under what she judged to be Tahllea's default lunge. Tahllea
nodded in acknowledgement and pulled her sword up to shoulder level, extending
the blade straight in front of her, and gathered tension in her right leg,
ready to pounce forward.
"May the Blessed Sehanine shield you
both." Aravae said softly but clearly. "To you!"
Tahllea leapt forward, sailing through the
air with the terrifying grace of a swooping raptor and swept her blade down.
Sigrid was almost caught unprepared, but her instincts told her when and where
to parry, even as the sun blinded her eyes during her opponent's descent.
Bright blue sparks flew from the clashing swords as Tahllea landed a few feet
in front of Sigrid and then, as if nothing had happened, lunged forward with a
series of tight, vicious thrusts. Taken aback by such raw power, Sigrid
backpedaled, desperately fighting off the incessant assault from Tahllea's
blade.
The duel had finally caught Min's attention.
Such athleticism as was on display was truly first-rate, so the tiefling
focused on the movements of each weapon, trying to imagine herself in a similar
position and silently wondering where she would place her guard or mount a
counterattack. Tahllea was dazzlingly quick, much more so than in practice
where she often held back for the sake of her apprentices. Now, all her fury
was unleashed on Sigrid who was forced to circle around the edges of the
fencing arena, desperately dodging and parrying each whistling blow.
Sigrid noted wryly that there was far more
dodging than parrying. Every time she dared to meet Tahllea's humming sword
with her own, she felt the tendons of her arms strain and her hand sting. Metal
clashed melodiously against metal, bringing forth a shower of sparks each time
their blades met. She was certain that Tahllea would break her arm or her
blade, probably both, in due course if she remained on the defensive. So Sigrid
gambled, rolled out of the way of an onslaught of brutal slashes and lunged at
Tahllea's flank. The counterattack had the immediate effect of startling the
Bladesinger, who quickly closed her guard, switched her weight to her left foot
and swung around in a winding, arcing motion to catch Sigrid unprepared. Random
bursts, however, were Sigrid's specialty and the Aasimar had anticipated such a
tactic, so she rolled once again, keeping close to the ground, relying on her
speed and dexterity.
Tahllea grimaced in frustration. Sigrid
refused to sit still and fence, but rather used the battlefield to her
advantage, flanking and ducking at will, before putting at least ten feet
between herself and Tahllea. The upstart wench, Tahllea concluded, could not
keep up such exertion forever, but she had no intention of allowing Sigrid to
carry her performance on long enough to score a surprise victory. So she
decided to toy with Sigrid's mind. Tahllea unexpectedly decided to assume a
neutral posture, arms outstretched in a cross-like form, awaiting her
opponent's next move.
Sigrid was not so easily fooled. She knew there was something amiss, but
decided that it would be foolish not to press on. So she dashed forward,
bringing two low slashes to bear against Tahllea's thighs. The High Elf parried
the attacks with ease and, quite suddenly, sidestepped Sigrid's rising slash
and struck the Aasimar's wrist with the pommel of her sword.
"Fuck!" Sigrid gasped. Searing
agony shot up her wrist. All of a sudden she could not feel her hand. Or better
still, she could, but it felt like it had been dipped into a vat of acid.
"Fucking bitch!" It had been a deliberately sadistic move on
Tahllea's part, but Sigrid was not finished yet. She gathered all her willpower
and forced herself to hold on to her sword despite the searing pain in hand and
scampered out of the way of Tahllea's next string of low thrusts. Her left hand
was going to be unusable, so she reluctantly passed her sword into her right
hand and silently prayed to the Vigilant Maiden to reward her courage.
A smile of wicked satisfaction spread over
Tahllea's lips as she closed in on Sigrid. The Aasimar did her best to defend
herself, but two especially vicious slashes unbalanced Sigrid, who,
unaccustomed to fencing with her right hand, had to spin out of the way of
Tahllea's follow-up strikes and withdraw all the way to the other side of the
arena. There was one last, desperate possibility in Sigrid's mind. In the
absence of other options, she decided that if she was to lose, she would have
no regrets.
Sigrid readied her guard and waited for Tahllea
to advance on her. She then charged forward and suddenly banked left, slicing
in with a low jab at Tahllea's guard. The attack was almost clumsy and Tahllea
blocked and countered with all her might. Instead of opposing resistance to the
attack, Sigrid met her blade with Tahllea's and simply let her sword fly away,
humming, into the snow. That excess of force unbalanced Tahllea for a single
moment, causing her to widen her target. Sigrid swiftly drew her dagger and
tried to dive into the breach.
Tahllea was a fraction of an instant quicker.
She seized Sigrid's wrist with her free hand and struck the Aasimar hard across
the face with the pommel of her sword. Sigrid grunted and crumpled to the snow,
blood streaming from her lips. The amethyst fencing broach only protected
against slashing and piercing. It took every ounce of self control Tahllea had
to refrain from kicking Sigrid while she lay gasping on the red-tinged snow.
Instead, she merely flicked the tip of her sword between the Aasimar's breasts
to set the enchanted duelling broach off. The amethyst began to glow
intermittently, its violet light reflecting off the virgin snow.
Silence ensued. Aravae sighed in relief. It
was all over. Min stood motionless and unblinking with Aerylle by her side,
bearing a rather disappointed look on her face: Tahllea had been most
ungracious. It was hardly the heroic ending the epic encounter deserved. Mjrina
stared on sadly, huddled up in Yssinel's embrace for comfort. The Enchantress,
for her part, carefully pondered her options. She had, of course, planned for
the eventuality of Tahllea winning and losing. Now everything hinged on the
information the priestess Senythina brought in regarding Tahllea's true
heritage.
Tahllea shot an angry, impatient glance at
Aravae and Dzelha, who swiftly declared, "We bear witness to the victory
of Lady Tahllea of House Ahlirian." That declaration officially ended the
duel and sent the crowd into chattering paroxysms, each debating the merits and
flaws of the encounter.
Sigrid lay motionless, begging for the snow
to swallow her up. She was not so lucky. Tahllea towered over her. The
Bladesinger knelt by her side, a contemptuous smirk on her lips. "I hope
this settles the matter, girl."
***
"You were wonderful." Dzelha said
admiringly, cradling Sigrid's injured wrist in her hands. The duelling hall's
infirmary was dark. That, to Sigrid, was a blessing. Mjrina had offered to tend
to her wounds, but Sigrid had sent her away with a few sharp words she had
already begun to regret with all her heart. Instead, it was Dzelha who, as a
Spellsword, had a rudimentary knowledge of healing magic, who tended to her.
"It was stupid of me to challenge
Tahllea in the first place." Sigrid said darkly. Her cheek was still
stinging, but at least Dzelha's magic had dispelled the bleeding and bruising.
"When I first met you in the Night
Market," Dzelha began, her hands channelling healing energies in to the
damaged tissue and ligaments of Sigrid's wrist, "I knew you had the heart
and soul of a heroine. You certainly did not prove me wrong today. You fought
like griffon protecting her brood and, as much as I respect Lady Tahllea, she
should have treated you with the dignity your performance deserved."
"Fuck her." Sigrid snapped.
"But, in the end, it was my fault. At the Order, they used to teach us
that pride invites the wrath of our Goddess. Of course, they were right."
"Is your Goddess a warrior?" Dzelha
inquired. She bandaged Sigrid's wrist as a precaution and set aside the healing
potion infused cloth she had used to clean the Aasimar's wounds.
"Yes. A great one,
too...unlike me." Sigrid spat between gritted teeth.
"Then I am certain she could not be more
proud of her daughter today." Dzelha smiled and affectionately ran her
fingers through Sigrid's short, indigo hair. "You have Star Elf hair.
Maybe we should meet for dinner one of these days."
"I'd like that." Sigrid said
softly, forcing a smile.
"Have something to eat and find some
sleep, preferably in the arms of your beloved. I promise you will feel better
in the morning." Dzelha said, leaning over to plant a soft, chaste kiss on
Sigrid's lips.
The Aasimar nodded gratefully and Dzelha
slipped out of the infirmary, leaving the door ajar behind her. At last, Sigrid
could be alone with her thoughts. She had promised herself that she would not
weep, but there was such anger and resentment that she felt like tearing the
world down and scattering its pieces into the ocean. She leapt up from the
sickbed and paced angrily down the plain, white room to the door. None other
than Tahllea blocked her exit.
"What the fuck do you want?"
Sigrid snapped through gritted teeth, her eyes welling up with tears of
impotent rage. It seemed like the High Elf had been sent by some vengeful
deity, like a Fury to torment her.
"Hush, little one." Tahllea smiled
wolfishly and advanced. Despite herself, Sigrid found herself withdrawing.
"You won, now go home and fuck one of
your toys to celebrate...just leave me alone." Sigrid snarled. Tahllea's
golden eyes burned with wicked purpose.
"Maybe I will go for...hmm..."
Tahllea pretended to think. "Let's say...Mjrina...then, when the sweet
little Wood Elf comes back to you with a nice, deep kiss, her lips will taste
of my nectar."
Sigrid lashed out to slap Tahllea, only to
find her arm blocked in midair by the Bladesinger's hand. "Come now,
little Sigrid, we should be friends..."
"Never!" Sigrid hissed.
"Now, now, I know you have conviction
and that, as far as I am concerned, is a great virtue. You also fought well,
despite your inexperience, so...I must apologise if I was a little cruel after
the duel." Tahllea purred.
"Duly noted," Sigrid spat, before
realising that she had backed up against a wall.
"Now, my pretty little Aasimar, it has
come to my attention that you have been...economical with the truth. I
know being born of humans and escaping from your Order as a mere novice would
not have won you many friends here, but Grey Elves certainly do not like being
lied to and Wood Elves much less so."
"How do you..." Sigrid felt her
blood freeze. She could not believe Yssinel had told Tahllea, but, now that the
Bladesinger knew, she could lose everything. She could lose Mjrina.
"I think," Tahllea said, drawing
her face dangerously close to Sigrid's, "that a woman of my talents has
her ways. What about you?"
"Yes, sneaking around like a
thief..."
"Hush," Tahllea purred, pressing
herself against Sigrid. "It is often best to avoid saying things we later
regret. You have talent, girl, and I would like to offer you pride of place in
my duelling hall. I would officially declare both you and Ilmaeria
fully-fledged Bladesingers, provided you served under me in expanding this
duelling hall, so that my style emerges as the greatest Bladesinger school Imej
has ever produced. Otherwise...I may just loosen my tongue a little more than
you would like." Tahllea was proud of herself for being so magnanimous.
She was quite willing to forget all of Sigrid's past slights and make her a
favoured disciple. Provided she could convince Dzelha to stay as well, she
would have an excellent selection of talented blademistresses to serve her both
in the duelling hall and the bedchamber.
"You...you wouldn't say
anything..." Sigrid stammered, hating herself for compromising with one so
fiendish as Tahllea.
"On my life and honour as a
Bladesinger," Tahllea replied, quite truthfully.
Sigrid sighed in resignation, squeezing her
eyes shut to prevent a tear of frustration from falling down her cheek. It was
to no avail. Tahllea smiled conspiratorially to herself and kissed the stray
droplet away. "Come now, child," Tahllea whispered soothingly,
"a blademistress must never show weakness. So, do we have an
agreement?"
Sigrid nodded miserably. "Yes." she
breathed, almost inaudibly.
"Good girl..." Tahllea mused triumphantly, she leaned Sigrid against the wall and pressed
her lips against the Aasimar's. Reluctantly, Sigrid's tongue met Tahllea's and
the Aasimar passively let herself be kissed. "You do know that you
are very beautiful, don't you?" Tahllea continued, her long, dextrous
fingers trailing up over Sigrid's tunic. With a flick of her hand, Tahllea
undid the top rectangular solid-platinum button of Sigrid's tunic. "The
celestial blood that flows in your veins grants you excellent natural
talent," a second button popped free, "and makes you quite a
delectable little morsel."
Tahllea kissed Sigrid again, this time with
possessive passion. Sigrid whimpered and screwed her eyes shut. More buttons
followed, until Tahllea broke the kiss and pulled Sigrid's tunic open,
revealing the small, but inflamingly pert mounds of her breasts.
"Tahllea...please...not here," Sigrid protested, her breath ragged
with humiliated fury.
"Do you not find me...appealing?"
Tahllea said with a soft chuckle.
"You sadistic bitch, can't you see this
is about as romantic as Green Dragons mating?" was what Sigrid wanted to scream, but all
she could conjure up were half-choked sobs.
Tahllea smiled knowingly and kissed the
valley between Sigrid's breasts. The Bladesinger caressed the inside of
Sigrid's thighs, hiking up the skirt of the Aasimar's tunic, her fingertips
trailing over the sensitive flesh. Sigrid tensed. Tahllea viciously bit a
berry-pink nipple in reprimand. "Stay still, girl." she ordered and
Sigrid bit her lip and forced herself to swallow her rage.
With a sharp jerk, Tahllea bunched Sigrid's
tunic up around her waist and grazed the smooth, plump mound of the Aasimar's
sex with two fingers. Sigrid shuddered. "Please, Tahllea...this isn't
fair."
"Silence, girl," Tahllea hissed.
"You're wet, you little harlot and you have the nerve to tell me to
stop?"
That did it. Sigrid decided that there was no
point in defending her name if she had to lose her dignity in doing so. She
summoned all the strength she could muster and violently pushed Tahllea back.
Caught by surprise, the Bladesinger stumbled back across the infirmary, a look
of rage in her sharp, golden eyes. Sigrid angrily buttoned up her tunic and
gathered the courage to finally vent her fury. "First, Tahllea, I am
certainly not wet." she snarled. "My body is my own and you
will certainly never make it yours. Second, fuck you, Tahllea, tell
who you like, hatch whatever dark plan you had in mind, but you're a rabid bitch
with bile and vitriol where your heart should be and I will never, ever
become your plaything."
"Get out." Tahllea growled
dangerously. Sigrid had nerve. Tahllea was a fair enough judge of character to
grant her that.
Deciding that it was better not to press her
luck, Sigrid stalked out of the infirmary. She dashed through the darkened
tunnels of the fencing hall into the garden outside. The sun was setting, but
with the first lungful of freezing air Sigrid took, she felt elated. She had
won her little victory against Tahllea despite the overwhelming fear that had
hidden in her soul. Now that the fear was released, Sigrid decided that there
was no reason to stay in Imej and wait for Tahllea to humiliate her. She would
run and finally explore a world waiting to be discovered. Thunder stirred in
the horizon and a sharp, frozen rain began to fall on Sigrid's face. She
exhaled and saw her breath mist in the air, felt sweet, freezing water on her
lips and on her flushed skin. It was time to live.
***
"Sigrid! I looked for you after the duel
and..." Aravae began as Sigrid strode into the Grey Elf maiden’s
bedchamber at the base of Tahllea's tower.
"I'm leaving. Do you want to come?"
Sigrid had nothing but her sword and a leather satchel of provisions. She certainly
did not look especially ready to take on the world to Aravae, but there was a
fire in the Aasimar's eyes, a fire that demanded attention.
"Where to? I mean...this is a little
sudden..." the Grey Elf blademistress replied, shocked at Sigrid's
bluntness.
"Tahllea tried to make me into you and
since I know how miserable being you makes you, I told her to rot in Gehenna.
Now I'm asking you, do you want to be free?" Sigrid said. She had been
practicing that speech for all of her journey back from the duelling hall, but
she was convinced that she needed to sound sufficiently dramatic to catch
Aravae's attention.
"What...what about Mjrina?" Aravae
said, still unsure as to how to react to Sigrid's proposal.
"I thought about her," Sigrid
replied sadly. "But I don't want to make her suffer the hardship of our
first journey. When we have made another life for ourselves, then I will return
for her."
"Wait...journey? Life? What are
you planning?" Aravae inquired, rising to her feet.
"Go down South, to the Ocean or to the
lowlands where the High Elves have their cities. Two blademistresses should
have no trouble finding work. We would make a little money, far from all this
madness, and forge our own destinies." Sigrid said, excitedly clasping
Aravae's hand.
"The Ocean?"
"Yes. Then we could swim together amidst
the coral and wait for the sun to dry the water from our skin as we lie on the
beach watching the clouds flow by..."
"That sounds lovely, Sigrid, but what
would we do? What of our lives in Imej?" Aravae shot back. Even if, in
truth, what Sigrid proposed was tempting. In the world the Aasimar described,
she could be free.
"Anything. We're both skilled
blademistresses, we should be seizing our own tomorrow rather than sitting here
and waiting for Tahllea or anyone else to tell us what the next step ought to
be." Sigrid's violet eyes flashed with something Aravae had not felt in
years: sincere optimism.
"Will you promise me now that whatever
we do, we will do it together?" Aravae said, finally relenting.
"I swear it by my Goddess." Sigrid
replied passionately. "I've asked you to come with me because I couldn't
see myself going adventuring with anyone else."
Aravae nodded. "Let me fetch my sword
and some supplies and I will meet you downstairs by the back entrance."
***
An
Elven princess, kidnapped by the Pirate Queen
The night of the Celestial Sisters Festival was
cool but luminous. With both moons full in the sky, a silvery light flooded the
streets of Imej and glimmered off the tall spires of its many towers. On such a
wonderful, poetic night, Aerylle found it most fitting to be thrust up against
the cold, stone wall of her bedchamber clutched in Min's embrace, the
tiefling's lush, sultry lips kissing the sweet lifebreath from her lungs.
Despite Aerylle's protestations, Min had kept the door to her bonded lover's
bedchamber open, just to add the thrill of being caught to the powerful,
sensual allure of Min's power, the way she made everything she touched hers.
Aerylle could do little but submit. Her lips were parted as they melded with
Min's, drawing the tiefling's tongue into a sweet duel with her own. Min's mouth
was always so moist, so lusty yet eager to please.
Strands of long, ember-red hair fell like a
veil over Min's high cheekbones, the glorious elegance of her slanted, orange
eyes. Her hands, dextrous like those of a master thief, trailed up Aerylle's thighs,
roughly bunching up the gossamer golden fabric of the Grey Elven maiden's dress
to caress the soft skin beneath.
"Hmm...this is an expensive
dress..." Aerylle protested between kisses. Min's lean, athletic frame,
lithely muscular like a hunting cat's, pressed against her, firm, yet
undeniably female.
"Yeah, but I doubt the Elven princess
would be worrying 'bout her dress if she was being ravished by the Pirate
Queen." Min replied huskily in that low, sensual drawl that set Aerylle's
blood pulsing through her veins.
"Well, I suppose you are right about
that." Aerylle replied, resigning herself to Min's lascivious little
role-play.
"Good, so now, princess Aerylle, I think
it's time for you tell me where to find that treasure." Min growled with mock
menace. She trailed her tongue down the sensitive skin of Aerylle's throat. A
swift flick of her fingers loosened the shoulder straps of the Grey Elf's dress
and the gossamer fabric pooled around the librarian's waist. Aerylle's breasts
were glorious in the cold night air: firm, taut and conical and capped by
cherry-pink nipples, already stiff and eager in the cold evening air.
"The Pirate Queen is going to have to do
better than that." Aerylle challenged, her breaths growing ever more
ragged as Min's playful, wet kisses pressed against the hollow her throat. Min
sank to her knees in front of Aerylle, her lips hot and fierce against the Grey
Elven librarian's smooth, alabaster breasts. Aerylle trailed her fingers
through Min's vivid red hair, drawing the tiefling ever closer to her painfully
engorged nipples. The tiefling obliged, wrapping her moist, sultry lips around
a rubbery nipple and biting down, with lightest, most exquisitely teasing
pressure. Aerylle shivered in pleasure and parted her thighs. Her sex pulsed
with lusty anticipation. The inside of her thighs felt wonderfully damp and
sticky.
Min began to suckle on Aerylle's nipple,
drawing the sensitive little peak out between her teeth while her tongue
flicked rhythmically against its very tip. Aerylle whimpered and felt her sex tighten
with need. She caressed the tiefling’s silky hair, subtly inviting her to bring
her wet kisses lower. Min was having none of it. "If the Elven princess
expects the wicked Pirate Queen to lick her out, she's badly mistaken."
the tiefling said, playfully nipping at Aerylle's nipple for emphasis.
"Ah! Easy..." Aerylle protested.
Min ignored her and stripped the librarian's dress of in one brisk jerk.
Aerylle gasped as the golden fabric unravelled from her skin, floating off onto
the floor. She was naked, naked and vulnerable in front of Min who continued to
suckle hungrily at her breast, lips latched tightly over her nipple, eyes
closed in delighted concentration.
Min dipped her tongue lower, trailing over
Aerylle's flat, soft abdomen to lick teasingly over the fat, fertile mound of
the librarian's sex. Aerylle shuddered and thrust her hips forward, pressing
herself back against the cool wall for support. She stood tense and on tiptoe.
The tiefling dipped her tongue between the light pink inner lips of Aerylle's
sex. It was like tasting a flower in first bloom. Rich, soft, with just a hint
of Elven sweetness. "Please," Aerylle gasped, her breath misting in
the cool air. "Maybe the mighty Pirate Queen could bring her poor little
captive some...ah, relief?"
"Not a chance, you Elven strumpet."
Min snarled. Even if she was tempted, she had to be faithful to her role. So
she rose and swiftly unbuttoned her shirt, pulled off her boots and stepped out
of her breeches. Aerylle had to master her passion to prevent herself from
smothering Min's perfect, high breasts with kisses. The tiefling's nipples,
dark red and gorgeously inviting on her pale, rose-agate tinted breasts, were
deliciously enticing. Aerylle felt a knot of desire form in her throat. She
wanted Min's rubbery nipples in her mouth, to clasp the tiefling's taut, tight
bottom.
"Oh...how terrible." Aerylle
sighed, affecting disgust as she glanced over the thatch of fine, ruby-red down
on Min's sex.
"Is that right?" Min barked.
"You Elves should know what a real woman looks like." The tiefling
pinned Aerylle against the wall, gripping the slender librarian's wrists as she
leaned over her prey, flicking her tongue playfully over the Grey Elf maiden's
sensitive, pointed ear. Aerylle whimpered, her hips bucking involuntarily. It
had almost been three days since they had last made love and already she wanted
Min so badly it hurt. "On your knees, princess..."
Aerylle sank submissively to her knees. Min
parted her thighs and pressed her moist sex against her lover's lips, running
her fingers lovingly through the Grey Elf maiden's long, golden-blonde hair.
Aerylle tenderly parted the inner petals of Min's sex and was greeted by a
sudden rush of the tiefling's secret perfume: tart, spicy, like earthy
cinnamon. Min was gloriously wet, her juice rich and strong, so that the moment
Aerylle's tongue touched the dark red tropical fruit of the tiefling's pussy,
all she could taste was the essence of her womanhood. Min gyrated her hips
against Aerylle, holding the librarian tight against her sex, her breath
quickening with each demure little lick Aerylle flicked against her
lust-swollen nether lips.
"Harder!" Min snapped, her belly pulled
taut as she began to grind herself against Aerylle's lips. Aerylle nodded
obediently and pressed hard with her thumbs on Min's inner lips, holding that
glorious pussy wide open. It was almost unbearably hot, full of the heat of
Min's fiendish ancestry. Aerylle tugged her lover's petals out as far as they
would go. Min grunted, watching her pussy spread out under Aerylle's fingers.
The Elven librarian gazed reverently at the spread feast before her. Min's clit
stood out hard and proud from its tiny hood, slick and glistening like a little
pearl. Thick, cloudy juice clung heavily to Min's pussy, so tempting that
Aerylle could do nothing but lick it off the silky folds, thirstily seeking
more. She lapped upwards, until she reached the stiff bud of Min's clit and
flicked her tongue over its hood. Min gasped sharply. She would not give
Aerylle the satisfaction of making her come first.
"By Lady Luck's cunt, you Elven sluts
are all the same!" Min thundered, roughly seizing Aerylle by her hair and
pulling the librarian up to her feet to cover her nectar-drenched lips with a
searing, lusty kiss. She seized Aerylle by the waist and thrust her onto the
bed, legs spread.
"Min...!" Aerylle chided with that
lecturing tone that made the tiefling's hair stand on end. "Do you really
have to use that sort of language." She landed on the bed with thump,
the heavy, plush sheets moulding themselves around her weight.
"Can I play the Pirate Queen or
not?" Min protested, leaping like a hunting cat on the bed, her skin glistening
with sweat and radiant in the moonlight.
"All right...sorry," Aerylle
sighed, fervently wishing that Min's bedchamber games would becomes less crude
with time. Any further thoughts were drowned out by the delicious sensation of
Min forcing her thighs apart, exposing her swollen, moist sex to the cold
evening air. Aerylle gasped and felt her loins surge with lust. Min positioned
herself in front of her lover so that they lay sex to sex, pressed together so
that delicious, wet friction built with every movement the tiefling made to
adjust herself over the prone librarian. Aerylle arched her back and hooked a
slender, elegant leg around Min's neck, drawing the tiefling on top of her.
Min's ruby-red fingernails dug into the flesh
of Aerylle's thighs, drawing a sharp squeal from the librarian. Then the
tiefling thrust forward, long and hard, balancing herself on her straining
thighs to grind her pussy lustily against the Grey Elf maiden's. Aerylle
writhed in pleasure, the knotted tension in her loins building with each long,
languid thrust of Min's sex against her own. "So, princess, are you going
to tell me where the treasure is?" Min purred, relishing in the wanton,
wet slapping sound of her sex thrusting against Aerylle's.
"Oh...never!" Aerylle sighed,
secretly hoping that Min had the energy to keep up that electrifying friction
all night long.
"Your Majesty is a stubborn little
thing...hmm...maybe a good fucking will change her mind." Min suggested,
her orange eyes vivid with desire. Aerylle pouted with disappointment as the
tiefling interrupted her lovemaking and rose to open the top compartment of
Aerylle's bedside table.
"If my mother discovers that thing, she
is going to throw you out of this house, bonded lover or otherwise."
Aerylle warned, even if she felt a perverse anticipation building up in her
belly. Min was deliberately delaying their climax, trying to gauge the depths
of wantonness her prim librarian lover would sink to just to secure her sensual
release.
"The princess," Min said menacingly
as she extracted a thick shaft with a root at its base and a lotus-bulb like
head from the hidden compartment, "needs to learn that no-one defies the
Pirate Queen and lives." She eased the root of the dildo into the sopping
tunnel of her own sex and felt the enchanted rod take root, sinking its
sympathetic magical links deep into her sex. Suddenly, the rod became pliant,
as if it were a plant, taking on the red and green colour of a stiff, deliciously
obscene flower jutting out from the tiefling’s pussy. Min gritted her teeth at
the sensation of the air around the rod: it felt as though cold wind were
pressed deep into her sex and against her clit.
Without further ado, Min climbed onto the bed
and bunched Aerylle's silky, golden tresses in her fingers: "What are you
waiting for, princess?"
"Oh...have mercy, mighty Pirate
Queen..." Aerylle begged, relieved that the
darkness concealed the fact that she was blushing furiously. No civilised Elven
woman in Imej had ever dreamed of using a dildo. Min twisted her fistful
of Aerylle's hair and the Grey Elven woman gasped and dutifully sank to her
hands and knees in front of Min, gently grasping the stalk of the tiefling's
olisbos in her fingers.
Min exhaled sharply and leaned back, arms
outstretched behind her for support. Aerylle kissed the flowery bulb of the
dildo and then provocatively flicked her tongue against the tip. Min felt the
tongue against her clit. She groaned, rolling her hips. Aerylle was ready for
that and took the tip of the shaft between her pink lips, her slender hands
gripping the base. The tiefling growled, her heart battering passionately in
her breast. It felt as though Aerylle had wrapped her lips around her clit and
was licking with the most deliciously provocative intensity. Aerylle took more
of the olisbos in her mouth, concentrating on applying suckling heat, moisture
and pressure.
Min groaned and struggled to control her
passion. "Don't think this is going to get you out of a fucking." she
snarled, roughly jerking the dildo out of Aerylle's mouth and thrusting the
Grey Elven maiden onto her back. Aerylle could only surrender. Whatever Min
desired of her, she would give. The tiefling raised Aerylle's hips and poised
herself on top of her, the bulb of the dildo pressed against the sodden
entrance of the librarian's channel. Aerylle bit her lip and nodded and Min
slipped in. The tiefling moaned as she felt something warm and wet clamp down
tightly against her clit, followed by a deep, throbbing pressure against the
inner walls of her sex. Every spot on the dildo was mapped onto her sex, so
that she felt the wet tightness of Aerylle's pussy against hers.
Aerylle grunted as the dildo sank in to the hilt. She wrapped her calves around
Min's neck and concentrated on the sensation of being opened up, her channel
mastered by Min's long, arrogant thrusts. The tiefling fucked her with such
hungry passion that she could do nothing but lose herself in the blur of red
and flashing orange that was Min's visage, strands of crimson hair floating
over her eyes. Min's lips smothered Aerylle's her tongue hot and questing as
she rammed the dildo long and deep into her lover's drenched sex. The soft hair
on the tiefling's mound tickled deliciously against Aerylle's clit, but there
was nothing more delectable than the very tip of the lotus bulb slipping
against the innermost walls of the librarian's sex. If only it would go a
little deeper...
There was no need to ask. As Aerylle's passion
built, her yelps becoming moans of pleasure with each thrust, Min willed the
dildo's bulb to bloom. The lotus opened, soft petals spreading out into
Aerylle's juicing tunnel and turning, ever so gently massaging the inner walls
of her pussy, brushing against her sweet spot. Aerylle felt the nexus of
pleasure deep in her sex uncoil, hard and fast, so that she bucked her hips,
thrusting herself against Min, her moans long and passionate as they filled the
chamber. She no longer cared whether her mother or father heard her climax, all
Aerylle wanted was that long, wave of delicious contractions in her sex to
continue forever.
It took every ounce of Min's willpower to
ride Aerylle's long, joyous orgasm without coming herself. Such heat, such
pressure on her clit was almost too delicious to resist. Aerylle's ragged gasps
continued as Min slowed the pace of her thrusts to a long, languid flow.
"At this rate," Aerylle gasped, her calves tightening around Min's
neck, "I think your captive Elven princess will never tell you
where the treasure is..."
"We'll see 'bout that." Min grinned
wickedly and withdrew from Aerylle's sex, commanding the dildo's
nectar-streaked bulb to close once more. Aerylle let herself fall limply onto
the bed, her body awash with a profound feeling of sensual relaxation. Min,
however, was still all tension. She pulled out a silk-encased pillow from under
Aerylle and set in the middle of the bed. "On your belly, princess."
Aerylle nodded wordlessly and crawled on her
hands and knees to take her position on the soft pillow, thighs demurely spread
so that her wet, pink nether lips pressed against the fabric, staining it with
the juice of her passion. Min ran her fingers reverently over Aerylle's
infuriatingly pert little bottom and parted the alabaster cheeks to reveal the
nestled rosebud of the Elven librarian's anus. Aerylle's toes curled and tensed
against the sheets. She's not going to...
Then Aerylle felt Min's tongue, warm and wet
flick in the crevasse of her bottom and she breathed a sigh of relief. Min
licked with wet, hungry pressure against the puckered little star of muscle,
until it glistened with moisture. Despite herself Aerylle relaxed and submitted
to Min's wanton ministrations. Under the tiefling’s sultry licks, Aerylle felt
her rosebud loosening, expertly coaxed by the sinfully pleasurable wetness
against it. "Last chance," Min threatened, "where is the
treasure?"
"I would sooner die than tell the likes
of you." Aerylle giggled, until she felt Min mount her and the tip of the
dildo slip between the globes of her bottom, applying firm pressure on her
rosebud.
"Oh...Min, Goddess, please...I thought
we discussed this...ah!" Min moved her hips slowly and inexorably and
Aerylle's defeated rosebud popped into full bloom. Aerylle bit the sheets to
stop herself from screaming at the top of her lungs. The pain was
indescribable. Her bottom felt like it was on fire. "Min!" she
sobbed, a thin procession of tears trickling down her pale cheeks.
"It's time for you to learn your place,
princess." Min thrust in deeper, until she felt Aerylle's bottom against
her hips. The tiefling felt as though a vice were pressed against her clit and
a powerful fist were ramming against her Hanali's Heart. Aerylle's bottom was
gloriously warm and moist and it was with a sense of pride that Min took the
last barrier of her lover's virginity.
"Take it out..." Aerylle whimpered,
even as Min began thrusting, spreading the tight inner walls of her bottom and
mastering the tiny rosebud that stretched delicious around the stalk of Min's
dildo. Thankfully, there had been a little wetness from Aerylle's sex to ease
the shaft in, but the pain was agonising.
"Easy princess, don't fight it."
Min purred and Aerylle complied, concentrating on steadying her breathing. With
a few dozen thrusts, the agony subsided and each subsequent thrust merely
brought a dull throb in her bottom. At least, with the pillow beneath her,
Aerylle could slip her sex against the silk in rhythm with Min's fucking, which
brought a small but consolatory jolt of pleasure each time the tiefling thrust
into her. Min, however, was delirious with the roiling need that had built up
in her loins, so she finally allowed herself release. The tiefling came in
breathy, ragged gasps, biting into Aerylle's shoulder as she felt the delicious
pressure of the librarian's rosebud finally overwhelm her clit with sensation,
sending a glowing wave of liquid pleasure through her veins.
"Hanali's mercy!" Aerylle gasped as
Min, who had decided that her 'princess' was going to spend the night on her
belly, continued to fuck her at a slower, more leisurely pace, building up for
her second of what would hopefully be an endless stream of climaxes.
"Don't worry, I'll lick you out when I'm
done." Min sighed dreamily.
"Tell me one thing, Min," Aerylle inquired
softly. "We're women, so why do we have to make love like men?" While
what Min was doing had its perverse charm, it made her feel deeply unfeminine,
almost as if she were a boy.
"I dunno." Min replied, placing
soft kisses on Aerylle's pointed ear. "But since we're bonded for life, I
s'pose it'd be pretty silly not to try everything."
"For life..." Aerylle purred, the
pain in her bottom forgotten. "Min, my love...we should talk."
Min groaned. 'We should talk' was Aerylle's
way of interrupting their lovemaking for serious relationship conversations
which inevitably led to more frantic lovemaking. Had it been up to Min, she
would have made the procedure more efficient simply by doing away with the
interruptions.
"Please...Min, it is important."
Aerylle pleaded.
Min sighed and reluctantly withdrew from the
delicious, tight warmth of Aerylle's bottom and willed the dildo to release its
grip on her sex. Aerylle turned around and sat on the pillow while Min
stretched out languidly on the bed, lithe and predatory like a leopard.
"Yeah, so what was it you wanted to say?" Min queried, gazing
admiringly at Aerylle's soft, elfin physique in the dim light. That was no
problem for Min, who could see as well in the darkness as she could by
daylight.
"I thought having you as a bonded lover
would be difficult, even maddening at times." Aerylle began. The sweat
drying off her skin felt freezing. "But, to tell you the truth, it has
been wonderful..."
"Thanks..." Min replied, desperately
hoping Aerylle was not on the verge of gushing into one of her weepy,
sentimental 'exchange of feelings' moments.
"So...have you ever thought what it
would be like to be a...family?" Aerylle murmured, trying to sound
spontaneous.
"What? We are, right? I mean the bonding
ceremony at the
"I mean children, Min." Aerylle
concluded.
Min felt her heart skip a beat. Imej had
driven Aerylle mad, there was no doubt about it. "Have you gone
barmy?" the tiefling said incredulously.
"Min, be nice." Aerylle
reprimanded. She expected just such a reaction. "Of course, I would carry
the child, but I think that it would be good for us and...well, I always wanted
to be a mother." That was a sensitive subject. Min had been abandoned for
her fiendish blood when she was little more than an infant, so she always liked
to say that the best families are those you choose, not the ones you are born
into.
"I'd make a fucking awful mother."
"No!" Aerylle said indignantly.
"You would never let any harm befall the ones you love..."
"Seriously, princess, can we talk about
this another time?" Min interrupted. The idea of giving up her freedom,
her life to an idealised notion of motherhood was the furthest thing from Min's
mind.
"All right," Aerylle conceded with
a satisfied smile - at least she had found the courage to bring the subject up.
"As long as you promise me will talk about it." She trailed
the tip of her toe over the taut curve of Min's thighs and flanks, winding her
way teasingly between the tiefling's breasts.
"Tiefling's honour." Min joked,
seizing Aerylle's ankle with lightning-fast speed to bring the delicate foot to
her lips to kiss each pretty little toe.
"Since I am eternal optimist, I shall
take that as a yes." Aerylle chuckled as Min enveloped her big toe between
her soft, sultry lips and began to suckle. "But you also have to promise me
that we will find a more original...story idea than the Elven princess being
captured by the Pirate Queen."
"Why don't you suggest something,
then?" Min purred, working her kisses up the
inside of Aerylle's thigh.
"How about ‘the stern Elven teacher has a
naugthy tiefling student’...ah!" Aerylle was cut off by Min spreading her
slick nether lips to flick a deep red fingernail against the glistening surface
of the Grey Elf maiden's clit.
"Excellent idea," Min purred.
"I always thought I should go back to school."
***
"Min!" The tiefling stirred in her
couch and watched the pages of an open book flutter in the wind. Sunlight
flooded through the small, open window, shimmering on the polished wooden floor
and the modest, but tasteful Elven tapestries that decorated the walls.
"Min!"
"What?" Min growled, slumped over
the couch like a leopard on her branch. She hated being called 'mother' in any
language, so, much to Aerylle's despair, she simply asked their daughter to
call her by her name.
"I need a little...contribution for
tonight, me and some friends are going out to the
"How much?" Min inquired, turning
onto her back. Her daughter grew lovelier by the day: her features bore a
certain Elven delicacy, but her physique was athletic and her short blonde hair
was enriched by a deep, decidedly tiefling crimson. Then there were her eyes:
golden and burning, windows into a fiery soul.
"Let's say fifty."
"Earn them." Min replied playfully.
"Sure, I might check out the East Wing
of the Great Bazaar, lots of purses to cut there." the girl challenged, an
irreverent smirk on her sultry lips.
Min blinked a moment. "Fine, you win. If
your mother finds out you’ve been out thieving again we'll never hear the end
of it." She had made sure that her daughter knew how to pick a lock and
handle a dagger before she could read and write. Or, as Min had put it, real
skills for the real world.
"So, fifty it is." the girl
concluded triumphantly.
"You drive a hard bargain." Min
loosed her coin pouch and tossed it to her daughter. "Make sure there's some
left."
"Thanks..." the girl turned to
leave, before pausing by the door. "Hey...Min..."
"Yeah, I know, me too. Now
disappear." Min said with a wry smile, affecting impatience. The girl
sailed out of the room and, in the distance, the front door slammed shut.
Min rose and sauntered into the kitchen where
Aerylle was dividing her time between a book on Draconic religion and a pot of
dandelion soup. "You spoil her." the Grey Elf woman said the moment
Min stepped in. She still wore her unflattering beige librarian's robe.
"You should get changed." Min
invited, wrapping her arms around Aerylle's waist, her lips pressed softly
against her lover's ear.
"She should know the value of
money." Aerylle insisted. Elves aged gracefully, but Min found her ever
more fascinating, as if the maturity in her features infused her with a new,
quietly intellectual beauty.
"Aw, c'mon, princess, she goes to
school, studies..."
"From time to time," Aerylle shot
back.
"There's too much on your mind..."
Min whispered, running her tongue over Aerylle's ear. Her swift hands gathered
up Aerylle's robe until she reached the hem, and then her fingers slipped
underneath, to caress the soft, warm skin of her lover's inner thighs. Aerylle
sighed. Min was incorrigible. The tiefling's touch moved upwards, until it
reached the silky expanse of Aerylle's slip. Min hooked her fingers into the
waistband and knelt, pulling the offending garment down to pool at the Grey Elf
woman's ankles.
Aerylle demurely stepped out of her slip and
let Min hoist her onto the kitchen table, thighs spread. "Next time tell
her we have our rent and her school to pay...I really would like to avoid
taking out another loan."
Min ignored the parenting advice and worked
her way up Aerylle's thigh, bunching the robe around the librarian's waist. She
parted the rosy-pink inner petals of the Grey Elf woman's sex, eliciting a
sharp, passionate breath. Then, as she had done so many times before, she began
licking with just as much desire as the very first time.
***
Min awoke with a start. The room was quiet,
but it took her a moment to realise that she was in Aerylle's bedchamber in
Imej and not in the kitchen of her dream. Aerylle slumbered on, half covered by
blankets, her breasts rising and falling with her peaceful breathing. Min
covered her up and climbed out of bed. The ground was icy underneath her feet.
She padded soundlessly to the dresser and pulled on her shirt, breeches and
boots. Some fresh air would do her good. The dream had showed her a mirror of
reality. Something that could be, in all its ambiguous, fascinating glory.
Whatever it was, it had left a feeling of deep-seated melancholy in Min's
heart. A sense, perhaps, of longing.
The tiefling made her way down the stairs and
into the tower's garden, where she leapt up the wall in two, swift bounds. The
force of each leap led to the next, so that even the smooth, granite wall was
of no consequence. Silently, she dropped down into the street below and
followed the singing canal under a couple of arched, marble bridges. Imej by
night was disturbingly silent, even if the humming melodies from the late night
revels of the Celestial Sisters Festival were still audible from the more
central districts in the distance.
Suddenly, she heard boot steps and
instinctively whipped around, reaching for her dagger. She could see through
the darkness with ease, so that one of the two figures racing down an overhead
bridge was immediately familiar to her. It was Tahllea's challenger from the
duel earlier that day. Cute girl, Min thought, pity Tahllea had to
treat her like that. There was urgency in their movements. Something was
amiss. Min swiftly scaled the brick wall of the waterway and hoisted herself up
on the bridge just in time to see the two women race towards Imej's gates.
Filled with spontaneous curiosity, Min followed them down the deserted
boulevard.
***
Escape
Aravae followed Sigrid out the city gates and
into the long, winding trail, visible only to Elves, which led out into the
wild. The forest by night was cold, much colder than Sigrid had anticipated,
but she forged on anyway, unwilling to show the slightest sign of distress.
Their boots crunched against ferns and fallen pine needles, the earth cool and
hard from the light layer of frost that had formed at its surface. They
followed the river for what seemed like an eternity, going by the Southern Swan
constellation and the looming faces of the two silver moons. Breath misted into
the cold night, the stars glimmering, shrouded in the milky white of the cosmic
ether that flowed like a great celestial stream through the vault of the night
sky.
Sigrid shivered, steeled herself and pressed
forth, her pack growing heavier with each step. They traversed a sub-region of
low-hanging cypresses and wound down into a vale of the tallest trees Sigrid
had ever seen. There, they realised that the sky would be blocked out and that,
by night, they would be unable to follow the southern stars. Sigrid paused and
leaned onto the trunk of a tree so vast she could barely see where its
circumference curved. She was panting with exertion. Aravae was behind her,
already feeling faint with exhaustion.
"Tomorrow," Sigrid breathed sinking
to her knees on the cold earth. "Tomorrow we will start out at first
light."
"Shall we set up camp?" Aravae
inquired, a little nervous at the forbidding silence of her surroundings.
"Yeah. Can you conjure fire?"
Sigrid replied, wiping the cold sweat from her forehead.
"A little," Aravae noted modestly.
They gathered small sticks, dried, dead ferns and fallen conifer needles as
fuel and, with a simple incantation, Aravae set them all alight. The warmth was
immediate and soothing. Sigrid gratefully tugged off her boots while Aravae lay
out the bedroll by the fire. With a few more pinecones and perhaps a dried
branch, the enchantment would keep the fire going until early morning.
"It's freezing." Sigrid complained,
swiftly slipping her feet under the bedroll's sheets for warmth.
"It will be better in the morning."
Aravae smiled. She lay down her silver sword by the bedroll and joined Sigrid
under the covers. "Anyway, Tahllea always told us that the best way to
keep warm in the wilderness is, lacking an enchantment, with the body of
another."
"Lucky me, huh?" Sigrid mused,
wrapping her arms around Aravae's waist. "I'm sorry, by the way."
"Why?"
"It's our first night out of Imej and
we're freezing, probably lost and really need a bath..."
"Never mind," Aravae replied
amiably, far more interested in sleep than Sigrid's mumbled apologies. "We
can bathe tomorrow, in the river."
"Sounds good," Sigrid said quietly.
"Are you still glad you left?"
"Yes." Aravae replied, almost
inaudibly, huddling closer to Sigrid for warmth.
"What about Tahllea?"
"I did not come for resentment of Lady
Tahllea, even if what she did to you today was unforgivable. I left for loyalty
to you. Lady Tahllea gave me much, but took as much in return, including my
name. You, Sigrid, you have only given."
"Good night, Aravae," Sigrid said,
her voice choked with grateful emotion. She clasped the Grey Elf maiden's hands
in her own and hoped sleep would come quickly.
Silence followed. Sigrid buried her face in
Aravae's hair and tried to abandon herself to the darkness. In the stillness,
she felt Aravae squeeze her hand. "What?" Sigrid breathed.
"Don't move." Aravae ordered,
almost inaudibly.
"What?" Sigrid felt her heart
beginning to race in her chest. It had been too quiet.
"Where is your sword?" Aravae asked
grimly.
"By my side."
"Take its hilt and be ready to draw
it."
"What is it?" Sigrid insisted,
reaching out over the bedroll's covers to grasp the comforting, cool platinum
grip of her sword.
"Tikkit-khath," Aravae said
breathlessly. "
Sigrid sprang from the bedroll, ducked
forward and drew her shining adamantine blade from its scabbard, swiftly taking
her position, back to back with Aravae. A second wickedly barbed arrow whistled
through the air, followed by a dread, howling cry. Something tall, black, gaunt
and vaguely humanoid with a grotesquely distended maw full of long, needle-like
teeth pounced from the nearest tree. Aravae caught it in mid flight, her silver
blade humming through the air as she sliced it from vitals to sternum. Blood
and steaming viscera fell onto the forest floor. The creature collapsed,
howling in agony, only for three more to encircle the campfire.
Aravae sank into an offensive stance, her
sword angled sharply in front of her and lunged, skewering a marauder between
its ribs, the silver blade burning through the vile, unclean flesh of the
creature's chest. Foul-smelling black ichor issued forth, steaming, onto the
ground. Sigrid wound a series of tight, arcing slashes and cut down a marauder
where it stood, her blade singing as it tore open the creature's belly. Then
she leapt forward, skillfully avoiding the creature's long, lashing claws, and
landed her blow at its long, knotted neck, tearing through flesh and bone so
that her sword lodged in the creature's vertebra. The marauder fell to the
ground. Sigrid had just enough time to extricate her weapon when another
abomination charged against her, its filthy, onyx-black claws, more like
pincers than hands, flashing cruelly in the firelight. Sigrid withdrew and
pressed up again against Aravae's back.
"Everything all right?" Sigrid
asked, her chest aching with exhaustion.
"Beware their claws. They are
poison." Aravae replied and lunged forward once more, slicing open a
marauder's arm. Bone crunched and blood sprayed, the limb falling a few feet
away while the injured beast howled and nursed its wound. Aravae dispatched it
with a swift jab to the throat. Sigrid heard another barbed dart whistle
through the air. She knew where it was aimed at without even thinking about it,
so she ducked out of the way and held herself close to the forest floor. One of
the marauders had a blowgun.
Sigrid mentally retraced the direction from which the sound of the dart had
come: third branch on the left in the tree immediately behind her. The Aasimar
unsheathed her dagger and visualised the approximate position of the marauder
relative to the sound of its darts. Then she cast the dagger forth with all her
might and let it sail through the air. It struck the creature in its flank, the
sudden impact causing it to fall from its perch onto the ground below.
"How many of these fucking things are
there?" Sigrid cried.
"Dozens, maybe," Aravae answered
grimly.
Another arrow wailed through the air.
"Fuck!" Sigrid cursed. She had no intention of dying in the
wilderness. It was then that she realised that the arrow was not aimed at them,
but rather struck a marauder full in the chest, causing it to gurgle and spurt
black blood from its many-toothed maw. Three more arrows followed, each
perfectly placed to strike a marauder between the eyes, or at the base of its
throat. The remaining members of the pack, deciding that the meal was not worth
their wholesale extermination, withdrew quietly into the forest, chittering a
sharp funeral dirge for their fallen.
Sigrid gingerly stepped forward to inspect a
marauder's corpse. The arrow that had felled it was fletched with what appeared
to be eagle feathers. With a sharp tug, she pulled the dart out of the
creature's forehead, bringing forth a gush of gore. The arrowhead was a massive
thorn. "Aravae, do you know what this is?" Sigrid called, a little
nervously.
"Yes. Wood Elves."
Sigrid turned to inspect her surroundings. Something moved in the darkness. She
could feel it. A shadow approached, slowly, almost with trepidation. The first
thing Sigrid saw was two, brilliant green eyes. Green like an emerald, or a
leaf in midsummer. Then the shadows parted under the light of the campfire. A
young Wood Elf woman, clad in tight-fitting golden leather armour, shaped so as
to evoke the pattern of leaves falling in autumn. Her visage was fierce, proud
and wildly handsome, her hair, like a forest floor at winter’s approach, was a
mixture of gold, red and rich brown, her body tawny, firmly muscled and strong,
just like the piercing intensity of her gaze. She stepped forward, a
magnificent elm-wood longbow in hand, her doeskin boots imperceptibly silent
over the frozen earth.
"Iniila," Aravae sighed with relief,
smiling knowingly at the tricks of fate.
"Aravae, ktiillia muudha takai!"
the ranger snapped, though the playful glint in her eyes suggested that her
coldness was an act.
"Sorry...I never remembered more than a
few words." Aravae said apologetically, sheathing her sword.
"Then you should have given more
attention." Iniila replied. Her melodious Wood Elf accent was thick, so
that some words were so clipped that Sigrid could not quite make them out.
"Thank you. I never thought I would see
you here after all this time." Aravae said. Iniila advanced, her full
breasts strained against her form-fitting armour. It had obviously been tailor
made for her, because the elaborately worked leather strips bent and shaped themselves
in perfect synchronism with the ranger’s movements.
"Thank your friend, too. She narrated
where you were." Iniila said, taking Aravae into her embrace. Her body was
as taut and reassuring as Aravae remembered. Their lips met, at first innocently,
but it was Iniila who then pressed herself against Aravae, her tongue probing
playfully between the lips the Grey Elf eagerly parted to welcome her deep,
affectionate kiss.
"My, my, I'd thought you'd had
enough." Min mused in Common. The sound of that language Sigrid had
thought forgotten made the Aasimar turn her head, so that she immediately
recognised the mysterious tiefling she had seen earlier that day before the
duel.
"You speak...my language?" Sigrid
called incredulously.
Min sauntered out of the darkness with
self-assured gait of a prowling lioness. She swept back her veil of ember-red
hair and stole an admiring glance at Iniila devouring Aravae's lips.
"Finally someone to talk to," Min
noted wryly. "But you'd better go rescue your girl, 'else you'll never get
her out of the forest."
"She's not my...uhm, lover. Just a
friend." Sigrid corrected. Her feet were almost numb from the cold, so she
stumbled forward to pull on her boots.
"Yeah, and I reckon you're both off in
search of adventure after Tahllea acted up on you." Min replied, striding
out into the clearing. Sigrid could not help but grin in relief. She remembered
that she had caught a glimpse of Min once or twice at the Order before she came
to Imej. Now, it became clear that the Multiverse was truly full of
coincidences.
"Tahllea can go hang." Sigrid spat.
"We want to seize or own destinies, not live as servants or
playthings." Iniila and Aravae had broken their kiss and now stood
riveted, watching Sigrid and Min converse in a strange and alien language.
"I thought so, which is why I followed
you. It'd be a terrible shame for a good blademistress like you to go to waste.
D'you know that Dragons fly over this place?" said Min, quickly sizing up
Sigrid.
"Wonderful, but..."
"Min. Name's Min."
"Sigrid. So...Min, how did you manage to
recruit reinforcements so quickly?" Sigrid did not mean to sound
suspicious, but it had seemed a little too convenient that a tiefling from her
same native city would rescue them in the middle of a forest on a distant
world.
"It's actually quite simple." Min
boasted. "Y'see, our ranger friend here is obviously pretty lonely when
she's on patrol and so, when we met in the middle of the forest we had a
nice...conversation."
"You speak Wood Elven?" Sigrid said
incredulously.
"Nah," Min chuckled, "but then
there's always the language the whole Multiverse understands. I mean, if
instead of pointing her bow at me she'd just asked me to lick her out right
from the start, we'd all have saved a lot of time."
"What is she saying?" Aravae
interrupted.
"Nothing much," Sigrid replied in
Grey Elven. "She was at the duel this morning. For some reason, she lives
in Imej."
"She was exploring." Iniila interjected
defensively, returning her arrow to its quiver. "She found me and said she
was trailing two women. As I am appointed to guard this stretch of forest, I
decided that I, too, had to follow."
"Sigrid," Aravae explained.
"This is Iniila. We knew each other in Imej once and I must thank the
Goddesses who bless this night that she has found us in our moment of
need."
"I worked in the kitchen of Aravae's
mother." Iniila said bitterly. "My parents though that I would be
more fortunate as a maid in the city of the Grey Elves, but they were mistaken.
In all my time there, Aravae was the only one who showed me kindness."
"So...you're a ranger, now, right?"
Sigrid said.
"Yes," Iniila nodded. "I
defend my village and shield the Forest Mother. We have been seeking to clean
the Tikkit-khath from our lands for many years. If the Forest Mother so
wills it, they will not return until the next moons."
"Well, thank you for all your help, but
we were heading south..." Sigrid began, before she was interrupted by
Iniila's sternly raised hand.
"No." the ranger said.
"Tonight, you will sleep as my guests."
"That's very kind, but..." Sigrid
protested.
"But nothing," Iniila concluded.
"When I was in Imej, Aravae let me share her bed, even if her mother
thought that all Wood Elves were fit for were blankets on the ground. She held
me as I wept and dreamed of home. This is the time appointed by the Forest
Mother for me to show my love and gratitude."
"What did she just say?" Min asked
Sigrid.
"She wants us to stay at her village for
the night...I think." Sigrid replied.
Min turned to meet Iniila's gaze. "You
mean me too?" the tiefling said, pointing to herself for emphasis. Iniila
nodded with a slightly mischievous glint in her eyes. "Right," Min
concluded. "It's settled."
Under Iniila's guidance, Sigrid realised just
how foolish she had been in hoping to challenge the vast, virgin forest by
herself. The ranger followed trails even Sigrid's keen eyesight and intuition
could never hope to detect. They wound their way through lands where each
stream and each rock had a specific significance. Finally, they reached the
juncture where two streams met a serenely singing waterfall which poured down
into a wider river below. There, Iniila chanted a litany in Wood Elven and
pressed the palm of her hand against an invisible sphere of magical force. The
space under her hand warped and twisted, stretching and finally popping like a
soap bubble to reveal a hidden land within.
Awestruck, Sigrid followed the ranger into a world of blue and yellow lanterns,
punctuated by ethereal singing and the sharp melody of wooden flutes. The
Aasimar saw nothing around her, until she looked up and observed an immense
treetop village, nestled high in the canopies of trees that could as well have
been hills in their own right. Spheres of enchanted eldritch light circled
above, casting a warm, firefly-like glow on the polished wood of habitations
that had been wrought from the living trees. Nothing had been cut or carved and
everything had been shaped by the will of the Wood Elven druids who coaxed the
trees to grow furniture and habitations, rather than forcing nature to do their
bidding.
Sigrid was stunned by the sheer luminosity
and life of the village above, each home connected by rope bridges, creating a
vast network which stretched throughout the forest canopy. Iniila explained
that water was pumped up through the trees themselves so that, even if their
access to the river was cut off, the Wood Elves could continue to thrive off
the water the trees gathered from the living earth. They proceeded into a
clearing where a wooden staircase had been carved into the mightiest tree,
leading ever upwards to the village. Though exhausted and desperate for sleep,
Sigrid and Aravae could not help but feel overwhelmed by the wonder of what
surrounded them. Light, life and magic all fused into a fascinating village
tapestry.
When they reached the top of the staircase,
they found themselves in a vast plaza where a wooden statute of the Forest
Mother dominated sculptures of lesser spirits and deities dancing around their
buxom, fertile queen. Flowers and fragrant herbs lined the narrow alleys of the
village, so that every step was greeted with a new fragrance. Sigrid felt as
though she had entered another world. The language around her was more
spontaneous and more vital than the formal tones of Grey Elven and, despite the
fact that it was well past midnight, music and soft conversation continued to
fill the air. Children ran deftly from branch to branch, wielding slings and
bone knives, and bare-breasted Wood Elf maidens, their faces and hands painted
with blue, red and yellow sap walked absorbed in lively conversations they
would interrupt only to nod politely in greeting at Iniila or coyly return one of
Min's suggestive glances.
The party crossed three rope bridges, until
they reached a modest little abode, wrought from the living wood between two
mighty branches. The curtain woven from vines that guarded the entrance to the
apartment swept aside at Iniila's approach, revealing a warmly decorated
interior, covered with woven tapestries and wooden sculptures of wild animals.
Sigrid followed Iniila's lead in removing her boots at the entrance and
stepping into the strangely pliant, heated wood of the Wood Elf's home. A
shrine to the Forest Mother with offerings of fruit and flowers dominated the
entrance hallway. They proceeded inside and found a cramped, but strangely cosy
internal corridor that looked out onto the forest below.
"Here." Iniila said to Aravae,
pointing to a small chamber, illuminated only by a glowing enchanted lamp
shaped like a tulip bulb. "You and Sigrid are welcome to stay here for as
long you wish." Plush cushions and a wide, heavy blanket embroidered with
an abstract, triangular pattern covered the entire floor space of the chamber.
"If you need to wash, there is a bathing chamber at the far end of the
hall..."
Sigrid ignored that last part. She dived onto
the cushions, pulling the blanket on top of her and, after a quick, grateful
kiss on Iniila's lips, Aravae followed. In an instant, the light had gone out
and Iniila smiled, closing the curtain behind them.
"What about us?" Min said. She did
not feel in the least bit tired.
Iniila nodded. Language was no barrier
between them. Min's gestures were expressive enough. So, too, was the
tiefling's caress. They walked back to entrance hall where Iniila spread out a
few cushions onto the floor. A lone bird cried out in the distance. Iniila
carefully loosened her leather armour and set it onto a hardwood stand. Min was
not in the least surprised to see that the Wood Elf wore nothing underneath.
Iniila's tan, voluptuous body was almost glossy in the dull faerie fire of
the small, circular chamber. Not a word was spoken. Min stripped off her shirt
and breeches and fell into Iniila's embrace. The ranger was delicious: her lips
were soft, her mouth fragrant with herbs, her skin flecked with sweat, her sex
rich, musky and more earthily female than any Elf Min had made love to.
It was nights like those that made Min reconsider describing herself as a 'city
girl'.
***
Arrows
A brightly coloured yellow and red bird
hopped into the corridor in front of Sigrid's room and started singing its
sharp, whirring song. Sigrid rubbed her eyes and shifted under the covers. It
was well past dawn. The sun was high in the sky, flooding the room with a soft,
golden radiance. The Aasimar sat up on the cushions and saw Aravae half-asleep
beside her.
"I need a bath..." Aravae
complained, stretching under the covers.
"You really are a Grey Elf at
heart." Sigrid joked, affectionately stroking Aravae's hair.
"What? No...I am most certainly not one
of those vain noblewomen." Aravae protested, finally throwing off the
covers. She had not slept so well in years.
"How're our two adventurers doing?"
Min's rich, sensual purr greeted them from the other side of the vine curtain.
"Come in..." Sigrid invited and Min
threw open the curtain, allowing the brilliant rays of sunlight to stream
directly into the chamber. Aravae shielded her eyes groggily and rose to her
knees.
"This place is pretty top-shelf,"
Min remarked. "If you can put up with the cold water, that is. Iniila is
at the archery range and I'm going to join her. Why don't you two drop by when
you're ready?"
"Uhm...Min..." Sigrid began,
blinking at the sunlight. The tiefling wore only her boots and breeches. Her
lithe, subtly muscled torso was bared to the cold morning air. Her fine, firm
breasts rode high on her chest, poppy-red nipples stiff and turgid.
"Yeah, I know." The tiefling
enthused. "It's pretty liberating and all the Wood Elf girls do it, so I
thought I might as well blend in."
"I see..." Sigrid said, rising
unsteadily to her feet. "You go ahead, we'll join you later." Min
nodded and sauntered off.
"What was that about?" Aravae
inquired, following Sigrid's lead through the corridor and into the bathing
nook.
"Min has decided to blend in with the
locals, which apparently means leaving her shirt at home."
Aravae grimaced. "Under no circumstances
am I leaving this place unless I am appropriately dressed." she warned.
The bathing chamber was a simple wooden room
with sloping floors so that the used water could drain down a single hole at
the centre of the floor. Cold, fresh water was sluiced through a wide, wooden
tube into a rectangular reservoir. Around the reservoir were deep wooden bowls
and rough-cut slabs of white soap encrusted with herbs and wild flowers. They
washed, debated as to how to clean their teeth with thin reeds coated in antiseptic
conifer sap, and had a quick but satisfying breakfast with the unleavened
chestnut bread and crushed hazelnut butter Iniila had left for them on the
round table in the entrance. When they finally stepped outside, Aravae
estimated that it must have been near midday. The air was cool, but tolerably
so, and the slow rhythms of village life unfolded before their eyes.
Sigrid took a few tentative steps onto the
lane in front of her, before realising that the entire street system had been
fashioned from branches that had been magically straightened and flattened,
creating an intricate system of interlocking pathways. As two blatant strangers
in the village, they immediately drew glances of benign curiosity. Children sat
on their front porches, sowing, fletching arrows, whittling wooden instruments.
Well-muscled, chestnut-haired men clad in intricately carved bark breastplates
and rope armour walked with spears in hand, while voluptuous lady-druids
performed the Noontide Rites in front of the great statue of the Forest Mother.
Sigrid stopped by a junior druid who wore a
warm, heavy cloak fashioned from the pelt of a Dire Wolf and asked for
directions to the archery range. The woman smiled, nodded and answered in her
own language. Sigrid bowed in thanks and followed a path leading down to the
lower branches of the great tree upon which that section of the village was
perched. All Elven languages stemmed from the same root, so that it was never
too difficult to obtain basic information.
The archery range turned out to be a wide
platform, magically suspended in the middle of the air, and connected to the
branch leading up to it by a rope bridge. From the platform, practitioners
aimed at distant targets arranged on trees both near and far, depending on the
archer's level of expertise. After each session, performance was reported by
way of a hovering sphere of wood which manifested the number of target hits and
misses on its smooth, moss-grown surface. Iniila was deep in concentration, her
mighty longbow tensed as she aimed her arrow at the most distant target, so far
that it could only be perceived by sight as a tiny red simulacrum of a Wyvern,
shrouded by mist. Min stood by her side, as interested in watching the Wood Elf
woman's bicep and flank strain under her elaborate leather armour as she was in
the archery itself.
Just as Sigrid and Aravae stepped as quietly as
possible onto the platform so as not to disturb the proceedings, Iniila’s arrow
sailed through the air. A few moments later, a dull thud reverberated
throughout the forest. The floating wooden sphere manifested the logograph
representing 'good' on its mossy surface. Wood Elves had no written language as
such, relying on oral histories and a form of phonetic shorthand for factual
information.
"Not bad." Min said admiringly.
Iniila nodded, understanding Min's compliment from the tiefling's tone of
voice.
"Thank you for letting us stay."
Aravae interjected in Grey Elven and Iniila set her bow down and turned to face
her old friend. "But I think we should be on her way now."
"Min and I," Iniila replied, calmly
but firmly, "though we do not speak the same tongue, exchanged ideas about
your situation. She thinks you should go back. I agree."
"What? Why?" Sigrid interrupted
indignantly.
"So as not to give satisfaction to the
one who has chased you from Imej." Iniila said. In the wild, only defeated
animals ran from their hunting grounds.
"But what can we do?" Sigrid asked
ruefully. "My enemy is so much greater than I am..."
"Wood Elves have a legend," Iniila
explained patiently, "its lesson is: strike the Wyvern with a single
arrow. So, you it is not the power that counts, but the way in which it is
used. The first lesson a true ranger is taught about the wisdom of archery is
that an arrow is never loosed until you would swear on your life that it will
hit the target."
"But..." Sigrid objected. The
prospect of facing Tahllea again made her blood run cold with dread.
"Min will teach you." Iniila
concluded.
"What did she say?" Min inquired
the moment she heard her name spoken.
"She...she claims you will teach me how
to overcome Tahllea." Sigrid said incredulously.
"Oh, yeah," Min noted nonchalantly,
stretching languidly like a bored tiger. Iniila took the opportunity to steal a
glance at the taut definition of Min's belly and the supple firmness of her
breasts. In that instant, she decided that it would be best to take Min on a
long hike to a distant, secluded place that afternoon. "I think I could've
said something like that...miracle she understood, though."
"Are you serious?" Sigrid said
fiercely. She had no intention of being teased by Min.
"I'm always serious,
Sigrid." Min replied jovially.
"What do you know about
fencing?" the Aasimar challenged.
"Not much." Min admitted with a
shrug. "But I do know about being in the right place at the right
time." With a flick of her wrist, Min pulled out an arrow from Iniila's
quiver and twirled it between her fingers. "Now touch it."
"Huh?"
"I'm not saying take it off me, I'm
saying touch it - any part of it. C'mon, it's a pretty long arrow, you should
have no problem." Min teased.
Sigrid turned to see Aravae and Iniila
watching curiously. Deciding she had nothing to lose, she lunged forward, Min
remained immobile, but her hand moved just a fraction faster than Sigrid's eye.
Sigrid paused and lunged once more, but clasped nothing but thin air. Min's
hands flicked the arrow between them with the speed of a juggler. The tiefling
did not even have to move, but merely followed the motions of Sigrid's hand and
plotted a diverging course. Sigrid bit her lip in frustration and feinted left,
reaching out for the elusive piece of wood until she realised that Min read her
bluff and shifted her fingers down the arrow so all that was exposed to
Sigrid's grasp was the fletched end. That was a good enough invitation, so
Sigrid lunged forward again. Min took a half step backwards, unbalancing Sigrid
who rammed straight into her, so that they both fell onto the platform. The tiefling
landed almost soundlessly on the wood with Sigrid on top of her, face between
her breasts.
Iniila chuckled softly and withdrew the arrow
Min held triumphantly aloft, while Sigrid blushed violently and lifted herself
off of Min. The tiefling smelled faintly of incense. "You're pretty
quick." Min granted. "Most would never have caught me off guard long
enough for me to fall, but you've got some work to do. Tahllea's always going
to be stronger and my guess is she's also got a better sword, so you're going
to have to outwit her."
"So...if I return to Imej, you will help
me train?" Sigrid said, still a little doubtful.
"Let's put it like this," Min said
amiably, "if you're ever going to get the last laugh on Tahllea, you've
got to go back to Imej. I'm just going to help make sure that you set her right
as soon as possible. Not that I've got anything against her, but I think that a
high-up like her should be cut down to size from time to time."
***
"When our names are written into epic
poetry," Aravae said wryly, "this will definitely be described as the
shortest adventure in recorded history."
"Very funny," Sigrid pouted as they
prepared for their second, and last, night in the Wood Elf village. It had not
taken Sigrid long to agree to Min's proposal and Aravae, in turn persuaded by a
few choice words from Iniila, also decided that a return to set the account
right was the best course of action. That presented a challenge for Aravae, as
she had decided the moment she had left Imej that she would also sever the
slavish ties that bound her to Tahllea. The difficult part as she envisioned it
was reassuring Tahllea of her undying gratitude while also claiming her
freedom. As far as Tahllea was concerned, the two ideas were mutually
exclusive.
"I did not mean to be unkind."
Aravae said, neatly folding her sky-blue fencing tunic and setting at the far
end of the room. "Min was right, though. We're not children. We have no
reason to run away. Our opinions on Tahllea may hardly match, but we both have
something to clarify with her, for better or for worse. As ever, you will have
my love and support."
"You know what?" Sigrid teased,
luxuriating naked on the bedspread.
"What?"
"You are far too nice for your
own good."
"Do you really think so?" said
Aravae, settling down at Sigrid's side. The cushions, though covered in a
coarse, woody fabric, were most comfortable.
"Of course," Sigrid nodded,
affectionately patting Aravae's forearm. The Grey Elf girl had quiet, intense
beauty. She deserved so much more than Tahllea. Through the wooden wall of
their chamber, they could hear Iniila gasp passionately and Min moaning
rhythmically in the next room. "At least Iniila is enjoying herself,
right?' the Aasimar grinned.
"When we were younger, she came to work
in the kitchen where my mother was a pastry cook and barely spoke a word of
Grey Elven. I taught her my language and she showed me that I had no right to
hate my life in Imej, because there were those who would always be so much
worse off than me. Back then, I even told my mother I wanted Iniila to be my
bonded lover." Aravae laughed bitterly at the memory of her adolescent
optimism.
"What did your mother say?" Sigrid
could already guess Aravae's answer.
"She was surprisingly understanding, though,
as you probably know, the Grey Elves who have most contempt for Wood Elves are
not the nobles, but Houseless ones like my mother who are only marginally
higher up in the social tower. Between a kind word and another, though, she
told me to forget about Iniila. She should not have bothered. Iniila left
anyway and I am happy for her. Here she is a ranger, she is respected and
admired - as she should be." Aravae gave a wan smile and lay down by
Sigrid's side, her head nestled on the Aasimar's shoulder.
"You really have to lighten up,"
Sigrid chided gently, planting a soft kiss on Aravae's cheek, "we'll be
heroines one day, you can count on that, but we certainly won't be tragic ones.
I much prefer the 'lived happier ever after' type."
Aravae suddenly shifted over the bedcovers,
pinning Sigrid's forearms and straddling the Aasimar's waist. Sigrid did not
resist.
"Aravae..." Sigrid whispered. The
Grey Elf maiden's silver eyes shimmered with yearning. She leaned over her
friend, pert, rounded breasts, capped with rosebud-pink nipples hanging like
firm fruit. Aravae's breathing quickened, her fingers digging into Sigrid's
pale skin. The Grey Elf girl's skin was already flushed, her lips parted
slightly, listening to Sigrid's quickening heartbeat.
"My lovely Sigrid," Aravae sighed
longingly. She released the Sigrid's arms and trailed her fingers over the
Aasimar's pointed ears, tracing the elegant outlines of her elfin features, her
cheeks, the curve of her lips, her chin, her soft, pale throat. "I would
give myself to you tonight, to be yours and yours alone until the sun dawns and
then, until forever, I would be your sister-at-arms, your refuge, your
comfort."
Wordlessly, Sigrid nodded. Aravae leaned
forward and pressed her lips against Sigrid's. The moment was electric.
Aravae's mouth was soft, but her tongue hungry and seeking as it lead Sigrid in
a passionate, wet dance. "Are you sure?" Sigrid breathed, lovingly
running her fingers up Aravae's flanks, feeling taut, elegant muscles under the
pale skin.
"I have never been with anyone but
Tahllea since I met her, but ever since I first saw you, I understood that if I
was ever to give myself to another, she would have to be worthy of my love -
she would have to be someone like you." Aravae replied. She felt her sex
tighten with tense need as Sigrid cupped her breasts, the Aasimar's thumbs
running over the engorged, rubbery surface of her nipples.
"I'm not Tahllea." Sigrid said
between kisses, "I want to do what you like, understood?"
"Yes." Aravae's breath was hot
against Sigrid's lips. The Bladesinger's kisses flowed down Sigrid's throat,
becoming ever warmer and wetter as they reached the Aasimar's small, but
gorgeously proportioned breasts. Aravae licked up a pale, taut hillock and
pressed her lips against Sigrid's cherry-pink nipple. The Aasimar gasped. A
knot of desire curled in her loins. Aravae's lips were gentle and infuriatingly
coy as they enveloped Sigrid's stiff little peak, and then came the sharp,
jarring sting of her teeth, tugging ever so gently over the sensitive surface,
her tongue flicking against its tip.
"Easy!" Sigrid gasped.
"Are you a blademistress or not?"
Aravae replied playfully, trailing a long, wet arc across the
"Do you want to make love looking into
my eyes?" Sigrid inquired breathlessly, gently cradling Aravae's face in
her hands. Each time the Bladesinger's hand brushed against her clit, she felt
a delicious jolt of pleasure, the tension in her sex building like a slow,
deliciously tortuous dance.
"Yes." Aravae smiled, rising to a
sitting position, legs outstretched so she and Sigrid could lie pussy to pussy,
locked in a searing, wet nether kiss. Sigrid scrambled to reposition herself,
hooking her legs around Aravae's waist, drawing the Bladesinger in closer. The
first contact of their fat, juicing mounds was glorious: a gentle wet friction
of silk against silk. Aravae reached down, smiling lasciviously, and spread her
inner lips, parting them obscenely so her pussy resembled a fully blooming
flower streaked with fertile nectar. Sigrid nodded and spread her own sex, her
tiny clit glistening, hard and stiff, like a pearl.
Sigrid steadied herself, leaning back on her
arms, her toes curling deliciously into the bedspread beneath her, and thrust
forward. Aravae gave a low moan and seized the Aasimar's thigh for support
before thrusting back. Wet, lust-swollen flesh flowed together, melding juices,
rubbing with delicious, maddening friction against hard, needy clits. They soon
found their rhythm and it was like fencing. As Sigrid gyrated and undulated her
hips with the grace only a Bladesinger could muster, Aravae matched her step by
step, withdrawing as Sigrid advanced, and then pressing forward, sometimes so
hard that the Aasimar's back arched as she felt hard, jarring pressure against
her clit. At the wet, delirious union of their womanhoods, everything became a
sticky paradise, a fusion of lust, each step in their sensual dance building
the coiling tension in their loins, the tightening feeling deep in their
Temples of Hanali.
Aravae lost herself in their lovemaking, her thighs
and belly straining with each thrust, her ripe, tulip-pink pussy grinding and
merging against Sigrid's. Their thrusts built with their passion, bodies
straining for release, sex pressed against sex, pearly nectar mingling, sopping
nether lips mashing and spreading. Aravae felt the fire in her loins spill
over, she abandoned herself to breathy, wanton gasps as she came, a flood of
relief coursing through her veins, her back arching, breasts rising and falling
with each desperate breath.
She swiftly disentangled herself from Sigrid
and leapt onto the Aasimar, forcing her thighs apart. Aravae thrust three
fingers into Sigrid's juicing pussy, her thumb pressed frantically against her
lover's clit. Sigrid bit her lip at the sudden, thick invasion in her sex, but
submitted to Aravae's thrusts as the Bladesinger's expert fingers brought her
to a wrenching climax. Sigrid's channel contracted spasmodically against
Aravae's fingers and the Bladesinger withdrew roughly, drawing out a long
strand of musky, cloudy juice. With a teasing smile on her lips, Aravae licked
her fingers clean of that earthy sweetness, before leaning forward to kiss
Sigrid once more.
"So this is how an Aasimar tastes."
the Bladesinger mused.
"You say that as if I didn't know."
Sigrid shot back, flicking her tongue against Aravae's lips.
"You taste like an Elf, only
more...intense." Aravae remarked in wonder.
"Aravae?" Sigrid began.
"Hmm?"
"What you said before...about always
being by my side..."
"It does not," Aravae corrected,
knowing full well the cultural gulf between herself and Sigrid, "mean that
I wish to replace Mjrina. It only means that just as there are two moons in the
sky tonight, you and I are now bound as one. Like Sehanine for Faenya, I would
traverse entire worlds to be at your side - my love, my sister, dearer to me
than the blade that protects my very life."