The World of Alderest - IV - A Journey With the Dead - Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The current Lord of Cielcroix stood in the doorway of Ismene's bedroom and watched her sleep. The young elf lay on her back, one arm thrown over her head while the other rested on her stomach. Her blonde hair lay fanned across her pillow, shining in the moonlight that entered the room through an open window. She was covered only by a thin sheet in deference to the unusually warm spring night in Cielcroix. How many times had he stood in the doorway and watched her sleep, each time feeling naked lust welling up within him, each time wrenching himself away from the room and slaking his thirsts with one of the servant girls. But no more. Tonight, he would have her and propriety be damned.

Lord Volchim crept into the room, silently closing and locking the door behind him. He knelt by the elf's bed, inhaling the sweet smell of her hair as he remembered the day when she had arrived.

He had sent for a tutor for his two children, not expecting an elf to arrive. She was one of the few elves who were recently seeking lives outside their forest kingdom and working in Krisephyr. He had lost his wife many years back and had occupied himself with other things since then. His wife, he had missed her so much, had- But the elf had changed all that. Her beauty had entranced him from the moment she had arrived, her slight figure with her slender legs and waist, her shining hair and the exotically beautiful face it framed. And her eyes, those entrancing blue eyes. He shuddered as he remembered seeing the outline of her body through her dress as the sun set behind her.

As he knelt by Ismene's bed, he knew what he was about to do could destroy him. The elves were protective of their own and the king would share their sentiments. All this he knew and he did not care one whit. He reached out with a beating heart and stroked her hair. It was far softer even than it looked, making silk seem like coarse, unspun wool by comparison. She sighed softly and smiled as he ran his finger down the curve of her cheek. Looking one last time around the room, he bent over the sleeping elf and kissed her.

She awoke almost immediately, her sleepy inquiry muffled by his mouth. Her eyes widened as she grew aware of the situation and what was being done to her. Lord Volchim caught her hands as she pushed at his chest and pinned them to the bed. He pulled his mouth from hers and kissed down the line of her jaw and then up to her ear. He ran his lips over the point of her ear, nipping gently at the tip.

"Lord Volchim!" she whispered urgently, a confused smile crossing her face before he released one of her wrists and covered her mouth.

"Say nothing," he whispered harshly, using every bit of command and threat he had learned from twenty years of campaigning. His heart beat faster at the sight of her startled eyes and he let his hand slip from her mouth to cup to head. Her lips trembled as he drew her up and kissed her again. He heard her whimper softly, from fear or pleasure he could not tell, and did not care.

Her eyes stared at him as he pulled back and let her head fall to the pillow. He let her other wrist fall above her head where she did not move it. The elf woman began to tremble as he drew back the sheet from her body, revealing her body, clad in only a thin silk nightgown.

"What-" she began to whisper, only to be cut off by a fierce look from Lord Volchim. She moaned quietly as he began to unlace the bodice of her gown, his fingers deftly undoing the tapes until he could pull it open.

Lord Volchim grinned ferally as he pulled her gown open, seeing the small, perfectly formed breasts that he had so long imagined. He placed her other hand above her head, smiling as the motion caused her breasts to rise. Unable to control himself any longer, he pulled the gown from her body and cast it to the floor. His eyes raked over her supine form as he pulled his clothes off, his cock springing free from his breeches, already at its full hardness.

Ismene gasped at the sight of it. Her heart began to thud in her chest as the human slid onto the bed beside her, his cock hard and hot against her hip. She whimpered again as he took her wrists in one hand and held them to the bed abover her head, his other kneading her breasts. She let out a startled gasp as his hand descended between her thighs and roughly began to stroke her.

Lord Volchim smiled at her startled face as he inserted a finger into her. She moaned and tried to squirm away from his invading digit but was prevented by his iron grip. He bent his head and began to suck on her breast while pushing his finger deeper into her, hearing her panting loud in his ears. He grunted as he felt her becoming moist, her body reacting in spite of herself. He marveled at how tight her was, tighter even than his virgin wife on their wedding night. Ismene gasped as he pulled his finger free and pushed her legs apart with his hand. She froze as he moved between her legs, his cock bumping against her thigh as he guided it towards her.

"Oh no, please, we shouldn't-" she whispered, her hands clenching as she felt him at her entrance.

The human covered her mouth with his, muffling her cry as he pushed into her. He grunted in effort and pushed harder, managing to drive himself another inch deeper into her. He could feel her legs thrashing on the bed as he drew back slightly and lunged forward. He let go of her wrists and gripped her waist, forcing her onto his cock as he thrust into her. With a last grunt, he felt himself hilted inside her, and heard her gasp sharply. She wasn't a virgin, he thought as he raised himself above her and looked into her face.

Ismene had spread her legs as wide as she could to ease Lord Volchim's entry into her. She could feel sweat beading on her brow as he stopped, his cock buried deep within her. A confused swirl of feelings flew through her. She could not deny the pleasure that she felt from his cock filling her to the limit, nor deny that she found the nobleman attractive, but she knew that they shouldn't be doing this, that they were doing something wrong, horribly wrong. Her breath caught in her throat as she realized the enormity they were doing and she began to weep softly.

A surge of guilt swept through Lord Volchim as tears began to run down the elf's face and he drew out of her. For a moment he almost decided to leave her be, but then a dark tide of lust flooded him and he thrust into her again. She began to cry out, high gasping sounds as she tossed her head from side to side.

Volchim kissed her face, tasting the salt of her tears as he raised himself above her. Her hands went to his shoulders and grabbed him for support as his thrusts became harder, jerking her across the bed. He groaned in pleasure as he pounded into her, feeling the moist warmth of her, knowing that she was responding despite his roughness.

Ismene sobbed, turning her face from the bestial look of triumph on Lord Volchim's face. The gentle man who loved his children had disappeared, replaced by this ravening animal. She moaned desperately as he bent his head and began to suck at her neck, his teeth scraping against her skin. One hand moved from his shoulder to clutch at his back as he roughly mauled her breasts with his free hand. She gasped through clenched teeth as he pinched her nipple, rolling it between his fingers. Her eyes widened, showing white all around, as he pushed his hand between their undulating bodies and began to rub her clit.

"No," she gasped, trying in vain to pull his hand away from her as she felt an orgasm approaching with all the inevitability of a summer storm.

"Yes," Lord Volchim rasped, his lips drawn back from his teeth in a snarl. He rubbed her steadily and gently, using years of skills from the conjugal bed to further a despicable goal. He laughed in pleasure as he felt her orgasm, feeling her clench around him, her inner muscles fluttering as she turned herself and screamed into the pillow. He growled, a sound from deep in his throat as he thrust faster into her, already near climax from her's. Not caring if anyone heard, he yelled as he came in her, jerking her across the bed as her hands clutched wildly at him. He bent his head to her breasts, biting at her flesh while he thrust madly into her. Finally, spent, he collapsed onto the gasping elf, his face buried in her hair while her hands pushed weakly against his chest.

---

The rising sun's rays woke Lord Volchim as they shone on his face. He sat up, groggy and confused. He glanced around the bedroom, recognizing that it was not his own.

"Where-?" he muttered, one hand going to his aching head. He had had a dream, he had dreamed that he had, he shook his head in disgust, raped Ismene. He did find the elf beautiful and couldn't deny that he'd had urges since she arrived. But, dreaming of raping her- He swore softly and stretched. His head snapped around when he heard a low whimper from his left. Ismene was crouched against the headboard, as far away from him as she could be and still remain on the bed. She had the sheets clutched to her breast, her eyes wide at the sight of him.

"Why did you do that?" she whispered, her eyes confused and sad.

Lord Volchim felt a wave of horror sweep through him. He hadn't dreamed it, he'd actually done it. He leapt from the bed, bile rising in his throat, and swept up his clothes, pulling on his breeches as he ran from the room. Behind him, Ismene crept over to the door and locked it behind him, leaning against it as she let out a trembling sigh.

---

Solyma van Dolceis stared at the door. It was made from a dark wood, richly stained and polished. The handle was tarnished brass, stained by the sweat of those who passed through the door. She rubbed her sweaty palms against her skirt, feeling her heart thudding in her chest. She wished she had a sword, even a dagger would be better than nothing, a stick, anything. She reached out to the door handle with a shaking hand, feeling a cold sweat trickling down her back. She could imagine what lay beyond, the horrid staring faces with their dead eyes, the groans and sighs of the damned, and, she shuddered, the shrieks.

"Gods, I know I don't pray to you, not nearly as much as I should, but I need your help," she said quietly, her head bowed. "Kersvan, Adramas, Lashia," she prayed, naming the triumvirate of the Aldersian gods. She continued, naming every god, goddess, or demigod that she could remember from Alderest or Kathaln. "Help me out with this and-"

"Solyma," she heard from behind her.

"Yes, Bradley?" she said, still staring at the door.

"You're supposed to be teaching the class, not standing outside it," the other mage said, moving to stand by her in front of the door.

Solyma turned to him and smiled coquettishly. "Bradley?" she said softly, "Why don't we head back to your office? We can...grade some papers."

"Sorry, Solyma."

She scowled. Bradley was normally quite handsome in a boyish way. Now his quick smile and lightly tousled brown hair, not at all suitable for a mage, just irritated her. "You're a sadist." She sighed and turned back to the classroom door.

"Come on, you'll be fine," Bradley said as he pushed the door open. He winked, "I mean, it's not like they'll be paying any attention," he said, giving Solyma a shove to get her through the door.

Solyma stumbled into the classroom and froze. Long desks were arrayed in a quarter circle around the room and filled with students. The desks were set on steps, each desk higher than the one in front of it and ensuring that every student had a clear view of the main floor. The main floor had a standard podium and demonstration table with a circle of containment set on the floor. Solyma began to sweat again as she felt the eyes of the students on her. She stiffly walked over to the podium and took her place behind it, watching as Bradley slipped into the room and leaned against the wall.

"Um," she coughed and spotted the pitcher of water and glass set on a shelf under the podium. She filled the glass with shaking hands and looked up through her eyelashes the students. They all seemed to be paying attention to her, ink pots and quill pens at the ready to take notes. "This, this is Fundamentals of Elementary Magic?" she asked nervously.

"Yes it is!" Solyma heard a young woman yell. Solyma squinted up at the rows of desks and saw a familiar blond haired elf sitting towards the middle of the room. Penelope waved cheerfully and smiled.

"Ah, oh, hello Penelope, err," Solyma coughed again, feeling her face redden. "I mean, hello Miss Taladron." A sea of faces stared at her. She tapped her fingers on the podium and jerked, startled at the loudness of the echo. "Well. Magic." Solyma fervently wished that she was somewhere else, fighting undead, running from Corthronos, anywhere.

She turned to the chalkboard mounted behind her and picked up a piece of chalk. She stood staring at it for a minute before she began to write the name of the class on the board. Her hand was shaking so badly that the chalk skipped and jumped over the surface, screeching horribly. Solyma winced and let the chalk fall, the course name only half completed. She turned back to the watching students and smiled brittlely.

"Here's some magic," she said, starting to weave a cloak of invisibility around her. A murmur of surprise swept through the room as she disappeared followed by a sound of footsteps hurrying towards the door which opened and slammed.

"Does this mean class is dismissed?" a student asked.

"Hector!" Solyma shouted from under her desk, "Where's that bottle of wine I had here?"

Hector floated into her office from the outside reception area. "In your bottom right hand drawer," he said. "Didn't you have a class to teach?"

Solyma slumped in her desk chair and reached down to pull open the drawer. She shouted in triumph as she pulled out a bottle of Willowsrun. "I did," she grunted as she pulled the cork with her teeth. She spat the cork onto the desk's blotter and took a long swig of the wine. "That's better. How many of these things do I have to teach?"

Hector floated back into the waiting room and returned with a notebook. "In addition to Fundamentals of Elementary Magic, you have Advanced Illusion, Elementary Illusion, and, ah, Sexuality and Magic. Fundamentals of Elementary Magic only lasts a half season, the others are longer and will start in the autumn."

"What was that last one?"

"Sexuality and Magic."

"Really. Why don't I remember agreeing to teach it? Why don't I remember agreeing to teach any of them?"

"You were drunk at the time. It was at the welcome back party for you and Tancred."

Solyma sighed and slumped deeper into her chair. She swiveled the chair to look out the window behind her. At least the view was nice. She was on the third floor and had a view looking out over the city towards the harbor and bay. "I have to teach these classes?" she asked plaintively.

"You are a member of the faculty here."

Solyma kicked her chair around to face Hector. "Why am I doing this?"

"You are doing this because you are still paying off the payment on your townhouse."

"Oh gods, this is insane! I've never taught a class! I don't know where to start! I can't even speak in front of the students!" She looked around at the office and its furnishings. "How much do you think this stuff is worth?"

Hector started to answer but was interrupted by a timid knock on the reception area's door. Solyma gestured for Hector to answer it. Solyma could hear him open the door and the voice of a student asking to see Professor van Dolceis. She looked around frantically for an exit, the only way out was through the door unless-. She jumped to her feet and began trying to open the window, losing precious time before she realized that it was still locked. She was halfway out it and onto the ledge when she heard a voice behind her.

"Hello? Professor van Dolceis?" someone asked. It was a male voice, young and nervous.

Solyma froze and did her best to get back into the room gracefully. She turned to the student and gave a slight smile.

"Ah, no," she said, "Professor van Dolceis is out right now."

The student gulped nervously and shifted the notebooks and and texts in his arms. "But the, uh, receptionist said-"

"The receptionist is a little stupid," Solyma said loudly, "Professor van Dolceis is out and unable to see any students."

"But you look just- Oh, never mind, could you answer a question for me then? I was wondering what we should be studying-"

"Let me see your book," Solyma said, reaching to take the book from the students arms. She flipped through the text, already feeling her eyes starting to water from the many diagrams of simple spells and the dense instructions on how to weave them. "I, uh, read," she held the book up sideways to judge its thickness, "all of it. Yes, read all of it, and, uh-" she thought frantically, "write a paper on it."

"But, what on?"

"If you need to ask that, perhaps you aren't a suitable student for the College," Solyma said coldly and began to shoo the student out of her office. She ignored the students bewildered questions and protests and locked the receptions area's door behind him. "Gods, what a nightmare. No more students, do you hear me? No more!" Solyma was sure Hector was laughing at her as she stomped back into her office and drained the wine bottle.

Solyma had her head on the desk when someone knocked at the outer door. "I'm not seeing any students," she yelled wearily, her stomach churning from too much wine on an empty stomach.

"I'm sorry Miss Taladron, Professor-" Hector began, only to be stopped by a crash and the sound of Solyma bursting into the reception area.

"Penelope!" Solyma said, a wide smile on her face. "How are you doing?" She gave Hector a shove to the side and reached to embrace the elf.

"Hello, Solyma. I'm doing well-" Penelope began.

"Why don't you come into my office? Would you like something to eat or drink? Hector can run over to the kitchens and get something."

"Oh, no thank you, I just wanted to see how you were doing. You disappeared so suddenly."

"That was...a test. Yes, a test."

"Really? I saw you start to weave something-"

"Yes! That was the test, you passed! Congratulations!" They had entered Solyma's office. She gestured for Penelope to take a seat as she leaned against the desk.

"I passed? Just for seeing you start the weave?"

"Yes."

"But that was so easy, I think anyone could have seen you."

"Err, well, it's an elementary class, so I couldn't make the test too hard, could I?"

"I suppose not." Penelope still looked uneasy. Solyma placed her hand on Penelope's shoulder and gave her a comforting squeeze.

"Are you doing anything for dinner? I thought I'd celebrate teaching my first class by going out to eat."

Penelope smiled brightly but then her face fell. "I'm sorry, Solyma, but I said that I'd go to dinner with someone else."

Solyma felt as if someone had reached into her chest and pulled out her heart. Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the edge of the desk. "Who-" she coughed. "Who?"

Penelope smiled shyly. "A boy, his name is Mathieu. He's the son of a duke. He's very handsome."

"A boy, handsome too? I'm very happy for you." Solyma stood up and walked over to the window. A dirty, grey rain began to splatter on the window, matching her mood. She stared at her reflection in the window. Emerald green eyes. Lovely coppery red hair with just enough waviness to give it some bounce. A pretty, no, beautiful face, good cheekbones and full lips that she knew could captivate men when she wasn't pursing them together. Like she was now. So why couldn't she get a second look from Penelope? "The son of a duke? Do you know which one?" She tried to keep a smile on her face.

"I think Duke Quiton. I'm not sure, he just came up to me after class."

"Duke Quiton? Adelard Quiton?"

"That sounds right."

Solyma grimaced inside. If the son of Lord Quiton was anything like his sire, Penelope would be lucky make it through dinner with her clothes on. "Have you ever been out to dinner with a boy?" she asked.

"Um, no, I haven't."

"Do you mind if I give you some advice?"

"Oh, I'd love it! You've always seemed to be so at ease around them, I don't know how you do it."

"Experience. It also helps to think of them as animals."

Penelope's eyes widened. "Animals? Why would you say such a thing?"

"They are, they're lustful, bestial creatures who just want to get your clothes off and have their way with you."

"Lustful?"

"Yes, lustful. I'm sure Mathieu will appear," she stressed the word, "to be well behaved and as mannerly as any elf. But all he'll be doing will be trying to trick you into taking off your clothes."

"He will?"

"Yes, he will."

Solyma felt a brief twinge of guilt at Penelope's horrified expression. She almost told Penelope not to worry and to have fun. Almost. "I think it's best if you have Laros follow you when you're with Mathieu. If he tries anything, Laros will break his neck."

"Maybe I shouldn't go."

"But you already said yes?"

"Well, I did..."

"Then you should go. Just be careful."

Penelope nodded and rose to leave. "Thank you for the advice, Solyma."

"You're welcome. Oh, do you mind if I ask you one last question?"

Penelope stopped by the door. "Of course not, what is it?"

"Have you ever found yourself attracted, even a little bit, to another woman?"

The elf blinked in confusion. "Another woman?"

"Yes. Even a very little bit. A very, very little bit?"

Penelope cocked her head to one side and then burst our laughing. She moved over to Solyma and hugged her tightly. "Oh, Solyma. Thank you, you're so funny. I feel better for laughing." Still giggling, the elf walked out of the room.

Solyma stared after her longingly and kicked the door viciously. "Hector?"

"Yes?"

"I'm going out. Don't worry about making dinner."

"I hope you're not going to do something rash. Solyma?" She was already gone out the door.

---

Kerrith Archotos stepped to the side to avoid the burly man being thrown out the tavern's doors. The man skidded across the rain slick street to rest in the opposite gutter. He raised his head, thought better of it, and collapsed. From inside, loud singing could be heard, led by a familiar voice.

The knight pulled open the tavern door and stepped into the beery warmth, his ears assaulted by the sound of dozens of drunk patrons singing. His eyes scanned the room and came to rest on the woman standing on the bar leading the singing. Solyma was waving a beer stein above her head in time to the music.

"And there was a fine lass down Kilasat wayyy," she sung, urging the other patrons to sing with her. Those capable did so, joining her enthusiastically. "With hair down to there and a bosom out to there," she continued, making the appropriate hand gestures. "But she wouldn't go down there, so I had to move onnn-"

Kerrith turned when he felt a gust of cool blow in from the door. The Chancellor of the College stood in the doorway, along with Bradley, Tancred, and Hector.

"You find her, Kerrith?" the Chancellor asked. He stopped and squinted at the singing woman on the bar. "Guess you did, this is no place for a lecturer. Damned disgrace, how she's acting. Wouldn't you say so, Bradley? Eh, Bradley. Bradley!"

Bradley looked over from where he was chatting up a barmaid. He grinned nervously and reluctantly left her. "Yes, Chancellor, er, an absolute disgrace to find a lecturer in here," he said.

"Exactly, hold on, there's Everett from the summoning department and Alice from healing!" The Chancellor stomped over to the unfortunate lecturers, yelling at them loudly. At the sound of the Chancellor's voice, most of the bar quickly left from the back entrance, stumbling over robes and leaving more than a few staves and wands behind. Bradley winced as the Chancellor chewed out the two mages to the extent of even swatting at their ankles with his staff. "Damned lazy lot, those tenured professors," the Chancellor grumbled. "Now, van Dolceis! Get down off that bar right now!"

Solyma swayed and looked around the bar. Excepting for one man passed out in the corner and a small group playing cards by the fire, all the patrons had left. "Wher, where'd they all go?" she slurred, letting the stein drop to the floor and shatter. The bouncer grunted and went to fetch a broom and dustpan from behind the bar while the barkeep carefully moved the other glasses away from her. "Whooo! You're sooo strong," she said as Kerrith took her waist and helped her down from the bar. "Why do you stay with Selene? I'm sure I could make you feel so much better than that little prude."

Kerrith narrowed his eyes and roughly let her drop in a chair. Solyma reached up and snagged his arm as he moved away from her. "I'm sorry, Kerrith! You're too serious, smile!" she said, trying to tickle him. Kerrith shook her off and went to stand by the fireplace. "What?" she asked, looking around at the faces of the others.

"This is disgraceful, van Dolceis! The faculty of the College do not act in this way!" the Chancellor said loudly, his face reddening with anger. "I took Adelard's word that you were a suitable candidate for the faculty, perhaps I was wrong."

Solyma stared at him for a second and then blinked rapidly. "I'm sorry!" she suddenly burst out, sobbing loudly. She let her head collapse to the table, cradled in her arms. Her whole body began to shake with the violence of her weeping.

The Chancellor stepped back in amazement. "I, lecturer, please, this is no way-" Solyma let out a loud, wailing sob. The Chancellor moved next to her and reached out, trying to figure out how to comfort her. "I'm sorry, van Dolceis, no need to cry-" Solyma was still crying unconsollably. The Chancellor looked around the bar helplessly.

"I'll take care of her," Tancred said wearily, setting down his beer. "Could you leave us alone?" The vampire watched as the Chancellor and the rest of the people in the bar left. He waited a minute and sat down across from Solyma. He picked up a stray glass and sniffed its contents then recoiled in disgust. He snorted as he set the glass back down. "Are you done yet?" he asked, setting his feet on the table. Solyma stopped crying abruptly and looked up. Her eyes were red although she had a wicked smile on her face.

"Think it worked?" she asked.

"The crying routine is pathetic. Don't you have any dignity?"

Solyma shrugged. "How long do you think I should wait?" she asked casually.

Tancred ignored her question. "Aren't you wondering why we all came to find you?"

"Sure, why?"

"King Everett has a small job for us."

"Who's us?"

"You, me, Kerrith and Bradley."

Solyma sighed. "What does he want us to do?"

"Rogue dragon."

"Errg. Where?"

"Down in Cielcroix. We've lost contact with the lord, only found out after a fisherman sailed all the way up."

"There aren't any mages who could send a message?"

Tancred shrugged. "Maybe, but we can't contact them. The scryers can't see into the area around Lord Volchim's estate and Merglise. Something's blocking them."

"The dragon?"

"Most likely."

"Why me? I've got classes to teach."

Tancred chuckled. "I heard from Bradley how well you taught your first class. Apparently Kerrith remembered how well you handled the Corthronos and thought you'd handle a dragon well."

Solyma groaned and picked up a half-full bottle of whisky from the next table. "Gods above, why?"

"Tradition. Two stout warriors and two mages per dragon."

Solyma took a long swig from the bottle. She shuddered as the whisky burned down her throat. "Unng, when do we leave?"

"Tomorrow morning."

Solyma took another swig and wiped her mouth on her sleeve. "Bloody hells."

Continued in Chapter 2

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