The World of Alderest - IV - A Journey With the Dead - Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Tancred and Hector staggered up the steps to Solyma's townhouse, her limp body supported between them as her heels thumped along the ground.

"Where's the key?" Tancred asked Hector. The floating helmet removed a key from Solyma's belt pouch and opened the door. Tancred bumped it open with his shoulder and heaved Solyma over his shoulder. "I've got her," he said as he walked into the dark hallway, banging his shin painfully on a small table leg.

Tancred grunted as he carried Solyma up the stairs and into her bedroom. He dumped her on the bed and pried an empty wine bottle from her hand before sitting on the bed to rest. Beside him, Solyma stirred slowly and opened her eyes.

"Oh, Tancred," she slurred. "Mmm, are you here to take advantage of me?"

"No. As much as I'd like to, I have to go home and pack for the trip," Tancred said as he began to stand.

"Don't go!" she said, clutching at his shirt.

She really was drunk, Tancred thought as he struggled with her.

"I'm lonely!" she said sadly. "I don't want to be alone tonight."

"Solyma, just go to sleep. You'll feel better in the morning."

"But I'm so lonely!" she sobbed as she began to pull off her dress. Tancred managed to free himself from her hand as she pulled her dress over her head and let it drop to the floor. "Stay with me."

"I don't think this is a good idea-" Tancred stopped as she pulled her shift and her underwear off and lay back on the bed, one thigh raised seductively. He licked his lips at the sight of her bare neck and body, the moonlight filtering through the lace curtains casting her body in stark shadow.

"Please," Solyma said softly.

"Well, you asked so nicely-" Tancred quickly shucked his clothes, hopping around on one foot as he struggled to remove his boots. He finally fell onto the bed beside Solyma and ran his hand over her stomach. He could smell her blood, a heady blend of spicy cinnamon a coppery tang. Overlaying that was the almost overpowering smell of alcohol. Unable to resist any longer, he pounced on her, his fangs sinking into her neck with a moan of pleasure.

Solyma began to cry out in pleasure as he lapped at her neck, filling his mouth with her blood. She felt herself immediately on the brink of orgasm, feeling herself dripping with desire. She rubbed Tancred's back and neck as he continued to drink from her, her other hand slipping between her thighs. "Fuck me," she gasped.

Tancred mumbled incoherently as he eagerly obeyed her, the effects of her blood and the drink coursing through her veins making his head spin. He drunkenly prodded at her thighs with his cock before he managed to slide into her. She moaned and grabbed his hips, pulling him against her as she pumped her hips upward. "Oh yesss-" she moaned as their bodies slapped against each other.

Solyma screamed in pleasure as Tancred bit her neck again, sucking hungrily in time with his thrusts. She let her hands fall from his hips to lie on the covers, her fingers twitching slightly as she panted for breath. She began to moan quietly as her orgasm began to sweep over her, making it seem as if the room was spinning around her. She let out a loud yell and arched her back, pressing herself up against Tancred, and then fell back to the bed, her entire body limp.

Tancred stopped thrusting when he felt her go limp. He checked her color, fearing that he had drained her of too much blood. She was still pink so that wasn't the case. "You're asleep?" he said incredulously as she began to snore. Her mouth was hanging open in an extremely unladylike manner as she shifted her body under him and dragged a pillow under her head.

Tancred grumbled and lightly slapped her cheek. "Come on, wake up," he said. He hated it when his partners just laid there. It reminded him of his first marriage. That thought alone was enough to make him shudder.

"Don- mind me..." Solyma said sleepily. "...do what-" she yawned, "-ev'r you wan'."

"What? I can't believe you're doing this to me."

It was too late, she was already asleep.

Tancred swore loudly as he pulled out, feeling himself quite limp and very frustrated. He made a halfhearted attempt to fondle her breasts but it was useless. "I feel so used," he said as he pulled on his clothes and stomped out of the bedroom.

---

Ismene slept uneasily. She had fled Lord Volchim's house a little over a week ago and had found shelter in a fisherman's home. That had been just before the storm had hit and the dragon had appeared. A week since the fisherman had left in his small boat to sail to Corannon and carry word of both the lord's and dragon's depredations.

The fisherman's wife, Emma, had treated her kindly, giving her a small but comfortable cot in their spare room. Ismene had done her best to help the woman around the house and with her two children. She hadn't done very well in helping the fisherman's wife cook, but Emma had been very grateful for her help with the children.

Now she tossed and turned, the blankets twisting around her. She gasped and opened her eyes as something ran over her body. Ismene looked fearfully around the room, wondering if Lord Volchim had finally sent someone after her. Something was nearby, something not alive yet not dead either.

Ismene's eyes widened as she saw a filmy shape like a sheet of tattered lace float through the door and hover over her. She watched in terror as a face rose from the shape like a swimmer floating to the surface of a lake.

"Who are you?" Ismene asked quietly, not wanting to wake Emma. The shape continued to stare at her, its facial features hardening into the face of a man.

"Life, so sweet, so delicious," Ismene heard in a soft whisper.

"You're a ghost?"

"Sweetness, so so sweet," the ghost said as it drifted closer to her. Ismene scuttled backwards across the bed, feeling the rough boards of the wall pressing against her back through her shift.

"Go away!" Ismene said as the ghost floated directly in front of her face. She moaned as the ghost floated closer, it's lips feeling like mist on her skin as it kissed her. Her hands passed through the ghost, as effective as if she'd tried to hold fog. "What do you want?" she whispered weakly, feeling herself becoming lost in the sensation as the ghost licked her neck.

"Sweet life, love and life, life and love, sweetness," the ghost said. Ismene slumped back against the wall as the ghost began to kiss her neck and ran a transparent hand over her shoulder. She slid down the wall to lie back on the cot as the ghost slipped the straps of her nightgown down her shoulders, kissing her creamy skin as it was revealed.

Ismene watched with glazed half-open eyes as the ghost began to lick her breasts, its tongue sliding over her nipples delicately. She whimpered in pleasure as it began to suck at her breasts, its tongue working over her hardening nipples until they were stiff with pleasure. The elf gasped softly as more ghosts began to appear around the cot, pale and indistinct faces both male and female circling above her. They began to swirl around her, their hands stroking her flesh and rubbing her body. Ismene felt her heart racing as she spread her thighs and reached down, pleasuring herself as the ghosts pleasured her.

She lay on the cot, her nightgown bunched around her waist, one hand rubbing her pussy while she began to lightly stroke her nipples with the other. The ghosts began to settle on her, their mouths licking and sucking at her neck, thighs, and breasts. Ismene began to cry out softly as she felt herself close to orgasm.

"Ismene? Is something the-" Emma said as she cracked the door open. She had come to investigate when she heard Ismene crying out. She had thought that the young elf had been having a nightmare. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of the elf masturbating on the bed, surrounded by the lacy forms of the ghosts. "By Lashia! What's happening?"

Ismene didn't seem to notice her observer and continued to rub herself, her breath quickening and her eyes closing as she lifted her slim hips from the bed. The ghosts did notice and swarmed over Emma, one of them wrapping itself about her head and sinking into her without a trace. Emma blinked and shook her head, a strange light filling her eyes. She suddenly felt the urge to touch Ismene, to feel her and know her in every way possible.

Emma swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry as she let her nightgown slide to the floor revealing a body with full and lush curves. She walked slowly over to the cot and knelt by Ismene's side, running her hand through the elf's silky blond hair. Emma bent over Ismene, her long brown hair falling over the elf's face as she kissed her.

Ismene reacted instantly. Her entire body stiffened and she cried out, her yell stifled by Emma's mouth. Ismene clutched at the sheets with one hand and plunged her fingers into her pussy as she came. The ghosts glowed and moaned in pleasure along with her as she came, their pale forms becoming more defined for just a second before fading back to lace.

The elf girl lay still on the bed, her bosom heaving as she panted for breath, while Emma kissed her way down Ismene's stomach. She gently pushed away Ismene's wet fingers after sucking them clean and bent her head to Ismene's sex. Emma began to lap at the elf, her tongue flicking over the girl's clit while she ran her hands over the elf's stomach and thighs. Her tongue began to move rapidly over Ismene while her fingers slid into her. Ismene began to moan until Emma reached up and stuffed a corner of the blanket into Ismene's mouth, stifling her increasingly high pitched cries.

Emma shook herself with a start, moving back from Ismene's body and looking around in confusion. She licked her lips absent mindedly and blushed as she realized what she was doing. She quickly pulled on her nightgown, her eyes straying back to the sleeping elf lying on the cot, her limbs akimbo and her nightgown tossed to the floor. The fisherman's wife felt her blush deepen as she thought of what she had done to the helpless elf, a surge of guilt running through her as she thought of her betrayal of her husband. Emma wiped her eyes as she gently covered Ismene with the blankets and tucked her in, running her hand softly over her cheek before hurrying from the room.

---

Ismene jerked herself upright to the sound of pounding on the cottage's front door in the early hour just before morning. Her head was aching as if she hadn't slept at all during the night. She had had the strangest dream, something about being ravished by... By what? She couldn't remember and the dream was fading with the morning light. For some reason her nightgown was off her and laying on the floor in a heap. The elf reached down and pulled it on as she slid from the cot she had been given and crept to the door that led to the front room of the cottage. She peered around the edge and saw the front door shuddering in its frame as something heavy smashed into it. The fisherman's wife stood holding a lamp with her two children holding onto the folds of her nightgown.

"What is it, mommy?" one of the children, a small girl, asked.

The woman looked uncertainly at Ismene. For some reason she blushed a deep red and broke eye contact immediately. "Don't worry, go back to bed and stay there," Emma said.

The children had just disappeared towards the back of the house when the door collapsed inwards in a shower of splinters. Emma let out a short cry of terror, her hand flying to her mouth.

Standing in the doorway were the yellowed bodies of several skeletons, the dirt of their graves still clinging to them. Their feet clicked against the wood of the floor as they filed into the cottage, their empty sockets staring at Ismene.

Ismene waved back Emma as the woman picked up a poker from the fireplace and advanced towards the skeletons. "They aren't here for you, just keep out of their way," she whispered urgently as she backed towards her cot. As soon as she had entered the room she slammed the door shut and pushed her cot against it. She could hear the clicking steps of the skeletons as they approached the door and began to pound against it.

A sickening feeling of dread in her stomach, Ismene turned to the small window on the far side of the room and wrenched it open. She climbed through it, catching her nightgown on a splinter and tearing a long slit from her upper thigh to the hem. She tumbled into the alley running between the cottage and its neighbor, her eyes darting from side to side as she scrambled to her feet. She squinted as her eyes shifted to pick up the ambient magic present in the world.

The wood of the cottage appeared to be a faded green while the lush plant life that proliferated in and around the town shown a brilliant green. She gasped at the dirty grey of the skeletons as another group shuffled around the corner. Turning to run, she spotted another group approaching, trapping her in the alley. A crash of breaking wood came from inside the cottage as the skeletons broke down the bedroom door and began to approach the window.

A skeleton wearing the rotted remains of a steward's suit broke ranks and walked towards her, a tarnished silver ring clinging to its finger as it reached out towards her. Ismene backed away, the draining waves of the necromancy used to animate the corpses chilling her to the core. She tried desperately to remember the simple spells that would protect an elf from the effects of the undead but failed, her mind a blank as the undead approached. She stumbled, falling to her knees as the skeletons closed around her, their hands reaching out to clutch at her, their vacant faces the last thing she saw as darkness closed in on her.

---

Solyma moaned and pulled the covers over her head as Hector yanked open the drapes. Her head felt like someone had used it to split logs and her mouth tasted like she had been giving zombies blowjobs.

"Kill me," she croaked as Hector pulled back the covers. She curled into a fetal position and tried to pull her pillow over her head.

"Time to leave, Solyma," Hector said impatiently. "Our bags are packed and the carriage is waiting. You have enough time to wash and eat, IF you get up right now."

"Why do you hate me so much? I've always been nice to you," Solyma moaned as Hector pulled her pillow away and sat her up. Hector pulled her to her feet and propelled her towards the bathroom, handing her a glass of suspicious looking liquid to drink. "What is this?"

"Something to make you feel better," Hector said, catching her as she tried to slump back into bed. He grabbed her under the arms and dragged her into the bathroom. He emerged a few minutes later after dumping Solyma into the tub and turning the shower on full force to the sounds of Solyma's curses and sputtering.

Solyma exited the bathroom, still toweling her hair, another towel wrapped around her slender waist. "What?" she said as Hector coughed and jerked his head towards the door.

"Nice to see you up and moving," Tancred said sourly from the doorway. He wore a pair of dark spectacles and was tossing his dagger in the air and catching it. Behind him Bradley grinned widely at Solyma.

She grunted and pulled on the shirt Hector was holding out to her. "When's the boat leave?" she asked, her voice muffled by the shirt.

"Ship. In half an hour," Tancred said, wandering around the bedroom. "You owe me for last night. A lot."

"Go away, no, not you Tancred, I need you to carry my bags," Solyma said closing the door on Bradley. She let the towel around her waist drop as she dressed, ignoring Tancred's outraged expression. She belted on her sword belt and smoothed the creases in her pants.

"Ready?" Tancred asked impatiently. Solyma smirked and answered by throwing her bag at him.

The Moon of Corannon already strained at its moorings, seeming eager to sail free from the harbor and fill its sails with the brisk west wind. Sailors were climbing over the rigging, readying the schooner for sail as Solyma's coach arrived at the dock. She thanked the driver and wandered off down the dock letting Hector and Tancred carry her bags.

"I'm doing this to get into her bed," Tancred muttered to Hector. He had been plotting revenge since he had left Solyma's townhouse. Images of Solyma tied down to a bed, awake this time, and helpless being mercilessly teased by him until she begged him to fuck her. "Why do you do it?"

Hector raised his gauntlets in a semblance of a shrug. "I do what I do," he said simply.

Behind them Bradley hefted his pack and hurried after them while Kerrith paid the coach driver and hauled his luggage down from the top of the coach.

"Come on, Solyma, you're blocking the ramp," Tancred grunted.

Solyma scowled at him and trudged up the ramp, stepping gingerly onto the ship's deck.

"Is something wrong?" Kerrith asked as he stepped aboard. Behind him, the sailors were hauling in the boarding plank and casting off the mooring lines.

"She's afraid of sailing," Tancred yelled cheerfully as he headed towards the door to the cabins.

"My regre-" Kerrith began.

"I'm not afraid of sailing!" Solyma snapped. Kerrith noticed that she was already turning slightly green. "I've just got a hangover!" She continued after Tancred, cursing at him and a sailor who brushed against her.

"It's going to be a long trip," Bradley muttered darkly to Kerrith as he headed towards the cabins.

Solyma opened the door to the cabin assigned to her and cursed. She cursed again at the sight of the young noblewoman yelling at her servant.

"Are you a sailor?" the woman said, her voice high and irritating. "This cabin is unforgivably small! I demand a larger cabin!"

"I'm not a sailor and we're sharing this cabin so get used to it," Solyma growled back, her head throbbing from the woman's, more of a girl really, voice. "Now move that stuff off my bed."

The blond noblewoman gaped at Solyma. "How dare you speak to me in that way! My father is a very important man, you will show the proper respect to me-"

Hector floated into the room carrying Solyma's bags which he had appropriated from Tancred, who had been a few seconds from throwing them overboard. The noblewoman's servant looked up and shrugged her shoulders in a gesture that communicated a lifetime of feeling. Hector floated around the yelling women and set down the bags. The servant followed him out into the hallway.

"Umm, hello. I'm Annette, Lady Skye's maidservant. But everyone calls me Nettie," the young girl said. Hector bowed and raised his visor. The girl was pretty, at least by the standards that he had learned from Solyma, with bright blue eyes. She had a line of freckles scattered over her cheeks and lovely red hair tied back in a ponytail. She was rather slight, not really filling out the expensive traveling dress she wore, although she moved with the grace of a dancer.

"Hello, Annette. My name is Hector and I am Professor van Dolceis' servant," Hector said. Annette smiled shyly at him. They both winced at the sound of crashing furniture coming from inside the cabin. Hector sighed loudly. "I suppose we should take care of our charges before they sink the ship."

Annette giggled, her smile lighting up her face and for a moment making her radiant. "Yes, we should. Lady Skye get's so mad if I'm not there when-"

"Nettie! Get in here!" Lady Skye yelled.

"Hector! Get in here!" Solyma chorused.

The two servants sighed and entered the cabin. Lady Skye was standing by the cabin's porthole with her arms crossed beneath her breasts. Her face was twisted in anger as she glared at Solyma's back. Solyma was standing by the door, the weave for a lightning bolt half finished in her hands. The two servants spared a glance for each other before going to their respective charges, soothing words on their lips.

"We have to share this cabin?" Tancred said in disbelief to Bradley and Kerrith.

Kerrith looked up from the bunk on the right side of the cabin and finished stowing his armor and weapons beneath it. "Yes, schooners are not particularly suited for the transportation of passengers. This vessel has more passenger space than most of the others I have traveled on. Were this one of them, we would be sleeping on deck," he answered.

Tancred growled gutturally, making Bradley back away from him nervously. "Oh, stop that. I'm not going to eat you," he said irritably. "I get the top bunk and the porthole stays open at all times when I'm here. No offense, but I haven't eaten enough and I don't want to smell your blood."

"Very well," Kerrith said. "The journey to Merglise will be around four days, so we would be best served by becoming accustomed to each other's company."

Annette and Hector had managed to calm Lady Skye and Solyma. Eventually. Solyma still wanted to fry the noblewoman with a lightning bolt while Lady Skye thought Solyma should be flogged.

"I can't believe I have to share a cabin with that witless-" Solyma fumed as she stomped onto the deck.

"Solyma, you can share the cabin or you can sleep on deck. Unless you plan on offering yourself to the Captain," Hector said wearily.

"What's his cabin like?" Solyma asked eagerly.

"About two-thirds the size of yours."

Solyma's face fell in disappointment. "At least I'm not seasick yet."

"We're not moving yet."

"Oh."

---

"Ladies and gentlemen, the next dance will be a waltz," the conductor announced.

Lord Volchim slept easily, his feet tapping in time to music from the past.

"Ismene, would you care to dance?" he had said.

The elf girl had looked up at him, her eyes wide and an almost comical expression of surprise on her pretty face.

"Me, my lord?" she had said, the shrimp hors d'oeuvre in her hand forgotten.

"Yes, you, Ismene," he had said, his tone jovial. "The dance doesn't start for some minutes, would you mind if I sat?"

Ismene had blinked rapidly and then blushed, indicating the seat next to her. "I would be honored, my lord."

"Please, none of that 'my lord' anymore. You're like a mother to Amy and Theodric. They really like you," he had said as he sat next to her.

"But, my lord-"

"Ah, ah, ah," he had chided, his finger pressing her lips. "None of that anymore, agreed?"

"Oh, well, yes, my-. Yes-?" she trailed off, wondering what to say.

Lord Volchim smiled and stood, taking her hand in his. "Call me Arcin," he said as they stepped towards the dance floor. For a moment the ballroom seemed to fade and darken, the lights disappearing along with the dancers, leaving an empty and dusty place filled with shadows.

"Just follow my lead," he said, remembering her saying that she didn't know how to dance. They stepped out into the center of the dance floor as the orchestra began to prepare for the waltz.

"Lord Volchim, there you are," Lady Reya called out. "I simply demand that you dance with me now. Six years is far too long for you to go without a dance, widower or not-. Oh, the tutor," she said the word with all the disdain someone would say 'whore', "seems to have decided to dance with you."

Ismene flinched at Lady Reya's tone and tried to pull away from Lord Volchim, her eyes downcast. "Well? Go away, you impudent little thing. I think the servants are having dinner in the kitchen, why don't you join them?" Lady Reya had continued, her words slicing into the elf like poisoned whips.

Ismene was near tears when Lord Volchim caught her hand and pulled her back to him. "Reya," he said, purposely leaving off the honorific, "I'm not terribly interested in dancing with you, I'm sure you can find another partner. If you'll excuse me-" he moved with Ismene off towards the orchestra, leaving a fuming Lady Reya standing alone.

"I'm sorry, my-, Arcin. I'll go back to my room now, I need to study anyway," Ismene said quietly.

"Nonsense!" he answered, lifting her downcast face with his finger. "I was dearly hoping for a dance with you. Please don't disappoint me."

"But, your wife-. You haven't danced with anyone since she-."

"Well then, it's time I finally danced with someone, isn't it? Besides, Reya was right about one thing, six years is enough time to go without dancing."

"Are you sure? I really do need to-" She was interrupted by the conductor tapping his baton on his music stand.

"Ladies and gentlemen, our waltz will begin. And now, 'Waltz for the Sea and Dragon'," he said then turned to the orchestra. Ismene thought she saw Lord Volchim wince at the mention of a dragon, even if it was only a music title. She understood, after what had happened to his wife. "One, and two, and one, two, three-."

Lord Volchim smiled and took Ismene's hand and began to dance, whispering the steps quietly to her so she could follow.

"And step, step, step," he extended his arm and let her spin, her dress billowing out to the side. He smiled as she twirled back towards him, facing away with his hand resting on her hip and her's placed lightly above it. He held her other hand out to his right as they- "Step, step, twirl-"

She spun away from him and then back, this time facing him. "Tricky part now," he whispered as his hand found the small of her back. "Now we, sweep-"

Ismene gasped as Lord Volchim bobbed and took a long step. She followed along, smiling brightly as they swept along the outside of the dance floor. The bright lights of the ballroom blurred as they dipped and spun along, the other couples gradually falling away till only they remained.

"Last part-" Lord Volchim said as they spun back towards the middle of the floor, oblivious to anything besides each other. They stepped apart, their arms extended towards each other and their hands lightly holding.

Ismene held her skirt in one hand as stepped towards and around Lord Volchim while he did the same to her. They stepped like this, their eyes still on each other, to the music until they both spun once and faced each other again.

"You know this dance," Lord Volchim said teasingly as they clasped hands again and moved together.

"But I don't, really!" Ismene started before she saw the look in his eyes. His hand was warm and firm against her back as they spun one last time around the dance floor. She lost herself quite willingly in his eyes as his hand held hers and he spun her out and then tugged her back in. She gasped as he turned so that she fell past him and into his arm, leaving her looking up at him with one foot poised off the floor and him leaning over her.

"Not so bad, was it?" he grinned as the music faded. She smiled back at him as he leaned forward, his lips close to hers-

He straightened up suddenly as the ballroom erupted in applause. Ismene smiled shyly and blushed as she looked around and saw the gathered noblemen and women clapping and smiling. Even the conductor was clapping furiously, was that a tear she saw in his eye?

She managed to gather her wits about her as she took her skirt in her left hand and curtsied while Lord Volchim bowed, their hands still clasped. They bowed and curtsied several times around the room, Ismene feeling her heart rise into her throat as she saw the eyes on them.

"For someone who doesn't know how to dance, you were wonderful," Lord Volchim said as he straightened from his last bow. "For someone who knows how to dance you were wonderful," he said as he hugged her close. For a seemingly endless moment they looked into each other's eyes. Ismene's breath caught in her chest as he leaned forward, his lips brushing hers, until at the last moment he settled for a friendly kiss on the cheek.

Lord Volchim sighed and opened his eyes, jerking as he saw the cobwebbed ballroom. "Ismene?" he said, "Where-?" He turned looking about the room and seeing only his footprints in the dust. "Ismene? Who's Ismene?"

Shaking his head, he suddenly laughed. Ah, how angry Miri would be if she knew he was dreaming about other women, he thought. He glanced out the smudged and dirt covered windows at the warm light of the sun rising over the horizon. Today was the day when she was supposed to arrive back from her trip, he remembered. For some reason he shuddered, thinking of an urn filled with ashes. Hers? No, a bad dream, a nightmare. The dragon would have been nothing to her and the Knights. She was safe and coming back to him today. He glanced down at the dusty clothes he wore and smiled. Miri would tear him open if he greeted her like this, he'd better get back to his room and change to meet her at the docks.

Continued in Chapter 3

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