Chapter 3
Ismene moaned quietly as she opened her eyes. She blinked and rubbed her eyes, looking up at the ceiling. The memory of the undead came back to her in a rush and she jerked herself into a sitting position.
She turned and gasped at the sight of the skeleton dressed in a steward's uniform standing near the door. As her head cleared, she saw that she was in Lord Volchim's bedroom. In his bed, she realized with a start.
She tugged the shoulder strap of her nightgown higher on her and started to slip out of the bed when Lord Volchim entered, whistling cheerfully.
"Hello, Jeremiah," he said to the skeleton. "Did you need something-" He stopped suddenly, a broad smile forming on his face when he saw Ismene. "Miriam! You're back early, your ship must have had caught a good wind!"
Ismene drew back fearfully against the headboard as he moved over to her and sat next to her on the bed. She quaked in terror as he reached out and pulled her into his arms, hugging her tightly as he kissed her deeply. She moaned and pressed her hands against him, knowing that she had no chance to get away. "But why are you in bed?" Lord Volchim asked, his voice puzzled but cheery. He smiled tenderly and brushed back a lock of blond hair from her face. "Gods, how I've missed you." He turned to the skeleton and smiled. "Thank you, Jeremiah, we won't be needing anything- Actually, could you send breakfast up in-" he looked sideways at Ismene, "oh, three-quarters of an hour?"
Ismene watched the skeleton bow, his head hanging precariously onto his neck, and leave, tiny bits of dirt falling from its uniform to scatter on the floor. She was desperately confused by Lord Volchim's behavior. Had he gone mad? Was that why he had- She shivered in memory of that night. Why was he calling her by his wife's name?
"-you cold?" he finished saying as Ismene turned her face back to him. "You're shivering! Here, let me warm you up," he said as he pulled the blankets higher over her and began to rub her arms. "You haven't said anything, did I do something?"
Ismene drew back from him, pulling the covers higher over her body as she looked at him nervously. There were dark circles under his eyes, as if he hadn't slept in days. "Lord Volchim? I'm not your wife," she said cautiously, watching his reaction carefully. He seemed confused and then smiled again.
"Miri, what are type of game are you playing at?" he said, kicking off his boots and lying on the bed next to Ismene.
"But, my lord, I'm not Lady Volchim."
He smiled again and said, "Oh, so who are you then? Waiting in my bed and wearing my wife's nightgown?"
Ismene blinked in confusion. She was wearing her nightgown and the skeletons that had brought her here seemed to follow his orders. "I'm a tutor you hired!" she cried out, pulling her knees up to her chest as she huddled against the headboard.
"Tutor? What- Oh. I see." He grinned as he pulled his clothes off, sliding under the covers, his naked body close to Ismene. "If you wanted to play a game, Miri, you could have said so," he said into her ear.
"Game? What do-" Ismene's confused question was cut off as he kissed her again. He kissed her gently, his hand cupping her chin as his other slowly moved the straps of her nightgown down her shoulder. She moaned softly as she felt herself responding to his gentle caresses.
Lord Volchim chuckled. "A tutor, Miri? Were you thinking that one up on the way back?" He leaned over and began to kiss Ismene's neck and shoulder, his hands tugging her nightgown down her body. "I always liked it when you pretended to be a serving wench, but whatever you like."
Ismene moaned, feeling a confused swirl of lust and fear spinning through her body. "Oh, my lord," she moaned as he cupped her small breasts in his hands and began to lick lightly at her nipples.
"I suppose that I need to test you and see if you are a suitable tutor, hmm?" he said in between licks. Ismene gasped as he suddenly flipped her forward and over his thighs, his hands pulling her nightgown off and throwing it to the floor. "If you pass your tests, maybe you can teach me a thing or two?"
"Lord Volchim, I-" Ismene said, trying to free herself from his firm grip. Her eyes widened as she felt his cock stiffening and poking at her belly as she twisted and tried to squirm out of his grasp.
"Let's see, ah, what's the capital of Krisephyr?" he said, biting his lip to keep from laughing. He sighed as he watched Miri wiggle on his lap, her stomach rubbing wonderfully against his cock. "Time's up! Corannon is the answer, I'm afraid you'll need to be punished for not knowing something that easy," he said, running his hand over her bottom. He smiled in anticipation as he lifted his hand, watching as she froze, her entire body taut and tense.
Ismene cried out as he slapped her ass, making a loud noise but thankfully not hurting much, more noise than anything else really. She cried out again as he continued, spanking her four more times before stopping and slipping his finger into her.
"You're not supposed to be enjoying your punishment so much," he chuckled as he pulled his sopping fingertip from her. Ismene blushed, realizing that she was enjoying this, despite the knowledge that he might become violent and take her with as much cruelty as he first had. "Next question, ahh, what's the name of the elven kingdom?"
Ismene sighed in relief. "Taladros," she said quickly.
"You're right. The name of the dwarven kingdom, now!"
"Socratan!" Ismene cried out as she felt his hand lift from her stinging bottom.
"Maybe these questions are too easy. Name the most common race of demon."
Ismene gaped at the question. The most common race of demon? She had no idea. "I don't know," she said softly. She yelped as Lord Volchim spanked her again, the noise ringing throughout the room. When he was done, her bottom stung furiously and she was more aroused than she could ever remember.
"I see you still need to learn a thing or two, but I see potential," he said. She moaned as he lifted her off his legs and placed her on her back next to him. "It will be my honor to teach you them."
Ismene felt her legs spreading without conscious thought as he moved above her, his swollen cock brushing against her skin as she sighed softly. She reached up and held loosely onto his shoulders as he slid between her legs, kissing her deeply. She closed her eyes and sighed in pleasure as he slid into her, his cock slowly pushing into her despite her generous lubrication. "Please," she whispered, "just be gentle."
"How could I ever hurt you, Miri?" he said quietly as he looked into her eyes. He kissed her again and pushed into her, his cock filling her and eliciting a low moan. Ismene began to cry out softly with each thrust, her arms wrapped around his body, feeling a pleasure growing within her with each movement of his cock. She wondered what was wrong with her, why she was enjoying having a man who had taken her against her will take her again. She shuddered as he drew almost out of her and thrust in again, moving her across the bed. She sighed and let her head fall back onto a pillow, loving the soft feel of clean sheets rubbing against her back with each of his thrusts. She moaned in pleasure and lifted her legs to wrap around his waist, her dainty toes curling with each penetration.
Lord Volchim buried his face in Miri's hair, the long dark curls smelling of the orchids that bloomed in her garden. Her hair was as soft as a breeze against his cheek as he turned his head and whispered into her ear, "I love you."
She moaned and pressed herself against him, her hands running over his back while her legs tightened around his waist.
"Don't ever leave me-" he whispered and gasped as she tightened around him and yelled, her entire body quaking and shivering. She let out a long gasping moan, her head tilted back to stare at the head board as she arched her back and then thrust her hips against him. He moaned as he felt himself cumming and gave a last quick thrust before releasing his seed into her.
"Miri-" he whispered as they lay together in the afterglow, her facing away from him with her back pressed against his chest. He idly ran his hand over her flank, feeling her shiver at his touch. He kissed the back of her neck and closed his eyes, listening to her breathe as the rising sun cast a golden light over their bodies.
Kerrith tried to ignore the screaming coming from behind him as he practiced his weapon drills in the bow of the schooner. He slid his sword though the air in a series of horizontal cuts and spun with a low stab as the sound of breaking crockery drifted to his ears. He sighed and turned to look back towards the stern of the ship as Hector and Lady Skye's maid tried to soothe the tattered nerves of their charges.
Solyma had been violently seasick since they left port, finally being able to walk only when she had nothing left to sick up. Lady Tamara Skye had been needling her incessantly and insulting her at every opportunity. Solyma had responded by throwing a fireball at the young noblewoman. True, she had said that she meant to miss, but Kerrith and everyone else on the ship thought otherwise.
At the very least, the fireball had stopped Lady Skye's open taunts. Although not for very long. Lady Skye had the relentless ability to completely disregard common sense that Kerrith had only seen in the very rich and very spoiled.
"-I don't even know why you're going to Merglise!" Tamara was yelling. "You can't kill a dragon by lying with it, no matter how many diseases you have!" "Maybe we should take you along, the dragon would kill itself rather than listen to your whining!" Solyma shot back.
"At least I don't stoop to rutting with corpses!"
Tancred looked up from where he was leaning against the rails, watching the water. "Now that wasn't called for-" he began before Solyma interrupted him with another insult.
"Even a corpse wouldn't fuck you!" she snarled at Tamara.
"How dare you use such language in the presence of a lady!" Tamara cried out in horror. Solyma was about to say something worse when Hector and Annette managed to distract their respective charges and avert another round of curses and insults.
Kerrith sighed and went back to his drills, not relishing the thought of another four days on the sea with them.
"What's the matter with you?" Tancred asked as Solyma fumed and stared sullenly out to sea.
"Nothing that throwing that little twit overboard wouldn't solve," Solyma said with a tight smile.
"She's a sweet little thing though, isn't she?" Tancred said as he unconsciously licked his lips. He vaguely wondered if he could get the Lady Skye to become one of his regular visitors. "Solyma, come on. I've never seen you like this and we've known each other for a long time," he said, peering over the tops of his darkened glasses. He sighed. He hated having to be the supportive one. That's why he loved his very limited relationships with a score of noblewomen around Corannon. They only needed one thing from him, something which he was glad to give. "Tell me what's wrong," he said wearily.
"I miss Penelope," she said quietly.
"Who?"
"Penelope! The elf that nearly got killed by the Corthronos!"
"Oh, right. Her." He thought hard for a moment. "An elf? Pretty little thing? Sort of dense?"
"She's not dense! She's just naive! And smart! She can't help it if she's been sheltered!" Solyma said with such violence that Tancred recoiled from her.
"Fine, fine," he said soothingly. "So why are worrying? We'll be back in a week or two and you can be with her all you want."
"You don't understand," Solyma said sadly as she slumped down against the railing, her legs sticking through and dangling down against the hull. Tancred tried to get her to say more but she just ignored him until he walked away shaking his head.
Ismene sighed as she slid away from Lord Volchim. He was sleeping now, his face showing lines of exhaustion and age that had been invisible when he was awake. She looked at him for a long while, watching him sleep before she crept across the bedroom and quietly retrieved her nightgown. She slipped it on while looking nervously at Lord Volchim. He stirred for a moment, making her heart skip a beat, then settled back into the bed, his arm going to where she had been resting.
Her hand flew to her mouth to stifle a cry as the door suddenly opened. Jeremiah? she thought, entered, his fleshless hands carrying a tray loaded with a inexpertly cooked breakfast. It was no wonder that the cook wasn't fulfilling her usual duties if she had to deal with a house full of skeletons.
She slipped out behind him as he walked into the room, either ignoring her or not noticing her at all. Ismene glanced down the hallway and began to creep quickly down the carpeted surface towards her room and the children's room.
She reached her small room and ducked in, relieved to see that it hadn't been disturbed in the week since she left. A late night snack from then was growing a healthy crop of mold, but otherwise everything was the same. Ismene froze when she looked at her bed, still unmade since the night that Lord Volchim had- She shook her head and went to her wardrobe, opening the doors and pulling out a traveling dress.
She had pulled it on and was stuffing her things into a brown cloth valise when the door opened behind her. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Lord Volchim standing there wearing a robe, a horrible smile on his face and a faint reddish gleam in his eyes.
"You're not getting away again, whore," he said malevolently, his speech suddenly thick with the same accent as a Kilasatian trader who had once been by Ismene's home town.
Ismene sprinted for the window and knocked it open, hearing Lord Volchim roar and run after her. She was halfway out when he grabbed her skirt and hauled her back in, slapping her hard on the face and sending her dazed to the floor. "You don't do anything without my permission, whore," he spat as he tugged her up by her hair and dragged her towards the door, Ismene frantically hurrying to keep her hair from being tugged out.
She winced in pain as he threw her to the floor of the library, her hair falling in disarray over her face. "Lord Volchim, Arcin, why are you doing this?" she asked, feeling tears welling up in her eyes.
Lord Volchim sat back in a large padded chair and smiled at her over steepled fingers. "Lord Volchim is dead. I am Cirron Maccius. You will call me, master."
"Cirron Maccius? What-?"
"Do not speak without my permission!" Cirron roared. "You are nothing! I could get any woman in the world if I desired, do not think yourself so unique as to warrant special treatment."
For a moment Ismene thought that Lord Volchim had just gone insane. But then she remembered the dragon swooping in over the town to burn nearly all of the ships at anchor along with the piers and dockhouses. And then the undead that had begun to prowl the town, threatening anyone who was unfortunate enough to be out after dark. She rubbed her stinging cheek as she pushed herself onto her knees and stared at Cirron, now that she concentrated she could feel a difference in him, there was the same aura of coldness around him as that which surrounded the skeletons who had seized her. What was he? she wondered, and what did he want from her? She felt a sinking feeling in her stomach as she realized exactly what he wanted.
"Come here," he said, snapping Ismene from her thoughts. "Come here!" he repeated when she hesitated.
She slowly stood and walked over to him, her heart pounding against her chest as she stood in front of him.
"On your knees."
Ismene slowly obeyed and knelt before him. She watched in horror as he spread his robe and revealed his cock already hard and erect.
"Now, lick it."
"Never," she said, sounding more resolute than she felt. "I'd rather die."
Cirron glared at her chuckled. "I'm sure you would," he said. "But would you let your young charges die as well?"
Ismene watched in apprehension as he clapped and yelled an order. A skeleton dressed in a dusty suit of mail trudged out of the room and returned several minutes later with Amy and Theodoric before him. The older girl held her brother's shoulders, staring firmly at Cirron and trying not to show her disgust for the skeleton escorting her.
"Father, what do you want?" she said and then stopped, her eyes wide at the sight of Ismene. "Ismene? I thought you left-"
"Silence!" Cirron yelled. "Now, Ismene. Would you want to see my warriors slice the throats of these two younglings? They can do it right here if you would like."
"Amy?" Theodoric asked, his young voice high and frightened. "What's happening? Why's father being so mean to Ismene?"
"He's not our father," Amy answered angrily. "He just looks like him."
"Oh, you're perceptive. I guess you've inherited some of your parents talent. So," he said, turning to Ismene. "It is your choice." He watched as Ismene looked back at the two children, her eyes filling with tears. "Very well, kill-"
"No! I'll do it, just don't hurt them," she said quietly. She smiled encouragingly at the children as the skeleton led them out of the room. "Don't worry, we'll both be fine," she called out to them, a forced smile on her face. She turned her head back to Cirron, a mixture of despair and resignation in her eyes. "Do what you will with me, please, just don't hurt them."
"Your devotion is admirable. Now, suck my cock."
Ismene closed her eyes, her body shuddering with disgust as she opened her mouth and slowly took Cirron's cock into it. Her mind filled with thoughts of Lord Volchim, how they had danced and sailed, how he had gently kissed her lips for the first time under a moonlit sky. She forced those thoughts from her mind as she began to suck on Cirron's cock, her cheeks hollowing and tears leaking from under her eyelids, knowing that Arcin was not the one forcing her to do such horrible things.
"Now lick it," she heard Cirron growl.
She complied slowly, running her tongue over the length of his shaft, realizing that she could still taste herself on him. She grunted as Cirron dug his hands in her hair and forced her mouth down the length of his cock, shoving back towards her throat. She whimpered as he tightened his grip and began to thrust his hips up at her mouth. For a moment she thought he was going to push his cock all the way down into her throat, but at the last moment he stopped and pulled back, settling for letting her bob her head up and down his cock.
Ismene felt his cock beginning to twitch as she continued to lick and suck at it. Suddenly her mouth was full of his cum. She jerked back but was held in place by his strong hands.
"Swallow," he growled.
Ismene shuddered but obeyed, forcing herself to swallow the sticky globs of cum.
When he was done, he pulled out of her mouth and cleaned his cock off with a handful of her hair. Laughing, he stood and walked out of the library, closing and locking the door after him.
Ismene stayed there by the chair, supporting herself with her arms as her body shook with a mixture of disgust and anger.
"Um, hello," Annette said shyly to Solyma. Solyma looked up at the slender maid and then turned her face back to the rolling waves of the ocean.
"Yes?" she said.
Annette fidgeted and wrung the skirt of her dress. "I'm Annette," she finally said, stammering in her nervousness.
"I know." Solyma looked up at the girl and sighed. "Why don't you have a seat?"
Annette nodded gratefully and sank to her knees besides Solyma, carefully arranging her skirt around her. "Was there something you wanted?" Solyma asked as she drew her legs back through the railing and sat crosslegged facing Annette.
"I, um, just wanted to make friends," the maid said shyly. Solyma examined her closely, wondering if this was some sort of elaborate scheme by Tamara to get her back for the fireball. Solyma decided that Annette was far too bad of an actor to lie with any effectiveness, therefore, she must be telling the truth.
"Really? Why?" Solyma asked.
"Well, you're the only other woman on the boat except for Lady Skye, but I can't be friends with her."
"Ship."
"Pardon me?"
"It's a ship, not a boat. Why can't you be friends with Lady Skye?"
"She's a Lady!" Annette said, as if she were amazed by Solyma's question.
"So am I, I'm still friends with Hector."
"I guess. But-"
"Yeah, Lady Skye is Lady Skye."
Annette and Solyma were silent, sitting together quietly as the ocean passed by the schooner and the wind whipped in the sails.
Ismene swore as she searched through the desk located in the middle of the library, one hand rubbing her sleeve against the cum drying in her hair. She shoved aside tomes, a few of which seemed like necromancy texts as hunted across the surface of the desk. She smiled as she found the knife that Lord Volchim used to sharpen his quill pens. The lock proved to be no great problem to force, Ismene wasn't surprised, Lord Volchim wasn't very good at ordering new locks from Socratan.
The door to the children's rooms wasn't guarded but it was locked. Ismene managed to force it as well and slowly pushed the door open. She sighed in relief when she saw Amy and Theodoric sitting on a couch in the parlor that connected their rooms.
"Ismene!" they cried out together as they rushed over to her. She shushed them as she hugged them both, trying not to cry in relief.
"I need you to pack some clothes, we need to leave here right now," she said to them. Amy rushed off immediately and began to pack.
Theodoric took a few steps and then stopped. "Can I take Alfred?" he asked embarrassedly.
"Yes, you can bring Alfred, just hurry!" Ismene said. Theodoric was six and he had a stuffed dragon named Alfred. Ismene wondered how he'd feel if he knew that a dragon had been terrorizing the town as he rushed off to pack.
Solyma lay on her bunk and stared at the wooden planks above her. She didn't want to move for risk of sending her meager dinner of soup and hard biscuits off to join to her lunch and breakfast.
On deck she could hear Bradley and Tancred competing for Annette's attention. The maid had been the center of their attentions since they had left Corannon. Tancred was likely doing it to annoy her, Bradley because he lusted after nearly anything with breasts. Between them it sounded like Annette was enjoying herself.
Solyma had heard her delightful little laugh many times over the evening. A sweet girl, she thought to herself as she drifted off. Her last thought was of Penelope as it had been since she had gotten back from Kathaln. Penelope...
Cirron Maccius swore viciously in Kilas as he stomped through the halls of the Lord Volchim's manor. He had returned to the library the previous evening, expecting to find a suitably cowed and submissive elf waiting for him. Instead he found an empty room. He was further infuriated by the disappearance of Lord Volchim's two children, with their absence the spirit of Lord Volchim had begun to fight him again for control of his body.
The lord had tried to kill himself shortly after Cirron had raped Ismene and made him believe that the fault lay with him. Cirron had just managed to regain control before the lord had run himself through with his disused sword. From then on, Cirron had threatened the lord with the lives of his children.
Cirron pushed open the doors leading onto a broad terrace that looked out to sea. He looked up as a shadow fell over him and the beating of great leathery wings filled the air.
"To me, Vysthus!" Cirron yelled as if he were calling a common falcon back to his arm.
"You may have bound me to your service," the dragon boomed as he settled onto the terrace, his claws scraping marks in the hard granite, "but do not think that I will forget such insults."
The dragon was immense, from the tip of his snout to the tip of his tail he stretched further than two fishing boats lined stern to bow. His shoulder was twice again as high as the top of Cirron's head and his great wings stretched well over a hundred feet. His body lightened from a dark green on his back to a pale blue on his belly, his steel hard scales brilliantly reflecting the early afternoon sun.
"I'm sure you won't," Cirron said in an almost pleasant tone of voice. "But you will accept them for as long as I have your eggs."
The dragon's eyes narrowed, the brilliant gold of his iris seeming to glow with far more light than the sun floating high overhead. He moved his head down to Cirron's level, his neck sinuously twisting. Cirron found himself staring directly into the dragon's face as a gust of hot breath blew from the dragon's nostrils. "Beware, human," Vysthus said in a quiet voice, "do not press me to far or I shall decide that the risks to my children outweigh the satisfaction of of pulling your guts out your mouth."
Cirron smiled, forcing himself to show no weakness. "Your children will be returned to you in good time once you have finished my tasks," he said. "Have you?"
"The fisherman of Merglise have no more fleet and they huddle in terror, waiting for my return," Vysthus said, his voice full of contempt for the human before him.
"Good, I have a new task for you. You will find the elf girl named Ismene and bring her to me along with the children of Volchim."
"I will do as you say, although I wonder if you have the strength to deal with her, especially if you threaten her charges."
"No more impudence from you!" Cirron yelled, a dark globe of energy forming around his right hand. He reached forward and the globe streaked forth to scatter over the dragon's face.
Vysthus hissed in anger as the magic seared the sensitive scales around his nostrils. "Your time will come, screeling, and you will be sent back to the Darkness crying in terror," Vysthus said evenly and then turned, his tail purposely smashing the doors to the terrace as he sprang into the air.
As he flew Vysthus remembered his first meeting with the elf. She and Lord Volchim had been sailing past the cape while he had been hunting for whales. He smiled a toothy dragon smile as he remembered the startled expression on the elf's face as he had raised his head from the sea to look at the two on their small sailboat. A pity that he had to find her and return her to the screeling, he could only hope that the fishing boat that he had let escape had reached Corannon and summoned help. Without assistance Vysthus feared that his eggs were doomed.
Cirron watched the dragon fly away, a smile on his face. When his deeds were talked about in word and song they would remember this, that Cirron Maccius tamed a dragon! He laughed as he walked around the terrace towards the small garden next to the house. It would serve as a good area for his kennels or maybe a small pit for animal fights. Cirron snorted contemptuously at the lovingly tended bed of orchids, pulling his sword in preparation to chop them to bits. His face twisted in sudden fear as he felt Volchim fight him more fiercely than he had ever before. Cirron watched as the tip of the sword moved towards his throat. Only by relenting and fleeing the garden was he able to overcome Volchim's sudden surge in strength. No matter, he thought. The gardens could be destroyed at any time.
Ismene looked upward through the thick covering of tree branches and creeping vines, wondering if the dragon would see her and her charges. Yet again she wondered why Vysthus was assisting the thing which had taken Lord Volchim's body. Perhaps Cirron had stolen his children as well?
"Why can't we go wave to Vysthus?" Theodoric asked from where he crouched beside her. He seemed frightened and confused by the fact that the dragon whom he had thought friend was now trying to take them back to Cirron.
"You know why, for some reason Vysthus is trying to take us back to the bad man," Ismene said as Vysthus flew off towards the east.
Theodoric clutched Alfred closer to his chest. The stuffed dragon had seen better days, hours of tramping through the mud and dirt of the thick forests which surrounded Merglise and the manor had coated the stuffed dragon with dirt and leaves. "We need to keep moving," Ismene said. She was trying to reach the tower of Cielcroix's local wizard. She didn't know him well, all she remembered of him was a long white beard and a overwhelming fondness for shrimp. But hopefully he could help hide them.
Solyma was feeling a little better after her second day at sea. The rolling of the ship had become a little less sickening and she had managed to eat more than soup and biscuits for dinner. There was still the issue of Tamara to be resolved, but otherwise it looked as if she could start to enjoy the trip to Merglise.
"Beautiful night, isn't it?" Kerrith said to her as she joined him in the bow of the ship. Above them the sky was full of stars, the pinpoint brilliance of them making Solyma feel at peace for the first time in a long while.
"Yes, it is," she answered, leaning back against the rail to look up at the sky. They stayed like that for a while, neither of them speaking as they watched the stars in their endless dance overhead. "I don't think I ever apologized to you," she finally said.
"About- Ah, the Corthronos," Kerrith said.
"Um, yeah. I'm sorry I summoned them and that they caused all the trouble they did."
"You are lucky that they didn't cause more. No one was killed by them. Except my horse."
"I'm sorry about that, too."
"Apology accepted, you showed admirable bravery jumping into that portal to save the elf woman's life. I believe that you have paid any debt you owed."
"Thanks." They looked up at the stars for a while longer. "Sorry about saying those things about Selene."
"Apologize to her when you see her next."
"I, uh, I will." Solyma shifted slightly, wondering what Selene's reaction would be to seeing her again. Leaving someone tied to a bed generally didn't make them well disposed towards you. "How are you two doing?"
Kerrith smiled, the first that Solyma had seen since they had started the trip. "Very well, she's progressing rapidly at the College. She should graduate very quickly."
"That's good to hear."
"I suppose that in a way I should be thankful that you summoned the Corthronos. If you hadn't then I would have never met her."
"Just fate, I suppose."
"Perhaps. I'm thinking of proposing to her, after she graduates."
Solyma looked over at him, wondering why he was telling her this. "Do you think she'll say yes?" he continued. Solyma smiled, her teeth flashing in the dim lamplight.
"Sure she will," she said. "And if she doesn't, well, plenty of other women out there."
"No. Not like her. No one else like her, not if every one of those stars was another world just like ours." Kerrith said softly, his eyes suddenly sad. Solyma straightened up, uncomfortable with how emotional Kerrith had suddenly become. The man was usually as emotional as a rock, he hadn't so much as flinched when he fought the Corthronos or Valkersan.
"I'm heading to bed, goodnight," she said with a wave. Kerrith nodded absently, his head still turned towards the stars.
Cirron Maccius slept uneasily, his head filled with dreams of the darkness that he had managed to escape and the memories of his host, Lord Volchim. No amount of drink had brought him peace from the dreams, it seemed as if Volchim was trying to make him remember every awful moment of death. He twisted, his dreams melting like candle wax before reforming in distorted and hideous images. Cirron cried out in his sleep as he sought to flee from them. His heart slowing, he found himself immersed in the mind of Lord Volchim...
Arcin Volchim, Lord of Cielcroix, stared at the urn containing the ashes of his wife and wept. A part of him knew that this was a memory, but that did not stop the terrible ache from forming inside him and the horrible sense of loss that had accompanied him every day since then.
The weather outside the small chapel reflected his mood, whether by chance or by his unconscious use of his skill in magic, he did not know. Rain lashed at the windows while lightning stampeded over the land, splitting trees in its violence. He pounded his fist against the floor of the chapel as the wind rose to a shriek outside.
As a lull in the storm shrouded the chapel in darkness, he stared at the floor and stood. He had never allowed obstacles to stand in his way, death would not separate him from his beloved, no matter how long it took, he would find her again. He gave one last look at the urn as he opened the doors and stood in the whipping rain, then he disappeared into the night.
He remembered what he had done to her. It had been the night before Miri was supposed to leave, she had volunteered to deal with a rogue dragon preying on one of the small villages on the border with Socratan. They had been drinking too much, they had started to argue over some tiny thing but it had spiraled out of control until they were screaming at each other in the garden. He had insulted her, something uncalled for and unfounded.
He remembered her accusing him of having an affair with a serving girl. He had accused her of having an affair with the Knight she was traveling with. The look in her eyes, the mixture of anger and hurt had only made him furious. He didn't hit her, he never would, never could, but he turned to her garden instead. He had trampled the orchids that she tended to every day, trampling them beneath his boots while she screamed at him to stop. She had loved those flowers, for the long years when they hadn't been able to conceive, the flowers were her comfort. He had known that.
He remembered her unleashing a weave at him. It had bloodied his nose and cracked his ribs, leaving him half-conscious in the bushes. She had bent to pick up the crushed remains of her flowers, cradling them in her hands, not looking at him as she left. That had been the last time he had seen her.
He remembered the next day. He had spent the entire day working with the gardeners trying to repair some of the damage he had done. He remembered picking up the limp pieces of orchid in his hands and rushing them over to Daven the priest. He remembered ordering Daven to heal them, knitting together the mangled stems and petals until he had saved as many as he could. The next day had been spent sending letters to the finest hot houses in Krisephyr, ordering their finest specimens of orchids for immediate delivery. He had worked feverishly to prepare the garden for her, spending every day working the earth until his back ached and his knees burned. The garden had been ready for her, his apology to her, the day before she was due back. But all that had arrived on the ship was a small urn and an envoy from the king.
He remembered that he had never apologized to her. He remembered that she had left thinking that he hated her. He remembered that she had left and he hadn't seen her off. He remembered ignoring Jeremiah's pointed suggestions to see her ship leave. He remembered not saying good-bye.
Cirron smiled at the pain that Volchim was feeling and delved into his memory, bringing events that Volchim would rather forget to the surface...
Lord Volchim hunched over his books, lightning and candle flames the only illumination in the library. He had spent years in here, poring over every tome he owned and sending to the Library at Corannon for more. It had cost him dearly, but he had also purchased dozens of tomes from all over Alderest, each sharing one common theme. Necromancy.
He knew that the secret to contacting the dead was within his grasp. He regretted that he could not spend more time with Amy and Theodoric, but soon their tutor would arrive and they would be busy with their instruction.
Cirron grimaced in his sleep as he felt Lord Volchim struggle against him, trying to keep his memories away from the screeling. Cirron fought back viciously forcing the lord to think of the miserable expression on Ismene's face after he had cum in her mouth, withholding the fact that the lord had prevented him from choking her with his cock...
Lord Volchim idly ran his hands over the cover of the tome that had just arrived. He had been neglecting his research ever since Ismene had arrived. But it had been so long, six years since Miri had been killed. He wondered if she would want him to go on with his life, to try to find someone new to love. As soon as he had completed the thought, he felt guilty. She had been his wife of twelve years and would have been his wife forever. Was it his fault that she had died?
He was close, he knew that. What was in this tome would allow him to pierce the veil between the living and the dead. He would be able to communicate with them, to once again see his wife and hold her in his arms. He owed her this much.
Banishing thoughts of the enchanting elf maiden from his mind, Lord Volchim began to inscribe the Circle of Piercing into the wood of the floor. He laboriously carved the symbols of protection and honing, copying the symbols from the tome as exactly as he could. Whether it was haste or a knot in the wood, one symbol was flawed.
Lord Volchim thrashed from his prison within his own body. He could see himself beginning the ritual, using skills normally suited to weather magics for necromancy. He tried to yell a warning to himself but he was too late. The darkness had opened in the circle, making the night outside seem like high noon. There was silence while he searched for his wife and then a scream of triumph as something flew from the darkness and rushed into his body.
The next week went by in a haze. Daylight had banished the creature at first while Lord Volchim tried frantically to find a way to free himself. But when night fell, the creature was free to perform whatever evil acts it wanted.
The only priest powerful enough to help in an exorcism was found dead, stabbed in the back in his home. Irvan Kingsman, the local wizard, had disappeared into his tower after a swarm of undead waylaid him on his way back from town. By then it was too late for him, Lord Volchim thought. The creature stealing his body was gaining more and more power, each day he felt control return to him for a shorter and shorter amount of time.
Then came the night that he most wished he could take back. The creature had let him watch helplessly as his attraction towards Ismene was warped and twisted. He had done his best to fight the creature, keeping it from harming Ismene too badly. But the next morning, when his nightmare had proven true, he knew that he had to end it. But the creature had taken that from him as well and he had lost almost all of his control. Then it had begun to feed him dreams and hallucinations to keep him passive while the creature slumbered. Lord Volchim raged at how easily he was taken in by the visions stolen from his memory. He only hoped that Ismene had managed to escape, he could sense the anger coming from his controller, perhaps she could free him. Perhaps...
Cirron awoke slowly, feeling Lord Volchim's struggles fade as he was pushed deeper into the recesses of Cirron's mind. Today, he thought. Today he would find that bitch and torture her until Volchim cracked and surrendered control of his body entirely.
Cirron snarled as he saw the schooner in his scrying weave. He studied it to the limit of his meager ability, able only to discern that it flew the flag of Krisephyr's navy. Could a message have been sent to the capital? he wondered. That fool of a mage who lived near the town couldn't penetrate the cloak that Vysthus had thrown over the area. Then who? Someone might have made it away from the town before Vysthus had destroyed all the ships. Yes, that was it. Someone must have sailed away for help. No matter, he could use the power that Lord Volchim could summon to control the weather and destroy the ship.
It had taken Ismene and the children nearly a full day to reach the vicinity of Irvan's tower. Ismene had been torn between pressing on in the darkness and risking injury or finding shelter for the night. She had finally decided on the latter because of the children's fatigue. They had slept in a hollow between a tree's roots with a small smokeless fire that Ismene had built. It was a great risk to have any source of heat or light that Vysthus might see, but the children had been in desperate need of some sort of comfort. But they had made it through the night without even the distant beating of Vysthus' wings to disturb their sleep. Now they stood on the narrow dirt road that led up to the clearing where Irvan's tower stood. It was overgrown by a torrent of vines and moss, making it look almost like a part of the forest that surrounded it.
Tired and dirty, Ismene led the children to the door and raised her hand to knock. There was a tingle of magic in the air then the door opened to reveal the portly bearded form of Irvan. The mage looked like someone's kindly grandfather and seemed to do his best to keep up the image. He was the one who had given Alfred to Theodoric.
"Ismene? Thank all the gods that you're alright!" he said as he saw her, pushing up his spectacles onto the bridge of his nose. "The children are safe as well, come in, come in," he said as he stood to the side and waved them in.
Ismene stepped by him, ushering the children in. They already seemed happier, when Ismene had first arrived their favorite thing to do was to spend the day with the elderly mage. Irvan smiled gently at her as he closed the door and barred it behind her. "A simple precaution," he said with a shrug.
He showed them up a curving flight of stairs to the living room, the children taking off their muddy boots before stepping onto the rug. "I'll start some baths for you," he said. "Oh dear, you must be famished. Ismene, there's plenty of food in the kitchen, would you be kind enough to prepare a meal for you and the children?"
Ismene nodded, running a hand through her hair and plucking out several leaves and twigs. The children followed her into the tower's kitchen, pointing out where Irvan kept the sweets. "Later," she said, smiling, "first you need breakfast." The children helped her to prepare a simple meal of bread, cheese, and fruit. She watched them as they ate, wiping Theodoric's chin as fruit juice ran down it.
"I've drawn each of you baths," Irvan said as they finished. He wiped some lingering steam off of his spectacles and sat at the table next to them. "I need to talk to you after you've washed," he said to Ismene, his voice suddenly very serious. Ismene nodded and followed the children upstairs to the bathroom where Irvan had filled the large main tub and a smaller portable tub with steaming water. The room was very hot and humid from the rising sun outside and the water inside. Ismene felt herself break into a sweat immediately as she helped the children bathe, promising Theodoric that Alfred would get a bath after him.
Ismene shut the door on the bedroom where the children were sleeping, exhausted from the day before and the final hike to Irvan's tower. The mage smiled at her as she entered the kitchen and poured her a cup of cool fruit juice.
"Thank you," she said as she took a sip. It was orange juice, common here because of the extensive orchards that grew towards the mainland on the peninsula. "My favorite."
"I'm glad you like it," Irvan said. "Now, you must tell me what has been going on in the manor. Why has Lord Volchim suddenly been acting like a madman? I tried to see him on several times but at first he refused to see me, then he threatened me with his undead servants." Irvan huffed and removed his spectacles to clean them on his robe. "Then Vysthus comes by, saying that Lord Volchim wants me dead but that he will try to deceive him."
"I don't think it's Lord Volchim who is giving the orders," Ismene said softly. "He- He assaulted me and said that his name was, 'Cirron Maccius', I think." She took a long sip at her juice to clear the memory of the taste of the man's cum in her mouth. "I saw some books that looked like they dealt with necromancy, at least I think they do."
"Necromancy? I feared this might happen."
"That what might happen?"
"That he might try to contact his late wife. I warned him against it, necromancy is the most dangerous form of magic one can try, but he was desperate to talk to his wife again. I thought that you took his mind off his 'project'-" Irvan sighed and put on his spectacles. "Cirron Maccius, that name sounds familiar."
He waved his hand in a complicated pattern, Ismene could barely see the faint strands of magic as he wove them into a weave. She turned her head as a book came floating through the door and landed on the table. "I'm getting old, I'm afraid," Irvan said, "I spent a lot of time making a weave to fetch my books from the library for me. Now," he opened the book and began to leaf through it. "There, yes. 'We do not possess much solid information on Tancred Guiscard, infamous warlord and mercenary, but much more is known about one of his henchmen. Cirron Maccius was a Kilasatian soldier turned mercenary. Known for his exceptional brutality and vicious treatment of women, Cirron is believed to have been born in Torsas, the capital of Kilasat in 46 A.U.," Irvan skipped ahead a page. "Ah yes, Cirron was last known to be in the area of what is now Cielcroix acting as a pirate. His death has been reported in many different manners ranging from drowning in a storm, being killed by the Krisephyrian Navy, to being executed by his former leader, Tancred Guiscard."
"But if he's dead how- I see, Lord Volchim summoned him from the dead, but why?"
"If it's any consolation, I don't believe that Lord Volchim would ever summon such a spirit back into the world. He was most likely trying to find his wife and stumbled onto this man's spirit instead. If there was any flaw in the circle surrounding the portal than the spirit could escape and attack its summoner."
"So Cirron is using Lord Volchim's body."
"Yes, I'm afraid so."
"But what happened to Arcin? I mean, Lord Volchim," Ismene said, her voice distraught.
"He's trapped in his own body, I imagine he struggled fiercely but in the end Cirron was far too evil and powerful for him to resist."
"He's still fighting."
"What do you mean?"
Ismene looked down at the table and rolled the cup in her hands. "When, when Cirron was assaulting me, he could have done much worse but he stopped. I think Lord Volchim was keeping him from hurting me badly."
"That's possible. There may still be time to save Arcin. But without a priest or someone else who knows the rites of exorcism, there is no way to separate the two."
"You don't know them?"
"No, dear. I'm sorry, but I don't. I'm sorry, I really am." He looked over Ismene's shoulder at one of the kitchen windows. It was starting to rain heavily. "That's odd, I don't think there was a cloud in the sky an hour ago."
"What's going on?" Solyma groaned at Hector as she knelt by the chamberpot.
"A storm has risen. The captain says that we have to lower the sails quickly and attempt to ride it out," Hector said from the doorway. His helmet and gauntlets were dripping with water. For a moment they were illuminated by a flash of lighting through the porthole.
"How long is it going to last?"
"Not long, the captain thinks that its been risen by magic. If that 's the case then the conjurer won't be able to keep up something this ferocious for long." Hector looked back towards the door to the deck. "I must go, they need every hand."
Solyma nodded weakly and waved him away as she slowly climbed back onto her bunk. Below her Tamara was fuming. "You say you're a mage," she said peevishly. "Why don't you and that other one stop the weather?"
"Manipulating the weather is a difficult skill to master. I've never learned how and Bradley is even worse than I am."
"I should have known that you'd be useless when we could use a real mage."
Solyma ignored her, feeling far to bad to start another round of insults. She only hoped that she could manage to be sick on the girl.
Kerrith clung to the slick rope as sailors up in the sails struggled to untie them. He braced his boots on the deck as he held one of the hastily rigged safety lines for the sailors. Behind him he could hear the captain shouting orders as the helmsman turned the schooner into the wind.
"Where'd this storm come from?" Tancred shouted from where he was holding another sailor's safety line.
"I don't know," Kerrith yelled back, feeling the driving rain running down his soaked hair and across his face. He tightened his grip on the rope as a wave swept across the deck. "Bradley, can you do anything about this?"
The mage looked over from where he was holding a third sailor's line. "Sorry! I don't know much weather magic, all I can do is predict it," he yelled, his face reflecting a bolt of lightning far to close for comfort. "I don't think this will last more than ten hours tops!"
They ducked as a bolt of lightning slammed into the top of the main mast and sent a spar spinning to the deck. Kerrith dove to the side, narrowly avoiding being trapped by it as it tipped and slid over the crushed railing into the sea. "Get down from there!" he yelled at the sailors as another lightning bolt roared through the sky above.
"If they don't get those sails down we'll sink!" the captain yelled over the driving wind.
"Bradley! Can you help?" Kerrith yelled.
"Maybe, but I might end up damaging the sail if I try to untie them with magic," Bradley yelled back. He nearly slipped as another wave swept over the deck, carrying away the broken splinters of wood from the spar and the railing.
"Get those sailors down!" Kerrith yelled to the captain. The captain yelled and waved his arms in the signal to get back to deck. Kerrith watched the sailors clambered back down the rigging, incredibly close to falling overboard with each wave. "Do it, Bradley!"
The mage handed his line to the captain as the last of the sailors made it safely to the deck and scrambled out of the way. The mage began to move his hands in a intricate motion that soon widened to sweeps of his arms. Kerrith could see him concentrating and then throwing his arms wide. The sails fell loose of their ties in a cascade of soaking white canvas. Sailors immediately ran to them and began to furl them around the spars of the mainmast.
"Everyone below deck!" the captain yelled when they finished. "I'll stay up here and man the helm."
"Get below, I'll do it," Tancred said as sailors began to hurry to the relative dryness of below decks. "I can't drown and the lightning probably won't kill me," he said in answer to the captain's unspoken protests. "Here, take these," he said, throwing his dark spectacles to Kerrith. "I don't want to lose them."
"Alright, just keep the ship turned towards the waves. You do that and we'll be fine for as long as the storm lasts. I'll make sure that someone's with you in case you need to send for help," the captain yelled over a roar of thunder.
"I'll stay with him," Hector said. "I cannot drown or be hurt by the lightning, it seems obvious that I should act as his messenger."
"Glad I had you two aboard!" the captain said with a salute as he caught a sailor who had slipped on the wave washed deck. "Good luck! And may Adramas shield you!"
Tancred nodded back as he climbed to the poop deck and lashed himself to the wheel, Hector floating at his side, apparently unaffected by the wild rolling of the deck. "So," he yelled to Hector, "know any good stories?"
Solyma was vaguely grateful when the motion of the ship changed from a violent side to side rocking to a bow to stern rolling. Not much more grateful, though. From her bunk she could see the single porthole in the cabin and it seemed to be covered or underwater far too much of the time. She thought of it bursting open and a flood of freezing sea water pouring in, filling up the cabin as she tried to swim, the coldness pulling her down and filling her lungs- She shuddered. Her only consolation was that Tamara seemed to finally be showing some sign of discomfort despite Annette's comforting presence by her on the lower bunk.
"Why is Vysthus helping Cirron?" Ismene asked Irvan as he refilled her cup of juice. "I thought he was on good terms with Lord Volchim and everyone else in Cielcroix."
"He was. It would take something very powerful to force him to help Cirron," Irvan said. He was standing by the kitchen window watching the rain fall. "A threat? But what kind?"
"Someone he loves?" Ismene said, thinking of how Cirron had coerced her with the threat of harm to the children.
"His wife? But she's even more powerful than he is, no, she would be in no danger from Cirron."
"He has a wife?"
"Oh yes, dragons marry for life."
"But I've never seen her, where is she?"
"I'm sure you have. Dragons start to look like one another after a century or so of marriage. If Vysthus ever seemed to be larger than normal, that was probably his wife you saw. The other times she might have been with their egg-" Irvan suddenly stopped and straightened up. "Of course, brilliant, Ismene, brilliant! He's stolen their egg! That's the only way that Cirron could threaten them."
Irvan walked over to Ismene and lifted her from her seat in a hug. "Now, if I can only find where their egg is, I could rescue it. Vysthus or his wife are definitely old enough to have possible learned how to exorcise. We may be able to save Arcin!" He sniffed. "My, is that you? I'm sorry, I've kept you from your bath. Why don't you go take it? I'm going to start scrying areas where the egg might be. Call if you need anything."
With that Irvan hurried from the kitchen and up the stairs to his scrying chamber. Ismene placed her cup in the kitchen sink before going upstairs to a much anticipated bath.
Solyma woke to a view of stars and sky through the porthole. The storm had lasted the entire day and into the night. Apparently it had cleared after she had fallen asleep. She rolled over onto her stomach and peered out the porthole. The sea outside was as smooth as glass and for the first time on the voyage she felt like eating something.
She climbed down from her bunk, hitching up her nightgown and tiptoeing across the floor, more for the benefit of Annette who had fallen asleep on the floor next to Tamara's bunk, than for anything else.
Solyma reached the galley and crept in. The cook typically slept in a hammock suspended by the stove and she had no particular desire to disturb him. She reached the pantry and carefully opened the door, mouth watering at the prospect of some cheese or dried meat. Anything besides soup.
Her face fell as she saw the bare shelves of the pantry. "Sorry, we didn't get any special provisions in the capital. There's still soup, though," the cook said from his hammock.
Solyma shook her head sadly as she took a biscuit and flask of water. She nibbled halfheartedly at it as she trudged back to her cabin.
"Will you be quiet? I'm trying to sleep!" Tamara hissed at her as she entered the cramped cabin.
"Quiet!" Solyma whispered harshly, "Annette's trying to sleep!"
"How dare you give me orders, you-" Her voice was cut off as Solyma shoved the hard biscuit into her mouth, quite effectively gagging her. She tried to pull it out but was stopped as Solyma grabbed her arms and pinned her to the bunk.
"I've had enough of your insults, Tamara," Solyma hissed. Suddenly she smiled, an evil wicked grin that made Tamara's heart start to race. "Don't say anything when I take out the biscuit or it goes right back in." Tamara wiped her mouth as Solyma withdrew the biscuit.
"How dare-" Tamara started only to be cut off by Solyma's glare. "What are you doing?" she whispered, suddenly very afraid of the other woman.
Solyma ignored her and slid under the covers with her. Tamara slid away until her side pressed against the bulkhead. "What are you doing?" she whispered in a more urgent voice as Solyma pulled her nightgown off and reached for Tamara's.
"Netti-mmmph!" Tamara gasped as Solyma pinned her to the narrow bunk and kissed her deeply, her tongue chasing Tamara's around the noblewoman's mouth. From the other bunk, Annette stirred and rolled over.
Solyma grinned at the struggling noblewoman, easily holding her down. Tamara was soft and although she had a sweet body, it was due to her inborn beauty more than any regimen of exercise. Solyma had to struggle to keep from laughing as Tamara whimpered in fear as Solyma began to remove her nightgown. Solyma smiled at the flimsy piece of nightwear, mainly lace and silk and not very modest at all.
"You shouldn't dress like that," Solyma whispered into Tamara's ear. "People might think you're a whore. Or that maybe you're trying to lure someone into your bed."
Tamara flushed in anger as Solyma straddled her and gasped at the feel of Solyma's wet pussy against her stomach.
"I'm going to get something out of this trip," Solyma said as she leaned over and pressed her breasts against Tamara's equally full ones, "you're going to give it to me." With that, she kissed the noblewoman again, this time meeting no resistance.
Tamara moaned as she began to kiss Solyma back, her nipples hardening and her pussy moistening.
"I wondered why you kept sneaking a look at me when I dressed," Solyma said as she sat up. "I thought you were just trying to figure out a way to get back at me." Solyma watched as Tamara blushed and tried to turn her head.
Tamara whimpered as Solyma slid up her body and straddled her head. Without any urging by Solyma, she opened her mouth and began to lick at her pussy. Solyma rubbed her own breasts with one hand while the other reached back and lightly played over Tamara's pussy. She teased the noblewoman, finally slipping her finger into her when the noblewoman began to whimper piteously.
"You enjoy this, don't you?" Solyma said quietly as she rode Tamara's face to orgasm. "What's your life back on your estate like? Were you, unnnh- screwing the stableboys and servants? Is that why you're getting sent away?" Solyma gritted her teeth and began to pump her fingers into Tamara's pussy as she came, her hips grinding against Tamara's face. She leaned against the bulkhead as she panted for breath until Tamara began to struggle underneath her.
Solyma slid off the noblewoman with a grunt, smirking as Tamara gasped for breath, her face shining in the moonlight. "Now, masturbate," Solyma said.
Tamara gulped, lust clouding her eyes as she reached down and began to slide her fingers into herself, first one, then two, then three. Solyma watched in appreciation and began to squeeze and rub the noblewoman's breasts. Tamara came almost immediately and would have made a racket if Solyma hadn't leaned down and covered Tamara's mouth with her's.
Solyma smiled at Tamara's flushed face as she slid out of the bunk and carefully climbed up into her's, having a feeling that the noblewoman wouldn't bother her any more.
Neither of them noticed that Annette was wide awake and had her hand up her nightgown and buried between her legs, biting her lower lip until it bled to keep from crying out in pleasure.
Continued in Chapter 4
The World of Alderest - IV - A Journey With the Dead - Chapter 3
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