Drowning at Dusk Ch. 04

I was impressed and surprised at how quickly and easily she'd given in. Had she just been waiting for me to strike? Hoping for and anticipating this wicked retaliation?

Spying on those two bards had aroused her as much as it had me: her sex was already thoroughly wet by the time I'd even reached between her legs. My fingers thus had no trouble at all sliding into her, drawing forth a muffled moan from the dusk elf.

Another bite, and the muscles of my forearm tensed as I got to work.

Rhythmic thuds sounded from the bards' room. Doubtless the headboard of their bed was jostling against the wall under the force of Dazyar's thrusts. As Tenalia had demanded, he kept his movements slow and steady.

Powerful. Smooth. Dominant.

Voids below, but I wanted to peek through that gap again. I could imagine his taut ass rising and falling with each deep plunge, and Tenalia's greenish legs splayed far to the side, her wild blond curls in disarray upon the bed.

Xelari bit down on my hand and drooled; my grip tightened and she squealed. The muffled cry of pleasured distress only intensified my own desire and my own need to punish...

Her soft thighs quaked, and I heard her mumble my name against my firm, grasping hand. Her breath came hot and heavy out of her nose, and she squirmed her neck to the side to try to meet my gaze.

I leered back at her; my fingers quickened.

Inside the bedroom, Tenalia wailed. The thud of the headboard quickened, nearly matching the pace of my eager fingers.

I could tell from those rapid breaths and the twitching of her thighs that she was close. Tempted as I was to pull her back from the edge, I also desperately wanted to hear her whimper against my hand, for her moisture to spatter the wood beneath our feet.

And for her muffled cries to perhaps echo through the door.

"You're going to come for me," I purred against her cheek. "And then we're going to go down for breakfast in the tavern. And when those bards come down, we're going to introduce ourselves. Have a friendly chat. Share a few stories. And all the while, they'll never know what sort of wickedness we were up to right outside their door."

Xelari managed a shaky nod, her eyes bulging wide.

Thud, thud, thud from the bedroom. A series of desperate, pleading words in the meadow elf language. A cry of delight from Dazyar.

I bit down on the back of her neck. She bit down on my hand so hard that she nearly drew blood, and let out a low and raspy scream. My grip tightened, muffling the worst of it, though judging from the sounds within the bedroom, I doubted the others would have heard anyway.

She thrashed in my grasp, one hand scraping against the wall while the other reached behind her back to clutch at my hair. Her beautiful, delicious wetness coated my fingers. The slick, debauched sounds of my fingers echoed down the hall.

As her muffled moans turned to soft little mewls, and as the fierce tremors of her thighs turned to gentle shakes, I slipped my fingers free.

"Esharyn," she moaned, and leaned in for a kiss.

My hand rose, tilted her chin away. She whined; I laughed.

"Come on," I said, yanking her leggings back up. "Let's go get breakfast."

Another cry sounded from the bards' room.

Perhaps we'd have to wait a bit longer to meet them, after all.

**

A half hour passed before Dazyar and Tenalia finally wandered downstairs: freshy-dressed and freshly-bathed, with no sign of the wickedness they'd just been up to. The tavern was mostly empty at that point, save for a few hungover revelers at the bar, some farmers having breakfast at the largest table, and Xelari and I in a corner booth, nibbling on sweetcakes and sipping our tea.

I waved as Tenalia and Dazyar passed.

"Wonderful show last night," I said.

"Thank you," Tenalia said with a sun-bright smile. She gave a little twirl, her silken red dress fluttering, and bowed low in gratitude.

"Join us?" I asked, gesturing to the open seats at our booth. "Breakfast is on us. Call it a tip for your...grand performance."

Xelari chortled, and the two bards took seats across from us.

"Dazyar Akenthrios," the man said with a little bow of his head.

"Tenalia," the meadow elf said, waving down a servant for some tea.

"Esharyn."

"Keltara," Xelari said, adopting the alias she'd used earlier on the road. Given that the Lord-Protector was specifically after a dusk elf named 'Xelari,' the simple ruse seemed prudent.

"And what brings you two to this wondrous little town?" Dazyar asked.

"We're heading for Arkostead," Xelari said. "We were up in the Wildwood collecting botanical and alchemical samples for sale in the city. Didn't have much luck, I'm afraid. A bandit attack forced us to flee, and we lost our supplies. Figured we'd return to the city, find some other sort of job."

Dazyar's eyes lit up.

"I'm headed there as well. The banking guild is sponsoring a small theater festival in a few weeks, and I'm to be the lead bard in several of the most important plays."

"And will you be joining him?" Xelari asked Tenalia. "I'm sure that voice of yours would be quite welcome there."

"I'm afraid not," she said with a little pout. "The guild council here in town is holding a harvest festival in a few weeks, and they're paying me a small fortune to organize all the music and celebrations. Too good of an opportunity to turn down."

"Always next year," Dazyar said, patting Tenalia's hand as the servants returned with fresh cups of tea.

I glanced at Xelari, wondering if she was sensing the same opportunities I was. A bard with connections across the city could prove to be an excellent asset. If he was as well-connected as he seemed, he might even be able to serve as cover to get closer to Patrigan or Heroth.

"You wouldn't mind if we shared the road south with you, would you?" Xelari asked. "After that run-in with the bandits we're a bit...on edge." She nodded to his fiddle. "And clearly you have some talent with magic, which might come in handy if there's trouble on the road."

Tenalia gave Dazyar a sideways smirk.

"Truth be told, I was thinking of asking you the same," he said. "Especially since I saw that pillar of an orc you were with. I daresay he'd keep all three of us safe on the road just fine."

"Unfortunately, we'll be parting ways," Xelari said. "He's heading off later this afternoon."

"Well," he said, leaning down and patting a cutlass strapped to his hip. "I may not be a seasoned orc mercenary, but I can slay with both steel and song, so I have more uses than just prancing about on a stage. Safety in numbers, then." He sipped his tea.

"Bandits," Tenalia said. "We had heard rumors from travelers about such scoundrels gathering in the Wildwood. Anything we need to worry about this far south?"

"Hopefully not," I said with a reassuring smile. Even if some of the other survivors wished to chase us down to go after that relic, we'd have little trouble handling them.

"Cutthroats aren't the only dangers on the roads, though," Dazyar said with a sigh. "Chatted with a wine merchant last night who said he ran into cryptwolves about two days' south of here."

Xelari's eyes narrowed.

"Cryptwolves. That close to Arkostead?"

"The man had the scars and the fear in his voice to prove it."

"Bandits, cryptwolves," Tenalia murmured. "All the more reason to stay and help me with the festival here..."

"All the more reason to get to Arkostead to give the worried people something to smile about."

We made idle chatter over breakfast, switching to less-grim matters such as the state of the roads, the upcoming plays, Tenalia's plans for which songs to sing during the festival. Pleasant, boring little topics.

The doors to the tavern swung open, and Terakh strode in. Tenalia perked up, eyes aglow as the muscular orc crossed the room. He carried a large cloth bundle, and his crimson eyes gave a curious look at the two bards.

"New friends?"

"Yes," I said. "We'll be riding south with Dazyar to Arkostead. Safety in numbers. Dazyar, Tenalia, this is Terakh."

He grunted and placed the cloth bundle upon the table in front of me, nearly knocking over my tea.

"What's this?"

"A gift."

I opened it slowly, revealing a marvelously crafted scabbard. Intricate orcish sigils covered the fine material.

"For that new sword of yours. Can't just go wandering about with fine steel exposed like that."

I ran my fingers over the sigils, marveling at the craftsmanship.

"This must have cost a fortune."

"A worthy gift, for a worthy warrior."

He cleared his throat and nodded at Xelari.

"Heading out with those Tombflayers now."

After a soft nod, she reached out and brushed her fingers over his wrist.

"Be careful. We'll reunite soon."

"Watch yourselves in Arkostead." After a long, simmering glance at Tenalia, Terakh turned and marched away.

"My, my, my," Tenalia said, twirling a blonde curl in her fingers as he departed. "Quite the traveling companion you have there. It seems all the handsome men are wandering off these days."

"You may yet have your chance to sink your claws into him," I said, grinning. "Assuming he succeeds in his own endeavors and returns here afterwards."

"Let us hope so. I'll needsomething to distract me from Dazyar's absence."

"Oh, come off it," Dazyar said with a roll of his eyes. "We've known each other for five days."

I laughed. From the way she'd pouted and whined, I'd assumed it had been a somewhat established relationship, or at least a longer fling than five days.

"Four days, darling," she said, fluttering her bright eyelashes.

We shared a laugh at that, and I inspected the scabbard Terakh had gifted me.

"Should have asked him what the writing said before he left."

I expected that Xelari, given her experience and wide breadth of knowledge, would be the one to translate it. Instead, Dazyar delicately slid the scabbard across the table for a closer look.

"'May the iron in your hand find the iron in the hearts of your foes,'" he read. "An orcish war-blessing."

"Judging by those fancy clothes, you don't strike me as the sort to associate much with wild orcish clans," I said. "How'd you learn that?"

"I spent two years as the court poet to the Lord-Protector of Nenhaar, on the border with the orcish lands. Did plenty of singing in court during orcish delegations, and I picked up the language during my time there. One of my many talents."

"You never told me that," Tenalia said.

"And when, pray tell, was I going to have the time to tell you every detail of my entire career, hmm? Not much time for explaining all of my skills, with all the wickedness we've been getting up to."

He grinned, and gave Xelari and I a wink.

"Of course, I wouldn't wish to cause offense to our new friends here by speaking further of such things."

"Yes," Xelari said with a wrinkle of her nose, but a twinkle in her eyes confirmed her jest. "I pride myself on being chaste, prim, and proper at all times."

I bit back a snicker, and Tenalia let out another musical laugh.

"Then you are completely unlike any dusk elf I've ever met," the meadow elf said. "Three years ago, I performed for the Archons of the dusk elf enclave at Qal-Uskala, and..." She leaned her head back and sighed.

"Qal-Uskala?" Xelari said, laughing. "Among the dusk elves, Qal-Uskala has a reputation for being the most chaste and reserved of the enclaves. If you were astounded by the debaucherythere, then you only have an inkling of the full truth."

Tenalia blinked.

"You're joking."

"Not in the slightest. Qal-Uskala has strict rules about those sorts of lustful celebrations, allowing them only to occur during certain eclipses. The rest of the time, they are dour, chaste, and boring little prudes."

"Glad I visited at the right time, then," Tenalia said. She glanced over at Dazyar. "You've never had the pleasure of performing at a dusk elf enclave, have you?"

"I've not. Closest I came was singing for a group of dusk elf rangers in a tavern on the outskirts of Qal-Emhara. A dour lot. Didn't see much in the way of fun or debauchery."

"Those are rangers for you," said Xelari. "They have a grim and thankless task, protecting the frontiers of our glades. I'm surprised they even took the time out of their duties to drink and revel in a tavern at all."

"So you've never had a dusk elf?" Tenalia asked, raising an eyebrow at the other bard.

"A heated kiss at a wedding feast a year ago. Nothing more."

"Really? With all of your travels and conquests...not once?"

"I don't choose my lovers based on their bloodlines, Tenalia. It's about the chemistry. The connection. Not checking off boxes on a list."

"You are missing out, darling." She gave me a pointed nod. "Tell him, Esharyn."

"Hmm?"

"Oh, don't be coy. You're telling me you've been rummaging about in the Wildwood for weeks with this gorgeous woman here, and never had a tumble in her bedroll?"

"Oh," I said, shrugging, and choosing my words carefully so as to perfectly annoy the dusk elf. "We have. But..." Another shrug. "Just another night, really. Adequate."

I dared not look at Xelari, though I could certainly hear a sharp intake of breath.

The two bards burst into laughter.

"I daresay it's not bandits or cryptwolves you need to worry about now," said Tenalia.

Xelari's hand reached down, digging fiercely into my thigh, just above the spot where she'd placed the chain-rune.

"Oh?" Xelari said. "Yes, that is right. We did sleep together, didn't we? Hard to tell humans apart, really. You're all just sort of a bland blur."

I finally turned my head, giving her a playful glare as she eyed me while taking a sip of her tea. Those green eyes conveyed delicious threats.

"Well," Dazyar said after a soft laugh. "Before you two start stabbing each other or tearing each other's clothes off right here, we should hit the road, to ensure we get to the next town before dark. The last thing we want is to be out on the road once night falls and the cryptwolves start hunting."

Our mutual glare persisted for a few moments before we finally rose. Dazyar bade farewell to Tenalia with a kiss on the cheek, and a murmur in her ear that caused her eyes to flutter.

"Is the prospect of being a theater's bard in Arkostead really that enticing?" I asked, glancing over my shoulder as we neared the door.

"Tenalia is fun, and a damned talented bard that I'll be delighted to perform with again someday. But ambitions do not rest."

"Indeed," said Xelari.

We claimed our horses from the stables, and Dazyar mounted onto a surprisingly small, shaggy white pony.

"I assumed a grandiose bard like yourself would have a horse to match," Xelari said. "A blue unicorn, perhaps. Or a sleek, black steed like a warrior-poet of old."

"No, no. Cantata here is a lucky girl. She was payment for my very first performance, when I played at the wedding of a stablemaster. The man had no silvers to rub together, and gave me a freshly-born pony instead. And I'd not have it any other way." He brushed a few flies from her mane, and mounted up.

The cobblestone road weaved south, past farms, smaller villages, mills, and the occasional tributary of one of the larger rivers. Merchant caravans traveled in both directions, with the northbound ones warning us of rumors of cryptwolves along the way. Their hired guards eyed the treelines warily, weapons bared and at the ready.

"You've encountered such beasts before?" I asked Dazyar.

"Wander as much as I have, and you encounter just about everything. Especially up north, where I got my start. The roads there are scarcely patrolled."

"And up north is where the cryptwolf scourge first began," Xelari said solemnly.

"Oh, yes," Dazyar said with a knowing nod. "Something about an ancient elven curse?"

"Yes. When humans and orcs began encroaching on the dusk elf glades, the rune-weavers placed a curse upon the wolves in those forests, turning them into undead hunters. The hounds and tamed wolves of the humans slain by those cursed wolves rose from the dead.

"Eventually the curse became a tool. A weapon. Necromancers and death mages could tap into the necromantic power of the beasts. Thus every wandering cryptwolf is thus a potential recruit to a powerful enough mage."

"And do those ancient legends tell of some easy way to dispel or kill the beasts?"

"Fire keeps them at bay, at least for a time. Mundane fire, at least. Magical fire will only drive them into a killing frenzy, so I'll have to be wary of using some of my runes if we encounter them."

He reached behind his back and patted his fiddle.

"You may not even need to worry about that, Keltara. The magic of song may be enough. A tune to lure them away, to distract them, to entice them back into the forest."

"It may not be enough to simply drive them off. We may need to track down their den," Xelari said.

Dazyar and I both cocked our heads.

"What happened to getting to Arkostead for more work?" he asked.

"For one, destroying the local cryptwolf curseis work. We'd likely receive payment for doing so. Maybe even the gratitude of the Lord-Protector himself."

I saw the plans unfolding. We'd need to both adopt new identities or alter our appearances, of course, but if the den proved a large enough crisis, and we were the ones to solve it, that could get us closer to Heroth without him knowing what we were up to. One option among many.

"I recall agreeing to ride with you south, for mutual defense," Dazyar said. "I did not recall signing onto some mad little adventure, to stand like a brave hero of hold against vile undead beasts." His dark face split into a wide smile. "But I'd bedelighted. Not only could we win the accolades of the city, it might just make for a good song. Two beauties and their dashing bard companion, riding off into the dark forest, slaying cryptwolves with song, spell, and steel..."

He hummed under his breath, seemingly already at work on the tune.

As the afternoon sun blazed high in the sky, we stopped at a small marketplace set up at a crossroads. While Dazyar bartered for fresh water and feed for the horses, Xelari pulled me to the side.

"This cannot be a coincidence," she murmured. "Heroth sends a killer after me, the same week that cryptwolves prowl these lands for the first time in decades?"

"How can there possibly be a connection?"

"You yourself said it was unusual that Heroth had contracted out an assassin to hunt a bandit rather than using his own elite scouts or rangers. So it stands to reason that Heroth wanted me dead because I am a member of the Deathless. And who opposes the Deathless?"

"You think he's a death mage, then. And that somehow his activities have...reignited the cryptwolf curse here?"

"Most death mages I've dealt with have used cryptwolves or similar creatures. Some of those haunting the roads may be runaways or castoffs from his own pack."

"Coincidence or not, I think your suggestion was a good one. And hunting those creatures to their den may yield clues as to their origins."

Dazyar returned with freshly-obtained supplies, and an even brighter smile than usual.

"It's not just the Lord-Protector we'd been ingratiating ourselves to if we deal with the cryptwolves. Turns out three of the city's guilds have put out a bounty. Five silver for each cryptwolf skull, and another fifty if we find and destroy the den."

The silver mattered little to the prospect of winning favors from the guilds. If our other gambits to get close to Heroth failed, the guilds might provide us with another way.

We rode on. An hour after leaving the crossroads, we came across four dead sheep in the middle of the road. Their necks were blood-soaked messes of gore, with no hint that whatever had killed them had lingered behind to feast.