Kiravi's Travelogue Ch. 04

How in the Shedia's balls had she done that?

A dart hissed passed, and I had more important things to worry about. Kapak was still screaming insults and had found a spear and shield somewhere. The ambushers finally seemed to be running out of darts, and Kapak's blistering invective seemed to be working as well, as warriors emerged in twos and threes from the rocks to sprint down and ensure none of their crimes were ever reported to the Empire. Most of the qhatuqs huddled near the valuable remaining animals, cudgels and staves in hand, and the guards that survived rushed up to meet the howling tribesmen with their spears.

Another of Leotie's arrows hummed by, and I rushed from the cover of the dead animals, searching for the nearest enemy. The fear was making my legs shake, my hands trembled with anxious energy, but I couldn't hide any longer. A Bhakhuri leaped down the rocks just ahead of me with unnatural grace, mottled all over with the mark of its destructive diet, and buried its stone ax in the skull of an already wounded qhatuq. I rushed through the cloud of steaming, misted blood, and brutally swung my weighted staff at the murderer. He tried to twist awkwardly away, but the bronze-shod wood smashed into his ribs, and I felt one of them snap under the blow. The sour fear in my belly flowed out of me then, into the next furious swing, into the formless roar I unleashed into the night that was suddenly lit like noontide in midsummer. His skull crumpled inwards, his face slackening instantly as my rage smashed the life out of him.

I was in the fight now; the fear was gone, and I knew only that I could fight, or I could die. An Orgos guard howled a warcry in Ymdroki as he skewered a human on the end of his copper tipped spear. Another Bhakhuri, eyes glowing with corruption, grappled with an Enges guard until he gutted the sell-spear with a wickedly sharp obsidian knife. A knot of qhatuqs ambushed a pair of attackers, and I could hear the snap of bones as they pummeled the two to death with bare fists and short clubs.

An Enges rushed at me, and I twisted away from the jab of his spear. My left hand swirled with power as I readied a blast of energy, but my quick swing with the staff was blocked by his hide shield, and, for a moment, I was exposed. I wildly swung again, trying to throw my opponent off-balance by smashing his shins with my staff, but he caught the end under the edge of his shield and stomped down, snapping the wood in half. It didn't matter; I unleashed the bolt of gathered energy at point-blank range into the gap opened by swinging his shield down. His flesh burned and cratered inwards, exposing charred bone and steaming offal, and I shoved him back into a heap with my sandaled foot.

Drawing the obsidian dagger I'd taken from Juniper Valley with my now-empty right hand, I risked a glance back at my female companions. Leotie was running short on arrows, the slain beasts around her pincushioned with a dozen darts intended for her, and, in the next moment, another dart arced in. I thought for sure it'd skewer her, but the tip smashed apart against one of the stones in her breastplate. The force still knocked her down, but she was up again in an instant, pain and determination on her face. Serina was hunched over nearby, dragging a wounded qhatuq towards their cover despite the fact he weighed twice as much as she did. The Orgos who'd taken the dart to the leg was already there, pressing a scrap of Serina's dress against the wound.

The hair on the back of my neck stood up, and my guts twinged with the feeling of magic being used nearby. There was a crack, a flash, and I turned to see Kapak reeling away from Sata as the traitorous Mayor descended through the rocks. His shield was scorched and splintered, his beard smoking, and Sata was rushing towards him. The expensive sword flashed in the light from above, his lips peeled back in a rictus grin of rage.

I rushed across the chaotic track, trying to reach Kapak before Sata did. A Bhakhuri ran past me, stone club raised high to brain an already stunned qhatuq. My knife slid messily into his belly, jarring against a rib, and I yanked it back out in a welter of blood. Sata was only a few paces away from Kapak now, staff glowing again.

I pulled another pulse of magic through myself and into my hand, hurling it on the run at Sata. My blast missed, but Sata's head whipped in my direction, giving the furious Enges caravan master a moment to close with Sata and jab with his spear. Sata parried with the glowing staff, raising the flashing sword high over his head to bring down on Kapak's stunned neck. Kapak was too old, too addled by magic, to possibly escape at least a mortal injury.

My legs were pumping hard, all thoughts of fatigue after an entire day's marching forgotten, and I vaulted a wailing, bleeding human to leap forward and tackle Sata mid-swing.

We tumbled painfully to the track, and I felt the obsidian knife clatter away from my hand. I grabbed hold of his robes with my strong hands, knowing if I stayed close, he'd be hard-pressed to swing the heavy sword. I head-butted him in the nose, feeling cartilage crunch and warm blood on my face, but Sata smashed the hilt of his sword into the side of my head. My ears rang, and stars swam in front of my eyes, but I just growled and roughly pinned his forearm to the dusty ground, using the other to mash his sallow face into the dirt.

He started mumbling something, and too late, I realized his other hand still held the staff.

A burst of magic threw me several paces up and back and hurled Kapak away, and I skidded along the track until a dead llama arrested my movement. Sata hadn't been spared by his own spell, it seemed, and smoke curled away from his tattered robes as we both struggled to our feet. He still held the staff, but his sword lay in the dust between us. Wiping his blood from my eyes, I picked up Kapak's spear, hefting it in my large hands and clenching until my knuckles turned white.

Sata babbled, hurling a bolt of half-formed magic at me across the space separating us. I barely managed to form my glittering yellow shield to absorb the blast, but Sata had only wanted me distracted as he went for the sword. My soul ached from drawing so much magic through myself, but I focused for a moment and desperately cast the spell I'd learned in Atala, willing the wisps of magic from outstretched fingers towards the sword. Jerkily, it clattered away from Sata's reaching hand and into the blood-soaked melee between the largest knot of surviving sell spears and ambushers.

"You fucking low-born swine," Sata snarled, giving up on the sword to turn and face me. He clutched his staff in both hands like a spear, and the decorated tip began to crackle with magic. "Siding with some foreign trash over your own nobles. Your betters."

"Not betters," I growled back, the wood of the spear's haft groaning under the pressure of my hands, "You betrayed the Empire."

"You don't give a shit about the Empire," Sata jabbed with the burning staff at my gut, and I sidestepped, knowing a hit would discharge all of the magic into my vulnerable flesh. My own thrust hit nothing but air as he whirled and swung his weapon at my shoulders. I barely managed to duck out of the way, clumsily trying to thrust at his legs. I was wrong-footed, and I knew he held the advantage.

Sata snarled, seeing me off balance, and stabbed again with a victorious whoop.

The blow stopped before he could discharge the magic into my guts, my huge hand clutching the crackling tip of the staff. What was left of my magic desperately held his back, but I could feel the skin burning on my fingertips, and the pain flaring down my arm. I rose from my crouching position, Sata straining with muscle and magic to send his attack into my chest.

"You're right," I growled through teeth clenched against the pain. The spear in my right hand went forward. His guts offered no resistance as the flint tip punched into his stomach, "I don't care about the Empire," Sata gasped, shuddered with pain, and the magic faded from his staff. I grabbed the spear with both hands, shoving it deeper into his stomach. "You're just scum, Sata al-Kuv, and a coward," my left hand and arm screamed with pain, but I didn't care; I put all of my strength into the spear, slowly lifting Sata off of the ground. He screamed, clutching at the spear in his belly, blood pouring out of his mouth and nose. "Know that I killed you, not because you betrayed the Empire, but because it is all filth like you deserves." He tried to say something, to cry out again, but only more blood splattered from his mouth, and my spear punched out of his back as I lifted him higher, his thrashing body slowly sliding down the wooden haft.

I glared into his tainted eyes as he slid towards me, until the light finally went out of them.

The pain finally overwhelmed my insane burst of strength, and I slumped to my knees, still propping Sata's corpse up on the spear for all to see. Kapak's voice sounded distant in my ears, "Look at your lord! Gutted like the animal he was! Die! Die you filthy fucking cowards!" The fight was turning but not over, and I looked again towards my companions in a daze.

My stomach plummeted. A knot of warriors had swarmed Leotie and Serina, and the two women and the wounded capable of defending themselves were fighting for their lives. I struggled to my feet and staggered towards them, but I knew I wouldn't be able to make it in time, and my magic was spent.

Niknik finished tearing the throat out of one man before snarling and pouncing on another's back, bloody fangs sinking into his nape. An Enges raised an ax to sever the animal's spine, but Leotie shrieked and stabbed the Enges in the throat with her flint knife. Two Bhakhuri dog-piled her, and I could only watch, still two dozen paces away, as she disappeared in a tangle of limbs. Serina was crouched over a wounded qhatuq, desperately parrying blows with a broken half of a spear while a shrieking man swung at her with a cudgel. There was another crack of sound as her eyes flared brightly and she used her strange magic to defend herself; I watched the snarl of hate and terror on her face as she stabbed the broken spear through her attacker's neck.

A howl split the melee, and I saw the wounded Orgos tear the dart from his leg and leap up, stabbing it through one of Leotie's attackers. He grabbed the other and hauled the hapless Bhakhuri up, tearing into its throat with his elongated canines. Another Enges rushed forward, spear reaching, but the blood-crazed Orgos threw the gurgling Bhakhuri onto the spear point before knocking the Enges down with a vicious haymaker punch. He knelt over the stunned Enges, raining blows down into its skull until it stopped thrashing.

It was over. A few of the warriors might've fled into the rocks beyond the light of Serina's spell, but there was no way they could threaten us again. But the dust of the track was soggy with blood and voided bowels, and animals and men alike screamed into the night, trying to hold their brutalized bodies together. Kapak's convoy was very nearly ruined.

I blinked, trying to will away the pain in my left arm. It was ruined, I knew it. My fingers were scorched and blackened, a strange bruise already forming all the way up my arm to and past my elbow, following the lines of my veins. But I tried to focus on something, anything else and felt the painful sting of the magical light burning down on all of us. The air was hot, searingly so, and only growing warmer. Steam curled up from the pools of blood and offal, and I was far from the only one shielding my eyes against the light and the heat.

"Serina!" I shouted, stumbling towards the grisly pile of bodies around the slain llamas. "Serina! You have to stop the spell!" I climbed over the bodies, seeing the teenage oracle still clutching the haft of the spear impaled through her attacker's neck.

She was muttering, her eyes burning as painfully bright as the pendant above us. "Sha naqba imuru, sha naqba imuru, sha naqba imuru," she had no control over the magic; it was controlling her, and it was out of control.

"Serina!" I shouted in her face, grabbing her soft cheeks but recoiling; they were burning up. "Serina, please, you have to stop," I pleaded with her, trying to meet her gaze, "Serina, your magic. You have to stop."

"Sha naqba...sha," she whispered, and she looked as though she was staring through me, "She needs my magic. She needs to exist."

I ignored her ranting for the moment, my skin red and painful, "Serina, come back. Please."

She went from staring through me to staring at me. Staring into me. My conduit, my soul, ached, magic washing over me in some strange way. "She needs me. I need you." I felt, suddenly, as though I were falling, but knew I wasn't moving, and she lunged forward and pressed her lips against mine.

We tumbled backward together, and I expected to land on the grisly mat around us, but I felt only surprisingly soft ground beneath me. Serina moaned into our kiss, eagerly pushing her tongue against my lips, searching for mine. A small voice questioned all of this, tried to understand where we were, but all I could focus on was her kiss. My tongue eagerly met hers, massaging her, and my hands traveled up her thighs to pull up her dress.

But her dress was gone, and I could feel her skin, achingly warm, against mine. I cupped her plump ass with my huge hands, kneading and squeezing her feminine curves as she ground her hips down into mine. Her slick lower lips caressed my rapidly hardening length, her nectar boiling hot and flowing until my hips were practically coated.

I pulled back and tried to speak, "Serina, what..."

"She needs me. I need you. She needs you," she stopped me, moaning as she sat up in my lap. I could see her slender waist and plump breasts in all of their glory as she looked down at me with glowing eyes. One hand covered my mouth, silencing me, and the other reaching back to grasp my hardness. I wanted to look past her or around me to understand what was happening, but my eyes couldn't leave her bronze-skinned body.

Both of us moaned loudly as she shifted her hips slightly and slid my hardness inside her, as if it was the only place in the world it belonged. "Oh gods, Serina," I growled, surprised at myself as insane pleasure rushed through me, already sending me to the edge of ecstasy.

"Unh, I, unh, I've been dreaming of this for days, Kiravi," she moaned, not moving, just getting used to me filling her up completely. "I have so much to tell you and so much to ask you." She put her small hands on my muscular chest, tentatively starting to bounce her hips up and down on mine. She whimpered quietly on every downstroke as I filled her up again. Panting, moaning, her pace grew faster and faster, her movements awkward and uncertain but fueled by passionate intensity.

I tried, again, to focus on anything other than the oracle riding me, but the pleasure was too powerful, her beauty too great, and I was compelled to do nothing other than hold her hips as she bounced herself on my cock. It was all I could do to hold off; I gritted my teeth, bit the inside of my cheek, anything. This was utterly foreign to me, the extreme and instant pleasure and a woman so easily overpowering me with her sudden desire, and I just held on for dear life.

"She needs me," she moaned, finding a better rhythm, sighing, "I need you," she threw her head back, her silken hair flying out in a gorgeous arc, shoving her breasts into my face, "She needs you," I couldn't help myself, and I craned my head up to greedily suck and lick her offered brown nipples. She repeated her mantra, again and again, tugging and pulling at my hair, panting her need.

"Serina, oh gods, darling," I moaned, her slick wetness massaging my length perfectly, so wet and so tight and so warm, "Who...who is she? Oh fuck, Serina, I'm going to..." I was losing the battle against the insane pleasure.

"No, no, not yet!" She cried, ignoring my question, and I gasped out loud as she pulled herself off of me, depriving me of her silken warmth. What she did next, dear readers, no woman had ever done to me, but I quickly learned that I didn't mind. She shifted her knees, pulling on my shoulders to draw her petite form up my torso until her hips had settled over my face, and all I could see was her glistening folds.

"Lick me."

Her words weren't harsh or commanding, but her lust and desire were so pressing and needful that I couldn't help but listen to her and obey. Her hands tightly gripping the messy braids of my hair, my hands eagerly kneading the soft flesh of her ass, I let my tongue run up and down her wetness. Her taste was divine, sweet and musky all at once; I lapped at her like a man dying of thirst.

I cursed myself for not doing this when I first bedded her and told myself that I'd do it every single other opportunity I got. My tongue parted her lips easily as if they were drawing me in, and I lapped at her inner heat faster and faster. Her fingers dug into my scalp in time with her grinding hips and her ragged moans, and I couldn't help but groan into her wetness at the divine taste and knowledge that I was driving her to her release. For, as selfish as I know I could and can be, dear readers, there was always something that drove me wild about making my partners cry out with pure lust.

So I let loose a muffled growl and roughly pulled her hips forward and down, pressing against my eager mouth until I could barely breathe, and let my lips find the hard nub of her clit. She cried out in surprised ecstasy, her voice seeming to echo within itself, but I didn't give her a moment to recover. I suckled hard with my lips, my tongue still traveling up and down her slit, and I could feel her shapely thighs quiver on either side of my face.

"Kiravi, oh goddess, oh yes, right there!" She moaned, her voice rising higher and higher. I worked harder, willing to do anything to please her, needing it, her nectar pouring across my lips and chin, "Unh, no, no Kiravi, it has to be together," she moaned, pulling my head away from her and suddenly pulling her hips away.

I groaned in confusion and sudden loss, but she was sliding her nubile body down mine, the feel of her soft and sweaty skin, her achingly hard nipples, the look in her glowing eyes, all of it more than making up for the loss of her womanhood. For a moment, I wondered where she was going, but soon it seemed that she was going to return the favor she'd just demanded from me.

"She needs me, I need you, she needs you," she whispered, crouching between my legs, hefting my length still wet with her juices, "I'm so nervous," she moaned, breathless, even as she gently stroked me and unconsciously parted her lips.

"Don't be," I said, my breath already coming in shallow, ragged gasps. With every scrap of mental effort, with all of my will, I tried to look away from the beautiful young woman ready and eager to pleasure me. The compulsion was too strong; I barely remembered the butchery on the track, and I barely noticed that her usually bronze skin was literally glowing with a reddish light. "Who is she?" I asked again, and it was all I could manage to say, looking into her burning eyes.

"I wish I could show you," she moaned before squeezing her eyes shut and leaning forward to take me.

My hands clutched at the strangeness surrounding us, my hips involuntarily arching upwards as I felt her divinely soft lips wrap around my tip. She was tentative, unsure, but she cooed around my harness as I groaned, loud and unintelligible. Her mouth descended maybe a hand's length down my aching cock, two-thirds of it still visible, and her soft tongue gently lapped at the underside of my tip.