Lost in the Light Ch. 13

For the fifth time that night, her hands drifted to his cock and started to play with it. Wolfe grunted and rolled away from her. He wanted to sleep, and she was insatiable. But the moment he did so, his half asleep mind regretted it, as another pair of hands drifted to his cock and picked up where the others had left off. Groggily he sat up, managed to crawl out of bed from between them, found his robe in the darkness, and pulled it over his head.

"trouble sleeping?" one of them said with a hint of mischief in her voice.

"...piss." he muttered, lying. "have fun without me." He opened the door before the two twins could protest. Not that they would, they were all too eager to entertain one another. This had been going on for a couple of days, and he was getting too sleep deprived to indulge their desires anymore. What had started out as a slut's wet dream made reality was becoming a curse and souring his mood more than usual. Two Zeks was too many. Two too many, he was coming to realize.

Wolfe made his way down the footpaths to the latrines, finished his business, and wander out into the middle of the training yard. The moon was half full but bright, his sleepy eyes could adjust and make out the ground, sand, grass, dirt, stones and all. The air was cold. Dawn would come soon. He slowly raised his arms up, spread his feet, and fell into a bare handed fighting stance. He maintained his form and posture until the weariness of his back and shoulders abated. The cold air made his breath float about in the air. Wolfe shut his eyes and ignored the rest of his senses...

A hand tapped him on the shoulder and his body jerked suddenly. Wolfe opened his eyes to a bright morning sun and the chirps of birds. Mero was standing beside him dressed in his training trousers and vest. Wolfe closed them again with a grunt of annoyance. Slowly, Mero circled Wolfe, watching him, looking at him, waiting for something to happen that never did. When he came back to the place he was standing when he first woke him, he struck.

Wolfe deflected the punch for his face with his arm and countered with his own open palm strike to Mero's chest. It connected. Mero gasped more in surprise than from the force behind it, countered by grabbing Wolfe's wrist and spun around to throw the man over his shoulder. Wolfe's body went limp, and he soared gracefully over. The instant his feet touched the ground, his whole body curled into action using the momentum to pull Mero over Wolfe's shoulder. Mero landed with a thud and a grunt, but recovered by sweeping his legs around in a circle to knock Wolfe off his. He was too slow, and Wolfe was out of range, poised for another strike just as Mero rose to his feet.

Fully awake and aware of each other's readiness, they circled one another, waiting for the right moment to strike. Mero broke first, striking his fist at Wolfe's face. Wolfe threw an arm up and blocked it, following it with a counterstrike at Mero's elbow, but Mero countered. The two men exchanged blows back and forth, each equally matched at dodging, blocking, and counter-striking, and neither landed an effective hit.

Mero's traditionally disarming smile was absent from this fight. His countenance was utterly serious, and for the first time since they began Wolfe was wondering why they were fighting. Such sparring sessions were common, as were ambushes. But something about this felt off.

"You've gotten better." Mero commented, slightly winded. Wolfe was calm, eerily calm. "But it's not the training. You haven't had any new lessons. Just chores, and practice." Mero changed his stance to a wider step. Wolfe recognized it as one of the weapon styles, but Mero was unarmed. He watched one of Mero's hand go behind him to the small of his back. Wolfe knew then that he was armed. The weapon would come out when he struck, and not before.

Wolfe dove forward with his arm thrown back to strike, Mero brought the knife out in one fluid motion meant for Wolfe's neck. The punch was a feint, Wolfe had his weight on the wrong foot when he was within range, and was able to duck under and sweep Mero's knee at the same time. The kick met with little resistance, as Mero turned his body at the last moment to minimize the impact. Wolfe's free hand had caught Mero's blade hand at the wrist, and he snaked the other under Mero's chin until his elbow was under it and he pulled hard, arching the man's body backwards. The danger to this move, was that he was locked into it until Mero passed out from blood loss to the brain, and until the he was at the mercy of Mero's other hand, even if it was mostly out of range.

Mero jumped. Flipped his body over, breaking the hold, and dislocating his shoulder in the process. And with his free hand picked up his knife and took a more deadly stance. His intentions were deadly serious, this was not a sparring session. Wolfe backed away uncertainly, but kept his confusion and concerns out of this fight. Mero had started it, and Wolfe would end it.

"So what has changed?" Mero asked in all seriousness, expecting an answer. Wolfe reflected for moment. He had gone through some changes ever since she came into his life.

"I stopped feeling safe." Wolfe answered. Mero relaxed, put away his weapon, and stood up.

"Good." Mero said. He grabbed his lame arm by the bicep, twisted and yanked in one precise movement until there was a loud pop, followed by Mero's grunt of relief.

"Are we done here?" Wolfe said irritably.

"No. The Father summons you. Come with me."

"Shit." Wolfe muttered and reluctantly followed his senior, albeit at a respectful distance now.

Master Conner was waiting for them outside The Father's study. He looked none too happy to see Wolfe, but he knocked once on the door before opening it. The three men filed in by rank. Wolfe respectfully closed the door behind him. The room was small and sparse, a long writing table sat in the middle of the room, wooden chests with numerous drawers sat waist high and symmetrically along both walls. There were no chairs, as this room was designed in the old ways of the T'ien Lun monks that first founded the Monastery, and not the Greiggor Kingdom that had later taken over the land. Whatever business The Father did in here, he had put it all away and cleaned the room for whatever ceremony or event that was now about to take place.

Three pieces of parchment were placed at three positions on the table opposite The Father. A writing brush and ink stone accompanied them. The Father did not look up at them, but stared blankly at the table lost in thought. Conner took a seat on the floor before the first blank parchment. Mero followed his lead, and Wolfe sat down last. Only once they were seated did The Father look up.

"Write for me the T'ien character for Cha." He instructed. Conner and Mero immediately took up the ink stick and began grinding the ink stone in the stone well into a powder. Wolfe followed their lead. When they realized there was no water to mix the powder with, Mero drew his knife, sliced his palm and let the blood drip into the mixing well on the stone. Conner did the same. Wolfe spit into his. Yet The Father did not reprimand him. All three wrote the character flawlessly on their paper.

"Write for me the T'ien character for Jhun." The Father instructed. "Place it before Cha." Writing backwards was unusual, but after all three did so, they looked to the writing and realized it spelled something unexpected - Hyan-Gyarr.

"Written this way, Char becomes Gyarr, and Jhun becomes Hyan." The Father explained, but all three had already understood this. This was clearly becoming some sort of ceremony to Wolf. He wasn't sure what this was for, or why he was even here sitting next to two Masters, while he was a lowly initiate. "Gyarr. 'Chaos'." The Father read. "Gyarr. 'Person responsible for."

"We, the Huangard. Take our namesake from this meaning. What does this word mean to you, Master Connor?" The Father asked.

"A person who causes change." Connor answered.

"What does this word mean to you Master Mero?" The Father asked.

"A man who brings equal calamity and prosperity." Mero said thoughtfully.

"What does this word mean to you Initiate Wolfe?" The Father asked. There was no scorn in his voice, and that made Wolfe even more uncomfortable.

"A disruptor." Wolfe said plainly. He thought he saw The Father's eyebrow twitch angrily, or maybe it was surprise. "I read it as a person that causes disorder. If I wanted to imply great calamity I would have used a different symbol."

"Oh? Such as?" The Father indulged him.

"Shen, Fyo, - 'earthquake'" Wolfe said offhand and started to wrack his brain for others but the look in the Father's face told him to immediately stop there.

"Wolfe has been chatting with Liam it seems," The Father said sternly as his tranquil brow turned to a dark scowl. "Normally I would kill him for disobeying me, but it seems it has paid off and he has learned something important. We are also known as Disruptors. And that was pretty smart, boy. But reckless. You almost had her killed"

"Gotten her killed?" Wolfe said confused.

"Yes," The Father said condescendingly. "Without you around to keep her occupied, do you think the rest of us would tolerate a Zek?" The old man snorted derisively. He cleared his throat loudly and looked to the other Masters. "This paper is your writ to take the last trial. You will either succeed or die trying. Your days of training are over." The Father said getting back on track. "Take it with you. Ready yourselves. At noon be at the chapel. Silas will open the catacombs for you. Your trial lies at the bottom. Now go." He bowed his head ever so slightly and stayed there. Both Masters bowed theirs lower, and Wolfe was forced to slide back from the table so that his forehead could touch the floor without first hitting the table. Mero and Connor rose to their feet and. Wolfe stayed behind.

"Father, may I ask a question?" He said respectfully and meekly. This honor was not meant for him and he did not know why he was selected.

"Wolfe, I'm weary of you disappointing me. This trial is meant to kill you and get you out of my hair. Now go." The Father waved his hand dismissively at the young man. Wolfe bowed again and left without another word.

The rest of the morning was a nervous, anxiety filled blur as he walked the grounds in thought. The piece of paper was still clutched in his hand. He was not a Master. He did not have their experience and training. He could fight, but nowhere near as well as a Master. Is there any reason he could see this as anything other than a death sentence?

"Why not just kill me?" Wolfe muttered out loud. He froze in his steps and looked around to see if anyone had heard him. None had. No, he was right he realized. This was too expensive a death trap to waste on him. Surely there was another Master ready to take the trial? So why him? Wolfe decided it was The Father's way of giving him one last chance to prove himself. He didn't feel like proving himself anymore. He didn't even want to be a part of this place. But, there was no other choice. Escape was impossible. If he went anywhere near the walls, even if he managed to get over one it would be a dead run for many long minutes to make the tree line outside the Monastery. He would have been run down and killed by one of the Masters on guard duty. Ever since The Mischievous freed her sister from Silas's clutches, the wall guard had double. Damn her. Everything was fine until she showed up.

Wolfe sighed the moment he thought it and knew he was wrong. Everything wasn't fine, he was just oblivious to the evil around him. It was because of her that his eyes were now opened to it. He owed her. If he was going to die in a few hours, he should say his goodbyes and tell her to flee.

Wolfe found one of The Mischievous still asleep in his bed. He decided not to wake her. But instead changed out of his robes and into his training clothes. She roused from the slight noise he made. After a long happy purr while she stretched, during which she showed off her curvy dark skin and full breasts, Wolfe found himself wanting one last hard fuck from her. But he knew better. He was tired enough as it was.

"They're sending me to take the last trial." He said, turning away from her as he pulled on his clothes. She propped herself up on one elbow and ran her fingers down her side and over her hip, trying her best to compel him to cease what he was doing, reverse course of action, and join her. "It's a test only the Masters can take. For some reason they picked me this time. The Father thinks it will kill me and rid him of my inconvenience."

The Mischievous sat up and look away as she processed this. Her mind worked in dark, devious, and dastardly ways, and sometimes she uncovered secret intentions that Wolfe missed. But this time her deliberations lasted long enough for him to finish dressing and pull his shoes on.

"They need you to become stronger than you are now. They need this now." She finally said, trying to give him hope. "If the Father wanted you dead, you'd be dead. He has no need to hide it. If Silas wanted you dead, you would be. No, you..." she paused when she caught sight of something. She rose to her feet, letting the rough blanket fall to the floor and walked to him. She touched his arm and examined the deep bruises forming down his forearm. "You were already tested, and you passed."

She smiled. It was a genuine smile. And it was the first time Wolfe had seen that. She touched his cheek and drew him down for a loving kiss. That too, was a first. Wolfe wanted to throw her against the wall and take her in all kinds of different manners. But the surreality of her tenderness had the effect of a splash of cold water. This was how she showed that she was worried for him. Or worse, actually loved him.

"If you're going to leave, do it now. Don't wait for me. If I survive this, I'll be right behind you." he finally mustered the courage to say.

"We'll wait until tonight." she said and bid him farewell in Zecairin fashion. Wolfe had to push her away, before she pulled him in. But The Mischievous would not be denied and took his hands from her shoulders and squeezed her breasts with them.

"We'll do that, and lots of that, after we're free of here." He said out of breath from her passionate lip-lock. She certainly knew how to get his blood boiling.

"Good. Keep that in mind when you fear the worst." She said seriously and turned away from him. "Use that as power to keep you... hard." she said with a knowing glance down at his bulging trousers. "We will have our escape route mapped out when you get back."

Wolfe turned and left his quarters in a hurry. He still had plenty of time before noon, but if he stayed in that room any longer with her, he would end up being late.

When the appointed time came, he found Silas waiting for him near the stone altar on the dais in the back. Only the alter had moved aside revealing a dark staircase into a cellar. Silas was grinning from ear to ear when he saw Wolfe approach.

"The others are ahead of you," The fat sorcerer said. Wolfe shrugged at him.

"Does it matter?" He asked.

"No," Silas almost laughed. Wolfe didn't understand his meaning.

"Do you have any advice?" Wolfe asked as his bravado wavered but for a moment.

"No!" Silas did laugh. And Wolfe left him laughing behind him as he made his way down the stairs. Torches at regular intervals lighted his path; all of this had been arranged a head of time it seemed.

He shouldered his spear he had picked up from the smithy. Sebastian was more of a tinkerer than a real blacksmith, but he could work metal when he needed to. Wolfe had asked it to be sharpened while his lessons had been suspended and his practices had been hand-to-hand combat only. He tightened the lacing on his leather bracers while he descended into the depths of the catacombs - any sort of fidgeting he could do to take his mind off the macabre surroundings. The hallway had opened up to a central chamber dug out of the earth and reinforced with thick wooden beams. Burial champers were notched out of the walls and all the remains of deceased Brothers remained undisturbed. Despite the creepiness of his surroundings, it was a tranquil place. Not even rats scurried around.

The trip down was rather relaxing. The air was dry and heavy with old rot in some places. Wolfe covered his mouth with his hand when he reached heavier pockets of funky air, but it hardly helped. The structured catacombs soon turned into natural cave formations before erupting into an underground citadel of magnificent architecture Wolfe couldn't help but stop and whistle at its impressiveness. Granite columns soared up to the ceiling at regular intervals. Their caps lost to the darkness as the torches' light was greatly diminished in this wide open cavern. Wolfe followed the orange lights that showed him the way and it wasn't long before he heard voices.

"...hells is that?!" Conner was exclaiming as he and Mero were looking through a large stone archway in the wall into the next chamber. Inside, a blobulous creature larger than most houses sat calm and still and very alive. It had no face, nor a head of any sort, but it had what could only be called arms in the thinnest stretch of the word. More like tentacles of some sea creature that ended in all manner of grasping claw-like structures. Some resembled fingers, some claws, one looked like a mouth with no nose or eyes, and one... a plumage of cocks. It was alive. The random movement of those appendages was sign enough. But it didn't seem to have a mouth, never mind a head. Both Masters had taken up opposite sides of the doorway and were gazing upon the creature's hideous form with bewilderment.

"That, is The Mother," Wolfe said confidently and stopped in the middle of the archway between the two men. "And She is a demon."

"The fuck you on about Wolfe?" Connor demanded. "What's a Mother?"

"I'm guessing the source of Silas's dark arts." Wolfe said and brought his spear off his shoulder, gave it a twirl, and dropped it into a one-handed charge position.

"A fucking demon?!" Conner said in disbelief. "How the hell is that our trial?"

"I'm only guessing..." Mero interjected. "That we're to cut off a piece and bring it back for Silas. I don't see that fat cow getting near it. I don't see us killing it, not without a lot of fire, and that would ruin later trials, seeing as it seems to have grown too fat to leave this room it's obviously captive."

"Be my guest, I'm only here to die." Wolfe said with a sigh, planted the butt of his spear in the ground, and stared at his reflection in the blade head. The freshly polished head shined the torch light well enough to show him that he hadn't shaved in a few days.

"Enough of this," Mero said with a hiss and boldly stepped into the room. "Ho there, Mother!" He said in greeting. The creature didn't seem to notice him, or be able to respond. Mero approached cautiously, but the darkness of the room seemed to have played tricks on their eyesight as the closer he approached the farther away the Mother seemed to still be. Mero stopped, looked back, and upon finding himself alone and out of earshot beckoned the other two men to follow. Conner did immediately, not to be outdone, and Wolfe reluctantly came after. The moment he crossed the threshold a metal portcullis slammed down behind them.

"Of course." Wolfe muttered.

"What'd you do?" Conner hissed.

"I crossed the invisible line," Wolfe said nonchalantly and walked past him with his spear back over his shoulder. "Come along now Master, let us go die bravely."

"Fuck you Wolfe," Conner shot back, but followed him none the less.

Mero was waiting on them with his arms crossed over his chest irritable. Wolfe put a hand on Conner's shoulder to stop him.