Morixxyleth

Author's Notes: This story is erotic fantasy written by Etaski. I reserve the right to be listed as the author of this story, wherever it is posted. If found posted anywhere except Literotica.com with this note attached, this story is posted without my permission. (c) Etaski 2016.

This really is just a simple, erotic story. It's nice to write one of those now and then. :) There is a connection here to my other Dragon story, "Lethrix," however they can be read separately and on their own, no context needed.

Fans of "Surfacing" will recognize this backstory, brought to the foreground at the request of sponsoring patrons.

Enjoy with my thanks!

Morixxyleth

"There ye are. Finally!"

The dwarf had heard his partner step into the office but hadn't turned around yet as he finished sorting a few reports in order of priority. Then he dusted his hands and turned around.

"Ye know, kid, this ain't gonna work as well, you snatchin' something this disorganized from a bigger lizard an' then disappearin' on m—"

Talov stopped himself. Then, "Who th' fuck is that?"

The kid was still wrapped in his cloak and hood, trying to hide his face as he used the shadows to his advantage—as he did so well. Still, that would have been more for the benefit of keeping the night guardsmen's eyeballs inside their sockets than for the woman he held. She had a black bag over her head; not to mention she was limp and unconscious.

"Fainted when she saw ye?" Talov asked curiously, stroking his bright, copper-red beard as the quite-tall lad put the young woman down on the couch.

Mourn grunted irritably, one nostril rising to show fang. "Yes."

"Why'ja feel th' need to let 'er see? It's only gonna make this plan more complicated—"

"She's Manalara, Talov."

Manalara? The kid had gone and snatched one of the Sun-worshippers?

The dwarf threw up his hands. "Oh, great! Even better!"

"She ran!" he barked at him.

"From you? Of course she would!"

"No! She ran away! Ran from her father, her brothers." Talov just detected some tremors in his young friend's hands, even as he tried to hide his face. "I saw what they did to her."

"Happens every day around those parts, kid," the dwarf growled. "An' ye keep goin' there tah see it an' get angry over it! Ye can't save 'em all an' most of 'em don' wanna be saved."

He lifted his head abruptly. "She did! She cried for help. She wanted them all to die."

Half of Mourn's face was covered, but Talov narrowed his eyes at how much he could read on his long-time partner. "Wha'dya do, Mourn? Don' tell you ye killed 'em all."

Mourn did as he asked; he remained silent and didn't tell him that's exactly what he did. His Dark Elf half was on clear display, though.

"Fuckin' Hells, kid." Talov rubbed his face, thinking of the repercussions.

"As if we haven't killed troublesome groups on our adventures," he replied scornfully.

The dwarf shook his head. "Different game, now, kid. Ye barely settled here in Augran. Ye just fought for an' inherited a Dragon's hoard."

"He wasn't a full Dragon."

"Neither are you. An' I'm sayin' ye gotta slow down. The road tactics we lived by for decades ain't gonna fly in a city stronghold. 'Specially if ye want long-term power."

The kid didn't respond right away. Talov looked around and snatched up his pouch of bite-rousk from the desk. He dug out a morsel and put it between his left molars, biting down and sucking on the juice that came out as his saliva moistened it. He sighed. "So where's Graul?"

Mourn had gently tugged off the black bag so the poor woman could breathe easier. "He's keeping watch."

Talov grunted, eyeing the young Manalara woman. Red hair. Freckles. Decent tits pressing against a plain, night-blue dress. She'd be cute if it wasn't for all the bruises.

"Little guy's often yer better voice, Mourn. Wha'd he have tah say about this?"

The kid pursed his purplish-black lips tightly then looked at him finally with those powerful, metallic-gold eyes. "Graul could see her magic. He agreed we should take her."

Both the dwarf's shaggy brows shot up and he leaned back slightly, dropping his crossed arms. "Aye. I see."

Or rather, he wished he could. Talov couldn't see the mage's auras the way Krithannia and Mourn could; he always had to take their word for it. But the three of them were actively looking for and recruiting more people who could learn magic. Especially any like this, who would just be killed for witchcraft sooner or later anyway.

A red-headed, untrained peasant girl near Manalar, screaming out a curse that her family would all die, and it coming true...?

Oh, yeah. Just a matter of time, if Mourn had left her there. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

"Gotcha," the dwarf said. "So...what's 'er name?"

"I do not know yet."

"Maybe better Krithy is the first one she sees wakin' up, then. She'll get 'er name, ye know how good she is."

Mourn nodded agreement. "May we leave her here?"

"If ye like. Better go find Krithannia, then, quick-like. I'll watch 'er." Talov smirked. "But ye better hurry if ye don't want the second-ugliest face the girl has ever seen tah be mine."

*******

Her name was Halete Ebtryne. It was a very Malanaran name, but she spoke a "low" Common easily enough. She asked to be called Letti, like her mother used to call her.

"What happened to your mother?" Krithannia asked kindly.

Her calm presence reassured the girl she was safe; the Pale Elf's alien beauty and a few easy cantrips swiftly had the girl believing in magic for real, if she'd had any doubt. It also made her believe that the witches and the devils had come for one of their own.

Letti admitted wasn't as upset about this, about what it revealed of her soul, as the Bishops of the Church would have had her be.

"Poppi got drunk one night an'...." Her voice trailed off, her pale, thin fingers turning the water glass around and around in her grip. "Wasn't that long ago but I knew it was comin'. Then Mammi wasn't around t' distract 'em anymore. An' I was next."

Mourn was crouched next to a spy hold, looking in and listening. Letti had been allowed to bathe in privacy—or at least apparent privacy—and she'd eaten, and she was warm and in her second hour of talking with the Noldor. Talov's instincts had proven correct again how much Krithannia could learn just be talking. Letti knew she'd gotten her gifts, "these strange urges," from her mother, and Krithannia had tested her, convinced her that others could see it, too, and that was why she was saved.

"Are they gonna come find me?" the young Human asked fearfully.

"They were killed the same night you were brought here," the Pale Elf told her frankly, yet comforting. "They can never come after you."

Halete was silent for several minutes, sipping water and staring at its rippling surface. Finally she nodded. "Good."

Another sip.

"So. Can I meet him?"

"Meet who, child?"

Halete made the conscious effort to speak better and not slur as much. "The one who killed them for me. The one with the black face and devil's eyes."

Krithannia smiled a bit. "How do you know he was real?"

"Because...he was magic. Pure magic. I could..." Letti fumbled for a description. "I could taste it on my tongue."

Mourn smiled a bit, unconsciously breathing in through his teeth, his tongue pressed to the back of them. He smelled spice like cedar, strength like oak. The way she moved reminded him of something quick, like a fox.

"Or do you have to summon him back, first?" the girl asked, now uncertain. "From wherever he came from?"

Krithannia looked sly for a moment, scratching her chin at the forwardness of the girl. "He would have to be summoned, I suppose."

"If you were going to send me anywhere, what could I do for the favor before you did?" Letti pressed her. "I...I wanna tell him thanks, an'...an' I'm sorry that I passed out when I saw him. He's not that bad, it was just....everything goin' on at the time."

"I'm sure he understands, Letti. And we weren't planning to send you anywhere unless you have the desire to leave right now."

"Have nowhere to go," Halete answered plainly. "I'll stay. Work for you, cook, clean, mend, whatever you need. You can't be worse than what I just left."

"We could be, child, it's wise to bear it in mind," Krithannia said. "But it would be our goal not to be."

The underfed redhead put her glass down and fisted the blanket covering her lap like she was gathering strength the way she would knead bread. "Would you teach me magic? To serve you better?"

The Noldor chuckled in amusement. "We would."

"We? So, more than you?"

"If your focus proves strong enough."

"It will. Bet your locks it will. So will I get to meet him?"

Mourn smirked, his tail tapping lightly down by his feet; it sounded no more than a mouse scritching about.

"We will see."

*******

Halete's scent grew more complex very quickly, within a single season. In addition to the cedar, oak, and fox, the Human girl added plum and sparrow to her aura as her body filled out with better food and her spirits soared with the swiftness of her newly embraced skills.

Mourn wasn't exactly sure how Talov and Krithannia made her feel so at home in Augran, when she'd never really had a home... but then, he only knew that his two greatest friends could make him feel the same so far from the Underdark. By comparison, being away was more at home than where he and the Human girl each had been.

He did not always watch her—he could not, he had many tasks to do—but lately, at either day's end or days' beginning, as light and dark were changing places, he would watch for signs of contentment and excitement to show up in her hair and echo in her spine as she yawned and stretched.

Consistently, they were always there. She was happy; she would be trustworthy.

She could be Guild.

Mourn's tongue would flick out and swab at her scent, somewhat baffled at the way his groin would relax and his saliva would thicken at the bottom of his mouth. Baffled at first, but soon deciding that he liked it. Sometimes he got the same feeling around Krithannia, but then business would come up or...much less pleasant, his Aunt would rise out of the shadows with her snake whip and he would turn away from it, would stop focusing on the feeling.

The interest had been coming and going for almost forty years now. Occasionally other females triggered a similar reaction, but he had never been around them long enough to consider it deeper.

Now he had a lot of opportunity to consider. He wanted to consider it deeper.

"When should she be allowed to meet me?" he'd asked Talov one night.

The dwarf was grumpy for not having quite had the night he'd been expecting, as his "bed-warmer" invitation had fallen through for reasons Mourn didn't understand. The squat, bulky figure puffed on a pipe instead, swigging ale in between.

"Bah, waited too long already, ye ask me," Talov replied.

"What do you mean?"

"I know you Elves think ye got all the time in the world, that's one thing you and Krithy have in common. But this girl's Human. What is it you call 'em? Yun-gar. Ye've given her too much time to build ye up in her mind."

Mourn tilted his head with a narrowed gaze. "We had to test her, to see if she's trustworthy for the Guild."

Talov plucked the mouth of the pipe from his lips and pointed it at him. "Fair point, but ye still shoulda let her say thanks when she first mentioned it. I know ye went with Krithy's view that time, but I'm still sayin' it was a mistake. 'Specially if now yer decidin' ye kinda like how she's cut."

"What? I'm not—"

"Don't bullshit an old bullshit artist, kid. I ain't never seen anyone wait as long as you to figure out the plumbing down there, but I assure you, it's workin' right proper if I get the gleam in the eye right. Been kinda expectin' tah hear moans and thump-thump-thumps comin' from Krithy's room since ye claimed victorious over the other guy and we got settled in here, tah be honest."

Mourn felt his face go hot but his sensitive, all-important tongue wasn't exactly working right then for words. Plumbing? That was one of those Underdark-inspired projects the dwarf's contacts in Taiding were working on. What did it have to do with...?

He wondered if he had caught Talov had a wrong time.

"Bah!" the dwarf grumped again. "Not mixin' pleasure an' business ain't a bad thing in general, kid. Krithy's got loads o' time, she ain't in no hurry, she'll wait fer ya. But ye better decide quick about Letti before she decides you were never real in th' first place." He puffed. "Might still be too late, actually. Might just let the ship sail, kid."

Mourn excused himself soon after. Try as he always did, he didn't understand every time what the gruff Tundar was talking about when he spoke in the short-view.

******

It was when Halete had mastered the ability to call fire, and thus added that perfect spice to her essence, that Mourn finally decided to let her see him.

Night had just fallen. He and Graul had just returned from a rather lengthy trek and snow had begun to layer itself upon the ground in many areas. Krithannia and Talov were not immediately available for debriefing, so the idea had come upon him to see how their newest witch was doing.

That was when they had seen her start the fire in her hearth with her own words, and Mourn got a whiff of her scent. She was stronger. Mature.

Still in hunt-and-stalk mode, Mourn and his drake familiar did not consider whether waiting for morning might be better. The Sun still hurt their eyes anyway; that had never really stopped. Graul did not protest, sensing something interesting as well and agreeing to stay hidden within the shadows, only the occasional red gleam of his eyes visible as he shifted his ever-inquisitive focus.

"Who is there?" the former Manalara asked, frightened and angry at once. It was so familiar.

"I won't harm you," his voice came through the walls. "I once helped you."

Halete's face remained concerned as she slowly turned around, looking for him in her empty room. "I remember your voice. But I can't see you."

She had changed her accent to sound much less like her family, so the people in Augran wouldn't know so easily where she was from.

"Will you scream if you do?" he asked.

Her pale, freckled face flushed a blotchy red before it evened out. "I won't this time. I swear it."

He waited until she looked toward the fire again before lifting a trapdoor on well-oiled hinges in the darkest corner of the ceiling. Mourn slipped through quickly and settled the wood in place soundlessly just as his bare feet touched the floor with a light tak! of his talons, his tail slithering in a curve along the wood floor.

Letti jerked her head to look toward at the teasing sounds and gasped, covered her mouth with both hands. It would've looked to her as if he had simply appeared out of thin air. Even now the fire had destroyed her night vision, as she had to look to its right to see his shape at all. She squinted, not able to see details until he stepped forward.

His saliva filled his mouth more readily and he flicked his tongue out, breathing in through his teeth and enjoying her scent, her heightened heartbeat. He felt excited, every muscle tense and every nerve on edge, like when he was about to burst from his cover and take down his prey. If he had been hunting for meat, however, his tail would be still as well.

The red-headed Woman stared open-mouthed as he took one step into better light for her, and her emerald green eyes scoured him head-to-toe. To her there would be the yellow devil's eyes in the dark face she had glimpsed once before. Now there was also the purplish undertone to his black flesh, the knife-blade ears, and his long, obsidian-black hair plaited and reaching to his lower back. She would notice the monstrous hands and feet, claws tipping every digit, and his partly-rough, partly-smooth skin across his bare torso and long arms, like someone once years ago had survived being caught within a burning building.

He had secured his equipment earlier and he did not fear this female, this novice mage, so the only item he wore even in winter were the loose pants popular in Yung-An, which he preferred over the restrictive leather breeches of the Noiri and Paxian of Augran.

He might have been certain, when he'd first dropped from the ceiling, that Letti could not tell how low his cock hung at the moment, its head prodding against the cloth as his nose and mouth filled with her scent of magic, her skin, and her private dwelling. It certainly wasn't as obvious as if he'd been wearing the Baenar or Augran style of dress. But he'd forgotten in that moment of focused desire that this particular girl would have reason to note such things.

At least Halete kept her promise and did not scream.

"Oh...m-my lord," she began, her hands shaking before she clasped them together to still them. "Welcome. I-I pleased to meet you at last, I thought maybe you had forgotten about me. Would you like something hot to drink? It's cold out."

Krithannia had taught her some manners; that had certainly not come from her rough family. In spite of the scent filling the air, constantly rolling across his To'vah tongue, this at least did pull a response from him. Even the Baenar had had their style of manners in the Underdark.

"I would. Please."

This gave her something to do, something so she did not have to constantly stare at him. She was grateful and she relaxed a little. He could still hear her heart, noted how her breath would catch in time with it. Somewhat like a rabbit caught in a trap, but not entirely. That she did not know what else to do but drink from her cup, did not know what to expect, was apparent even to him.

At the very least, she found a way he held the teacup amusing.

"Not burning your fingers?" she asked, noticing his fingers were too thick for the dainty, porcelain loops and he simply clutched it around the body.

"No," he answered. The liquid had only taken two gulps anyway and now the cup was cooling down quickly.

Only half finished, she set hers down as well, making brief eye contact while looking nervously at her slightly dirty fingernails. "May I ask why you're here? You haven't said anything. You just look at me."

Her voice trembled a little. It was different from how stubborn and firm she had spoken with Krithannia when she had first awoken among them. He did not know why. Once again he inhaled through his teeth; he hadn't blinked, and he was still listening to her body. His prick between his legs had gotten harder as they sat, his tail sliding along the floor like a snake searching for a burrow.

He couldn't decide what to say. So many times before, it had been better for him to say nothing at all. Sooner or later the other showed their intent. Or their understanding of his.

This time was no different.

Halete finally but nervously stood up, and her hands went to the ties in front of her breasts as she began to unlace her bodice. "Nomuli sancji pruda'quo," she murmured, and his ears perked up.

"What?" he asked.

His deep voice startled her after so long under tension, and she jumped and blinked but continued to undo her dress. "A denial of what's holy. I have given myself over fully to the Guild's witchcraft, it has saved me, and if the devil who took me away from my father and my brothers... and... and punished them, then if he wishes something from me, I will give it. Gladly."

She pushed down her overdress, letting it pool at her feet before stepping out and plucking it up to drape it over her chair. She was only in her chemise, and Mourn could see her true form underneath in silhouette against the firelight. Her scent was even more appealing as she got used to the idea.