Mud and Magic Ch. 10

Rhys raised a hand, trying to ward away the man's fury. "First, those drunk mercenaries started the brawl. And what about us saving your waiter's butt? Doesn't that count for anything? I'm sorry for the floorboards-"

"And the windows upstairs," the barkeep snarled. "And let's not forget the set of keys. That's two rooms I wasn't able to rent out for almost a week. I've got a locksmith incoming from Horvath Point to replace the locks and that man won't work-"

Rhys dug around in his money bag. Grinning, he withdrew two keys and clicked them onto the counter. "I simply forgot to return them in all the hubbub. Sorry about that."

Astra'il joined Rhys at the bar and flashed Farook a dazzling smile. "Cut him some slack. He got knocked about pretty badly."

Farook's grim scowl relented somewhat and he looked Rhys up and down again. "What happened to you anyway? That couldn't have happened during the brawl, now could it?"

"No. We had a little spot of trouble with some of Carver's men," Rhys said, carefully weighing his words.

"Did that, by chance, involve rescuing two handfuls of slaves?" Farook asked. "One of them a heavily tattooed, bad tempered elf lass?"

"That must have been Sylae and the others," Rhys said. "Yes, that was us."

The dark-skinned innkeep's face split into a wide grin. "You? Damn, boy. Tangling with Carver, blowing up his supply depot and earning the praise of a Stalker faithful? I'm amazed you don't simply miracle your damaged knee back into shape."

"Well, that might be out of the question at the moment," Rhys said. "My magic got jinxed. And before you ask, yes, two of my companions are missing too."

"That's a shame. I was hoping to persuade that lovely serpent lady into dancing for me, if even for one night. Anyway, you have earned at least a belly full of food and a good night's rest for your troubles." Farook slapped Rhys' shoulder, nearly taking him off his feet.

"What happened to Sylae and the others?" Rhys asked. He scanned the room. Borna had taken up residence at the same table they had when they first came here, close to the stairs, with a good view at the stage. Even this early in the afternoon, the taproom was bustling. Thankfully, no obviously drunk mercenaries this time.

"Sylae is still around here somewhere," Farook said. "Her kind wishes to eventually take back the old elven holds for themselves. The dark elves and the others were more than happy to accept the help of some of my acquaintances. I've sent them east, towards Horvath Point."

"Isn't that still Carver's dominion?" Rhys asked.

"Relax. Sure, the town has sworn fealty to that madman but his touch is rather light there. It's the biggest port in these parts and the freed slaves can pick where they want to go from there. My friends will make sure they'll be alright. So, what'cha want?"

"A good meal for the three of us. And since I still have the keys, how about you let us keep the rooms for the night?"

"Ha! If your adventures don't play out, you should think about becoming a merchant in El-Abessin," Farook boomed. "Your haggling skills will put the fear of Sikka in those fools trying to pull a fast one on ye. Sit your ass down, the food and drinks will be along shortly."

"Thank you," Rhys said, pocketing the keys again and picking up his crutch. Astra'il by his side, he made his way back to the table Borna had claimed and sank onto a chair.

"That went much better than I had feared," he sighed.

"He didn't want to kick us out right away?" Borna asked.

"No, your actions made you rather popular it seems," Astra'il said.

The half-elven waiter appeared, carrying a tray with ale steins. He placed one in front of everyone. "Thank you for helping me before," he said, bowing. He looked around. "Where are the others?"

"I wish I knew," Rhys muttered. "We got separated. I hope they're safe."

"If it helps, I'll offer a prayer to the God of Roads tonight," the waiter said. "I'll be back with your food once I have served the rest of these." He nudged his tray full of drinks.

Rhys took a sip from his ale. It was good stuff, strong and not at all stretched with water, like the swill back home.

"What are your plans going forward?" Astra'il asked, touching Rhys' forearm. "Besides resting and healing."

"We should try and get back to the Tower. Or at least send Thurguz a message and ask for help," Borna said.

"You know that we're at the opposite end of the continent, right?" Rhys said bitterly. "Even if we could find a caravan going north, we'd be on the road for months."

"Or you could try teleporting us there," Borna suggested.

Rhys placed his hands on the table, palms up. "I don't know that spell. And even if I did, I'm not sure if I'd risk casting it. Not with the effect of the Disjunction Stone on me still."

"It's been almost three days since Faedal made you eat it," Borna said. "Shouldn't it have worn off by now?"

"You saw how my Armor spell worked. Or rather didn't," Rhys said. "I can't even cast something as simple as a Light spell." He concentrated and touched his ale stein. The vessel turned a lively shade of purple.

"Stop thinking about Chassari already," Borna said, grinning.

"I'm not... huh." Rhys closed his mouth. "Maybe I am."

"You could try using spell scrolls," Astra'il suggested. "I've known a warrior back home who used them to devastating effect."

"And my garbled magic won't interfere?" Rhys asked, his eyes lighting up.

"It shouldn't. The scroll's creator already expended the energy needed for the spell when he wrote it. All the user does is unleash the stored spell."

"How come we don't see more grunts using fireballs and the like?" Borna asked. "All it takes is the ability to read, isn't it?"

Astra'il grinned. "Now tell me how many sellswords can read Draconic. Or Elven. Or whatever script the scroll's creator used."

"A good point," Borna conceded. "So, all we need is some message spell scroll. Or a Teleport."

"The other reason why you don't see bandits carrying cases full of scrolls with them," Astra'il said, "is their cost. The special ink and imbued parchment needed to hold magical energy aren't cheap."

"That might be a problem then," Rhys said, again slapping his flaccid coin pouch. "And I don't want to ask for your gold, Astra'il. You already did so much for us."

Astra'il snorted. "I feel like I failed horribly." She caressed down his thigh, stopping short of the busted knee. With her other hand, she upended her purse on the table. A small pile of gold coins tumbled out. "I'll happily share what I have but, knowing the prices around here, we probably don't even have enough for an enchanted bookmark."

The waiter chose that moment to appear, carrying a platter with meat cuts, bowls of salad, roasted potatoes and a basket with fragrant bread. "Farook sends his regards," the half-elf said. "Dig in."

"Thank you." Astra'il swiped the coins off the table and took the platter, setting it down between them. "Do you know what's planned for entertainment tonight?"

"Unless you decide to dazzle our patrons, it will probably only be the ensemble and our girls, as usual," the waiter said.

"I think I'll keep my clothes on tonight."

"A pity. You managed to fire up the crowd really well," the waiter said, his eyes never leaving Astra'il's

"I know," the dark elf said, casting down her gaze. "I fear I'm partly responsible for the chaos that happened afterwards."

"Not true," the half-elf said emphatically. "These mercenaries had been a problem the whole day, ever since they swaggered in, their pockets bulging with coin."

"That's very sweet of you," Astra'il purred, reeling him in with one arm and smooching a long kiss onto his lips. She pulled his head down and whispered something into his pointed ear.

The lad shot her a wide-eyed look. "Really?"

"Absolutely. Rhys, can I have a room for... myself tonight?" Astra'il asked, extending a hand.

"Yourself, huh?" Rhys asked. He fished a key from his pocket and dropped it onto her palm.

"Thank you," the dark elf whispered, leaning in and pecking a kiss onto his cheek. When she turned away, the waiter was already two tables down but he moved with a little extra spring in his step.

"You still have that much energy after carrying my sorry hide for most of the day?" Rhys asked. "I'm in awe." He piled his plate high with potatoes and meat and dug in. He was surprised at how bloody ravenous he was all of a sudden.

"Borna did most of the heavy lifting. I felt more like a guide, if anything," Astra'il said, plundering a salad bowl. "And it has been a while since..." She made a lewd gesture with her fork.

"Here's something I've been wondering about," Borna said between bites. "I've heard dark elves don't really care who or what they lie down with. True?"

Astra'il laughed, a merry, musical sound. "That's one broad stroke if I've ever seen one," she said. "If we're speaking in broad terms... my kind does care very much who or what they lie down with. The big thing dangling over all our sex lives is the Chaos Queen, believe it or not. Her existence, her cult, has a profound impact on how, when and with who we do it." Smiling wickedly, she popped a slice of tomato into her mouth and chewed before continuing.

"If you remember, I told you already that having the favor of the Queen is amazing. Your word is law. You can demand anything from everyone. Being a debauched slut is as much a mark of honor as being a cunning battlefield savant. The Queen even encourages that, granting a shapeshifting spell which many a horny priestess uses to enhance her sexual prowess."

"How?" Rhys asked around a bite of meat.

Astra'il bathed him in a lascivious smile. "By growing a long, hard cock, sweet Rhys. To entertain fellow priestesses. To take advantage of especially cute slaves. Or to punish unruly males." She caressed down her front. "Priestesses aren't picky. Male, female, lizard, beast, demon... I have seen - and participated - in some truly strange orgies." Her smile turned joyless. "Inevitably, someone draws a dagger and sacrifices a male or two to invite a Handmaiden, to spice things up even more." She took a sip from her ale and exhaled slowly.

"There's a proverb among our kind," Astra'il went on. "It's roughly translated to 'there's only true friendship between males.' Quite ironic in a society rather quick and generous with the backstabbing. But considering all dark elven males, no matter rank or standing, are mere pawns for the priestesses, it's no wonder that many of our males only lower their guard, cultivate friendships and even allow feelings of love towards other males. Priestesses of course enjoy the spectacle of a tangle of males blowing each other or having their asses fucked."

"That sounds like utter chaos," Rhys said. "Are there no formal relationships? Marriages?"

"Of course. And you'd be amazed at how strict and formal courtship and marriage can be," Astra'il said. "But understand this - the goal of marriage in our society is always to gain something, not a marriage of love. Often, the head of a house marries off an unwanted son or daughter to seal an alliance or cease-fire with another house. Sometimes, a consort is taken when he or she owns something the Matron desires. Even then, both partners often have lovers on the side. And these marriages don't last long, two, three decades at most or until the Matron tires of her consort."

"Do you miss all that?" Borna asked her.

"Now that I know differently? I'm disgusted by some of the things I have done. Or how our society behaves. Isaya has shown me the difference between fucking around and true love and I'm eternally grateful to her."

Astra'il locked gazes with Borna. "I know what you're wondering. I like men and women both. In my younger days, I only felt whole when I had three cocks in me at once. It helped me forget all the insanity, all the infighting between me and my four sisters. In the academy I learned how useful my body could be, persuading rival priestesses-in-training that I'm a better bed-warmer than adversary. And well, when Isaya showed me the ways of the Moon Maiden and I lost my Queen-given powers..." A wistful smile played on her lips and she sighed. "There were only so many ways I could show her my love and appreciation."

"Forgive my prodding," Rhys said, caressing Astra'il's hand. "Is it normal that Moon Maiden faithful are lovers?"

The dark elf giggled. "I haven't conducted any kind of research on that. You see, Isaya and I were the only ones in these parts. Understandable, really. The Surface is hostile enough to our kind and living in your hereditary enemy's ancient home is a special kind of madness. But Isaya was adamant that these woods were ours too, before the Fall, so she stayed. One day maybe I'll go north, only to experience a Moonlight Dance together with a few dozen sisters of my faith. Now, as for us becoming lovers, I can see it happening more often than not. Isaya told me that the Maiden sends visions of new possible converts to experienced sisters, so the Surface doesn't kill them in short order. Dark elves up here aren't inherently social creatures, we tend to live alone. So the older sister will find a companion and the younger sister a protector. Mutual benefit turns to fondness and who knows what comes after."

"I wish you good luck with your conquest then," Rhys said, squeezing her wrist. "Be gentle."

"Oh, I will be all smiles and purrs. But something tells me I'm not his first trek through the forest," Astra'il said, grinning cheekily. "What about you?"

"Me? I'll tuck in early tonight. Despite being on my back most of today, I'm deathly tired. Hopefully I can navigate the stairs," Rhys said, using a slice of bread to clean his plate.

Astra'il dropped her hand under the table, her graceful fingers caressing his knee. "How bad is it?"

Rhys stretched the knee, wincing. "Like someone tied lead ballast around my ankle."

The dark elf hummed a few bars of a healing spell, releasing waves of soothing energy into Rhys' knee. "And now?"

"The pain has gone. That felt more like a healing spell than anything you did over the past two days."

"Maybe the effect of the Disjunction Stone is indeed relenting somewhat," Astra'il said. "We'll try again tomorrow morning."

"Thank you." Rhys picked up his stein and toasted her. "For everything."

"Nah, don't mention it. You're making me blush," Astra'il said. She turned to Borna. "What about you?"

"I'll go with Rhys, watch over him," the cursed girl said quietly. "If you don't mind."

"Not at all." Rhys drained the last of his ale and used the lip of the table to come to his feet. He tested his knee. It took his weight without complaint and, much more importantly, without releasing a searing lance of pain in protest.

"Good night, Astra'il. Have fun," he said. The dark elf, ale in hand, waved goodbye.

Rhys took his crutch and made his way to the steps. His leg felt oddly wooden and stiff but he could walk unassisted. Slowly, as not to press his luck, he ascended the staircase, the clacking of Borna's hooves behind him. He closed his fingers around the smooth hand rail. Better safe than lying there with a broken neck, he thought. It took longer than anticipated to reach the second floor. Rhys sighed happily when he ascended the landing. He fished the key out of his belt pouch. Three stripes had been hammered into it.

"Room Three it is," he said, limping forwards.

"That doesn't look pleasant," Borna said unnecessarily. "Hopefully another healing spell will fix that."

"I'm not so sure," Rhys said, unlocking the door and hobbling over the threshold. The room was remarkably spacious for an inn, with two wide beds next to each other and a tall wardrobe leaning against one wall. A large wooden wash basin stood in the corner next to the door and a window let the golden remains of dusk into the room. "The knee feels rather whole, as if the bone has fused together already."

He sat down onto the edge of the bed, stretching his legs. This reminds me of Moril. Idunn could probably remove the grafts but only by hurting him to the point of nearly killing him.

Aloud he said: "The only way to lose the limp would be for someone to break my knee again and I can bloody well do without that particular agony again."

Borna closed the door and undid her belt, shrugging out of the blanket. Her crimson form filled the space next to the wash basin, seemingly shrinking the room around her. She cocked her head to one side and eyed the beds. "An interesting arrangement," she observed.

"Not in the mood to sleep with me next to you?" Rhys asked carefully. "At least this time there are soft mattresses under our bodies. And clean sheets."

Borna turned away from him and inspected the wash basin. Sighing, she pulled the blanket around herself again and belted it in place before picking up two large pitchers. "I'll fetch fresh water," she said. "This stuff must have been here for almost a week." She left the room.

And again no straight answer from her. Did I do something wrong last night? Rhys asked himself. He wrangled the boots off his feet and shed his cloak then he limped towards the window and looked outside. The space surrounding the large inn building bustled with activity. Armed groups were arriving or leaving, there was a surprising amount of activity around the stalls - despite the harrowing prices they asked. The muffled sounds of neighing horses and arguing people managed to reach him up here.

Rhys sighed. It was not only his body feeling tired and wrung out. Now, with no one around, nothing to divert his attention, the doubt crept back. What if Chassari and Lishaka were in peril? He had no way of knowing where they were, if they were even still alive. It was strange that his misfired light spell had turned the stein purple and not green. Maybe I'm too scared to think about Lisha, he thought.

He turned away from the window and made his way to the wash basin. There was a small side board full of soaps and towels above it, with a squared piece of mirror tied to that with a length of fine metal chain.

I have seen Elara use puddles on a muddy forest path, Idunn had said when she had taught Rhys how to scry.

"A nice mirror like that should do the trick," he muttered, taking the squared piece of polished metal between both hands. He concentrated. Slowly, like a limb waking from disuse - and with a similar prickling sensation - he became aware of power sources surrounding him. They seemed tiny, insignificant and very far off, but he could sense them, for the first time since Faedal had fed him the Disjunction Stone. I'm doing it! Rhys thought triumphantly, placing the mirror on the wash basin's rim. He opened his hands and began to draw in power. Finding Lishaka would not be difficult. He only needed to close his eyes and remember how they woke up together, her squirming naked body next to his, her small hand expertly caressing his rod...

Like hardened treacle, the power seemed to refuse his will, oozing closer only haltingly. Rhys' body was covered in sweat, his shirt stuck to his heaving chest, but eventually he had two fistfuls of power. The memory of Lishaka, cawing happily as she rode him, was painfully clear before his mind's eye and he fought to bring his palms into contact with the mirror.

A large, open room, bathed in golden sunlight. Lishaka, naked, on her knees, her green butt writhing on the face of a snow-white cat girl. Lishaka held on to a pair of black-skinned butt cheeks, her talons carving little bloody furrows into the firm flesh, her mouth worshiping an impressive length of dark elven cock. Chassari knelt down next to her, her naked purple scales gleaming freshly oiled. With a dirty grin, Chassari held up an artificial phallus made from gold.