Mud and Magic Ch. 10

"I'd love to see you try," Borna purred, gently fucking his hand. "How would we go about it?"

Rhys closed his eyes. "Hmm. Once my knee is better, I'd love to see you on your back, with me kneeling between your thighs."

"Why would you want to stare at my misshapen form like that?" Borna asked, adding her second hand to her ministrations, her plated fingertips a tickling sensations on his balls.

Rhys allowed himself to relax. Her fingers, much more confident than only a short while before, were coaxing him closer and closer to another, much softer, climax. He bucked against her hands as it hit him.

He rolled onto his side and kissed her hungrily. She looked at him in wonder as he made his way down her body, deliberately kissing the segmented plates covering her stomach. He didn't hesitate or slow down as his mouth found her rod, engulfing the bulbous tip with his lips. Rhys suckled at it, unperturbed by the musky taste emanating from her fluids. One hand pumped her shaft, causing Borna to whimper each time he moved, two fingers from the other dipped into her sopping tunnel. Two, three thrusts had her moaning uncontrollably, her hips rising to meet his every stroke. Rhys admired her restraint. She didn't try to ram her monstrous prick down his throat. I would be hard-pressed to remain so calm, he thought as he added a third finger.

"Rhys..." Borna groaned. "Rhys... stop... before..."

He locked eyes with her, his tongue fluttering against her tip like Chassari had done to him. Borna writhed against him, making strange sounds. And then she erupted again, instantly flooding his mouth with her tangy juice. Rhys held still and allowed her to ride out her release. Some he gulped down, some he let dribble from his mouth.

"It's all right," Borna gasped. "You can stop now."

Grinning, Rhys released her slowly wilting member, wiping his mouth on a bit of the shredded sheets.

"Why?" she asked, her angelic face a mask of bewilderment.

"Because I like you, Borna. What is a little seed between friends?" Rhys kissed her. This time, she responded with bone-crushing enthusiasm, her chitin-plated arms nearly crushing his rib cage.

* * * *

Celeste shot upright, her body drenched in cold sweat. Even before her opened eyes, ghosting images flashed by. Rhys, his dirt-encrusted body broken, his leg bent at an unnatural angle. Faedal loomed over him, a metal-shod staff poised to deliver a killing blow.

Next to her, Elara stirred, a gentle hand touching Celeste's thigh. She brushed it aside. Elara, now fully awake, looked at her, puzzled. "What-?" the curvy elf began. Celeste cut her off with a snarl.

"Go back to sleep. Just a bad dream," she snapped.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Elara asked, sympathy in her expressive eyes.

"What good would that do?" Celeste snapped. She claimed her robe from a chair nearby. "I need to speak with Thurguz."

"You need to calm down," Elara suggested, sitting up. "Ever since you moved in with me, you've been nothing but snarls and claws."

Celeste, at the door, whirled around, her eyes narrowed to slits. "If I remember correctly, it was your idea. Something about you watching over me so I won't have any sex without your permission or some stupid nonsense," she hissed. "Maybe I would sleep better without a constantly horny elven princess fingering herself to orgasm next to me when I try to wrestle with my nightmares." Celeste yanked the door open. "Maybe I should have put my foot down when you suggested this stupid little girl sleepover arrangement. I don't need a replacement mother and especially not a so-called elven princess who can't keep her legs shut!"

Howling in fury, Celeste slammed the door shut behind herself. Huh. That felt really good. A rare smile flickered over her lips. She quickly made her way to the main stairwell. The magical lights in it were bright, suggesting a late morning already. I miss my hut back in the village. The sunlight on my face when waking up was so nice. She climbed the stairs to the top floor.

As usual, the door to Thurguz' room was closed. Alas, the hut has burned down, much like most of my past. She could hear the old half-orc's bass voice even through the old wood. He was talking to someone. Another voice, a bit higher than Thurguz' and female. It carried a note of protest. Probably Idunn. She's the only one here with enough balls to stand up to him. And - of all people - Rhys. Her heart beat faster in her chest. I'm proud of him, standing up to Thurguz like he did.

Thurguz hated intrusions, Celeste knew that well enough from her own time at the Tower. It has to be done, she thought. Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself for the inevitable outburst and rapped her knuckles against the wooden door. The voices stopped arguing and Thurguz' heavy footfalls approached. He opened the door a crack.

"I'm busy," he grumbled. "Can it wait?"

"No, it can't," Celeste snarled. "It's about Rhys. He's gone for almost ten days now. Aren't you worried?"

Thurguz sighed and fully opened the door. Like Celeste had guessed, Idunn was in the room, peeking at the magical table. "Come," the half-orc wizard grumbled. He moved aside so Celeste could enter his study.

"What are you looking at?" Celeste asked, joining Idunn at the table. To her surprise, the dwarven sorceress made a gesture, causing the table to go blank.

Thurguz closed the door and pulled up a chair. "Sit," he ordered.

"I have slept until a few minutes ago," Celeste said, not moving. "I'm fine, thank you."

"What is it about Rhys you need to talk so badly about?" Thurguz asked, crossing his muscular arms in front of his chest.

"I had a strange dream. Horribly lifelike, as if I were right next to him. Faedal beat him up and broke his leg. Just when he raised his weapon for a killing strike, the dream ended and I woke up," Celeste explained. "I recognize a vision when I see one." She locked eyes with Idunn. "You taught me, remember?"

Idunn just nodded, casting down her eyes.

Celeste returned her attention to Thurguz. "It's been almost ten days since they left. Isn't it high time for them to send at least a message?"

"Who says they haven't?" Thurguz replied.

"I don't know," Celeste snapped. "I'm no expert on stealth operations but, even with the elven woods taken into consideration, shouldn't they be back home already? I mean, with Lishaka teleporting them, what would keep them so long?"

Thurguz exhaled slowly. "If you have to know, they managed to fulfill their mission. With flying colors. But the extraction... was a royal mess."

Icy claws raced down Celeste's spine. "What... what are you talking about? Did something happen to Rhys?" Again, the image of Faedal, triumphantly raising his weapon, flashed before her eyes.

"The boy is all right, if a little beat up," Thurguz said, shrugging. "More importantly, we know what Carver wanted in the elven woods. I just spoke to Chassari-"

"You know where Rhys is?" Celeste hissed. Her whole body sang with rage and the slender metal arms and levers above Thurguz' magical table answered, humming dangerously. "And yet you sit here, on your green, wrinkly ass, doing nothing? Aren't you going to do anything to help him?" The last words were a barely coherent scream.

Thurguz slammed both hands onto the metal rim of the table, shocking Celeste back to almost normal. "Yes, I damn well know where the lad is. He wanted some responsibility, he got some responsibility. Life is the school of hard knocks and he's been knocked about some. He's alive, he'll deal with it. He wanted to be treated like an adult and adults fall onto their damn faces sometimes!"

"Please, don't fight," Idunn said quietly. No one paid her any heed.

"And what about your oath? The one where you promised that no harm would come to your students?" Celeste shrieked.

"That went out of the window the moment he demanded to be treated like a fully-fledged operative and challenged my authority," Thurguz roared. "He got himself hurt and now I am the villain here?"

"You could at least send some healing his way!" Celeste snapped. "Or... or... anything but sitting here being all smug and happy with yourself!"

"Celeste... Thurguz... please, calm down!" Idunn pleaded, stepping between them, her hands outstretched.

"Shut up!" both the half-orc and the furious ex-cleric snapped.

Celeste added: "Fine, if you won't do anything, I will. Even if it kills me."

"Yes? And what would that be? Fume in your room?" Thurguz roared. "Because last time I checked, your spellcasting nearly got you killed."

"What am I even doing here?" Celeste howled. "Literally anyone else would care more than you, I know that now." She turned on her heel and stormed from the room. She slammed the door shut, ignoring the furious snarls and bellows Thurguz made as she stormed down the stairs. Her steps carried her straight to Rhys' room. Celeste pushed open the double doors and closed them behind herself. She paused. The atmosphere in the room was strange somehow. As if I'm not alone, she thought. Goosebumps crawled up her back and she slowly turned away from the door.

A hooded person stood near the fireplace, turning a chunk of obsidian in their fingers. Slowly, the stranger straightened up and turned around, brushing the hood off their head. Long, black hair cascaded down the colorless robe and eyes the color of midnight met Celeste's surprised gaze.

"I honestly did not expect to meet you here, broken one," Desire said, genuine sympathy in her voice. She closed her fist and the obsidian sliver vanished. "I was hoping to find Rhys."

"Don't play me for a fool," Celeste snarled, raising her hands. But even something as basic as a Shield spell eluded her. "What do you want?"

Desire shook out her hands and held them at waist height in the gesture of peace. "It is not about me. It is all about what you want." Desire shrugged out of the shapeless garment, revealing a simple red skirt and white blouse underneath. The blouse subtly drew attention to her generous cleavage. Celeste suddenly blinked tears away. That same kind of dress had been Dara's favorite - demure enough for a visit in the temple, yet suggestive enough to make everyone's head turn. Celeste looked up, almost expecting to see Dara's playful grin or her catlike eyes.

"I would never betray the memory of a dearly departed friend like that," Desire said, a smile on her lips. "And I know you don't care for sex right now, so I had to wear something practical." The goddess shrugged. "Let us not dwell on the past. I know what you need and I would like to give it to you."

Celeste lowered her hands. "How can you know what I need? I haven't figured that out myself."

Desire made a gesture, a peculiar curl of her wrist. "Poor Celeste. You have spent so many years trapped in a cocoon of half-truths and fabricated facades, you have utterly lost yourself."

"Don't you dare pity me," Celeste hissed.

"It is obvious that your talents haven't been used properly," Desire went on, unperturbed. "Even a blind ratkin can smell that. You once were one of the most promising spell-slingers here at the Tower, and what became of you? Masquerading as a demure cleric of Mercy, of all things. And then, when you needed it the most, you were too hurt to draw on your true power."

"And now you, of all the gods, want to offer your assistance?" Celeste asked. "You are aware of your reputation, aren't you?"

Desire giggled softly. "People always say mean things about those they do not understand. But consider this: No one in this tower would dare rise against Thurguz - and you have seen what became of Rhys."

"Was the dream your doing as well?" Celeste snapped.

"What dream?" Desire looked left, then right. "Like I said, I wasn't planning on meeting you. I noticed some time ago that one of my idols got shattered and decided to investigate." She shrugged and opened her palm. Black obsidian shards gleamed in the room's dim light. They slowly reformed into a new idol which Desire pocketed. "All I know is that Rhys is badly hurt and there is no one by his side but Borna."

"The demon thing," Celeste whispered.

"And for what it's worth, Borna is the last one you want by your side once the bloodshed starts. Poor thing is a danger to herself and others," Desire said. "The sad truth is that I am the only one who could grant you the abilities necessary to save Rhys, make sure he's safe and sound."

Celeste closed her eyes. Her options - such as they were - indeed were limited, to say the least. Even if she managed to persuade Idunn to teleport her to Sunleaf, even if she managed to find Rhys, what could she do? Her healing spells were pitiful compared to the kind of injuries she had seen in her vision and should she meet Faedal again...

The memories of how easily he had beaten her - and the things he did to her afterwards - were embarrassing. Painful. Her insides cramped and she fought to keep standing. Desire was offering an easy way out. And you know full well what that would entail - pawning off something you hold very dear to your heart, a tiny, rational part of her hissed.

Her eyes snapped open. Very carefully, weighing every word, Celeste said: "I would like some time to consider your offer. Would that be agreeable?"

Desire bowed. "Of course. Take all the time you need. When you are ready to talk, you can find me right here again." She pulled the idol from her cloak and placed it onto Rhys' desk with a soft click. The thing was almost invisible between the stacks of books and charts. Celeste looked up from the desk, mouth open to express her thanks... but the room was empty. The capricious being was gone, leaving behind an empty room and a whole load of uncomfortable questions.

Celeste turned on her heel and left the room. Maybe someone in the Tower would be willing to mount a rescue mission for Rhys.

* * * *

Faedal slid off his warhorse and looked at the buildings before him. One was a low cabin, the other an open shed filled with moss-covered logs. The hoof prints made by that demon thing led straight to the door. Since she had to carry the boy, her prints had been much clearer than the season would allow for and a small prayer to Desire had taken care of any diversion attempts. Somewhere along the way, the demon thing had met someone, someone adept in the ways of the forest and that someone had tried several times to break the trail. With the goddess-given improvements to his senses, seeing through those tricks was laughably easy.

No one escapes me when I'm properly motivated, Faedal thought grimly.

He balled his left hand. Even hours after Carver had made his point, it still thrummed and hurt as if he had punched an especially sharp-edged pile of glass. They had argued before - He is just too damn soft, despite his ambition! - but never before did Carver use their mutual connection to hurt him.

And all that because of this Rhys boy? Faedal wondered. He's turning out to be one incredibly lucky and annoying little mongrel. He was frankly sick and tired of the name already. The fallen Paladin grinned fiendishly. To be honest, he had been tired of it the same day he had broken in his stubborn little sister. She wouldn't quit yelling the name so he had called in one of his men to stuff that squealing mouth of hers with a second cock while he amused himself with her nethers. That had shut her up real good, at least until she realized that teeth and cocks didn't mix. A simple gag had taken care of that problem afterwards and there were only muffled grunts of pain until he was done with her.

Faedal wrestled with the first blooming traces of arousal. There was no one around to sate his needs besides his weary men and their horses and he didn't fancy sweaty man-flesh or a skittish mare right now. And he especially didn't fancy discovering what else Carver would do to him if he failed in finding and snatching the boy. Snarling, he called upon his training and divested himself of any emotions, focusing solely on the task at hand - finding out how far ahead Rhys and his now two companions were and which way they were headed. He jabbed a gauntleted hand at his lieutenant. "Creuss, have two men scout the environs. Have them look for hoof prints, sleigh marks or anything else. I'm pretty sure our target won't be able to move on his own, even with a skilled healer around. So he'd have to be carried. Let me know if they find anything. I'll have a look inside."

"As you command," Creuss snarled. Faedal concentrated on the cabin. It wasn't wholly abandoned, despite the weather-worn exterior. All windows were whole and closed. The front door had been bolted shut and secured with a fairly new lock. Whoever had been here last had left this place with the intention of returning sooner or later. The fallen Paladin removed his gauntlets. He could simply hew the door to pieces with an axe but why expend so much energy when a simple whiff of divine power would solve the problem much quieter and easier?

He had been a Fist of Justice once, a holy warrior able to heal with a touch. By entering into a pact with Desire, the dark seductress had twisted and enhanced his powers. The only persons healed and nourished by his touch were Faedal and - through their soul-link - Carver, while anything he touched when activating his gift would be drained of its ether. There was nothing more delicious than forcing something young and tender into submission, pressing the shivering flesh against his ever-ravenous body and feeling the life trickle into him through his rock-hard cock and choking hands.

The wood the cabin had been built from still contained a decent amount of ether. He placed his naked hand on the door frame, next to the brackets the bolt slid into. Under his touch, the wood cracked and crumbled, turned into withered, lifeless powder with the tensile strength of brittle paper. He pulled the door open and entered the cabin. There were faint smells of life. Spices. Sweat. Some kind of food had been prepared recently, within the past day or two. The cabin's main room held little of interest, a small table, a rack with tools and cooking implements, a masoned fireplace and a door leading elsewhere. Faedal knelt down next to the fireplace. The ashes were still warm. Not as warm as Rhys' ass would be but warm enough to tell him what he needed to know. They couldn't be more than a few hours away. To eliminate any remaining doubt, Faedal entered the other room. It was a small bedroom. And since no one had bothered to air the room, he could clearly smell the scent of Rhys' crotch along with the strange, weirdly familiar aroma of the demon thing's carapace.

"Oh Rhys," Faedal whispered, licking his lips. "Our reunion will be a bard's song in the making. And you will sing for me, mark my words."

Faedal pulled a local map from his belt and scrutinized it. "Where would you go if you were badly hurt, far from home and with no way of using magic?" he asked aloud. There was only one place of note close by. 'The Dancing Dryad.' And if Faedal hurried, he could be there within two days.

* * * *

"Oh my."

Rhys slowly opened his eyes. Everything felt sticky. And it smelled rather ripe around him.

Astra'il stood at the foot of the bed, wearing the same silvery robe Rhys had seen her wear back at the log cabin. She had wound the belt rather loosely and he saw a lot of breast, stomach and her hairless mound.

"Oh my," the dark elf repeated, a dirty grin on her beautiful features. "And I thought I had a fun night." She moved past the bed and threw open the window. Icy cold morning air sliced into the room. Next to him, Borna growled. During the night she had curled around him, her impressive hardness a throbbing, sticky sensation against his naked butt and up a good bit of his spine. Her hand pawed along his body and landed on a particularly soaked bit of the sheets. It squelched obscenely.