Mud and Magic Ch. 11

"Thank you," Rhys said, reclaiming his dagger. "Give Sylae my regards when you see her." He sheathed the weapon.

"Here's an idea. Let's travel together," Borna suggested, "at least until we've reached the 'Dryad.' Strength in numbers and all that."

Gael shook his head. "No. With Rhys' newfound strength, you will have no need of my protection. Besides, I've had enough crypts and undead to last me a lifetime and I don't fancy being tangled up in another adventure of yours. Goodbye." He sharply turned on his heel and trotted up the ramp, leaving Rhys, Borna and Astra'il behind.

"He... he just left us?" Astra'il asked, feigning bewilderment. "Just like that? Not even a kiss?"

"He wouldn't have gotten one from me," Borna snarled. "What is your plan, Rhys?" She stalked up the ramp. The first hints of frost-tinged sunlight crept over her coat.

"Let's return to the 'Dancing Dryad,' tell Ulrich that the crypt-" Rhys began.

Borna hissed, cutting him off.

"What is it?" Rhys asked, limping up the ramp as fast as his leg would allow.

"I hear horses," Borna whispered. "A lot of horses."

Rhys went to one knee, ignoring the protests of his busted leg. He drew some earth magic and used it to expand his senses. Suddenly, the ground thundered under each and every hoof beat. He could hear the animals breathe, trying to gasp air into their exhausted bodies. The smell of man and animal, the stench of metal, unwashed underwear and oiled leather assaulted his nostrils. Amidst the cacophony of creaking tack, rattling armor and thundering hooves he heard a voice, a familiar voice screaming his name at the top of their lungs.

"Rhys! I'll find you! And when I do, you'll wish Carver wanted you dead!"

Suddenly, his heart was thumping in his throat. "It's Faedal," Rhys gasped, canceling his spell. "What is he doing here?"

"Doesn't take a lot of imagination, does it?" Borna snarled, flexing her hands. "And now I wish I had my claws back."

"You don't intend to fight him, do you?" Astra'il asked. "I can hear the horses too. At least a dozen. A head-on fight wouldn't be wise."

"I know, I know," Rhys muttered. "It's only a matter of time before they come looking in here. I don't really fancy meeting him head-on, not until I have learned how to use this." He held up his ring-bearing hand. "But we have to go through him if we want to return to the 'Dryad.'"

"Can't you teleport out of here?" Astra'il asked. "You managed to throw an artifact across the continent. Two bodies should be child's play."

"I'll not leave you here to deal with Faedal," Rhys protested. "He has hurt too many people close to me."

"Fan out and find me that boy!" The voice was clearly audible now. "Don't you dare return without him!" Faedal's angered snarl came closer. He had to be just outside the crypt.

"We really don't have time to argue right now," Borna whispered.

Rhys came to a decision. One hand closed around Borna's tail. He lunged, clasping the other around Astra'il's bicep. And then he prayed to all the gods in hearing range that he'd be faster than Faedal.

* * * *

"Rhys! You fucking mongrel, come back here!" Faedal screamed. He had sensed the gathering of magical energy close by, just down the ramp vanishing under the old elven tower. He had turned on his heel and there he was, clumsily grabbing a dark elf's arm. And then - he was gone!

Faedal invoked a small prayer to grant him clarity. The events of the past thirty seconds replayed before his mind's eye. He could see the currents of magic swirl around Rhys. The boy had cast something, a Teleport most likely, without any apparent effort. When had he become so powerful?

Faedal exhaled slowly and removed his gauntlet. "Creuss!"

His lieutenant joined him in the entrance to the crypt. "Sir?"

Faedal tackled Creuss against the nearest wall. "Do you remember what I told you last night?" he hissed, splaying his hand over Creuss' face.

"What? Please, sir... I..."

Faedal activated his healing ability, draining Creuss of all his life force. Within seconds, the suit of armor crumpled to the floor, empty save for a few sheets of lifeless dust. His rage not nearly sated, Faedal threw his head back and screamed, his voice echoing through the frozen forest.

Suddenly another scream joined his. Snarling, Faedal stomped up the ramp.

Two of his men were howling torches, helplessly flailing over the already devastated clearing in front of the crypt. A red-robed woman, hair a wild mess and with burning eyes like twin lava pools in her face stood at the edge of the clearing. Calmly, she pointed and a third of his men burst into flame. Curiously, the cupped hands of Desire were prominently etched into her skin just above her breasts.

"That's what it takes to get your attention, Faedal?" she asked calmly, her voice a stark contrast to her furious appearance. "Burning men?"

"Who are you?" he asked, drawing his sword. "Cease this foolishness at once."

"Don't you remember me?" the woman in red asked. "Last time you saw me, I was a whimpering doe on your cum-stained sheets." She immolated another of his men with a simple gesture. "Look closer, you pig."

Recognition dawned. That cleric of Mercy. The cleric unable to heal herself. But she had screamed oh so deliciously when he had used his razor ring deep within her. "You are Celeste, are you not?"

"Took you long enough," she said, stepping closer. She extended both arms and two more men erupted into screaming flames. "I don't know what you are doing here, but I'll happily deal with you as well."

"You want to deal with me... how?" he asked, a smug grin on his face. "We are both on the same side, sweet Celeste." He raised his sword, allowing her a glimpse at her reflection in the blade.

Celeste paled. "You and I... we will never be anything!" she screamed, pointing both hands at him. A torrent of fire engulfed but never touched him. Faedal collapsed his armor before it could melt. His garments turned to ash in her firestorm but his magic resistance held. Celeste lowered her hands, disgust written all over her furious face. Disgust which even intensified as his cock stirred.

"You have summoned Lady Desire and asked for her aid?" Faedal asked, caressing his erection. He remembered all the delicious things he had done to her. He also remembered her miraculous escape, something which had cost most of his servants dearly. And he had little trouble imagining more delicious things they could try.

"She said I will have the power to end you once and for all," Celeste hissed. The ground erupted around him, sharp blades of stone shot up from the packed earth. But they harmlessly crumpled to dust as they hit his naked flesh.

"Did you ask specifically for aid in defeating me?" Faedal asked sweetly, slowly closing the distance.

A lightning bolt from the blue struck him. It turned the ground around him to glass and a horse close by toppled over. The discharge only raised a few hairs on his arms.

"Desire can be a very particular mistress, you know?" Faedal asked. He gently touched Celeste's forehead with the tip of his blade. Her eyes suddenly widened but she nonetheless grasped the blade with both hands, not minding the honed black steel cutting deep into her palms. She screwed up her face most adorably but that turned into a grimace of utter pain as the Sorcerer's Burn hit her with all its might. Screaming in agony, Celeste toppled to the ground.

"You might have chosen your words more carefully," Faedal hissed, towering over the whimpering sorceress. His magic resistance, the first gift Desire had bestowed upon him, had taken care of her spells. His sword, the blade woven through with pulverized Disjunction Stone, had taken care of her spellcasting ability for the time being. And Faedal would make sure Celeste would be properly taken care of as well.

At least I won't return empty-handed, Faedal thought. A swift kick to her temple would make sure Celeste didn't up and vanish. There were enough dead soldiers around with belts and straps to tie her up nice and tight. Not a chance in hell she's getting out of that. He paid extra attention to her fingers, making sure they wouldn't budge. Not that it mattered much. If she really had been touched by The Dark Lady, only Desire would know the full extent and limitations of her powers. Thankfully, She wasn't very particular if Her faithful murdered each other. Otherwise, I would be damned for all eternity already.

A quick search revealed she didn't have any hidden items on her. Or pockets, for that matter. Making sure Celeste was well and truly out cold, Faedal went in search for his mount and another change of clothing in his saddle bags. It was getting awfully cold around his dick. And maybe, maybe he was a bit afraid of what Carver would do to him. He took his sweet time to dress.

* * * *

The world stopped spinning. Icy cold air whipped into his face.

"Where...?" Astra'il began. The dark elf moaned and pulled the hood of her cloak over her head. Rhys understood. It was blindingly bright. Even his eyes hurt. There was brilliantly white snow as far as the eye could see and the morning sun glared from a pure, blue winter sky. Imposing and majestic, the summits of the Frostspire Mountains towered around them, some covered by dark clouds, others encased in eternal ice.

"That's... that's not where I...," Rhys muttered. "This is not the 'Dancing Dryad.'"

Borna's hand came to rest on his shoulder. Wordlessly, she turned Rhys around. The stout, round structure of Thurguz' tower rose before him.

"What did you imagine when you cast the Teleport?" Haloryth asked. Even her words were audible now, not foreign thoughts suddenly blossoming in his mind.

"I... I didn't really think," Rhys said. "The only thing on my mind was getting all of us to safety, as far away from Faedal as possible." He looked the tower up and down.

"It will be some time before I'll get used to your soliloquies," Borna grumbled. "Can't Haloryth...," she shrugged, "learn to talk so we all could hear it?"

"Oh, I could do that," the elven spirit said, grinning. "But it would require a willing host I could possess."

"What would happen if you possessed me?" Rhys asked.

"We'd share your body and depending who won a duel of wills would 'steer' it. Unless one of us relinquishes control. And before you ask, I would never do it without your express permission."

"Do it," Rhys said. "It's time you said 'hello.' What do I do?"

"Just relax. It might be a bit disorienting at first. Better hold on to your staff."

Rhys planted his feet slightly apart and grasped his staff with both hands, drawing curious gazes from both Astra'il and Borna. Haloryth hovered closer, her hand outstretched. Her fingers touched Rhys' forehead and sank into it, along with her arm, her shoulder. And a moment later, Rhys' awareness shifted. He was no longer alone in his own body. A huge, unfathomably old mind was next to his. For a heartbeat, he could sense a furious turmoil of emotions which were not his own. Joy was the most prominent, tempered by the knowledge that everything Haloryth saw with his eyes would die long before she did.

Don't be afraid. I mean you no harm, she thought. "Hello! It is a pleasure to meet you both... kinda in person." she said aloud, using Rhys' mouth. The voice coming out of it was feminine and tinged with an accent Rhys quickly recognized as an Elf speaking the Common tongue, those particularly singing vowels he had heard when Elara or Moril spoke.

Rhys suddenly bowed, his body acting without any conscious thought of his. And try as he might, his eyes moved on their own, taking in Astra'il's curvy form. He noticed with a certain degree of embarrassment how strongly his body reacted to her.

Haloryth spoke again but this time it was pure Elven she used. Astra'il cocked her head and grinned sheepishly. The dark elf closed the distance and hugged Rhys emphatically. Her eyes glinted like twin emeralds as she slowly, lovingly, planted her lips on his. Rhys nearly fainted when she began to gyrate her hips invitingly.

"Did that sate your curiosity?" Astra'il asked, using the Common tongue. Her hand slithered down Rhys' body and stroked his throbbing rod through his pants. "Now you should know how it feels, Haloryth."

"Indeed. And before we get Rhys in trouble, we should cease this particular experiment. My thanks, seriso."

"Oh? 'Beloved friend' or 'bedroom plaything,' depending on context," Astra'il translated. "Which one will it be? I mean, either is fine with me, especially since we all deserve a mighty victory celebration but we shouldn't exclude Borna."

The cursed girl snorted. "I don't understand. Everyone, even Rhys at first, nearly faints when they see me almost naked. But not you. Why, by Desire's floppy tits?"

Astra'il slipped from Rhys' embrace and joined Borna, hugging the cursed girl. Her hands vanished under Borna's coat. Rhys heard them move under the fabric. Borna inhaled sharply.

"Because, Borna dear, you remind me of home, in a very complicated way." She parted Borna's coat, revealing the cursed girl's erection. Halorith whistled in Rhys' mind. Reverentially, Astra'il bowed and took the engorged phallus between her lips, worshiping it with hands and tongue. Borna stood ramrod-straight, her face a mask of confusion. Then, a heartbeat later, she took a shuddering step back, her tail carving a deep furrow into the snow. A gleaming trail of spit and her juices connected her glans to Astra'il's lips for a glorious moment.

"Not here," she snapped, pulling the coat closed. "I feel very exposed."

Astra'il made a small, disappointed noise. "Maybe we should go inside then?" she suggested. "It's way too bright and cold out here. Wherever 'here' actually is."

Haloryth left Rhys' body. The young sorcerer nearly fell face-first into the snow as her mind stopped holding him upright. He stumbled forward, barely able to break his momentum at the tower's outer wall.

"Please let me know before you do that again," he told Haloryth. Turning to face Astra'il, he said: "This is our home. Thurguz' tower. And we're somewhere in the Frostspire Mountains, far away from Carver and his crusade to unite the Old Kingdoms under his rule. I'm sorry I took you this far."

Astra'il hugged him again. Her lips touched his. He could taste Borna on them. Before he knew better, he licked the taste off the dark elf's mouth, causing her to gasp. Grinning, she took a step back. "What I wanted to say before you ambushed me, naughty boy, was that I don't actually mind. I have longed for a reason to leave the elven woods. I never expected it would be this sudden and so far away but I really don't mind. Now I'll be able to visit my sisters living up here in the north. After we've had our celebration, of course."

"Let's go already," Borna said. "Maybe Lishaka and Chassari have returned as well. We shouldn't keep our horny dark elf from them either." Her coat bulged impressively in front of her stomach.

Her remark was like a bucket of ice water. Rhys vividly remembered the almost fatal scrying attempt before he and Borna spent the night and the image of Lishaka, happily fooling around with others, caused his stomach to churn uncomfortably. He took a deep breath.

"I'm sure Master Thurguz wants to thank you for aiding us as well," he said, shuffling through the snow. The large double doors leading inside were closed. Rhys placed his hand on the large knocker and slammed it against the ice-encrusted wood. Obediently, the door opened a bit, allowing him to push it open.

The entrance hall was abuzz with activity, much more than he was used to. A cluster of people huddled around the bottom of the stairwell leading upstairs. He recognized Thurguz, leaning on the banister. The half-orc looked even older than usual, his hair unkempt. Tears streaked down his cheeks. Idunn and Elara, surrounded by an explosion of healing potions, spell components and armor pieces. Hagazz, sitting cross-legged on the floor nearby, his head in his hands. The maids and servants had gathered in the hallway leading to the kitchen, their faces masks of shock and sadness. Galdor stomped down the stairs, arms laden with even more healing supplies.

Feeling his high spirits drain away faster than stone water going down a thirsty dwarf's throat, Rhys stumbled into the Entrance Hall. Coming closer, he could see two prone figures. Zentam the dwarf merchant, his neck encrusted by what looked like wet stone. Idunn and Elara were busy drawing a magical circle around him. The second figure had been covered with a blanket. Dark red had soaked through most of it.

"Welcome back, Rhys," Galdor stammered, bowling into him. "Please. Don't."

"What happened here?" Rhys asked, confused.

"You probably should go to your room first, calm down. I'm sure your own adventure was-"

Rhys pushed the dwarf aside and went to a knee next to the blood-soaked blanket. He gently lifted a corner off the body underneath.

It was Hilgrun, her head barely attached to the rest of her body. An ornate sword hilt protruded from between her clavicles like an obscene grave ornament. Going by the size of the cross-guard, the blade had to be one of the long decorative ones he'd seen in the student quarters. It had been cropped by some unknown force so that Hilgun's corpse could lay flat on her blanket.

"Who..." Rhys gasped, his words choked off by a giant lump in his throat.

"You really don't want-" Galdor began.

Rhys turned on his knees, his eyes blazing nearly as fiercely as the ring on his finger, six miniature stars flaring to life. Suddenly his voice was back, low and strong and tinged with some ethereal echoes which gave Galdor pause.

"What happened here?" Rhys snarled, pinning Galdor in place with the force of his gaze alone.

To his surprise, the dwarf evenly returned his furious glare. "Didn't you have enough heartache on your own travels? Do you really want-?"

"Stop treating me like a wet runt," Rhys growled. "I'm more than capable to deal with bad news by now." He came to his feet with some difficulty, unable to properly put weight on one knee.

"It doesn't mean you should. You honestly look like someone threw you down a mine shaft and you could do with a few hours of sleep and a bath before dealing with all this madness and-"

A long sigh cut Galdor short. Hagazz had joined them, the usual grace absent from his every movement. To Rhys, he looked like a confused zombie. Hair disheveled, clothing in disarray and with a look of utter exhaustion on his angular face. "Gods damn it, dwarf. Tell him already. He of all people has a right to know."

The sigh of defeat coming from Galdor's lips seemed to emanate in the deepest trenches of his soul. He threw up his hands. "Fine. If you are so desperate to make your day that much worse - Celeste. Celeste did all of this."

* * * *

... to be continued in Chapter XII - Rage

I hope you liked this twisted little fantasy of mine. Even if you didn't, let me know. Vote and/or comment. I enjoy the praise but improvement can only occur when I know what displeased you.

Thanks for your time.

(c)Blind_Justice 2020