Mud and Magic Ch. 14

"I'm myself, I guess," Elara said. "Although I can't stop thinking about what the spirit said."

Borna shrugged. "Nothing we can do about that particular problem." She eyed the window. "Are we still going for Skyview Lake? It's getting late."

"Not today, I guess," Rhys said, hanging his head. "I should scry and see if Celeste is still safe."

"No one is safe near Faedal," Elara muttered darkly. "But rushing his stronghold in the dead of night will help no one, least of all us."

Borna locked gazes with Rhys. "Before you strain yourself again casting that spell, how about we sample this inn's food? Remember what happened the last time you scried after being barely able to walk." A flicker of a smile took the worst sting from her remark.

Rhys brandished his ring-bearing hand. "I think I'd be fine this time. Nevertheless-" he continued, cutting off Borna's protest, "we could all do with some nourishment." He looked around. "Anyone seen or heard from Haloryth?"

"Very funny," Borna grumbled, uncurling off the floor. Her tail fished for the coat which she slung around her shoulders. "You know you're the only one who can see her."

"Unless she chooses a host vessel." Rhys swung his feet from the bed and dug around in his bag. "What happened to my clothes?"

"I gave them to the innkeep," Chassari said. "She sssaid she'll get the blood out no problem."

"Do we even have money to pay for all this?" Elara asked, gesturing around.

"We do," Chassari said, tapping a belt pouch. It jangled merrily. "Come now, I'm starving."

* * * * *

The taproom was both surprisingly large and crowded. It was less sophisticated than 'The Dancing Dryad's,' with a straw-covered dirt floor instead of hardwood and long rows of benches flanking heavy tables cut from bisected tree trunks instead of round tables and chairs. All eyes were on them the moment they came down the well-worn stairs.

This feels all kinds of wrong, Rhys mused as he walked into the taproom. The atmosphere was tense and frosty, reminding him starkly of the last morning in his home village. Only this time there were no soldiers wearing the black armor of Carver's troops attracting nasty stares. Rhys saw several women clasp the corn cob symbol of the Mother Of Plenty, their lips moving in silent warding prayers as they laid eyes on Borna and Chassari.

It's us. Oh, and him.

Uncle Ulrich was impossible to miss. The taproom was crowded with simple folk and the Death priest stood out like the proverbial sore thumb, all garbed in black leathers and a long cloak adorned with raven plumes. His ivory skull mask was placed on a small table next to his stool by the fireplace. His imposing scythe leaned in a corner, the light glinting on the curved blade. Haloryth hovered next to the old man, accentuating her words with flowing hand movements. Ulrich politely nodded now and then. The priest sipped his tea, either ignoring the hostile stares the locals shot his way or pretending to be oblivious to them.

Did Faedal's men felt like that when they occupied our village? The thought came out of nowhere. Rhys shook his head and straightened his robe as best he could. Walking felt strange, now that he didn't have to compensate for his busted knee any more. He made a conscious effort not to favor the leg and briskly walked towards the fireplace. There was a rustling noise and a moment later, a large raven settled on his shoulder. It nudged his ear with its beak and cawed softly.

"Hey Skjor. How have you and the old man been?" Rhys asked softly., The raven cocked its head as if saying 'do you really expect me to answer that?'

"It's only been about a week," Ulrich said softly. "Grab a chair and sit down. We need to talk."

There was commotion at the nearest log table. People were fleeing their seats as Borna came closer. Shrugging, the cursed girl sat down on one bench. Elara and Chassari took the seat opposite her. Rhys pulled up a stool and took a seat facing Ulrich.

"Miss Irene," Ulrich called, his voice booming through the whole taproom. "Kindly extend the same hospitality to my friends which you showed me."

A pale, middle-aged woman with short, straw-blonde hair hurried across the room. "These-... people. They are your friends?" she asked, casting worried glances from Elara to Borna. She reminded Rhys of one of his sisters, only she was even more haggard than either Lissy and Missy had ever been.

"Oh, absolutely. This fine specimen of a man is Rhys, a sorcerer who recently vanquished a great source of evil in the elven woods. His friends may be curious folk but I'll gladly vouch for them."

"As you wish, Uncle." Irene hastened back behind the counter and busied herself stacking a platter with food.

Ulrich nudged Rhys. "Don't you want to introduce me to your lovely lady friends, Rhys?"

"Of course!" Rhys said. "Elara, Chassari, meet Uncle Ulrich. He helped me out back in the elven woods."

"Hogwash, Rhys. If anyone has to be grateful, it's me. After all, Borna, Astra'il Gael and you did vanquish the undead in the crypt, not I." He took a long sip from his tea and smacked his lips. "And most thoroughly, I must say."

"How do you know?" Rhys asked. "Did Haloryth tell you?" The ghostly elf grinned and waved merrily before vanishing through a wall.

"Death sees all," Ulrich said, his voice an ominous rasp. A moment later, he cracked up and laughed. "Nah. I ran into Gael back at the Dryad and got him to talk. Your self-appointed teacher only confirmed what I already learned."

"I can't imagine how that went down," Borna grumbled. "Did you have to nail him to a table for that?"

Ulrich chuckled and shook his head. "He may lack manners and patience but he does respect ability and grit. I think Rhys found an ally in him, albeit a rather reluctant one." He cleared his throat. "Speaking of allies, Rhys. You seem to have a knack for attracting only the loveliest of flowers to your cause. I mean, even an undead elf is head over heels with you!"

Rhys blushed furiously. "I have no idea," he muttered. "I mean, we are all students at Thurguz' tower and I met Haloryth down in the crypt."

Chassari laughed. "Don't be fooled, Uncle. Rhys can charm with the bessst of them. If you asssk me, he should have chosen another discipline instead of Alteration."

"Bollocks," Borna snarled. "Charm has nothing to do with it. He is a decent human being. Justice knows there are far too few around these days."

Rhys was glad that Irene chose this moment to deliver their food and drinks. He claimed a mug of ale and a bowl of soup and busied himself with eating while his friends chattered on. A thought nagged on him though.

"A question, if I may," he told Ulrich.

"Sure. What's on your mind?"

"Haloryth. You are not going to exorcise her, are you?"

Ulrich chewed on the end of his pipe. "Hers is an interesting case. My faith orders me to bring peace to restless spirits but that mostly applies to those raised against their own will. Not only did she voluntarily remain behind, she wanted to accompany you instead of drifting to her eternal rest. She is still consciously able to make decisions and I would be a bad bringer of solace if I'd act against her wishes." He reached for his tea. "In the end, I won't meddle in the affairs of the elven gods. My end will come soon enough and there's no need to anger the Lifegiver." He chuckled hoarsely.

"I have another one," Borna asked. "I know I stand out like a marble pillar in a pigsty but why are the locals so bloody scared of Rhys and the others?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Chassari whispered. "Faedal's fortresss is less than a day'sss march from here. People who ssstick out attract attention. I bet hisss minions often come around here for sssport as well."

"Astutely observed," Ulrich grumbled. "Sadly, that's the reason I'm here. I had to deliver the souls of some unlucky farmers into the arms of the Reaper." His expression darkened. "Whoever came over them didn't leave much in the way of remains to bury."

"It's even worse than back home," Rhys said softly. "We only had to deal with occasional patrols and the Tithing." He balled his fists and arcs of lightning flickered between them. "Faedal has to answer for what he did to Mirrin. And Celeste."

Chassari downed the rest of her ale and stood up. "I'll be going then."

"Huh, where?" Elara asked. "At this hour?"

"A little ssstroll. Scouting." She walked around the table and placed a slender finger on Rhys' lips. "Before you protessst: I have done thisss numerous times, sneaking out into unknown territory. We need eyes on the fortress before we assault it and we can't ssspare much more time. So I will go ahead and learn as much of the place as I can." She reached into a pouch on her belt and placed a shiny orb in his palm. It rang softly as it moved. "Use thisss to ssscry on me. I will make sssure to find a great place to ssstage our mission from."

"A simple 'don't go, please' will not work, I guess?" Rhys asked.

Chassari shook her head. "Trussst me."

"I do. Still..."

The serpent woman leaned in, threw her arms around the sorcerer's neck and hungrily kissed Rhys full on the mouth. There were murmurs, some indignant, some appreciative, some even filled with hints of jealousy.

"What was that all about?" Borna growled.

Chassari released Rhys from her hug and straightened up. "A ritual for good luck," she said, beaming. "I thought kisssing Rhys would raise less suspicion than claming my blessing from your lips, Borna. I'll sssee all of you after sunrise tomorrow." Not waiting for any retorts, Chassari sashayed towards the exit.

Elara laughed softly. "If you want to stop her, you should hurry."

"Don't." Haloryth whispered into Rhys ear. "I'll go and watch over her. I can test out the limits of my tether as well. You enjoy your rest tonight."

"I'll probably be much too worried about the two of you to even get a minute of sleep," Rhys complained.

Ulrich came to his feet as well. "Lady Chassari, please wait."

Every eye in the room was on the Death priest. Coughing softly, he claimed his mask and scythe and hobbled towards the waiting serpent-woman. "You know, we are traveling in the same direction. Seeing as it is all dark and lonely outside, I thought you could help an old man find his bearings."

Chassari cocked her head then shrugged and bowed respectfully. "I was raised to honor my elders," she simply said, extending a hand.

"Much obliged." Ulrich took the offered hand. "Until we meet again."

There was an uneasy silence once the door closed in their wake. Rhys looked from his friends to the villagers and back. "What?" he asked.

A wide-shouldered man stood up. Most of his face was hidden by a dark, well-maintained beard and moustache. His wore a faded blue tunic with golden seams which would have been rather impressive once but the discolored patches and threadbare embroidery showed its true age. Unlike most others in the taproom, he was armed. The sword hilt on his hip was a stark contrast to the once glorious tunic, simple to the point of bluntness and well-cared for.

"Having the Deathbringer visit is a bad omen. Having friends of the Deathbringer come on the same day is unheard of," he growled, coming straight for Rhys. "Give me one good reason not to kick ye and yer misshapen friends out of our village!"

"Shall I?" Borna asked softly. Rhys shook his head. This evening had already woken too many unpleasant memories, the last thing he needed right now was a bully to bear down on him. He drained the last of his ale and stood up, facing the menacing man.

"Before this goes any further, may I ask who I am speaking to?" Rhys asked calmly. The man almost tripped in surprise.

"I am Ren, son of Karl and the closest this place has to a protector," the man snarled. "Take yer friends and get out while ye still can!"

"A protector you say?" Rhys asked quietly. "Everywhere I look, I see people who are scared and afraid." He allowed his gaze to wander across the taproom. "How many of you fine ladies have been accosted by Faedal's men? How often did your so-called protector intervene?"

There was sharp murmuring. Ren pulled his blade free. "Who do ye think ye are, ye sprout? Do ye have any idea what would happen if we'd raise arms against the Dead-Eyed Devil?"

"He'd probably try and kill everyone in the village," Rhys said. "Like he did with mine. But at least you would have tried to avenge the agony inflicted on your women, sisters and daughters." He drew in a measure of power and pointed at the broadsword Ren hefted. The blade turned into a rather impressive cucumber.

There was a girly snicker from somewhere. Under his beard, Ren turned a dangerous shade of crimson. "I- I am going to-"

Irene slapped his back. "Take your cucumber, sit your ass down and have another pint, ye daft fool," she snapped.

"What's gotten into ye, woman?" Ren snarled, whirling in place to stare her down. "Why are ye defending these... these-"

"Have you forgotten that Ulrich has never done a bad thing to any of us? The man even left us healing potions, some of which you drank after losing that fight with the Black Ones last month."

"Will ye shut the-"

"No, you will shut the bloody fuck up, Ren," Irene hissed. "If Ulrich says these are fine people, I'm going to believe him. Besides, that purple lady was awfully nice and paid me more than a month's coin for a simple cleaning job." She stomped back to the bar and grabbed a fresh tankard. "So, how about it? I'm sure the young man has other tricks up his sleeve to really make ye look like an ox."

"We could use a good laugh," someone from the crowd called. "Can ye make him moo?" Roaring laughter followed. Ren took his cucumber and stormed back to his seat, swearing under his breath.

"That certainly was a phallic surprise," Borna whispered. "Are you trying to send a message, Rhyssie?"

"What? No! I- I... I thought maybe not immolating the whole place would be the more diplomatic solution," Rhys stammered. "Besides, the blade should return to its original form soon. I hope."

There was a disappointed murmur from where Ren had vanished in the crowd.

"That was awfully kind of you, not hurting him," Irene said. She gently sat down a set of full mugs. "On the house."

"I hope his pride wasn't hurt too bad," Rhys said. "I'm sorry. It's just... I can't stand his type. I had four brothers like him and..." He gnashed his teeth.

"His pride is hurting all right but not from your little prank," Irene muttered. "I think being nearly beat to death by the Black Ones did." She looked around, then asked: "What are ye here for anyway?"

Rhys exchanged uneasy glances with Borna and Elara. Eventually, the elven druid said: "Tell her."

Rhys sighed. "Sure. We want to free someone from Faedal's fortress, someone who we believe to be a prisoner there."

Irene's hand flew to her mouth. "You... what? What if it goes wrong?"

Borna chuckled. "Then you will never see us again because we're tiny piles of ashes in Faedal's courtyard."

"And what if your daft plan succeeds?" the innkeep gasped. "He will most certainly vent his anger on us!"

"Why should he? He wouldn't know where we came from," Rhys said.

Irene shook her head. "He always knows. Some of ours must be spyin' for him."

"Then there's only one thing to do," Borna said, cracking her knuckles. "Before we leave, we have to make sure Faedal dies."

* * * * *

"What's gotten into you?" Rhys asked Borna. He closed the door to their room. "We agreed to avoid Faedal as much as possible. Teleport in -- get Celeste -- teleport out. You know what happened the last time-"

Borna grabbed Rhys by the shoulders and walked him to the closest bed. He could choose between sitting down and having his spine folded double so he crumpled onto the edge of the mattress. With a ghastly sound, Borna tore her coat off. Her engorged cock slapped Rhys' cheek as it whipped into his face. Before Rhys could even voice his protest, she had stuffed the tip between his lips and held it there.

Rhys uttered a surprised grunt, yet held perfectly still. Borna's splayed hand on top of his head left him little choice.

"The last time, Rhys, you were exhausted, hurt and unprepared for him. This time, you have four allies watching your back." She snatched his left hand and placed it on her armored breast. The ring on his index finger clicked against her crimson armor. It gleamed with the light of two miniature stars. "Didn't you say this trinket boosts your magic when we're around?"

"Hmph," Rhys muttered.

Elara shed her robe and sat down next to him. "You should let him breathe, Borna. Didn't you learn anything? It's bad form to choke your lover with your cock. As is tearing their backs to shreds."

Borna shivered. "Going by the way he's tonguing me, he has all the air he needs," she gasped. "And since my claws haven't fully regrown yet, he won't suffer the same fate as Galdor. What are you doing?"

Elara pulled open Rhys' belt and robe then leaned in to enthusiastically lick along Rhys' erect member. "You may be right. This doesn't seem like someone in discomfort," she muttered, the last words muffled by Rhys' glans between her lips.

"Hmmm?!" Rhys made.

Borna rolled her hips forwards, slowly fucking Rhys' mouth. "Someone has to make sure you won't worry all night about Chassari. That someone is me."

Elara let Rhys' rod pop free and gasped air into her lungs. "I'll help," she offered. "Maybe you want to allow him to lie down?"

"Not such a -- damn! Stop teasing me, you!" Borna snarled. Rhys chuckled around her cock. His free hand cupped her unprotected slit, the middle finger curled inwards. She took a step back and her phallus left Rhys' mouth with a lewd, sloppy noise. "The last time I had sex in a bed, we had to pay for new furniture."

Rhys wiped spit and precum from his lips. "We'll improvise," he said, grinning. "I managed to repair a Soul Trap. A bed should be child's play." He stood up and shed his student's robes.

"You're not mad at me for plunging my cock down your throat?" Borna asked, taking another step back.

Rhys laughed softly. "In case you forgot, I already pleasured you twice this way. Voluntarily. You taking my mouth like that was a surprise but I'll happily oblige."

Elara scooted onto the mattress, moaning softly. "Am I allowed to partake as well?" she asked breathlessly.

"I still have no idea why anyone would willingly go near that thing but sure, knock yourself out, princess." Borna walked towards the bed. Her eyes met Rhys'. "How do you want me?"

He quickly scanned the room. "I have an idea," he muttered. Casting a spell, Rhys touched one of the beds. "Help me move it over here."

"You know the whole village will hear the heavy frame scrape across the floor, don't you?" Borna grabbed the frame with both hands and prepared to put her back into it.

Rhys' grin widened and he held up his end of the bed with one hand. "Make sure to leave a small gap between the beds," he ordered.

Borna understood. The spell was some kind of levitation or other weight-altering magic. The heavy bed frame weighed next to nothing and together with Rhys, she managed to place it next to the other, with a gap wide enough for her plated tail to snake through. A strange mix of sensations coursed through her body as she laid down on her back. Excitement. Apprehension. And for the first time, there was no burning shame or disgust mixed in. She knew whatever Rhys would come up with would be pleasurable for them both.

Rhys climbed into bed next to her and went straight for Borna's cock again. His fingers resumed caressing her slit. They made shockingly wet sounds as they slid into her. Borna arched her back. Below the bed, her tail carved deep furrows into the floorboards.