Mud and Magic Ch. 15

"May I come in?" Rhys asked, suddenly feeling very shy. He canceled the combat magics.

"Sure." Lishaka stepped aside to let him pass. "Hmm, you smell kinda ripe."

"Sorry," Rhys muttered. "Didn't manage to bathe just yet. That's desperation, sweat and blood you're smelling right there."

"What a coincidence that I have a bath ready to go," Lishaka said, heading straight for the bathroom.

"Coincidence?" Rhys followed her, only to be hit in the face with her robe.

"Well, no. I've had it prepared the moment I returned from helping Thurguz with the fire from heaven thing. But still, it's nice and toasty and smells like apples." Naked, she shot him a weak grin. "If that's okay with you."

"Everything is better than being blown clean across the corridor," Rhys said, tugging at his clothes. Lishaka gasped in terror as she caught sight of the clots of dried blood caked to his stomach and groin. "Or being stabbed in the belly by Faedal." Rhys added.

"Let me help," Lishaka offered, fumbling with his belt. Gently she pulled down his trousers and the blood-soaked loincloth. Her small hand cupped his balls and manhood. "At least no damage there," she announced.

Rhys chuckled weakly. "What did I do to you in the first place that you tried to blow me up?" he asked. Careful, so as not to slip on the tiles, he fought out of his boots.

"I... I actually don't know any more," Lishaka admitted, pressing her face against his stomach. "I only knew I was dorzog furious at you for benching me." She looked up. "Oh, and for fucking Elara instead of me."

"Elara?" He looked at her in confusion. "Lisha, I didn't... - I mean, I did pleasure Elara, back at the goat herder village after we found the Hand of Life. But I also did Borna again. What are you talking about?"

"After Hilgrun's funeral. You promised you'd sleep with me but then you went with Elara to fuck her instead." Lishaka slid into the bathtub, scowling. "Her pussy that much better than mine? I know how much you loved to fuck her ass at least."

Understanding dawned. Rhys followed the goblin into the spacious bathtub, hissing at the water's temperature. The elemental gem was easy enough to find and he sent it into its resting place with a quick spell. "We didn't fuck that night, Lishaka. Elara was utterly devastated by Hilgrun's death. I merely consoled her. And I'm truly sorry I didn't tell you."

"Hm. Not very convincing," Lishaka said, crossing her arms in front of her breasts. "I'm still mad at you for what you did to Borna. And Elara."

"You don't sound very mad," Rhys noted. "And even though it is none of my business, might I remind you of the time you enjoyed Radiant Empire hospitality, over and over again with Chassari, her cat servant and a certain dark elf? Do you hear me complaining about that?"

"You know about that?" Lishaka deflated visibly. "Well, what can I say? They made it awfully difficult to say no. The dark elf had a wonderful cock, just right for my pussy or ass and the cat girl could eat pussy like you won't believe. And you know Chassari, with all her fingers and that tongue and..."

Rhys snorted with laughter, causing Lishaka to look up in confusion.

"Why are you not mad at me?" the goblin asked.

"How could I be? I saw you enjoying their ministrations after barely escaping Faedal's attempt on my life so I was incredibly relieved you made it out of the supply camp alive. Well, then my scrying spell nearly killed me as I fell unconscious and cracked my head on the wash basin I used as a mirror. And when I came to later, Borna seduced me. How could I be mad at you for doing the same things I did?" He scooted across the bathtub and pulled Lishaka close. The goblin slid onto his lap. "We didn't exchange any vows of monogamy, Lishaka. I can understand that you were angry at me for not taking you along but, believe me, a second combat mage wouldn't have changed the outcome of our battle with Faedal." He pulled the goblin into a hug and caressed down her back. "I have to say though, the fireball you threw was spectacular. It had so much power, it even knocked the top of the tower loose."

"Really?" Lishaka's eyes lit up and her hand snaked between them, gently playing with Rhys' manhood. "That good?"

"Without it, I'm not sure I could have torn down the structure at all." Rhys shot her a grin, his hand cupping her sex. "I'd go almost as far to say that you helped kill Faedal. No fireball, no cracks in the tower, no chance for us to drop that thing on his head."

"You're shitting me," Lishaka purred, spreading her legs a little further. "But keep talking. Your flattery makes me very horny."

"Before I do anything more than tease you," Rhys said, deftly inserting two of his fingers into Lishaka's eager tunnel, "how about you apologize for nearly blowing me up?"

She closed her hand around his hardening rod and pumped greedily. "All is forgiven," she sighed. "Can we fuck now?"

"Not yet," Rhys said, withdrawing his fingers and leaving Lishaka gasping for more of his attention. "I want to make sure we understand each other. I like you very much, Lisha."

"How much?" the goblin asked, just before Rhys' lips sealed her mouth and his tongue slipped between hers. "Hmmmm," she made, grinding her sex against his hand.

Rhys eventually broke the kiss, leaving Lishaka gasping for breath and yearning for his cock to fill her up. "Nothing that happens between me and the others will ever change how much you mean to me," Rhys said. "But I don't know if I can swear an oath of monogamy. Not until I've settled my gambling debt with Galdor at least." He placed his hands under her taut butt cheeks and lifted her up. Anticipating what he had in mind, Lishaka grabbed Rhys' lance with a deft grip and angled it just right. When he lowered her again onto his lap, she slid effortlessly onto his member.

"You are aware that I'm going to watch that happen, are you not?" Lishaka gasped through quick kisses she planted on his cheeks and nose. "I want to see him fuck your sweet ass, Rhyssie."

"After what happened with Borna and Elara yesterday, I don't mind an audience any more," Rhys admitted, pushing himself deep into her snug little snatch. "Why not make a party out of it? Tell Chassari to come as well and she can keep you company while I offer my, how did he call it? Virgin rosebud to our dwarven alchemist."

"Rhyssie!" Lishaka erupted in helpless laughter as a climax rocked her body. "You've turned into a slut when I wasn't looking!"

He stopped further outbursts with a hot, hungry kiss and deep thrusts into the goblin's tight tunnel. "I've had nothing but the best teachers," he gasped as he came, coating her insides with hot spurts of his seed. His fingers clawed at her butt. "And tonight I'm all yours, for however long I can stay awake."

"That, dear Rhyssie, is music to my ears," Lishaka crooned. "Now shut up and fuck me some more!"

* * * *

"Well done, Kierkov." Carver graced his steward with a fleeting smile. "The ritual circle is flawless." Atop the Fortress's highest tower, strong winds tugged at his white robes and whipped his hair. In front of him, encircled by bands of precious metals inlaid into the tower's flagstones, stood the Dragon Stone.

"Marissa's apprentices and I have worked tirelessly ever since you've returned from the Depths, milord. We knew only the best would suffice for such an important relic." The old man bowed deeply. "Now all you need to do is invoke the old words and call a dragon to your side."

Two soldiers arrived atop the tower, carrying a large chest between them. They set it down in front of Carver and raised the lid. Inside, a pile of coins, gems and assorted valuable trinkets rested next to a richly ornamented scroll written in magical inks and dusted with crushed emeralds.

"Before you begin, you might want to tend your pet witch." Lilith strode onto the tower's platform in the soldiers' wake. "If you listen closely, you can hear her wails up here even. I know I can." The dark elven priestess, her sensitive eyes shaded by a toxic green hood, leered at Carver. "Seems like the little devil is either very eager to crawl out or getting very attached to some of her innards." She cackled viciously, caressing an imaginary swollen stomach. "Who knows what kind of foul half-demon Marissa will whelp when all is said and done?"

Marissa's accelerated pregnancy had been horrifying, to say the least. Without the potions supplied by Tanith, the rapidly growing fetus might have torn her apart from the inside. Even numbed and graced with magically induced elasticity, it had been a grueling six days. It became only marginally more bearable after Marissa had screamed herself hoarse. As a lone side benefit, the constant stream of suffering had energized Carver, allowing him to work day in, night out.

One of the first things he had ascertained was Faedal's fate. His scrying attempts had revealed that nothing remained of the small castle at the crater lake's edge and not a trace could be found of Faedal. So the dream he had experienced on his last day Below had indeed been prophetic. That Rhys boy had made his grandest move to date - and he had indirectly helped Carver deal with a possible headache in terminating Faedal.

I'll deal with him and Thurguz when the time is right, he thought. First things first. Marissa, then the Summoning.

"Have her waters broken already?" Carver asked.

"How should I know between all the fluids she's been leaking over the past three days?" Lilith snapped. "I'm not her midwife."

"You were supposed to keep an eye on her and heal if needed," Carver admonished her. "As the second most senior cleric under my roof."

"I did keep her alive. While you were busy staying up late and scribbling oh-so-important letters and spell scrolls." Lilith closed the distance and slipped her hands into Carver's robes, going for his manhood. "No rest for the wicked, not even a bit of pussy or ass for you in all these lonely nights. How did you do that?"

"I have neglected my duties as regent far too long. Carnal pleasure can be had once the important issues have been dealt with." He allowed her a few strokes and gropes at his balls before extricating her hands. "And if Marissa is close to giving birth, at least one of us should make sure she'll survive this ordeal."

"Fine, fine. I'll help prepare for the birth. Find me in the chapel, all right?" Lilith blew Carver a kiss before storming down the stairs.

"Chapel, Kierkov?" Carver closed the chest and looked at his steward. "Which chapel? Last I knew, my men are not of the pious bent and I conduct my prayers in private."

"Did I forget to mention, milord?" The steward bowed his head in apology. "Mistress Lilith demanded she be allowed to dedicate a room to the worship of the Chaos Queen. Since you asked me to grant her reasonable leeway, I allowed her to claim one of the unused storerooms in the eastern wing for her needs."

Carver sighed. "I hope you did mention to her that sacrificing my men is off the table. If she needs to appease her wicked patron, she should gouge into her own forces."

"As your steward, I keep as far away from religious matters as possible, milord. But next I see her, I will remind her of that edict."

"Good. Be so kind and resume preparations of the ritual. Fill the circle with the offering and make sure the scroll remains pristine until I return."

Not waiting for an affirmation, Carver swept down the stairs, through the main keep and across the courtyard, into the eastern wing where House Dree'vex's forces were stationed. The best part of a hundred dark elf fighters, the remainder of Jhaless' retinue, had been folded into the troops Tanith had gifted him. Along with Lilith, now the eastern wing served as a base for a sizable task force of archers, skirmishers, assassins and two dark elven wizards. And should the need arise, Tanith will grant me the full might of the Dree'vex pens, Carver mused. My enemies won't know what hit them when a stampeding horde of battle-trained minotaurs, orcs and ogres will assault them.

He heard the agonized wails well before reaching the storeroom-turned-chapel. Finding it was easier than expected, all he had to do was follow the wet trail on the floor. When he opened the door, his heart skipped a beat. Naked, her swollen body atop a waist-high block of freshly cut obsidian, was Marissa. Angry purple tears marred the once creamy skin on her stomach and the stench of blood soured the air in the small room. Covering the wall above the altar was a large black banner, with the shape of a spider stitched in gold and green prominently on display.

Wearing nothing more than a wicked smile and wielding a long, curved knife in one hand, Lilith stood next to the altar. She touched Marissa's forehead with a wet cloth.

"Tsk, tsk. No need to panic, my dear. In our world, life begins and ends on the altar. And since you've been blessed by a Handmaiden, anything else but a proper Dark Elven birthing ceremony just won't do," Lilith cooed.

Marissa loosened a pitiful moan, bloody froth flying from her lips. Her eyes rolled inside her head as her body was wracked by painful spasms atop the cold, unyielding stone.

"No need to torment her any further," Carver said, stepping up to the altar. He cast a quick diagnostic spell and ran his hands over Marissa's bruised stomach. As far as he could tell - and with Desire granting the spell, he wasn't too sure about the result in the first place - the child rested in the proper orientation, all but ready to be brought into this world.

"If you want it over with quickly, I can oblige," Lilith said, licking the blade. "She'll be done in a flash."

"No need to inflict any more harm on my poor Marissa," Carver muttered, caressing the sorceress's sweat-drenched raven hair. "I'm here for you, my dear."

The tormented woman's frantic thrashing subsided somewhat. "Morgan..." she gasped, her voice a rough whisper missing all of its usual sultriness. "Make it stop already. Please! I... I don't know how long-" Another agonized wail tore itself from her lips.

"Ah, I can see it crowning," Lilith purred, gently placing the knife at the edge of the altar. "Oh!" Her gasp was full of genuine surprise. Carver squeezed Marissa's hand and joined the dark elven priestess at the foot of the altar. The head of the child was inching forward, distending Marissa's labia. The skin was a blood-spattered ashen gray and the head seemed way too big to squeeze through the opening. Marissa wailed as she pressed, fighting to squeeze the half-demon child from her body. And suddenly it was over, the body free from its fleshy prison. Lilith deftly cradled the bloody bundle against her chest, using the knife to cut the umbilical cord.

"Look, Carver," she cooed. "It's a little baby girl. And she's got red hair. As much as I hate to admit it, this tiny monster has been blessed by my Queen. Such a blessed little spiderling." Lilith turned the writhing baby around and landed a soft slap on its backside. It began to wail, adding its tiny voice to Marissa's exhausted sobs.

Carver grabbed a cloth from a nearby bench and swaddled the baby into it. At first glance, it looked like a normal Dark Elven baby, only the skin was ashen gray instead of coal black. The child moved its head, its eyes opening. They were of an eerie blood red and for a moment, Carver felt like some malign intelligence was taking his measure, sizing him up and looking for weaknesses.

Shivering, he passed the bundle back to Lilith, unsure of what he had just witnessed.

For the first time in decades, Carver felt uneasy, off-balance. Maybe it was the spectacle of Marissa's bloody birth, maybe he had witnessed some divine event just now. Whatever it was, he didn't want to remain any closer to the half-demon child. Thankfully, he had a valid reason to excuse himself. "I need to see to the Summoning," he snapped. "See to it Marissa has everything she needs."

Lilith didn't answer, her gaze fixed on the baby's head. "A half-blood, blessed by the Queen," she muttered. "Oh my. I should probably be nice to you from now on, huh, little monster?"

Carver left the chapel, longing for the sharp winds atop his tower. He arrived just in time to see Kierkov place the last of the offerings in the circle.

"Ah, milord. Everything is as you decreed," the steward said, coming slowly to his feet. "The scroll is still in the chest, the offerings are prepared."

"Then we shall commence," Carver said, producing the scroll. He slowly unfurled the ornamented parchment, using the time to steady his breath. He hated to admit it but the events in the chapel had rattled him deeply.

Forcing the memory of the unnerving half-demonic gaze from his mind, he silently went through the formula written on the scroll, a lengthy and ponderous Elven chant calling for a dragon to aid the summoner.

Wetting his lips, he intoned the first syllables. The metal circles inlaid at his feet picked up the chant and vibrated softly in time with his cadence. Flecks of energy appeared in the strata going through the ancient Dragon Stone, flickering up and down the stone's length. Carver reached the second repetition of the ritual, his voice much firmer than before, enticing the dragons of old to do his bidding. The metal rings rattled freely now, striking sparks off the flagstones. Arcs of eldritch energy crackled between metal and stone and the offerings piled up around it. Once more Carver invoked the Elven words, yelling at the top of his lungs to be heard over the infernal rattling of metal on stone. Gold coins and goblets, platinum rings and orichalcon bracers burst into flame as if made from kindling, devoured by the mystic energies playing between the ritual circle and the Dragon Stone. And suddenly it was over. Carver yelled the last syllable of the spell, his voice breaking from the strain as he raised his hands high above his head. The ritual circle erupted in a blinding flash of light which poured into the Dragon Stone, meshing with the flickering motes of power coursing through the ancient rock and burst into the sky as a burning pillar of radiant energy.

"What happens next?" Kierkov asked, his gaze wandering from the pulsating Dragon Stone to the horizon and back again.

"We wait," Carver muttered. "I wouldn't be surprised if this Elven ritual will take some time to bear results." He sighed. "And let us not forget - the Dragon Stone of Flight is the weakest of the set. Depending on its range, we might not see a dragon until we can add a second or third stone into proceedings."

"You are mistaken," a cool, female voice announced. The soldiers next to him drew their weapons and wheeled to face the newcomer. Carver touched one of the runes on his belt and raised a magical shield.

Perching on the tower's parapet sat a humanoid figure, a curvy, feminine body wrapped in a coat of brilliant emerald scales. The face was a bewildering amalgam of dragon and elf, with frills and horns and a pointed snout combined with slanted amber eyes and silvery fronds, almost like a mane of hair. A long, spiked tail curled around her three-toed, clawed feet.

"Welcome," Carver said, offering a slight bow. "My name-"

The half-dragon cut his greetings short with a slash of her taloned hand. "Spare me your idle prattling, Morgan Carver. I know full well who you are." She spat, a whiff of noxious gas causing Kierkov and the soldiers to cough vehemently, their eyes streaming tears. "I am Bai'Saedyth, Veridian Storm of Vengeance and Wrath of the Stalker. Were it not for the Dragon Stone staying my claws, you would be dead by now. The souls of my dead elven kin demand retribution for your atrocities!"

"What luck the Dragon Stone binds you then," Carver said. "Now come down from your perch and swear fealty like the ancient pact demands."