Quest for the Dragon Soul Pt. 04

"Rogue riders," Ziel-Tan whispered.

III

The banner held high above the riders depicted a tall tower of obsidian and crystal from which sprouted regal, fiery wings; beneath the wings were swords pointing away from each other. The same swords were at the top and to bottom of the tower; each blade pointed in the directions of the Cardinal Roads. Beneath the banner were riders dressed in gleaming polished chest plates of bronze and vermilion - thick chain-mail covered their arms and skirted their thighs. Other riders rode beneath a different banner: three intersecting arrows, each tip forming the tip of a triangle surrounded by a circle. They wore armor formed from bands of hardened leather and light chain-mail. Each had a characteristic linen band across either their scarred right or left eye and carried a bow and a side mounted quiver of arrows.

The fleeing remnants of the highwaymen crashed into the wall of Rogue Riders - their spears clashed with the hardened shields of the cavalry of Melit'Zay while those who scattered fell to the swiftly drawn and released arrows of the Qoazti archers. Once the cavalry drew their swords, the remnants of the highwayman horde were swiftly decimated to bloodied, tattered remains by the disciplined chaos of the Riders.

Ziel-Tan watched as mists of blood shot into the air while the Rogue Riders completed their business - Bailla'Tayne Jeva was silent as she witnessed the massacre. As a Blade Bride of Asteytis, Bailla'Tayne Jeva had witnessed the destruction of entities, seen their blood and smelled their corruption, but she had never witnessed the decimation of men by other men. Where the violence of gods was elegant and poetic, the violence of men was an erratic and base experience.

The horse the Blade Bride had ridden came back and stood by her.

Two riders left the battle with the the stragglers of the highwaymen horde and approached the two women - one was dressed in the armor of the cavalry, but also wore a green cape that was pinned to his bronze epaulets, demonstrating his rank, while the other ported the leather armor of the Qoazti archers but he had golden ringlets laced into the bands of leather of the armor.

Ziel-Tan touched her banded eye and then her lips in salute to Maca-Jal, the leader of the surviving Qoazti archers who had taken refuge in Melit'Zay. He was a tall but slender man - his dark skin and broad, proud features, high cheekbones and large, soft brown eyes and traditionally braided air hinted his regal ancestry. He returned her salute while the other rider removed the bronze helmet that adorned his head. He was shorter in the saddle than Maca-Jal but his shoulders and arms where thickly muscled. His dark brown hair was cropped short to his head and his thick jaw sported a haggard beard peppered with red and white. His blunt nose and square jawed face bore scars from countless battles and his hazel eyes moved with experience and cunning as he noted every detail he saw.

"Lady Ziel-Tan," the cavalry man with a gravely voice more like a loud whisper. "The Seeded Council requires your presence immediately."

"Thank you, general Talveiss," Ziel-Tan answered. She studied the weary soldier with the same intensity he studied her. "But my mission is not over - I will return with the keeper of the Pneuma Dracona. Not before."

"We've been riding ever since the forces of the Call went quiet, little arrow," Maca-Jal interceded before the scarred general committed to dragging Ziel-Tan back to the Heligopol in chains - and his use of her hated nick name focused her attention on him. "The Oracle saw his capture by the Matrons - she needs whatever information she can gleam from you and your companion's interactions with him."

Ziel-Tan spun on her saddle, but was surprised to see Bailla'Tayne Jeva patiently witnessing the exchange from her mount. The Blade Bride had been watching the interactions between the new arrivals and the archer who had bound her, noting names and extrapolating relationships and opinions.

"I am Lady Bailla'Tayne Jeva, acolyte to the Blade Bride order of Asteytis, last mage-maiden of the House of Bailla'Tayne Tevam, and a woman much too late coming home," the Blade Bride announced with the authority and melancholy her position had once given her.

"Both that order and that house have been long dead, my lady," General Talveiss growled as his hand dropped to the hilt of his arming sword.

Before Bailla'Tayne Jeva could respond, Ziel-Tan had her bow in hand and an arrow knocked and ready to pierce the general in the face.

"She is my charge, lord general, and I can assure you, she speaks the truth," Ziel-Tan hissed as general Talveiss fired a look of annoyance at her.

Maca-Jal reared his horse on its hind legs and landed, separating the belligerent allies. "General Talveiss! As prime Archer of the Qoazti companion, you have my oath Ziel-Tan will return to Melit'Zay as ordained by the seeded council and the Oracle Cyphelia Desjaines. However, lady Jeva will be under my protection and responsibility. Are these terms suitable?"

The general reared his mount back and gazed coldly at the two archers and the Blade Bride.

"Maca-Jal - we set up camp tonight so eat and rest. The road to Melit'Zay is long and we will ride hard tomorrow."

The Prime Archer of the Qoazti Companion nodded and the lord general of the Rogue Riders of Melit'Zay turned his horse and rejoined his awaiting men.

"Alliances are fickle, aren't they?" Bailla'Tayne Jeva asked as Maca-Jal led them to where the other archers were setting camp.

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"Cyphelia Desjaines," the voice of the Seeded Witch Odeena the Crone resounded in the makeshift council room beneath the burning ruins of the Heligopol. "We gave you sanctuary with the promise that you could deliver, as the last Oracle of Thull'Achar, the key to understanding the prophecies surrounding the Call of Skaelor."

"I also delivered the pledge of loyalty of the Qoazti archers," the Oracle said, her voice soft but firm. "They were the most successful warriors against the Call." She stood before the Council of the Seeded in full ceremonial regalia: her silver and black hair was pulled back into a simple braid while she adorned a headpiece forged of silver with two long, plated arches that encircled her ears. She also wore a green linen robe that was covered, at the collar and cuffs, with gold embroidery in the form of a comment vine found in the southern regions. Her high cheekbones and wide mouth and thin nose gave her a regal gait, but the Oracle's most disquieting feature were her purple eyes with silver irises.

"Yes, you did," Odeena the Crone said as she struggled to match Cyphelia's otherworldly gaze. "And now they are scouring the countryside for a so-called causal nexus embodied in some poor Ordeyirgossian - and he is lost to us!" The Seeded Witch and current head of the Seeded Council straightened the simple black robe she wore over a white tunic. Her gray hair was loose around her shoulders and her hazel eyes smoldered at the Oracle.

"As you said, I am an Oracle - but I don't have the eyes for prophecy, only revelation." Cyphelia reached into a pouch and cast a handful of the ashes of a chagrin bird upon a fire pit. The ashes, having soaked in oil, sizzled as they landed on the flames and released a sweet smelling aroma. The smoke slowly rose above the council and formed the image of a boat sailing a violent sea on one side and the image of two women on galloping horses on the other.

"The Ordeyirgossian sails with the Call, it is true," Cyphelia said as the smokey image lingered. "So the Gods have chosen a different path for him. I believe what they have delivered to my agent is of equal importance. And again, it was because of the Ordeyirgossian - he remains a causal nexus."

Odeena the Crone turned from the Oracle and fixed the old wizard dressed in a gray and green tunic and said: "Thierann - we accepted this ... oracle ... under your recommendation as a former head of the Seeded Council and elder mentor. Do you still hold to your recommendation?"

Thierann left his position leaning in an entrance and approached the Seeded Council he had once presided. "I do, Odeena. None of us is equipped to understand the prophetic forces at play - our best chance resides with Cyphelia Desjaines."

"I see," Odeena nodded. "The Council will review our continued support of the Oracle and will render a decision within two days. Her emissary should have time to return then with whatever she has to present."

Odeena the Crone stood and the other three wizards and one witch, as well as the diplomatic representatives from the various refugee city states returned to their respective sections of the tunnel city beneath Melit'Zay.

Cyphelia Desjaines, last Oracle of the god Thull'Achar stormed out of the makeshift council chamber followed by a weary wizard.

IV

"Damn that sanctimonious bitch!" Cyphelia cried as she burst into her chambers - Thierann remained at the threshold as the Oracle tore off her headdress.

"You've got to remember, Cyphelia," Thierann said as the Oracle of Thull'Achar stripped from her gold cuffed tunic. "Odeena and the other withes and wizards - magic has always been a faculty of will for them. A faculty diminished by the Arcane Ailment and to see you exerting power ... they need time."

Cyphelia was fully nude now - her svelte form and small, upturned breasts moved with haste as she tossed her ceremonial garbs aside. "But you're a wizard as well! You could make them understand."

"I'm not quite the wizard I used to be," Thierann sighed as he took a seat beneath a flaming column of burning plates that illuminated the room. Cyphelia stood before him - he admired how her stiff nipples turned upwards and the flames painted flickering shadows down her flat stomach.

"Ah yes," the Oracle said as she undid her long braid, letting her silver and black hair fall upon her shoulders. She suggestively ran her hands down her body and framed the triangle of black hair at the juncture of her creamy thighs. "The mysterious event that happened in your past - you haven't told me about it yet."

"You're the Oracle," the old wizard said as he placed his hands on Cyphelia's slim waist. "It is to you to divine it."

"I can only read what the gods reveal, Thierann of Gul'Vadesh," Cyphelia sighed as Thierann moved her hands away and grabbed her ass and drew her close where he could kiss the soft hair of her pubis.

"I have no revelations for you Cyphelia," Thierann whispered as the Oracle parted her legs and he slid off the sofa and he could position himself between her slender thighs.

Cyphelia Desjaines sighed as the experienced fingers of the old wizard Thierann parted the folds of her labia and exposed the lips of her pussy - her sigh turned to a moan as he applied his agile tongue to the sensitive elements of her intimate flesh.

Cyphelia felt a warmth spread from between her legs as her wetness grew under the subtle caresses of Thierann's tongue. The warmth climbed up her chest and she teased it to full fire when she pinched her upturned nipples - Thierann slid a finger into her slick slot and Cyphelia's knees buckled when he applied pressure to her inner spot and place his tongue on her engorged clit - her mind suddenly filled with the image of him standing heroically a midst a seeming legion of fallen Scything Souls. His hands had moved with efficiency as his will had bent the leylines of magic and he dispatched the forces of the Call of Skaelor with urgency. The old wizard had known what she was from the onset and the Qoazti archers that accompanied her swore him allegiance.

Thierann used his tongue to slide across the Oracle's clit while he wiggled his finger inside her. She moaned and he pulled her close to his body - she was sprawled and Thierann bent his head forward and he suckled on her upturned nipple while he took long stokes across her pussy. Cyphelia gasped as her body stiffened when Thierann gently bit her nipple while quickly moving his middle finger in and out of her cunt - wetness dribbled from her sex and across the wizard's veiny fingers.

"A vision!" Cyphelia moaned. "Give me a vision!"

Thierann pulled his green tunic up past his waist where his erect cock sprang forth from a trim patch of grayish hair. Cyphelia stretched her neck to the left and deeply kissed the wizard that had saved her life - her tongue twirled around his hungrily while the touch of their lips was more gentle. Cyphelia reached between her thighs where she felt the wizard's erection bounce against her pubic hair - she positioned herself so that she faced away from him while resting on her knees.

Cyphelia took Thierann's cock, placed it against her pussy, and lowered herself upon his erection. The old wizard sighed when he felt the oracle's flesh engulf his manhood with the delicate heat that could only radiate from a woman's pussy. Thierann admired the shape of her ass when Cyphelia supported herself on his thighs and began to rock back and forth - his breath quickened at the sensation of his cock moving in and out of the Oracle's pussy.

Cyphelia felt her core quiver as her tight, moist cunt choked the wizard's pulsating cock. Her breath came in rapid, static bursts as her pleasure spawned under each long stroke of his manhood - warmth leaked from his flesh into hers and weave its way into her being.

Thierann grunted when Cyphelia's pussy tightened around his cock, strangling it with erotic grace - he grabbed her slim waist and Cyphelia responded by re-positioning herself so that she was leaning against his chest and the flat of her feet were on his thighs. She gyrated her hips and moaned while her long, silver and black hair cascaded across the wizard's face, filling his nostrils with the scent of her oiled locks.

As they moved, Cyphelia felt her skin crackle with a sense of dissipation while mounting bliss clouded her reason. Thierann felt a similar sense of disconnection as his own orgasm seemed to pool at the base of his cock, pulling from his extremities the arousal that peppered his skin and turning it into a swelling bubble of molten desire. But through the haze of orgasm that was about the devour them, Cyphelia Desjaines, last Oracle of Thull'Achar, became a wraith as her flesh transmuted into a mist and an image washed across the space occupied by her skin.

For Thierann, he saw as much as felt his orgasm burst from his throbbing cock in a powerful ejaculation - but where his come should have buried itself deep into the Oracle's womb, he saw it explode like fragments of starlight, filling her translucent form an illuminating the image the Gods were sharing with her. Cyphelia had thrown her head back and her mouth hung open in throes of ecstasy but where her face should have been, the image of a spitting volcano lingered. From its crater arose a pair of red leathery wings, the membranes stitched with the screaming faces of tortured souls; on her back, the Oracle displayed a ship crashing against the shores of a mist shrouded island, and in the wreckage stood four women in various cloaks; on her belly, Cyphelia displayed a frayed figure of a man with a mane of black and granite hair walking down a narrow path while thick chains protruded from his chest and were locked in the jaws of two opposite, dragon-like silhouettes.

The Oracle spoke: "A day will come when magic will die; the Void will forget and the Gods will cry; but from the womb of woman and the seed of man the spark will arise; and the fire will soon burn behind the dragon's eyes. But the man be will given a choice tainted by the veil of lies; he will taste the fires of a longing prize; before his choice is final, blood will rain from the skies; under the mad wrath of dragon's rage and the Gods aside, the magic will rise while the Voided Man dies."

Thierann was gasping and grunting as Cyphelia resumed her corporeal form and cried her orgasm, the juices of her pussy, mixed with the old wizard's come, dripped down her thighs and across Thierann's lap.

Exhausted, the Oracle of Thull'Achar slid from the shrinking cock of the wizard Thierann and sat next to him on the lounging sofa - he adjusted his sex back into the tunic and poured a glass of water from a carafe and handed it to Cyphelia. "Did you see?" she asked between gulps, her purple and silver eyes fixed on the wizard.

"I saw - and I heard. You've never voiced a prophecy before. It was the prophecy of the Vanguard Draconis - but you added to it."

Cyphelia arose unsteadily, her limbs shaking and her skin pallid - she declined Thierann's help and dressed herself in a simple black, silk robe and picked up a brush and handed it to the wizard and said with a shaky voice: "The Gods reveal themselves through me, Thierann. I never understand their will until its too late."

"I hate them for what they do to you," Thierann said as he moved behind the Oracle when she sat before a mirror - he began to brush her silky hair. "Every vision - and now prophecy - leaves you weakened. I'm afraid visions will be the death of you."

"You know they come only when I love, old wizard." the Oracle said finally. "If I die in your arms, I'll be at peace."

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Ziel-Tan, the Qoazti archer, looked out from her saddle over the ruins of Melit'Zay - plumes of smoke sneaked skyward, some the result of the battle with the Call of Skaelor, others strategically placed to mimic destruction while hiding the chimney and air vents of the hidden tunnel city beneath the streets. At the center of the valley towered the ruins of the Heligopol, from where wizards and witches could look out upon the four directions of the world. The archer was still amazed at the grandeur of the city when she compared it to the interconnecting mountain villages that peppered the southern isles she called home.

For Bailla'Tayne Jeva, Melit'Zay had always been a legend and an aspiration. But now, it was as crumbled and desolate as all her other memories had been after 500 years of accidental exile. And with the disappearance of Khaln, her only anchor to this era, whatever magic she possessed was a pure jest, rendering her even unworthy to enter the dying capitol of the Magii Dominii.

"The situation must be dire indeed for both the cavalry and the archer companion be sent to find us," Ziel-Tan whispered to Maca-Jal as he guided the way down the Cardinal road that lead from the East and into the valley that surrounded Melit'Zay.

"The future hangs in the balance, little arrow," Maca-Jal said, amused at how Ziel-Tan bristled at the nickname. "Cyphelia is weakening as her visions grow stronger. Lady Bailla'Tayne Jeva may hold a key in understanding the choices this Ordeyirgossian Khaln will be faced with."

Bailla'Tayne Jeva shivered when she heard Khaln's name, remembering the look of utter defeat he gave her before being taken by the Call of Skaelor. "I know something of the prophetic arts," she found herself saying to Maca-Jal. "I'll help anyway I can."

Ziel-Tan glared her and hissed: "We've yet to see if we can trust you, quisling."

"What ever help you can lend will be appreciated, my lady," Maca-Jal said, dismissing Ziel-Tan's argument and while reminding her he was Prime Archer. "The Oracle will want to present you and question you before the Seeded Council."

"Odeena might order her death," Ziel-Tan warned. "By oath, we would have to execute the order."

"We've pledged allegiance to Lord Thierann, not the Seeded Council - remember that," Maca-Jal whispered. "If they recant their support for Cyphelia, Thierann may call us to action and reclaim the council. That's where our oath lies."

Bailla'Tayne was listening intently at the conversation between the two Qoazti archers, and felt strangely at peace knowing that the nature of human intrigue had not changed over the centuries of her unwanted exile. She was also memorizing the names: Maca-Jal, Thierann, Cyphelia ... her late father Tevam had reminded her that knowing the names of the players involved facilitated the forming of alliances.