Sex Wizards - Initiation Ch. 12-13

The focuses spark hard, and I feel the warmth of a tongue teasing the skin between them. "Not yet," Arlon says. The mouth over my cock stops, and both Garrett and I wail in unison. Chuckles ripple around us even as Cancassi speeds up. They cum with a little sigh of pleasure before pulling out and leave my hole dripping and spread wide.

I'm shaking with need and I'm not the only one. Garrett shivers against me, a muffled mewl of pleasure sounding as he rests his cheek against mine. Apparently even after gaining full mastery, one can still be reduced to a cum-filled mess during a casting.

Then I feel something stretch my hole again, and realize that it's a string of focuses, just like what I used during my conjuration. Five marbles slide into me, filling me up in a way that a cock or phallus never could. I whimper, almost dreading how intense my orgasm is going to be. Almost.

Then, the mouth around my cock starts again in earnest. My focus is too ruined to even try and guess who it is, so I just enjoy it. Whoever it is does an expert job of it, and it's not long before I feel my orgasm build. The focuses around my cock and inside of me spark, making me see stars even behind my blindfold.

I howl as my orgasm overtakes me. Someone starts to pull the string of focuses out of me, and I moan until I run out of breath, shuddering as each marble pulled from me adds another layer of sensation to my release. The lips around my cock continue to suck until I'm well and fully spent.

Vaguely I hear Garrett's cry echo mine, and judging by the sound of it, we had no trouble charging all of the focuses Arlon put on us. Finally, the mouth pulls away and I sag into the ropes, feeling Garrett's heaving chest thump against mine again. He buries his head into my hair, and I can't do much else but rest mine against his collar, panting as I try to regain my senses.

The blindfold is peeled from my eyes, and I blink as I blearily focus on Galiva's smiling face. She holds up the string of marbles, all of which are glowing softly. "Plus the four on your cock, I'd say that's a new record for you," she says.

I give a muffled laugh and let my head fall back against Garrett's chest. I don't stay there long as someone pulls my head back to get the gag undone. I'm forced to look up, and I find Garret's grey eyes watching me, expression still hazy in the aftermath. Even with the gag still on, I can tell he's smiling. For a second, I just stare as a thought creeps its way into my pleasure-addled mind; I've been a shit to him.

We're freed from our gags and the ropes soon after. "Well done," Arlon says as he drapes a blanket around my shoulders. Garrett is given another, and we go sit by the fire where someone already has a pot of water warming for us to wash with. I check it with my finger, but it's tepid at best.

Instead I take the seat next to Garrett and shiver as I finally start to feel the night's chill. Behind us, I hear the others laughing and chatting as they walk down to the creek to clean the focuses and casting equipment. For now, it's just me and Garrett.

"You hear that?" Garrett asks, breaking the silence between us.

I glance up at him. "What?"

"That's the sound of wizards being happy in their work," Garrett says as I hear Cancassi's trill of laughter echo up from the creek. "That's how it should be. With all the terrible things we've learned lately, it's nice to be reminded."

I nod and pull my blanket a little more securely around my shoulders. I want to say something, but I can't find the words. I'm still having a hard time gathering my thoughts after having them thoroughly fucked out of me. Garrett doesn't seem to have the same problem. "You're alright?" he asks. "That was a pretty intense spell for an adept."

"I'm fine," I say with a sigh. I'm not sure if it's true, but it certainly doesn't have anything to do with the adrenaline drop after the casting. After a moment, the words come tumbling out. "Look, I'm sorry. I've been an ass to you. It's just that-"

Garrett holds up a hand and my words shrivel in my mouth. "It's just that you're a human from the Hobokins and I'm a half-orc from the high plains," he finishes for me. A moment of quiet stretches between us as Garrett seems to weigh what to say next. "Let me ask you this - you ever met an orc before?"

I swallow. "No."

"You ever met anyone who's actually met an orc before?"

I think back, remembering all of the my-cousin's-friend's-neighbor's stories with a sinking feeling. "No," I say at last.

"Didn't think so," Garrett says blandly. "Wanna know why that is?" He doesn't seem to expect my answer. "Because about five or so generations ago, orcs were driven out of our settlements in the Hobokins by humans. We were forced up to the high plains, but you bet your ass we tried to fight to get our land back," he says, an edge cutting into his voice. "But we also saw the losing fight for what it was. You all breed like mice, and the fight became too costly for my ma's folks to keep up. By then, we'd inherited the plains and they were a defensible enough position that we didn't have to deal with humans anymore.

"So now, we fight off aggressors, protect our borders, but let me tell you - our desire to take back the rest of the mountain has long passed. Guess you could say humans won that territory war," he says with a huff of a laugh. "But you know what's funny? While humans have the shorter lifespan, your memories last forever. It never ceases to amaze me how your kind hold on to prejudices from a conflict that's been over for decades."

I swallow, guilt settling in my gut. When I first came to the Crux, I was afraid I'd be taken as some ignorant mountain boy, but it's only now I've proved it. "I'm sorry," I say quietly. "I was being stupid."

Garrett nods sagely. "You were," he agrees. "But I accept and appreciate the apology. It's better than the rocks some folks offered me when I first came down the mountain with a human woman. At least in Straetham, I'm more of a curiosity than a menace."

A silence falls between us, only slightly more comfortable than it had been. "You can tell me to fuck off, but if humans and orcs don't do a lot of mingling... then how'd you come to be?"

Garrett laughs. "Because humans that have been ostracized from their villages tend to wander," he says. "If they make it up to the high plains and prove they're not a total fucking asshole, we'll let them in. My da was kicked out of Airedale for thieving. My ma's clan found him half-dead and frostbitten, so they took him in. He proved that he wasn't a total fucking asshole and a pretty good hunter on top of that."

He looks a little sad as he ads, "He died never even realizing he had magic in his blood. If he had, he never would have had to steal in the first place."

I run a hand through my hair, my curiosity getting the better of me. "How'd you find out you had magic?"

Garrett chuckles and says, "It was kind of a, ah... low time for me. After I left the high plains, I slept with a human prostitute in Frostcliff who also had a spark of it. She was the only one who'd bed a half-orc, but I think we're both pretty glad she did. She left that hellhole of a brothel the next morning and we came to the Crux together. Neither of us have ever looked back." He has a fond smile on his face and adds, "You probably haven't met Bridgette - she's been working off-site as a conjurer for a few years now." He takes a drink from his canteen before offering it to me. "You?"

"Was working as a forest guide and Allisande hired me," I say and take a long drink. "I chased off some goblins one night, and she, ah, thanked me."

Garrett chuckles and I have to admit that I like the sound of it. He's got a deep, resonant voice that has a way of shivering over my skin. "Sounds like Allisande," he says before his smile fades. I know where his mind's gone because mine keeps looping back to the thought as well.

The chatter of the others starts to get louder as they head back up from the creek. "We have seven heavily armed wizards and two people who know the Hobokins inside out," I mutter. "I don't think these monsters stand a chance. We'll get them back."

Garrett nods in agreement. "We'll get them back."

###

The next morning, we reach the hills proper. Our road gets steeper, the trees thicker and more wild. We deviate from the main road to follow a rough cart path, but Cancassi's horses handle the rugged terrain without complaint and only a few missteps. By early evening, we reach the Black Burrows.

The entrance to the mine would have been easy to miss if it weren't for the signs of destruction in the surrounding woods. Trees are toppled and scorched, earth torn and cracked. That and the 20 or so dirty-faced miners clearing the debris are a pretty good indicator that we've made it to the right place.

"Who the hell are you?" one of them shouts as we approach. Others grab their pickaxes when they catch sight of us and hold them like they're readying for a fight. Then, I notice the graves, some dug, some open and waiting for the bodies that are lined up just a little way from the mine's entrance. The mine's security, I assume, judging by the armor that a few of the miners were stripping off them.

"We're wizards of the Crux," Arlon says as he dismounts. "My name is Arlon. I'm grandmaster of the towers."

The man who first spoke looks us over even as another behind him spits disdainfully. "The last ones claimed to be from the Crux, too," the first man says, but I'm too busy looking at the spitter.

Then it hits me. I stumble off my horse with a laugh. "Walter?" I ask. The man blinks and looks at me with new eyes, recognition lighting up his face.

"I'll be damned. Is that Dom?" He laughs and takes a step towards me. "You running with wizards now?"

"Needed a change of scenery," I say with a shrug. "Why you working the mines?"

Walter sighs. "Da's herd fell sick. We lost more than half of them before we got it under control," he says. "We needed the extra money, so I came here for the summer."

"Fucking hell, I'm sorry to hear that." Behind me, Arlon clears his throat. "Right. Look, we got word that there was some trouble out here. We sent one of our own to help a little over a week ago but we... heard something happened." I look around at the destruction. "What's gone on here?"

The man who seems to be the leader of the little group steps forward, wiping sweat from his forehead. "You're Olbric's people?" he asks, and when I nod, he relaxes a little. "Good - turns out the security the king sent were less than useless. Olbric was the only one who even stood a chance against the folks that have come sweeping through."

"Bandits?" Arlon asks.

The man shakes his head. "No bandit crew around is carrying that amount of firepower," he says. "They claimed they were from the Crux, and we believed them right up until they tried to raid the mine."

Arlon frowns at that. "Going after gold ore seems like a waste of magic," he says.

The miner shakes his head. "They weren't after the gold," he says. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a rough white stone that I recognize instantly. And I'm not the only one. I feel the ripple of shock go through our little group.

It's a focus.

Raw and uncut, but there's no mistaking that curious shine. "We hit a vein of this not three weeks back. As soon as we started hauling it out, this group showed up. They were coming back for more when Olbric tried to stop them. Hate to say it, but I think your wizard's dead. We never found his body."

I flinch at that, my heart tapping an anxious beat in my chest. He can't be right. Please don't let him be right.

Arlon steps forward and takes the raw stone from the man's open palm. "What's your name?" he asks.

"Regis, sir," he says, adapting a much more formal tone now that Arlon's standing right next to him. The grandmaster definitely has a presence that others take notice of.

"Regis, do you know what this is?" The man shakes his head and has the look of someone who wished he had never pulled it out of the ground. "This is a magically conductive mineral called magiline. It's the only material we've found that can store magic indefinitely, and until this moment, the only known source of it was the main tower of the Crux in Straetham. This here is why your mine was attacked."

Galiva comes up besides us and takes the chunk from Arlon. "How much of it did they take?" she asks.

Regis looks Galiva over curiously. "Not sure," he says. "A cartload, at least."

Arlon says something in a language I don't recognize, but it's easy enough to spot a swear. "Then they aren't limited by the number of focuses they've stolen from our missing wizards," he says. "They're working to create their own stockpile."

He looks back at us and says, "We'll camp here tonight. I need to get a sending back to the Crux and to King Thermilious."

A shiver of unease runs through my spine at the thought of that. Whatever distrust the king has of wizards is only going to grow if there are rogue ones running about with their own store of focuses. But Arlon's not finished. "Cancassi, I need you to seal the entrance to this mine until a time we can reopen it securely."

"Hey now, we've got a job to do!" Regis protests.

Arlon reaches into his cloak and pulls out a letter with a crest even I recognize. It's the royal seal - a rearing gold griffin on a field of red. "On matters of magical importance, I have authority," he says and hands the paper to Regis. "As of now, this mine is closed until it can be properly secured. You and your men will be paid for the season, plus extra compensation to get you all home safely. Ambra?"

"Got it, sir," she says and rummages through our saddle packs until she pulls out a bag that jingles in a telling way.

Regis looks from the paper to Ambra's large bag with wide eyes. "Oh," he says, sounding a little faint.

Arlon turns to me next. "Dominai, I need you to find our trail," he says. I feel his words like a physical weight. If I'm not able to do it...

Garrett's hand lands on my shoulder, a comforting presence. I take a breath and meet Arlon's eye. I muster every bit of confidence I can. "I'll find it."

#

The path of destruction that isn't hard to read. Olbric and the rogue wizards had really gone at it. Trees have been snapped like twigs while others have been scorched to embers along with the ground around them. Thank the gods it's been a wet summer so far. The fire wasn't able to spread.

Olbric had led his attackers away from the mine. To keep the miners safe from the firefight, no doubt. With their security dead, they had no one but him and their own pickaxes to rely on.

The trail goes for nearly a full mile, and I gain a whole new appreciation for what evocation can do. Olbric held his own for quite some time, but when the destruction stops, it stops abruptly. I see the wrecked earth that had sent Olbric tumbling to the ground, see the cone shaped irregularity in the pine needles from where he sent his attacker flying.

I find the trunk he was backed up against when the knife found his throat. The ground around it has been searched well. I don't find a single focus, but I do find the broken strands of leather that had held them all in place. I pick it up, an ache settling in my chest.

"He was right here." My voice barely reaches a whisper, but Garrett hears me all the same. He straightens from where he's examining the torn earth.

"From the damage, I can spot evocation, transmutation and a bit of conjuration," Garrett says with a sigh. "It's impossible for me to tell what was theirs and what was Olbric's though."

I nod and put my hand to the ground, feeling the soft earth. Thank the gods the ground's damp enough to hold a trail but thank them even more that it hasn't rained since Olbric was taken to wash it away. I pick out the indent of their boots, and the scrape of earth where they dragged him.

"There are four sets of footprints aside from Olbric's," I say. "My guess is three wizards, and one regular ol' human."

"Why's that?" Garrett asks.

"Because the woman I saw in my divining only had a dagger," I say. "She may have had some spells hidden around her neck, but if she did, why not use them? Magic's got to give you a whole lot of other ways to disable someone without getting into arm's reach."

I follow the trail, making sure not to trample the tracks as we go. It's maybe a quarter mile later when the tracks deviate from their straight line. A scuffle, I realize. Olbric had fought back, tried to throw them off, but then I find the dried blood splattered across the nearby rocks.

Anger settles like a hot coal in my stomach, but the trail continues on, further into the hills. "It's a good trail," I say. "They weren't trying to cover their tracks."

Garrett looks up, where the sunlight is quickly dwindling. "Then we should head back," he says. He offers me a hand, and I let him pull me to my feet. "We'll start fresh tomorrow." He claps me on the back. "Good work, Dominai."

#

The next morning, we get an early start. The sun is just over the horizon by the time our camp is packed and the horses loaded. The miners, pockets jangling with coin, are just as eager to get out of here and get home. Walter and a few others are headed towards Airedale while most come from a village further down the hill.

"Good luck," Walter says and shakes my hand. "Olbric was a good guy. I hope you all can find out what happened to him."

I swallow and put on a smile I don't feel. "Me too. Say hi to your da for me."

We pick up the trail again, and on horseback, we make it to the spot on the trail where Garrett and I had to stop much quicker. It continues on for a few miles before I notice another spot where Olbric must have tried to escape again. His tracks trail off to the left, into the thick of the woods, but over them are spots where someone dragged him back - kicking and fighting the whole time by the looks of it.

There's no blood, but Olbric's tracks disappear. My heart stops in my chest when Arlon says, "Search for a body." I don't think I breathe again until that's ruled out. We have to assume whoever took him carried him. I'm not sure what subdued him this time, but it leaves a sour feeling in my stomach.

Our trail leads us further up into the bluffs. The path gets rockier, and as the sun starts to go down, the footprints get harder to follow. It's only after I lead us on a false trail for nearly half a mile that Arlon calls a stop. We camp for the night, and I fall asleep discouraged, despite Garrett and Galiva's attempts to reassure me.

I'm up before dawn, but as soon as it's bright enough, I find where I went wrong. We're reaching a rocky area. The footprints are few and far between, but a muddy shoe print sets me on the right path again. I follow it and am reassured when I see other tracks along the route.

My hope is short lived as the terrain gets worse. I dismount and lead Mo on foot, panic starting to creep at the edges of my mind. There's a rock flat up ahead, and the last print I can see is a muddy mark on the edge of the grey granite.

I hand Mo's reigns off to Cancassi, eyes scanning the ground for anything - any scuff or print, but there's nothing. I feel numb as the realization sinks in; I've lost the trail. No matter what way they went, it's nothing but rock fields for at least a mile. Even if I knew which way they had gone, picking up the trail on the other side would be nothing but dumb luck.

I reach into my pocket, grabbing the leather strands that had held Olbric's focuses, as if that will somehow point me the right way. It feels like we're so close, yet at the same time, like we're still a million miles away.