Sufferance Ch. 14

*No...*

I'd grown...far beyond needing to do that to her.

I could face my own trials.

I had to concentrate on Gaelan's pain-streaked face to keep myself from further helping the half-breed preserve the bond. Shyntre increased the magical strain seven fold in one vicious push, and it finally snapped and Kerse's shriek reverberated in the cavern.

My Sister screamed as well as she absorbed the resulting burst of energy for us, saving both me and Kerse a fair amount of added pain.

My hand groped, clumsy and uncoordinated, for Gaelan's thigh. I slapped it when I found it, trying to get her attention as Shyntre finally took his hands away from her. She wasn't caught in my place, was she...?

She trembled but looked at me, at my next even more pitiful smack. She smiled a little bit. "You're moving..."

"K-kill him," I croaked weakly. My throat hurt from screaming. "W-won't go back...changed too m-much..."

Shyntre nodded though Gaelan did not seem to understand what I meant beyond the first two words.

The wizard yelled out to Jaunda, "She's free!"

"About damned time! Gaelan, on me!"

The younger Sister responded to the summons, though I was concerned about her response time now as she stumbled to her feet.

"R-range, u-use range!" I stuttered after her. I didn't know if she heard me.

Shyntre kneeled to place himself in between me and the fight, which was dragging on far too long for it to be a good thing. He focused hard, provided shielding for both himself and my Sisters, letting some be destroyed to raise another in their place, but he seemed also to be looking for an opening.

"D-don't you dare sh-shoot into melee," I said.

He didn't look at me but maintained his concentration as he spoke. "If they look like they're going to lose, I will. Kerse will kill us next."

"Kerser'yn'czael..." I whispered almost without voice.

Shyntre glanced at me before quickly looking back. "What?"

"He's t-turning more demon."

Shyntre snorted softly. "Yes, the four arms, wings, and horned dick were *very* big hints, Sirana."

I shied away from picturing Kerse's member right then—I still hurt everywhere and below my waist was the worst. I couldn't even roll over. I focused instead the wings, and those smaller arms...

It reminded me.

"I-is he holding... a c-collar in one smaller h-hand?" I asked.

"A collar?" Shyntre tried to see but shook his head. "I don't...know... Where would it have come from?"

"M-mindflayer... kept prisoner here. Kerse removed it."

"What?!" My wizard was beyond aghast. "They kept a mindflayer hostage? How could they be so stupid?!"

Leave it to him to blurt out the painfully obvious yet least useful judgment at a time like this. I wanted to roll my eyes but that would've wasted energy I didn't have anyway.

"WIZARD! SHIELDS!" Jaunda roared, and Shyntre got back on his role.

"You can't die, Sirana, you're the only witness!" he said.

Oh. Joy.

I may not have been actively bleeding then, but I knew my body was far from working properly. I couldn't last like this indefinitely; sooner or later the internal organs would start to fail from the sustained bruising and tissue already destroyed that remained unhealed.

"You b-better hope they hurry, w-wizard."

At that, Shyntre finally remembered his healing gems and fumbled in a pouch with one hand without looking to set one down between us. "Can't hold the shields and use one of these at the same time, but maybe you can help. Take it. Just hold it. I'll watch for an opening to say the command word."

I let me fingers scrape for the gem. I finally found it, and I clutched it as well as I could. It was cool and hard in my palm; it wasn't active yet.

Why had I thought of that collar, anyway? It was something...something that had gone through Kerse's mind just before the link was broken.

Something about being able to choose, at any time. His choice, if nothing else.

"He's d-drawing them in," I said. "He can take...a-all of us with him."

Shyntre didn't look at me. "How?"

"Collar... p-powerful enough to hold an I-Illithid...."

The mage's attention was still on the fight, which was now edging toward us. He gasped.

"I see it! JAUNDA, FIRE IN THE HOLE!"

Kerser'yn'czael came briefly into my straining view. He was severely injured as the Red Sisters had stopped holding back on him once he and I had been separated. He knew it was only a matter of time now and used his formidable strengths both physical and magical to snap the collar into two pieces.

All the magic released at once... A retributive strike.

The last thing I knew was Shyntre throwing his body over mine as the shock wave deafened us and the explosion shook the cavern. Then the rocks began to fall.

*****

I became somewhat aware, but I could not remember why I had not been before then. The room was dark and quiet except for the sound of soft shifting over a smooth surface.

Soft.

Everything was...soft.

The bed. The blanket. The pillow.

Soft lips.

Soft touch.

It hurt. Everything hurt so badly and someone was touching me.

"N-nooo..." I moaned. "No m-more..."

"Shhhh. If it hurts, it is finally healing. It is a good thing."

Through gritted teeth I choked out, "L-liar..."

A chuckle, and even that was soft.

"Return to reverie, Sirana."

*****

The next time I seemed to rise up again, it wasn't pain I felt, but fire. I was flushed, hot, sweating. Someone was with me, on top of me, lying between my thighs. His prick was inside me and he helf my hips to the mattress with his weight; my legs clasped tightly to him, my ankles hooked on his thighs.

My body ached, but only because I needed more. Much more.

I clutched at his back and dug in my fingernails so he couldn't get away, and he moved faster inside me, thrust harder; he kissed me, gasped for breath and moaned quietly. I licked at his mouth and gathered him closer for a deeper kiss, his long hair spreading across my hands. I moved my hips against him, undulated in a way I might never have again if not...if not for...

If not for what? I couldn't think past how perfect was the pleasure washing through me. I was not sure I'd ever cum so hard as when he gasped a passionate cry and spurted inside me.

And he was willing to give me more. He would do anything, and what I most desired was to feel his semen filling me up and dripping out of my sex.

I already knew that it would provide me with a calm I would never have otherwise.

I rolled us so that I could be on top, and he made an adorable, encouraging sound as I straddled him. I grabbed his wrists and pinned them by his head and he arched his back eagerly.

"Yes," he whispered.

"Give me more," I demanded, equally breathless.

*****

How heavy reality can seem when magic eventually drains back into its pool or withdraws behind whatever veil that held it.

I opened my eyes to a low-burning candle and long shadows waving at me from the walls. My first sensation was being warm and comfortable; I lay on my side in a Noble bed with a fine woolen blanket keeping the draft off of me. I was struck by the absence of pain at about the same time as the heat source behind me, which cradled me from neck to thigh. There was a lax arm resting on the curve of my waist.

Some vague memory of being held this same way by someone or something else spurred my heart into double time and I felt sick for a moment. I breathed deep and slow, trying to still my quivering stomach. Eventually I was able to lift myself and rise up to a sitting position. The Drow behind me did not awaken, even being so jostled; he rolled onto his back more by accident, his face relaxed and eyes closed.

I looked down at myself, folding back the blanket, letting it slowly sink into my mind that I seemed...whole. No injuries, nothing was broken or missing. I had been given a cursory cleaning, I thought, quick because of the odd smear or two of dried blood that colored my skin, my hair, and stained underneath my fingernails and toenails. A small amount of color also dotted and streaked the fine, white sheets, although my bedmate seemed much better scrubbed.

I touched my belly and my thighs and...touched between them gingerly, anticipating pain.

I felt none. I was whole. Healed. My sex was puffy and very wet, but there was a stain on my fingers that was not blood, and as I lifted them in front of my eyes, the subtle glow implied a mix of life energy. I had not simply woken up from an intensely erotic dream; I had coupled with someone.

Why did I have the certain feeling that this was a bad thing?

Finally I stared at my bedmate. He was beautiful but looked haggard even in sleep, as if he'd been under a lot of stress recently. He may have been about three centuries old, and yet...yet, he had a solid gold streak in his hair that ran back from his right temple. Gold did not normally start appearing in our white hair until our fifth or sixth century...and it certainly didn't tend to come in singular, broad stripes like that.

I knew him, didn't I?

I looked around the dimly lit room. How did I get here? I had been injured, the story was there on the bloodied sheets and my skin, but now I had been healed. I felt warm and strong and very glad to be alive.

But I couldn't remember my name, or that of my companion.

I was safe for the moment but how long could I rest here? I didn't know if anyone was looking for me, whether they had ill intentions or not. I had no knowledge of events to help me prepare to meet them.

*Maybe I should go. Just go now. Figure it out later.*

I slipped out of the bed and it felt strange putting weight on my feet for several moments, as if it had been a sensation to which I was unaccustomed. However, my body worked properly and I moved carefully, quiet as possible, searching for my clothing. It had to be here somewhere.

*Nowhere on the floor or chairs.*

I moved to look inside the wardrobe, pausing in front of the mirror and wondering why it seemed familiar. Not my face, I looked how I thought I should look even though the blue eyes I knew were odd. But the structure itself was familiar. I shrugged it away and looked inside, frustrated to see only male clothing.

*Definitely not my place, then.*

I wasn't exactly against the idea of sneaking out naked, it didn't bother me in and of itself, but the lack of knowledge would make it a disadvantage to me. No supplies, no tools, no weapons or armor...

Weapons? Armor? I was a fighter, then. So where was my stuff?

My beautiful companion drew in a deeper breath suddenly and his legs shifted beneath the blanket as he rolled over, his hand questing out where I had been. His reach came up empty, and his eyes fluttered open. As he sat up, I was struck how his face changed from peaceful to wary.

"Sirana?"

I blinked. *My name?*

Yes, it sounded right.

"Where am I? Who are you?"

He looked confused at my questions, but only for a moment. Understanding seemed to dawn in his copper eyes the next instant. He kept his voice patient, smooth, and calm. "You are in my room, at House Itlaun. You call me 'Auslan.'"

My heart began pounding harder all of a sudden. This was bad. "What happened?"

He swallowed, and my eyes were drawn to the marks of passion on his throat, as if someone had been biting or sucking on his skin. That someone had probably been me.

"One of your Sisters brought you here. You needed healing, and she had been told that I could heal you. She commanded me to do so. I think she is still waiting up on the roof, it has only been a few marks, I think."

A lot of this was starting to make sense, it felt right, but my stomach felt so tight and I still didn't remember how I'd become so injured.

"Where are my clothes?" I asked.

"You had none when you arrived."

I briefly clenched my jaw. "And what injuries did I have when I arrived that needed healing?"

Auslan's perfect, arched brows came down when he frowned and he shook his head. "That is not important now."

"Yes, it is. It might tell me what happened," I said, my voice raised in anxiety.

The male Drow clearly had reservations about telling me, but I repeated it as a brusque command and did not relent. Ultimately he answered my question matter-of-factly, as a healer would.

"You had bruising on your arms and legs from what I think were rocks or something similar but that was the least of it. No broken bones. It looked as though you had been...assaulted with a phallic torture device. Horrid internal injuries and loss of blood. You were nearly dead.

"No sign of restraints used, no marks on your wrists or ankles and yet also no defensive wounds on your hands or arms. Nothing under your fingernails except your own blood. I think you'd been briefly dunked in some water given that you should have been covered in blood."

I felt my body trembling and it only got worse as I felt my eyes widen as far as they could, as if my vision was large enough to see it all at once. Everything came back to me in a rush: Wilsirathon losing control of her son, the Illithid breaking free, Kerse sprouting wings and me unable to fight him...the ritual, and the rescue. Shyntre covering me, and the explosion. I felt added fear for my Sisters who had come to retrieve me...who could be dead right now, except one it seemed. Which one?

My mind was overwhelmed by it. My head swam and my knees buckled. I collapsed onto the floor with a mourning cry that I didn't recognize sounding in my ears.

Auslan surged out of the bed and kneeled next to me. After a slight hesitation, he gathered my weight up with a grunt and wrapped his arms around me, holding me tight as he could against him. I was still shaking too hard to be of a mind to push him away; my hair fell into my face as I tried to use him as a still point for my spinning head. He waited for what seemed a long time before the shakes lessened even a little.

"You will have to report soon, Sirana," he whispered. "You do not have much time to recover from this, and I am sorry for that. I did all I could."

This brought to my mind—amid painful memories and flashes of red and black—the white of his wrap and his sheets, and the gold light of the candle...and of that odd streak in his hair.

Auslan had never had gold in his hair before. He wasn't old enough.

"What did you do?" I asked breathlessly, my forehead resting on his shoulder and my hot breath bouncing back at me from the skin of his chest.

The Consort was silent for too long and I had only begun to notice the odd, enhanced warmth deeper down, low in my belly. It felt tight and magical and alive, as if someone had placed a fire-warmed bloodstone in my gut, in place of my womb.

I lifted my head to glare at Auslan; he looked wary again but didn't draw away.

"Tell me you didn't use your fertility magic," I said.

He swallowed. "That is...how it works. The only way I can use magic to heal."

A cold, dull horror formed in my chest to counterbalance the new heat in my abdomen. My voice shook. "Y-you couldn't have used one of your healing potions? I know you have them!"

"I tried that first, Sirana. You were tainted by something," he answered with strained control; he was trying not to panic like I was. "They were not working, and you were dying."

"I don't believe you!" I spat, finally pushing him away and collapsing heavily onto my arms. The fear, the flashes of cold and heat that spread through me now stole any strength I'd regained.

"The taint felt the same as when Curgia miscarried, only stronger," he said stoutly. "You had to be purged and there was no time to research anything else. You are lucky I had the power to do it."

"Should've just let me die," I cried, not thinking clearly. "You've killed me anyway! Kerse is dead and Wilsirathon may still live and I w-will go to the Sanctuary before they execute me!"

For a moment he looked shocked but then his expression became blank and controlled, and he did not reply. I wanted to strike him, to take all my anger and fear out on him and force some kind of honest response from him. I did not want to have to look at that mask of his!

It was an unwelcome realization when I thought slightly beyond my own misery to other possible consequences, and a few reasons why he was holding his tongue.

"Did *she* instruct you to do this?"

"No," he answered immediately and without looking away. "Wilsira did not. I told you the truth the first time. Your Sister demanded I heal you somehow, but she did not know what finally worked and, again, there was no time to take you anywhere else."

I squinted at him. "Have you decided your fate, then? You are ready to die as well?"

His eyes lowered, drifted along the floor before lifting back up. "The options were not ideal... once it all began. Fail to heal you and face the Sisterhood....or save you and face my Priestess. I had thought that you would choose whatever kept you breathing for a little longer. I chose the same for me."

It was my turn to be silent.

Auslan hadn't chosen poorly as I considered it a second time...there just had been no way to undo what had already happened. When I wasn't taken over with fear, I still held that there was always a chance to turn things around. In fact, the presence of my fear now was a prime example of that; the odds had been stacked incredibly high against me even having this conversation with the Consort and feeling these unwelcome, conflicting emotions.

Lolth had to be chuckling in such smug satisfaction inside her parlor.

"Is there...any possibility I didn't catch?" I asked. "Any chance that it had the opposite effect, like you've mentioned? Made me barren instead?"

Auslan hesitated but shook his head. "You were barren when you were brought here. There had been too much damage. Also, I...know when I've healed a broken womb, and I know when a ritual is successful. It is part of Lolth's Gift."

I huffed an ironic laugh. From scarred to fertile to scarred and back again. If I had to go through *that* multiple times, I wished at least that I could remember the pleasure better!

Almost on cue, Jaunda slipped into the room through the laundry shoot. I saw her over Auslan's shoulder and started. He instantly whipped his head around behind him and gasped at the intimidating figure.

She was in uniform and her face and stance both looked hail and healthy, but a large portion of her reds and equipment had been badly damaged; scorch marks and soot streaks as well as rips, breaks, and tears. She didn't have her original cloak; she was wearing a much more discreet grey one that did not look as though it had been put through the grinder, though also like she may have stolen it from somewhere.

Her hair had been cut extremely short as well. It had never been really long, but now it was hardly longer than a fingernail. She had no burn marks that I could see, but it was likely her hair was so close now because it had been set aflame.

Seeing the evidence of damage, I knew the only way she might have survived that blast at that close range was, first, if she had taken the slow-acting potion before the battle...and second, had had the opportunity to quaff the life-saving one soon after the blast. Lolth had seen fit not to kill her outright.

My Lead pulled out a small black bag and a ball gag.

"I've heard enough," my Lead said quietly as she came closer. "You going to cooperate, pretty boy?"

Auslan started to shrink away. "W-what? I do not—"

"Wait—" I said.

Jaunda kneeled and firmly pushed the hard black ball between his teeth and secured it behind his head; he made only one small sound of protest. Then she snapped the black bag over his head and cinched it shut, using it as a hold to push him belly down onto the ground. He was silent and didn't struggle as she tied his wrists together behind his back. She also took the time to stuff all his hair up inside the black bag so it wouldn't show.