Sun Bird

He felt a hand on his arm, and startled, he dropped the crate he was carrying. He turned swiftly to see that the hand belonged to a tall elf who it seemed, had appeared out of thin air.

"Excuse me, Arsha? I wonder if I may have a moment of your time." The elf wore a lazy crooked smile. He raised a long black eyebrow and looked down at the now scattered documents that had spilled completely from the crate Arsha had dropped. "Uh…Sorry if I startled you."

Arsha took a deep, calming breath and then he immediately bent to retrieve the scattered documents before the wind could take them. "Oh don't worry. I was miles away, my fault. What can I do for you?"

The elf bent over to help. He impatiently tucked a wayward lock of ink black hair from his chiselled features that had fallen from the loose tie that held his hair back from his face. His strong jaw worked a few times as though to speak, but no words came. He fidgeted self consciously with the loose laces of his black shirt that criss-crossed over the smooth chest. It flounced loosely over the waist of his tight black pants which were tucked into boots that buckled above his knees and around his muscular thighs.

Arsha couldn't help but notice the elf's torso was exquisitely defined like that of a fighter. From the reaction it caused in his crotch, he couldn't help but think that he had been out in the woods for far too long, too. He dropped his chin to his chest to both tear his eyes away from the enticing expanse of flesh as well as to hide the grin that was beginning to form on his lips.

It seemed that Arsha's reputation as a good listener had preceded him and the elf before him was the same as just about every other man or woman who had approached him over the past week. Embarrassment flushed their cheeks and their words died on their lips at the thought of actually giving voice to whatever it was that laid so heavily on their consciences that they felt the need to seek him out. It wasn't that Arsha minded being a sounding board, usually, but it sometimes frustrated him that he was constantly approached. He raised his eyebrows and nodded encouragingly, silently urging the elf to continue. "What's your name?"

"Ba'ith. Uh look, to be honest, I don't feel …that is, I'd rather speak with you privately, if I could." His eyes flared slightly with embarrassment and they settled on a point just behind Arsha.

Suddenly he darted with the natural speed and agility of a thief to catch a document that was about to be carried off by the breeze. After placing the shard into the crate, he swept his thick, rebellious hair back from his face with two hands and laced his fingers behind his thick neck.

Arsha stiffened imperceptibly, recognising the unusual name of the assassin Buach had asked him to watch over. He took a few inconspicuous but nervous steps to the side so that he would remain facing the elf. No you don't bucko. You'll have to try harder than that to get behind me for a silent attack. I don't care how entirely 'drool worthy' you are.

He blinked, surprised at his internal dialogue. Drool worthy? I've been spending too much time with Neika.

Ba'ith's muscular arms bunched over his broad shoulders that in turn loomed over his thick chest and tapered down to slim hips. The pose he held showcased his triangular, well proportioned physique perfectly and naturally drew Arsha's eyes downward.

The healer shifted uncomfortably. If I didn't know better, I'd suspect that you are deliberately trying to turn me on.

Almost on cue, the same scent of stale magic that he had detected on Buach assaulted Arsha's nostrils. He was almost grateful for the part that the disgusting smell played in drawing his attention from the assassin's superb body and left him in no doubt that his boy had found him. Heh, I wonder what you look like under the disguise, probably as ugly as a red headed step child.

"I hate to trouble you but is there somewhere we can go?" Ba'ith threw him a lazy, crooked smile that positively oozed a promise of raw, sweaty, primal sex. "Somewhere a little more private?"

Arsha held a loose fist in front of his lips and cleared his throat uncomfortably. Is he actually hitting on me? "Oh…um. Well, I'm afraid that I have a rather hard task master at the moment and if I leave my duties here at the Spire he will come looking for me, if you know what I mean."

Ba'ith's brow furrowed solemnly and he dropped his arms, immediately shedding the image he had projected of being some ancient and carnal god of lust. "In that case, can I meet with you later?"

Arsha shook his head with an equal mix of genuine regret that Ba'ith obviously wasn't going to push the point, and confusingly, with profound relief that he wasn't. "I would but I'm afraid that I can't. I really do have a lot of work to finish and I'm eager to complete it so that I can return to the Northern front."

The assassin's disheartened face dropped and he heaved a shuddering breath. "It's kind of urgent...at least, it is to me anyway."

Arsha balked. His first instinct was to refuse but he didn't for two reasons. First, he couldn't think of anything plausible to use as an excuse. He wasn't in the habit of making them or even lying in general and the 'hard taskmaster' he had referred to was about the most inspired he ever got. Secondly, he felt obliged to hear the disguised assassin out. Buach had specifically asked him to keep watch over Ba'ith and his distress did seem genuine, when he wasn't imitating a sex god, that is.

He smiled at the assassin. "All right then. I'll be finished here at sunset, where shall we meet?"

"I'll come for you." Ba'ith's voice was smooth and confident. Unsettlingly, it bore no trace of his previous discomfort and neither did the victorious flash that flared in the dark core of his eyes.

Fuck, I think I've just been played. Arsha stifled a foreboding shudder and forced a smile. He unceremoniously squashed the document fragments that he held crushed in his fist, back into the wooden crate and hefted it into his arms.

"Let me help you with that." Ba'ith darted forward smoothly and without waiting for permission, took the crate from the healer.

"Er…My thanks…" Arsha's eyebrows lifted slightly with surprise. "I can manage it though, I've lifted far heavier things than that…" His breath caught abruptly when he couldn't help but notice the way that the assassin's muscles bulged beneath the thin black silk of his shirt, leaving it straining at the seams. I hadn't realised the crate was 'that' heavy!

Ba'ith slid the crate slowly, deliberately on top of the other crates that Arsha had already stacked into a pile that stood higher than either of their heads. He threw a loose smile over his shoulder that only added to his raw, rugged good looks. "It's the least I can do."

The assassin prowled intimately close to Arsha with a liquid, feline grace that made no sound. No wonder I didn't hear him approach. Arsha had to suck his top lip to stop himself from reacting instinctively but instead of feeling the urge to 'fight or flight'; it was 'frott or fuck'.

Ba'ith angled his head down until his mouth was so close to the smaller elf's face that if Arsha had lifted his chin even slightly, their lips would have touched. "If there is anything else I can do for you… or anything you want…don't hesitate to ask."

Arsha found himself embraced by the smell of soap and something distinctly male that rose headily on the waves of heat that Ba'ith seemed to radiate, almost drowning the repulsive smell of sour magic that powered his disguise. The assassin's slow drawl was like crushed velvet and incense and it washed over his highly sensitive ears like a heavy, fragrant smoke.

The disturbingly arousing sensation developed into a physical shiver when Ba'ith's breath followed hot and wet straight after that sent a lightning bolt of tingling arousal straight to Arsha's cock. Thank fuck I don't wear my robes skin tight like Neika does.

He wanted to step back but he found that he couldn't move. It was as though he was paralysed, caught like a small, nocturnal animal in the glare of bright lights.

He licked his lips nervously, and arranged an unnaturally bright expression on his face. "Uh, will do." Fuck! I can't believe that I actually SQUEEKED.

Ba'ith snorted a soft exhalation of hot breath that washed sensually over Arsha's face and left him in no doubt that the assassin knew exactly how much he had affected him.

Arsha winced and gritted his teeth. He could feel a headache coming on, in both his heads.

"I'll see you at sundown then." Ba'ith mercifully took a few backward steps. His lazy smile had turned distinctly predatory.

Arsha nodded quickly and stifled a groan at the fact that he just knew he was wearing that same, fake, over bright expression that screamed how out of his depth he was. He felt like a bird with a broken wing that was being circled by an elite land shark. He watched the assassin swagger away and when at last he was out of sight, he buried his face in his hands, horrified that Ba'ith had so easily reduced him to little more than a giggling novice.

A little voice inside his mind screamed that Ba'ith was going to mess with his head something chronic, and with a sinking feeling, Arsha admitted that he couldn't have agreed more. Now I'm answering the voices in my mind? The first sign of madness, it's started already.

~Three~

A cold wind blew over the court as Arsha carried the last crate for the day over to the growing pile. The breeze lifted his long blonde hair until it floated out behind him in a train of illuminated gold white. Had he seen it himself and the way that the fading daylight made it seem to glow from within, he would have known how beautiful the waist length strands of gold were. As it was, he had no idea. Such things simply held no interest for him.

As far as appearance went, the only thing he thought was important was that he had serviceable robes to wear and that he remained fit enough to be able to keep up with the rangers and warriors he had to heal during battle. He had absolutely no idea that he stood out from the rest of his race, who were all uniformly perfect.

Ba'ith watched him invisibly, from behind the pile of crates that had grown even bigger throughout the course of the day.

When Arsha was closer to the shoulder high pile, he shifted the crate he carried so that he could place his hand beneath it. His face twisted slightly with effort and a small soft grunt escaped his lips. He heaved it up and then let it drop onto the others and then he dusted his hands off. The blonde didn't look a day over twenty but that meant little when it came to elves. Sometimes they lived for millennia and never looked a day over forty by human reckoning.

The smell of stale magic rose around him and Arsha could not stop himself from wrinkling his nose with disgust. Now that the assassin had so unwittingly announced his arrival, Arsha began to turn quickly, this way and that, searching the shadows and then he spun around to search them again. But he could see nothing.

"Ba'ith, are you here?" Arsha raised a self conscious eyebrow, "If you are, come out. I feel like an idiot talking to myself."

Ba'ith furrowed an invisible, confused brow. You know I'm here? No way…

Arsha paced nervously back and forth, twisting randomly, moving the way all healers did when they knew an enemy rogue was around. He was no stranger to dealing with rogues or 'assassins' as they preferred to be called, who liked to attack their targets from behind and he slipped into battle mode instinctively.

Ba'ith wondered how Arsha had known he was there. He had watched him invisibly without his elf disguise all week, since he had merely been circling and observing his prey. There had been no need for him to use the gnomish potion since he hadn't intended to make contact until now. Arsha had never given any indication that he had even felt that he was being watched.

Intuition was about the only weapon that a rogue couldn't combat. Women were usually the worst for it. They seemed to have an inbuilt 'someone's watching me' radar. It made his job easy that Arsha didn't seem to have one, until now. The potion must somehow lessen my ability to move invisibly. I'll have to let the gnomes know about that.

Ba'ith slipped silently, deeper into the shadows but not before he heard Arsha mutter under his breath, almost frustrated. "You are freaking me out."

Ba'ith smiled his lazy, predatory smile. I know.

Arsha looked like a caged bird as he paced back and forth waiting for the assassin to show. Not like a bird of prey, something far more majestic and noble than that. Wiser, an owl maybe? No, they hunted too and Ba'ith knew Arsha wasn't a predator. He was something else. A phoenix. Yes, a bird of the sun, all golden white and above the trivialities of vanity and appearance even though it was one of the most beautiful souls to ever grace creation.

Ba'ith slapped a hand against his groin. He usually only became poetic when he was horny. His brow furrowed with confusion to see that while his cock was definitely interested, it hadn't stood to the raging, skin splitting state of attention that it usually had to, to flood his mind with whimsical nuances. Keep it fucking professional! The healer is a target. Nothing else. Not something special. Not something apart. A target, and that's it.

The 'target' muttered, "Where are you?" impatiently under his breath.

The hidden assassin slid silently through the shadows and made his way down the marble stairs that marked the entrance of the square. There, he shed his cloak of invisibility and ran up into the Court. "Ho!"

Arsha turned in the direction of the deep voice he had heard call out and saw Ba'ith running toward him. About time.

"I'm sorry I'm late." Ba'ith slowed to a trot as he approached.

"Don't be. 'Sundown' is a pretty vague way to define time, since it lasts for some hours." Arsha smiled. So it wasn't you that I smelled and unless Buach is still hanging around, I must be getting paranoid.

"Have you been waiting long?" Ba'ith moved closer and laid a hand intimately on the Arsha's arm.

"Not really." Arsha shrugged the hand off. No way am I going to let you turn me into a blithering mess again!

Ba'ith let his hand fall from the healer's arm as though the touch was nothing more than a friendly gesture. Indeed, it seemed as though the assassin hadn't even noticed Arsha's disapproval as he inserted his fingers into his mouth and whistled loudly. He was engulfed briefly in a wispy, billowing cloud of magical energy that coalesced into one of elves most prized possessions, the ethereal white mares upon which they rode.

Arsha's lips pursed briefly. A 'human' has managed to become exalted enough to have one of our mares? Our standards are dropping… His frown deepened when he realised that he was beginning to think like one of the dissenters that he opposed. He felt briefly ashamed at how easy it had been for him to slip into the arrogance that defined his race.A large hand was all but shoved in his face, startling Arsha out of his internal dialogue.

Ba'ith leaned down from his mount until he was once more too close for the elf's comfort. "Take my hand. I'll pull you up into the saddle."

"Oh! Uh no, it's ok. I have my own mount." Arsha rifled around in his pack until he found a small silver whistle. He had never been able to whistle with just his fingers. His hands were trembling slightly as he raised the small noisemaker to his lips. For fucksake, get it together!

He was grateful to be out from under the assassin's heavy gaze, however briefly, when he was engulfed in the wispy tendrils of magic that indicated his mount was answering his summons. But when it cleared, he was unable to stop looking at the assassin with the same bright 'I'm out of my league' expression that he detested himself for. "I'm ready. Lead on!"

Ba'ith's lips peeled back from his startlingly white teeth in an amused, knowing smile and he narrowed his eyes slightly in what was unmistakably a challenge. "Try to keep up"

Arsha threw a defiant glare at the assassin's back after he spurred his mount away at neck-breaking speed. You cocky bastard! He spurred his own beast forward to follow the assassin and it whinnied excitedly, sensing the ensuing race. Without hesitation it bounded down the marble steps where Ba'ith had just passed.

Arsha raised an eyebrow and scowled when he saw that the assassin was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs with a cheeky smile that was disturbingly endearing. "Where are we headed?"

"To an inn at the merchant's quarter." Ba'ith smiled and angled his head so he could hold Arsha's gaze as his mount turned and danced spiritedly beneath him.

Arsha gave the assassin a sly look and then he threw him a challenging grin of his own. "Loser pays!"

He sank his heels into the white mare's sides and braced himself for the whiplash that accelerating at an incredible speed would cause. He saw Ba'ith's stunned expression for a brief second as he passed and he couldn't help but throw his head back and laugh. Granted, it was a little childish for an elf who was over one hundred years of age to act in such a manner, but Arsha's ego was still burning from earlier, when the assassin had made him feel like a squealing teenager. He supposed that if the shoe fit, he would wear it, if only to use it to kick Ba'ith fair in his smug…but undeniably hot…arse.

Glancing briefly over his shoulder, he saw Ba'ith had recovered from his momentary surprise and was now in pursuit. The disguised human leaned over the outstretched neck of his mount, urging it to even greater speed. His long black elfin hair streamed out behind him and his lips were peeled back from his teeth. His eyes were narrowed viciously under his determined black brows and Arsha felt the thrill of fear sliver through his veins as the assassin gave chase.

Looks like our boy doesn't like losing. Tough, he'd better get used to it. As it always did, Arsha's fear translated into a rush of adrenaline and he chuckled smugly at the assassin. The brief sense of victory he felt quickly turned into indignant outrage though, when Ba'ith withdrew a riding crop. Arsha could literally smell enchants on it, which were designed to increase a mount's natural speed.

Ba'ith drew up beside him with a self satisfied, superior grin and he gave Arsha a 'cool huh?" wiggle of his eyebrows.

"You fucking cheat! I can't believe you are using a crop!" Arsha's jaw sagged incredulously.

The assassin threw back his head and the long, loud, pompous laugh typical of elves floated smugly from his lips. "Such language! And from a cleric too! Tsk! Tsk!"

Arsha couldn't help but think how much the laugh suited the assassin. You don't need big ears to be a pompous arse!

Suddenly Ba'ith shot out his muscular arm and almost painfully grabbed a handful of Arsha's exposed butt cheek, which was conveniently poking into the air as he rode.

The elf gasped. "You GOOSED me! I can NOT believe you did that!"

Ba'ith just laughed and sped easily away, leaving Arsha behind as though he were merely walking and not riding a mare that could run at a supernatural speed.

Arsha fumed as the distance between them grew larger. Then it seemed that all was not lost. Ba'ith was heading for the underpass that would take him to a seedy quarter of the city where anarchy ruled the streets. Generally, one had to pass through the murderous row to reach the merchant's quarter. He smiled slyly. This was his city, his turf. He knew it inside and out and the assassin obviously didn't know about the eating house that had a front in both the court in front of the Spire, as well as the merchant's row. He waited until Ba'ith threw a final, triumphant glance at him over his shoulder and when the assassin disappeared into the dimness of the underpass, Arsha veered sharply toward the shortcut.