Surfacing Ch. 18

"The what?"

"You heard me. Perhaps Sirana just enjoys throwing you around?"

The Consort didn't reply to that one. There were broken, drying blisters around the sorcerer's eyes from the venom but he could see now. His gaze focused on the Consort's chest, gliding until it seemed he studied his hair.

"I see some similarity to that of her unborn, but not..."

"On that bargain," the Drow interrupted with a scowl, "you also agreed to let me leave unharmed. You will do this if I am to call upon you later for my boon."

The latter part enraged Cris-ri-phon more than the former as his chest expanded and his face darkened and contorted, baring his teeth. His mending arms allowed him to flex his fingers but he could not cast quite yet. Ta'suil's mouth tugged up into a smile as he sensed that the sorcerer now understood what was inside of him: the tiny bit of divine magic that Ta'suil had given freely. It answered from within, and it confirmed that boon, that promise not to be broken.

"Not you," Cris growled. "I am NOT at your beck and call!"

"One time." Ta'suil lifted his first finger with a nod. "You are. You made a bargain. You owe me for saving you from returning once again to the Greylands."

The Man kept his deep, hate-filled scowl, centering his balance as he contemplated what the Consort had done. His eyes closed as he breathed in once, letting it out. He smirked, opening his eyes again.

"All I have to do is give it back, healer."

"You can't."

"Yes, I can."

Ta'suil chuckled. "Try, and I will kiss you again."

That was the wrong thing to say.

Cris guffawed, taking another step closer, and the Consort felt instantly ill as the body language changed—not only was the sorcerer's body now stalking like a predator, but there was the growing bulge in his leathers.

"Maybe I'll give it back as Mathias would. You'd like that, wouldn't you, Consort? I held down Sirana like that, split her open for me. I can do the same to you. You can take back your 'gift' as I ram in. Over. And over. And you can accept *my* gift instead as I slime your sore. Little. Cunt."

Ta'suil felt a tremor as Thena's face flashed in his mind without his bidding, as he unwillingly imagined the sorcerer sodomizing Sirana, hurting her, and as he remembered what it felt like. His heart kicked into a sprint as he backed up quickly but dared not turn his back to run. He believed the sorcerer would do what he said; the ugly truth was clear on his cruel, smiling face.

*Help. Someone help me...*

If not Sirana nor Shyntre... nor D'Shea... What about the Walker? He couldn't sense him. The Consort expanded his senses desperately, searching.

There was one other who was asleep. He'd never talked to him before; he could not be sure this other would hear his call.

But he had no choice. He had to be heard.

Cris had healed enough to break into a lunge, and Ta'suil barely evaded being seized right then and there. He ran toward the stairs leading to the elevated walkway, thinking only to get inside the Palace. What he would do when he got there, he didn't know, but maybe—

The powerful Human tackled him just as his bare feet touched the steps, dragging him down, bruising and scraping his knees, legs, and arms. He knocked his chin against one of the steps, his teeth clacked together barely avoiding his tongue, and he was dazed as the sorcerer grabbed his hair, turned his head, and pressed his temple painfully hard against the edge of the stone. Cris-ri-phon used his knees to keep his own wide apart, and his other, broad hand dove beneath the Consort's wrap to grip his scrotum.

"No—!" he cried just before the Man squeezed and light burst behind his eyes at the intensity of the pain.

"Convenient, all you're wearing is a towel." The sorcerer laughed near his ear, clicking his teeth loudly with the promise to catch hold of the pointed tip soon. He eased the pressure on the Drow's testicles but didn't let go. "You have no business getting hard with what I'm about to do to you. Don't worry, I'll leave you alive. As we agreed."

Ta'suil struggled desperately but ineffectually, in pain and so deeply afraid, even more than when Sirana or those other Red Sisters had used force to fuck him. He knew that, unlike the females down below, this male Human had no reason to hold himself back in any way.

Not simply a power game, this would be uninhibited torture. Ta'suil understood now what Cris meant; he could undo the fresh promise by destroying the will of the one who would enforce it. Even if Cris-ri-phon indeed left him alive, which was entirely up to him, the Consort wouldn't have the will to face him again. The Man would have gone back on their bargain; he would be free of his obligation. Perhaps nothing would stop him then from taking his revenge on Sirana and the others as well.

*STOP HIM! PLEASE, STOP HIM! HE CANNOT BREAK HIS BOND!*

The sorcerer chuckled low and sinister. "Giving up already? Just as well I don't have to start breaking your fingers already, you little catamite. But we'll get to that as well."

Cris released his balls at last and jerked his head around to the other side; Ta'suil felt he would vomit from the pain radiating from his crotch. He was only vaguely aware of the sorcerer jerking the belt at his waist to open his trousers.

"Do you want to spit on my staff first or shall we just go dry?"

The Consort heard an answer...at last...a presence shifted inside him, sluggishly at first and so far away. He called again, and to whatever Cris-ri-phon said to him right then, Ta'suil could only groan in response, pain increasing everywhere as his temple was mashed harder against the stone.

A moment later a large figure flew over the Palace yard on wide, leathery wings, black even against the Night Sky as it blocked the Stars. The pressure on his temple eased as his attacker looked up at the Sky as well.

The creature dove quickly, able to land in the wide, open space very near the stairs where they were. The very Palace shook with a voluminous roar of pure rage, and Ta'suil felt the sorcerer release him as the Human regained his feet quickly to deal with the enormous threat. Talons scraped across stone as the creature turned in place, whipping a long, coiling tail around to smack Cris-ri-phon directly in the face; it knocked him back hard enough to send him rolling halfway across the yard.

Shaking with fright, the Drow scrambled up the stairs to the next level, stumbling on reaching the top. The sheer presence of this creature replaced every previous moment of the sorcerer's threat in Ta'suil's head. When he looked back at his deadly savior, he realized too late he was now at the perfect height to be snapped up into its jaws.

The To'vah locked gazes with him instead, golden eyes shining in the dark as snake-like pupils expanded, its head crowned with an elegant spread of horns. It was huge, larger than any single creature he had borne witness to in his life even without the wings; easily enough strength and size to tear down any Matron's estates with its bare feet. The scales were a deep, purplish black, and a row of long, white spines had risen up along its lower neck and between its wings, as if to accentuate how angry it was and to make it seem even bigger.

The puff of breath that came out of the long, serpentine neck was low, deep, and burning hot as it billowed out upon hitting the stone. Hot, but also...sour. The Consort slowly realized that it had refrained from using its most powerful weapon first... because it hadn't wanted to kill the Drow together with the sorcerer in the first attack.

It had held itself back.

"Escape now, Priest," the black Dragon rumbled, then turned to where Cris-ri-phon had regained his feet, his face still covered in blood. "A deal once made is seen complete, ancient one. You will keep your bargain with the Goddess Seeker."

The Man didn't answer, and he began to cast at the Dragon. The next call of challenge from the enormous beast was piercing and echoed far across the sands as the Consort clapped his hands to cover his ears. When the Drow could at last get to his feet, he ran, the adrenalin helping him to ignore the throbbing ache of his balls.

Ta'suil didn't stop running until he'd thrown himself into the pitch black doorway of the abandoned Palace as magic exploded behind him.

******

Auslan awoke with a loud, distressed cry inside his water mask; it came so suddenly it even startled D'Shea.

She had been at her desk, thinking and going over a few plans when the Consort shattered her concentration. She could forgive him for that in the next moment; he was awake. At last.

"Auslan," she said, moving over to her bed to sit on the edge and hold him down as he thrashed as if being attacked. "Auslan! Stop! Listen to me! Hear my voice, you're in my quarters! You're safe!"

Moisture leaked out of his eyes and ran back to soak into his temples; he struggled now to breathe in the mask, and D'Shea took it off quickly, tossing it aside. His hands gripped her forearms as she held him down again by the shoulders, and he continued to shake, starting a true seizure of some kind as his eyes opened but then rolled back. D'Shea jerked her arms free of his hands and quickly released and drew out the sash holding her robe closed; she doubled it and put it between the Consort's teeth so that he would bite down on it rather than his own tongue.

Was this a side-effect of the spell she'd put on him? Or...something else? Where had he been? How far had he travelled alone without either her or Shyntre there to protect him?

She tried to call him a few more times but it seemed to make no difference and she could only wait and make sure he didn't hurt himself further. Slowly, the male's body calmed down, lying sweat-soaked and burning hot on her rumpled bed, breathing heavily through his nose and mouth both, drooling into her sash.

The Elder supposed he'd been lucky she'd been here when he came out of his trance; he not only could have bit his tongue off and bled to death all alone, but he could have ripped out the catheter as well.

His eyes fluttered again and she could tell when he finally, at long last, focused on her face. He tried to speak but it was muffled and he looked downward, becoming aware of his mouth filled with spider silk. She removed the sash from his mouth and tossed it to the side beside the mask.

"How do I call you?" she demanded. "Say the name. Now."

The Consort blinked at her, appearing truly bewildered for a few moments as she waited to see who looked out from those bright copper eyes.

"What is your given name in my quarters?" she asked again, focusing her gaze on him.

It took another few moments as he tried sluggishly to move, as his head lolled, but he eventually collected his will just enough to speak.

"You...c-call me Auslan."

"And who am I?"

He wetted his lips and swallowed. "Elder D'Shea."

"And your name-bond?"

His stomach seemed to clench as his lean middle tightened up, showing the muscles defined for a moment, as his pulsed showed in his neck for a beat or two. Interesting.

"Shyntre," he answered, very softly.

D'Shea nodded once, adjusting her robe to keep it closed without a tie as she turned from him and shifted down, leaning her body on his abdomen. She reached for the tube collecting his urine into a waterskin. She planned to make its removal from his bladder smooth and quick, before he even became aware of it being there. Though it would be uncomfortable regardless.

"Wh-wha—? AUGH!" he screamed as she felt his body jerk beneath her.

"Be still!" she commanded firmly, and he obeyed as best he could, trembling as she removed the tube from him, now just barely tinted with fresh blood. Probably from his thrashing around. He swallowed a whimper.

"Very good," she breathed, getting up and collecting the water mask and sash to place in her along tub with the bladder tube and skin. She'd get to the clean-up later. For now, Auslan needed to eat something, if he could.

The Consort had curled up on his side holding his genitals; there was no modesty that she could see, just pure misery.

"I made it quick," she said, as if that was sufficient explanation.

He shook his head once but didn't speak. He looked exhausted, as if he hadn't already been sleep for nearly a week. D'Shea wanted to question him now, immediately, or bring in Rausery and see what she could do with him. She'd even heal him up, feed him, and they could talk and discuss while the details were fresh.

She tilted her head a bit. "Something stinging your eyes?"

He turned his head and buried it in her pillow, hiding his face. She heard something like a muffled, "Leebmeealohn."

The Elder frowned, straightening as she took a step closer. "We do not have time for this, Consort. I need to know what you saw—"

"IT WAS A BAD DREAM!" he bellowed, catching her completely off guard when he rounded on her. Fresh tears flooded down his cheeks. "It will do you no good! I...I cannot...tell you...just leave me alone!"

His face dove back into the pillow and D'Shea seriously considered that a punishment was warranted here. If she'd been any closer, she'd have struck him already. How dare he shout at her at all, much less as if she was a spoiled younger sister instead of his Elder? This wouldn't become a habit for certain.

She saw his stomach clench in a sob he tried to stifle, and she wanted to sneer. What reason had he to weep so? As if—

...something had broken inside his head. She frowned deeper. Much as she wished otherwise, that particular memory with Phaelous was still fresh. It was why she didn't want to hear Auslan weeping now.

Crossing her arms and breathing out slowly, D'Shea thought on an alternative to the punishment he should have expected. She didn't want to shatter him beyond use; he was delicate compared to the Sisters she was used to commanding. But not *that* delicate, she'd thought. She barely even recalled his eyes moistening much at all after Thena and her crew had abused him.

"You will drink what I give you," she said, "and I will let you be for long enough to summon Elder Rausery. Again, we do not have time to wait. You will acknowledge this."

The Consort sniffed and took only an extra moment before lifting his head enough to nod and say, "Yes, Elder."

Nodding, D'Shea retrieved the nutritious slurry in a drink pouch which she'd already collected from the stores. Fermented and preserved, already partly digested by the tiny flora selected specially for the tangy flavor they produced, it was a very handy first meal for anyone just awoken from any lasting unconsciousness, one who needed energy and healing without magic. D'Shea would not attempt to use any more magic on Auslan for the time being.

"Don't smell it, drink it quickly," she recommended, handing the pouch to him. "It is an acquired taste."

Auslan didn't reply, but he sat up and did exactly as she said, upending and drinking quickly. His expression told her he didn't care for the aftertaste and he held his middle as his stomach tried to decide if it would keep the liquid food.

"Don't you dare vomit," she said.

He burped. "Ugh. No, Elder."

She waited and saw some tension leave his frame as his stomach settled; she nodded and set to changing out of her robe and into the most basic pieces of her uniform. As impatient as she felt to seek Rausery out right now, she couldn't be drawing attention to them by walking the corridors in her open robe looking for her peer, because she'd never done such a thing before. She dressed in silence.

"I will return shortly with Elder Rausery. You have that much time alone to collect yourself and your memories. Make notes if you must, do not forget anything."

He spoke up only after she had turned toward the door. "You do not wish to question me first, Elder?"

She narrowed her eyes, still facing the door. "I wish you not to question me, Consort."

He silenced himself, and she left her quarters without a backward glance.

*****

Vik had moved forward to pull a severely disoriented Halena back and away from Jaunda and the unknown Drow, leaving the Lead to answer his question.

"What is happening now that my dreams should be disturbed?"

While his voice did match his size, he an odd accent, even as he was fluent in her native tongue. She would have called it "formal" but she didn't quite understand why. She also couldn't think of an answer; no thought came to her except that she wasn't sure she was ever going back home.

She never thought she'd have that thought while staring at something that didn't appear to have any claws, sharp teeth, or venomous stinger. She also couldn't believe she'd just dropped her blade and hadn't drawn another.

"You mean...just now?" Jaunda asked.

Again the strange Drow chuckled before tilting his head and leaning a bit closer, studying her face. She noticed he breathed in slowly through his mouth at the same time. His own scent was that sweet smell she couldn't identify earlier, though she wondered if it only cloaked his actual scent?

He lifted his left hand and arched it just so, calling a soft, blue light into his palm, gently lighting the cavern and letting them all have some time to adjust before the blue slowly shifted to a yellow shade resembling candlelight.

Or Sunlight.

It hurt a bit more despite the slow change, and Jaunda had to blink away tears before she could make out the mysterious male's eye color. It looked disturbingly close to the Valsharess's memorable, tawny gaze. Jaunda felt her heart try to climb into her windpipe.

He smiled again, and it was far too beautiful. "Am I familiar?"

"No," she answered. "You aren't."

"Ahhh. True by the word, hm?"

He chuckled again. His laughter seemed to grow more musical each time he used it, though this time she thought she had caught a scent as if he'd recently eaten meat. His royal eyes caressed her uniform before he looked back up. "Red. Lovely. One of my favorite colors."

Jaunda's body registered the subtle implication of a threat as she felt a hot flush pass through, though her mind couldn't decide which kind of threat he meant right then. His own scrap of silk was white, in stark contrast to his skin, and far, far too clean.

"Are we trespassing?" she asked.

He shrugged elegantly, still holding his light. "Constantly. But that does not matter anymore."

"May we leave?"

"Not yet. We have not made a bargain." He looked up to the ceiling as if he was listening to it with his longer, curved ears. "I think you must have not been born the last I bargained with your kind."

Bargain? Her kind... Jaunda's mind could switch gears easily enough, though the idea of negotiating with this creature didn't set her any more at ease. That fact that it wanted anything at all from them couldn't be good.

"I should like to know with whom I would make a bargain," she stated boldly, and he looked particularly delighted.

"Certainly. I am Iskomitneh. What is your name?"

"Jaunda," she answered.

"And where are you from, Jaunda?"

"The Drow City."

His white hair weaved slightly as he shifted his weight, giving her a contemplative look. She's completely forgotten he still had the broken manacles on his wrists until he raised them up to rest his chin in on and his elbow in the other. "Is this the 'City' ruled by the Valsharess?"

It couldn't be good that he knew that title, yet she nodded.

"Ah. You are a servant of hers?"

"I am one of Her Red Sisters."

"Loyal to her?"

"And the Sisterhood."

"So, others. More than just her." He nodded his chin over her shoulder. "And those two who have been trying to sneak away?"

Jaunda didn't look behind her, she maintained her gaze; the creature seemed almost impressed. She had to assume the shadow Drow hadn't managed to evade this one's senses, for whatever reason.