The Azure Rider Ch. 02

Agatha found herself reeling under a veritable mountain of infirmary duties for the next few days. Battalions from Luteri were still arriving thick and fast, with wounded soldiers left lying in front of the infirmary because they were out of cots. Agatha was glad for the change of the season; it kept the flies away and prevented the wounds from festering too quickly. Her evenings were spent harvesting feverfew, hemlock and poppy from her garden. She rushed to her garden before daybreak again, to lay out the herbs to dry out in the sun. On most days, the herbs were not dried fully but she had to put them in the potions and teas anyway, because time was a luxury they did not have, with scores of warriors waiting for their ministrations. Perhaps ironically, the sculleries overflowed with wine and food, celebrations were underway in the court for the successful suppression of the uprising in Luteri.

At the end of one such gruelling day, Agatha found herself conversing with Kikoma Tai, one of the kitchen maids, as she wolfed down her first meal of the day with an indecency that would have shocked the well-bred ladies of the court.

"My son is doing well now," Kikoma responded to Agatha's question, considering her with nearly maternal pity as she licked her soup bowl clean. "Your potion worked very well, his fever broke the very next day. Let me get you more soup," she said, stretching her hand towards Agatha.

Agatha handed her the empty bowl and sighed in relief; she had been too afraid to ask for a second helping. As though reading her mind, Kikoma said, "do not dwell on it, Agatha. The amount of food that gets wasted in every feast makes me cry. No one will miss a measly bowl of pumpkin soup. Besides, you need it more than these fat nobles do."

"Shh," Agatha glanced around to see if they had been overheard, then broke into reluctant giggles. The scullery was nearly empty, most of the dishes had been taken to the Great Hall for the evening feast. Dusk was falling thick and fast outside their windows and Agatha could feel the exhaustion of the day catching up with her.

"So, I hear that the General has taken you for a bed slave?" Kikoma asked after Agatha had started on her second helping, then surged forward to pat her helpfully on the back when she choked on a bit of a pumpkin upon hearing this. Agatha wiped her lips with the back of her hand and said, "oh no, you are quite mistaken. He was asking about Lyla, and about Lord Mannering."

Agatha watched impassively as Kikoma's eyes lit up at this new morsel of information.

"Poor Lyla," she said without any real sympathy in her voice, then asked, "why did he want to know about Lyla?"

"I think he intended to make her his bed slave, but cannot, now that Lord Mannering has claimed her. He saw me paying her a visit last night at the brothel, so he must have thought that I would have more information on her," Agatha volunteered, cautiously watching from behind her stoneware as the beginning of a scandalous gossip seemed to form in Kikoma's excited countenance. Agatha felt quite remorseless about shifting the burden of the gossip to Lyla's shoulders, particularly after her ordeal a few nights before.

"Why were you paying Lyla a visit?" Kikoma asked, forever curious.

"She needed the barren potion," Agatha answered shortly before turning to her soup. However, her scant moment of reprise was not to be. Kikoma's son, Kabuta, came running up to them, out of breath and red in the face.

"Agatha! Meister Erwan needs you back at the infirmary at once," he panted.

Agatha stared longingly at the half empty bowl in her hand, then left the scullery as fast as her legs would carry her. She found a small gathering of soldiers in front of the infirmary. She pushed through them to find Meister Erwan kneeling on the ground beside a pale, unconscious young man.

"Agatha! Where have you been?" he snapped as soon as she edged inside the infirmary. "You know my knees are bad, here take this, make him smell the salt. I have to go and find some leeches."

"Who is he?" Agatha asked, kneeling down on the ground and taking the salt from the Meister.

"Sir Blaxton, you ignorant buffoon, now where are the leeches? A fine young man like him," the Meister wrung his hands, "cannot afford to have him turned."

Agatha started undressing the man cautiously. There was a pair of tiny indentations at the base of his neck. His pulse was too fast for an ordinary human. Agatha felt a familiar sinking sensation in her chest. She turned to the soldiers waiting in attention.

"Was he taken by a bloodsucker?" She enquired of them, seeking to verify Meister Erwan's ramblings. One of the men nodded nervously. Agatha threw Meister Erwan a beseeching glance. Leeches were the last thing he needed. She moved a hand to his neck to feel his pulse. It fluttered under her fingers like a butterfly, and if the venom was not removed from his bloodstream, within the night he would turn into one of the creatures that had bitten him.

"We will keep him asleep and feed him so that he gains his strength back. The leeches will suck the venom out from his bloodstream," Meister Erwarn said, "Agatha, move him near the fire. You lot, leave. If you are not sick, you are a hindrance."

One by one, the soldiers left the infirmary. Agatha moved the Lieutenant General close to the hearth and gazed imploringly at Meister Erwan. "I can heal him now, if you give me leave."

"No, we will not do that. Do you want to die, Agatha? We will leech him, give him broth and milk of poppy and he will make it though."

"He will not survive the leeching, Meister Erwan, not with the little amount of blood he has left," Agatha whispered, trying to reason with the orthodox physician. "No one will know," she gestured towards the rest of the ward, where most of the beds were occupied by unconscious or sleeping patients. "Please."

"Would you rather have him turned than dead?" Meister Erwan said angrily.

"I did not say that. I can remove the venom. Allow me, Meister Erwan."

"It is too dangerous, Agatha. I shall not allow it."

"Is something the matter?" A deep voice spoke out from near the door of the infirmary. Agatha felt her insides twitch nervously. She would recognize that voice anywhere. Meister Erwan bowed as far as his ailing back would allow and said "My Lord."

Agatha curtsied gracefully without looking at him.

"What is going on here?" Orion stepped inside the infirmary and walked up to them, cradling his iron headdress under one arm. He was clad in mail today, and he had sweat running in rivulets over his face. Agatha wondered why he had been sparring instead of attending the celebratory feast. It was, after all, his army that had wrought victory over the seditious nobles of Luteri.

"He has been bitten, My Lord," Meister Erwan said mournfully. Orion stared expectantly at Meister Erwan, raising an eyebrow. This time, Agatha stayed silent while Meister Erwan fumbled over an explanation that would explain their altercation, yet hide Agatha's abilities. Agatha watched the man trail into an uncomfortable silence after a half baked explanation, then said lucidly, "Sir Blaxton needs magic if he is to make a complete recovery."

"Do it," Orion turned towards Agatha.

Agatha threw one last, uneasy glance at Meister Erwan and knelt down before Sir Blaxton. She placed a hand on top of his chest and started reciting a spell that would work inside him to cleanse his blood of the venom that the vampire had poured in him. The spell sent out invisible strands, embedding itself insidiously inside Sir Blaxton's body, diving deep into his building cells and purging his body of all foreign objects. When she finished, she rose, feeling exhausted.

"He should come around in a few hours," she said. Sir Blaxton was beginning to regain some colour back into his cheeks already. Agatha could not be sure if it was a trick of the firelight, but she hoped that the spell would work. She had tried a Purging spell only once in her life, on a wayward traveller who had been bitten and had sought refuge in the Academy. He had recovered and had gone about his way the day after, blessing God almighty for his miracle.

Orion regarded Sir Blaxton's face for a few minutes. Then he raised his eyes towards Agatha and said, "come with me. There are more."

Agatha jogged to follow him across the Keep courtyard towards the Armoury. "Have the rest been bitten too? Where are they? Why weren't they delivered at the infirmary like Sir Blaxton?"

Orion remained silent for so long that Agatha gave up on receiving an answer from him. Then he slowed down to match her stride and said, "Sir Blaxton's battalion was returning through the hills of Remadra. They made camp on the foothills. They were attacked by the bloodsuckers at the dead of the night. The ones that survived hauled the unconscious into the carriages and returned as soon as possible. Quite a few men turned along the way, they had to be put down. The ones who have not turned yet are in the courtyard by the Armoury. They were not sent to the infirmary because of obvious... safety concerns. I want you to try and save... as many as you can, Agatha."

"Is this not a breach of the Treaty?" Agatha asked in a hushed voice.

"Yes." Orion hardened his jaw and gazed out into the distance.

"Is this why the Night Guards wouldn't serve anymore?" she asked again. Orion glanced once at her before nodding.

Agatha was aghast by the time they reached the Armoury. A giant iron portcullis opened to reveal a cobbled courtyard. Rows and rows of men lay immobile on the ground, their lifeless limbs and deathly pallor a clear indication of the fate that had befallen them. Another row of warriors stood near their heads in a uniform formation, keeping a watchful eye on their movements.

"O-Orion," she stammered. "I cannot possibly heal all of them. My magic is limited."

"As many as you can, Agatha," Orion repeated, then laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Agatha was so distraught that she jumped at the contact.

"Can you take your men away from here?" She asked. "I do not want them to ... see me perform magic."

"Certainly."

Agatha set to work after the men left the courtyard in a single, organized file. She started from the far end, working her way towards the portcullis. She felt a profound heaviness settling in her limbs by the time she was done with the tenth soldier. She made a quick headcount, her lips moving feverishly. Fifteen more were left. Orion stood sentry in one corner of the courtyard, forever watchful of her ministrations. Agatha wrapped her stole around her gown as tightly as she could and moved on into the next man. The sky had turned an inky blue and a curtain of chill was descending rapidly upon them. Winter was advancing on them yet again, the changing colours of the trees, the nip in the air and the suspicious absence of critters pointed to its inexorable progress. Dimly, as she pushed her tired body to move onto the next man, she wondered how much more difficult war would become when it started to snow. The Armoury was close to the Great Hall and faint laughter from the soiree floated up to her through the mist. By the time she reached the fifteenth man, black spots started to dance at the edge of her vision. When she was singing the spell for the twentieth, she was well aware that this would be the last warrior she would be able to heal. Her last, coherent thought was that war was always young men dying and old men celebrating. Then her legs gave way and she remembered no more.

***

Agatha awoke in a warm, soft bed, with plush furs thrown over her and a hot water bag by her feet. As her vision cleared, she realised that she was in Orion's bedchamber again. Too tired to move, she shifted her eyes around the chamber, but he was nowhere to be seen. Her eyelids fluttered close again, but before she could let the exhaustion claim her again, there was a dip by her side on the bed and his deep voice commanded, "stay awake. You have to eat."

Agatha opened her eyes and frowned at the towering form seated in front of her.

"Go away," she murmured sleepily. There was a clatter of a spoon on stoneware and something was pressed to her lips. She swallowed it, then realised that it was partridge soup. She opened her eyes and tried to sit upright. Orion sat in front of her with a carved bowl in his hand. His eyes never leaving hers, he raised another spoonful of soup to her lips. Agatha accepted it gratefully.

"I can eat," she said weakly, not knowing why she felt mortified. The partridge soup made her feel much better. Fleetingly, she wondered how he had known that she would need food.

Orion did not hand her the bowl, merely continued to feed her as though she had not spoken. As her exhaustion abated with each mouthful, embarrassment started to take its place, and she repeated her request again. "Please, let me do it myself."

Orion smiled faintly this time, and said, "no."

After a while, Agatha felt full, and asked him to stop. Predictably, he didn't listen, merely held out the next spoonful. "I can't eat anymore," Agatha protested gracelessly through a mouthful of partridge.

"You can and you will, Princess," Orion said.

"I am not a Princess," she grumbled but accepted the rest of the food meekly enough. After she had finished the contents of the bowl, Orion set it down on his study table and fetched a towel to wipe her face. Then he brought her a beaker of water.

"This is getting ridiculous," Agatha said, finishing the water and putting her feet down on the floor, intending to leave.

"You will stay." Orion's tone brooked no argument.

Agatha stared at his back as he put more logs into the fire, feeling dismayed. This would certainly mean more rumours back at the Keep, and if she spent the night in the Azure Tower, she would not be able to sidestep them in any way. However, when Orion turned around and pulled his tunic off of him, revealing a finely sculpted upper body, Agatha discovered that she did not care much about the rumours.

"How many survived?" she asked, quite distracted by Orion's methodic undressing.

"Twenty. Your little spell was quite foolproof," Orion said and sat down beside her.

"And Sir Blaxton?"

"Alive and well."

Orion reached towards her and started to untie the laces of her gown.

"Wait!" Panic laced Agatha's voice as she tried to turn towards him. She should have known from the start that this was his intention. Orion did not speak, nor did he let her turn towards him. His hands were gentle, his fingers were quick, and within a few blinks, Agatha's dress was tossed on the ground and she was shivering in her chemise. The chemise soon followed. Agatha wrapped her arms around her torso to hide her nakedness from him, but Orion merely forced her to lie back into the pillows with a gentle push of his hand.

"Please!" Agatha whispered, pleading, trying to reason with him, even though a part of her knew how the night would end. If she submitted to him, she would probably escape without broken ribs. Small comfort though it was, that was the only coherent thought that kept her from struggling.

"Do not be afraid, Agatha," Orion murmured, running his hand through her braid and opening it up. "I will not hurt you." Then he reached down to brush his lips against her, gently at first, then purposefully. Agatha turned her face away from him, clamping her lips shut obstinately. She knew that disobedience would only serve to make the experience more difficult for her, for as long as she had known, men never cared for the consent of women, they merely took whoever they pleased, whenever they pleased. And if the high-born ladies of the court had to submit to the whims of their husbands in bed then who was she, a Hartelle, to dare defy a man such as the Azure Rider?

"What if I don't want this?" Agatha asked coldly, not caring if her defiance would earn her punishment. She clamped her legs together tightly, never intending to open them again that night. He would take what he wanted, she had no doubt of it, but she would fight him until the end.

"I will not take you unless you ask for it, Princess." Orion raised himself up on his elbows and twinkled down at her. "Not unless you beg for it."

"That will never happen," Agatha said defiantly. She had been with Siegel of her own volition, and Walter did not matter in her estimation, but nonetheless, she had never found anything remotely pleasurable about the experience with either of them. She had come to the conclusion that sex was intended to pleasure men, and women were merely tools meant to assist them in that.

Orion did not grace her challenge with a response, merely buried his head in the crook of her neck and inhaled deeply. Agatha tried not to focus too much on how he smelled like pinewood and musk and rain soaked earth, or how his chest hair tickled her breasts as he moved down on her slowly, raining kisses on her neck and then her clavicle. His lips left a trail of fire on her skin and a gasp escaped her lips as he took one of her nipples in his mouth and sucked it gently. His fingers moved to the other nipple, rolling the hardness around under his thumb. Agatha clamped her jaw shut, determined not to respond positively to his attentions. A dull, throbbing ache was developing between her legs, and Agatha closed her eyes, reprimanding her body for betraying her.

"Eyes open," Orion commanded, biting lightly on her nipple. Agatha gasped and opened her eyes, glaring accusingly at the Rider, who was now struggling not to laugh at her. "I hate you," Agatha hissed through clenched teeth.

"I do not doubt that," Orion said, his quiet voice full of suppressed laughter, and to Agatha's horror, positioned his face between her legs. When had they fallen open?

"My Lord, please!" Agatha cried out, paralysed with mortification as Orion started to lick her nether lips with his tongue. Before she had too long to ponder on it, his tongue landed on a particular point which sent out shoots of pleasure up to the rest of her body, eliciting a moan from her. His fingers joined his tongue as he massaged around her entrance, now dripping wet with her arousal, then slipped inside her, curling upwards to press on another point. This time, Agatha had to clasp her hand over her face to stop herself from screaming. He gave her no respite, running his tongue on her now swollen clitoris at a punishing pace and stimulating the front wall of her entrance with his index finger. After some time, his second finger joined the first, building her up with finesse and pushing her over the brink. Agatha screamed, clutching the furs as a delicious pleasure seared through her body. It was everywhere, on the skin of her skull and in her spine, deep inside her jaws and on the tips of her toes, obliterating all thought, hurtling her to a place she had not known existed.

As she came down from her peak, Orion claimed her lips again, and this time, without conscious thought guiding her, Agatha responded, opening up under him with a whimper, allowing Orion to push his hard and demanding tongue into her mouth, wringing out the response that she had denied him a few minutes ago. When he withdrew, Agatha realised with some consternation that she had her arms and legs wrapped around him. Her pelvis was tilted upwards towards him, and she was rubbing herself on his erection over his breeches.

Agatha let her arms and legs fall away, then turned her face to one side, reeling in her responses to him. Orion chuckled again, then slid down to the bed beside her, his manhood still pressing into her hips threateningly. Agatha waited for him to shed his breeches and climb on top of her again, but it never happened. Instead, Orion's breathing slowed as he wrapped himself against her back, with one arm draped over her waist. Agatha reached out and covered both of them with the fur that she had kicked away in the heat of passion, then she, too, fell asleep.