The Hammers of Oryx Ch. 02

It had only just occurred to Sarya, as the guard's cock pistoned in and out of her wet mouth, that he might not even know the location of the Thyrian amulet. He had seemed a bit anxious to take her up on her offer - she had promised to make it worth his while - and Sarya felt certain she likely swayed him even further when she had unbuttoned her blouse and exposed her breasts. His eyes had taken on that dullness that men sometimes get, telling her all the blood in his head was rushing downward and it hadn't taken much longer for him to pull his thick prick out of his pants in expectation. Not that she minded his eagerness, really. She enjoyed a man who knew what he wanted. The faster she got what she wanted, though, the better. And for Korin and the Hammers of Oryx, she'd do just about anything. If the guard didn't know a thing, or sent them on a wild chase through Brightwell, it'd all be for naught.

The guard's cock had stiffened quickly when she knelt before him and took it in her hands. He had pushed it towards her, eager, and she had opened her mouth for it to keep him from pressing it against her face in anticipation. She held on to his mailed leg with her right hand and stroked the shaft with her left. Sarya thought she could at least get him to come quickly, and in the warm afterglow of his orgasm he'd open right up and tell her what she wanted to know, which was if and when he'd last seen the Thyrian amulet and who currently had possession of it. A lot to hope for, she knew, but it was her turn to help the Hammers. Darren had done her part, and Korin, too, although he had much more yet to do. Worst case, she'd have a mouthful of spunk and the guard wouldn't know a thing. She'd worked harder for less, of course. At least he didn't smell too bad. The crotches of soldiers usually acquired a unique funk after long shifts standing in chainmail or plate.

The guard moaned as Sarya worked her mouth and tongue over the head and shaft of his cock. It wasn't half bad, and Sarya found that familiar feeling between her legs, as she always did when giving head. He grabbed her head with both gauntleted hands and started to fuck her mouth with long, slow strokes. His cock was reaching deep into her mouth, and thick saliva had started to drip from between her lips and down his shaft each time he pulled back out. It was drooling down onto her breasts in thin strands. She briefly considered slowing things down before he choked her with his size, but he seemed close and she didn't want to have to start anew. Sarya knew enough to keep her eyes on the prize. Time to push him over the edge. She pulled back from his hardness and looked up at him.

"You're making my pussy so fucking wet," she sighed, forming the words deliberately with her lips to accentuate the meaning. "I want you to come in my mouth."

She felt his cock swell and twitch in her grasp. She started stroking the slick shaft faster. It wasn't necessarily a lie, either. Her pussy was wet, and getting wetter. But there was no time for fucking, not with the Hammers patiently waiting for her nearby.

The guard's cock swelled and she knew he was about to come. She looked up at him, lips parted. His face twisted up in pleasure and then he came in long, thick spurts across her face. A few hot ribbons landed in her mouth but she kept it wide open for him to see. Men loved that, seeing their cum shooting into a woman's mouth. She thought it an interesting kink, not quite sure if they were turned on by the explicitness of the act or if it was some biological sense of loss, like they were watching their kin leave the village for roads unknown, a sort of pride with their creation as it leaves them forever. She pulled on his length to coax out all of his load, sucking the head back into her mouth and flicking her tongue hard on the tip. It was sweet and hot and not at all unpleasant. Definitely not as bad as Darren's experience with that farmer weeks ago. Sarya had felt sorry for her, given that the information they'd sought was readily available from just about any traveler along the King's Road. Sarya had given the cute elf's pussy a good licking later that night to help her forget all about it.

The guard shuddered and pulled away. "Berel's blood," he gasped, "that was fantastic."

Sarya smiled and stood up, swallowing what was in her mouth. "You're welcome." Some of his cum had dripped off her chin and landed on her chest.

The guard pulled his pants up and leaned heavily on the wall behind him, breathing deeply. Sarya pulled her gray blouse together and began buttoning up the front. His semen would dry on its own, and she wasn't about to wipe it unceremoniously on one of the many tapestries hanging from the guardhouse walls. She used the bottom of her blouse to clean what remained from her face.

"Now, about what I wanted?" she asked.

The guard smiled. "You didn't want that? Could've fooled me."

"What do you think? Did it feel like I wanted it?"

"Yeah."

"So don't ruin it by asking. We had an agreement."

"I hadn't forgot."

"Good."

"The blue one, with the rays of gold?" he asked.

"Precisely," she said. "Have you seen it?"

"I've seen it, sure," he said.

"Where?"

"Hanging on Baron Robern's latest conquest, Lady Trelayne."

"You saw it recently?"

"Just two nights ago, during the new moon." The guard composed himself, and replaced the steel helm on his head. His cheeks were still flushed, but professionalism had returned to his posture and demeanor. "The Baron himself walked beside her, arm in arm; I seen it myself. I'll be damned if the thing wasn't gleaming from between those blessed tits of hers. Begging your pardon, of course."

Sarya doubted his politeness was genuine. After all, he'd just shot his load, and men will say anything if you've emptied their balls for them. But she really didn't care. Nor did she doubt the guard's tale, not if Lady Trelayne had been wearing the thing on her bosom. Men had started wars over less, and the Lady wasn't one to hide her considerable gifts. Sarya was sure she had been showing it off for all to see.

"Very well," she said, letting her fingers lightly brush the front of his guard's mail tunic. "I appreciate the tip."

The guard blushed, just slightly, and smiled back at her. "You didn't hear it from me."

Sarya stood up on her toes and pecked the guard's cheek, reassuring him. "Of course, dear. It'll be our secret."

She turned with a smile and left the man standing at his post. She walked down the steps into the dark street and crossed through the pools of golden gaslight to where her friends quietly waited in the shadows.

Korin was leaning against the stone wall where the avenue took a turn north. He raised one finger to the corner of his mouth as his other hand sheathed the thin stiletto he'd had at the ready, just in case things with the guard had turned bad. "Missed a spot, dear."

Sarya darted her tongue out and licked the pearly drop.

"Thanks, Korin. Always looking out for me."

"That's right, love," he said. "But you can take care of yourself."

Jakx and Darren waited around the corner, crowded under the eave of a two-story stone building, tucked away from the glow of the street lamps. Darren's low cut velvet robes left nothing to the imagination, her elven eyes smoldering despite the dark. Jakx stood imposingly with arms crossed and his hefty battle axe slung low on his waist. They quietly applauded as she rounded the corner. She grinned and flicked her middle finger at the two of them. She'd gotten what the Hammers had come for, she hoped, and it hadn't been all that bad. She'd have to get Korin alone later to take care of her own need, which was wet and throbbing. Business or not, sucking a cock always turned her on. But first, they had work to do.

The Hammers fell in as Sarya continued walking along the tight alleyway.

"So," Darren asked, "tell me it was worth it."

"We won't know until we follow up on what he said," Sarya replied. "But he seemed quite sure the Baron's new lady has it."

"New lady?" Korin asked. "What happened to the Countess de Mornay?"

"Who knows? This time it's the Lady Trelayne."

Korin sighed. "Damned nobles and their games."

"Who cares who he's fucking," Jakx said. "We find this Trelayne and then we find the amulet. Leave the nobles to their own, and get on with it."

Darren smiled at the big Israni. Always straight and to the point, even if the point was usually the steel tip of his axe.

"I wish it were that simple, friend," Korin said. "Lady Trelayne isn't some small player. She has her own estate, left to her by her dead husband, he of House Trelayne, but has since expanded upon it through her own clever associations and maneuvering."

"Sounds like she fucks around," Darren said.

"Don't they all," Sarya added.

"Maybe so, but she's fucked the right people and it's going to make our job a lot harder," Korin said, fingering the belt at his waist that held his knives and gear. "We'll have to find a way into the northern estates first, and then into her own residence. We're not exactly nobility."

"Why not just snatch it off her chest?" Jakx grumbled.

"And be forced to deal with the armed retinue traveling with her? I don't think so, friend. That's biting off a bit more than we can chew. This is still Brightwell, and the City Watch doesn't take kindly to open assault in the streets."

"Is this something the Union can help with?" Sarya asked.

"Perhaps," Korin said. After a moment, he said, "I have a few favors left. It might be that they can give us an angle worth pursuing."

The Hammers fell silent. They knew Korin had connections within the Union of Thieves, both here in Brightwell and abroad. But they'd been using up favors quickly of late, all in the interest of tracking down this amulet. They knew the Union's assistance was limited, but who knows what else lay on their path that they might need help with. Was this something they called on the Union to assist with now, or keep hitting the streets and bending ears with gold or other services in order to gain information to lead them to the next clue? Either way, they'd come so far already. It was too late to give up.

"I'll do what I can," Korin said. "The rest of you, lie low for the next few days at the Barrel. Gather your energy, but stay alert. We may need to move fast if we have the opportunity. And if we hit Trelayne, we'll be leaving Brightwell in a hurry."

+++

The Cracked Barrel wasn't a special place, as far as ale-soaked inns go, but it was a kind of home for the Hammers of Oryx. Innkeeper Walda was a friend, and in Brightwell that counted for something. When the Hammers found themselves staying in the city for more than a day, Walda always found them an empty room. And not one of the cheaper rooms with a floor covered in sawdust to sop up dank spills of ale, vomit, blood, or semen. Walda put the Hammers up in a comfortable suite, and asked no more than the running rate. He was a friend, but also a businessman, and nothing in Brightwell was free.

Tonight, the Hammers sat in their room waiting. All but Korin, who had left to meet with the Union of Thieves earlier that evening. He had found an angle they could use to gain entrance to the northern estates where Lady Trelayne's estate lay, and had decided the Union would need to help if they were to succeed. He had not yet returned to the inn, and the hour was late.

Jakx worked a whetstone across the blade of his axe. Darren paged through one of her many leather-bound books. Sarya simply paced the room with her hands clasped tightly behind her back.

"I don't think wearing a furrow into Walda's carpet is going to bring him back any faster," Darren said, not looking up from her reading.

"We all deal with our nerves in different ways," Sarya replied. "You lose yourself in those confusing books and Jakx sharpens his axe."

"I always sharpen my axe," the Israni protested.

"You've been sharpening it for an hour, Jakx. I don't think it can get any sharper."

"It's a man without honor who lets his axe dull."

Sarya sighed.

"We're all nervous," Darren said. "But Korin has our faith as well. He'll be here soon."

"I should've gone with him, Darren." Sarya's pacing quickened.

"You know how the Union operates, Sarya. They would never have agreed to meet Korin had you been along for the ride."

"Then I'd bloody keep to the shadows!"

"And you'd find a blade at your throat in the dark," Jakx said, the whetstone stopping along the axe's blade. "The Union are no fools, Sarya, they'd have agents surrounding the meet. You know that much."

"Jakx is right," Darren said. "Then we'd be waiting for two instead of one."

Sarya knew her friends were right, but it didn't make the wait any easier. Korin was capable of keeping himself alive; she'd seen him get out of tougher jams many times, but something about this amulet had her worried more than usual. This wasn't just another bauble the Hammers were planning on snatching to make ends meet until the next job. This thing had led them on a ghost chase ever since they'd first heard about it. The fact that they'd learned of it first from the lips of a dying monk only made the whole thing even more concerning. But Korin and the others had jumped at the chance to discover a real relic, something potentially worth a fortune, something only heard about in legend. It was all very romantic, she had to admit. But something still didn't feel right.

For one, the amulet wasn't supposed to exist. Thyria was the sort of tale told to children when building fantastic worlds in which they could peacefully fall asleep and dream. A legendary city of riches, high atop an impenetrable mountain range, hidden within a verdant valley of rolling hills and clear blue springs. The Thyrians were said to have been self sufficient, not needing any imports from the lands or cultures below. They would, on occasion, export their fine goods to those cultures they deemed worthy, and a gift from the Thyrians was enough to pad the pockets of an entire people, or elevate them to a new form of living through technological advances or scholarly insight. To put it in a way the children of the world would easily understand, the Thyrians were simply gods.

An amulet designed by the Thyrians was surely a thing of wonder. At least, that's how the monk had spoken of it. With his very last breath, as his lifeblood pooled below him and he should've been making peace with his selfish god, this man clutched Darren by the collar and spit out simple but foreboding words through blood-flecked lips. "The amulet has been found. Now comes the reckoning." Then he had died. The Hammers questioned Darren afterward, as she had surely read enough in her confusing tomes to parse out what the monk had meant. Darren herself had spent long nights thereafter pouring through her collection of dusty volumes full of glyphs and dead languages looking for something that would connect those words to fable or prophecy. But she'd found nothing, and the speculation began.

Korin was certain it was a thing of precious metals, and knew he could fence it through the Union of Thieves or in Black Bay for enough coin to set the Hammers up for good. A life of leisure; hell, maybe even an estate like the ones he held in such contempt. He didn't believe in Thyrian hocus-pocus, despite Darren's assurances. Jakx didn't care much about the amulet either way. He was in it for the Hammers and would follow Darren anywhere. Sarya didn't know what to think. She trusted Darren's Elven affinity for relics and lore. That's what had her concerned. A part of her hoped it was just a precious metal, or even just a worthless trinket. Korin and the others would be disappointed after all they'd been through, but they'd be safe. And Sarya wanted nothing more.

Footsteps in the hall foretold someone approaching their room. Jakx gripped his axe haft tighter, the large man always at the ready. The door flew open and Korin strode in, brandishing a small leather purse in his outstretched hand. A grin split his face from ear to ear.

"Hammers! We've done it again!"

Sarya released the breath pent up inside her at the sight of the thief, relief flooding her body. Korin had made it back and he looked no worse for the wear. "You've had us worried, Korin."

He smiled. "Never fear, dear Sarya, the Union knows my worth. They wouldn't try anything for such a simple request."

"So you got what we need to find this thing?" Darren asked.

"Yes," he said. "I have in my hand four invitations to the Baron Robern's gala being held in just three nights, at his estate, where the Lady Trelayne is sure to be in attendance."

"A party?" Darren asked. "We're going to a party?"

Jakx grumbled something under his breath and began sharpening his axe blade once again.

"Not just any party. By all accounts this seems to be the party of the year. I have it on good authority that most of Brightwell's nobility will be there, or at least those that are looking to advance their position."

"Oh, that's much better." The elf's tone betrayed her sarcasm.

"How are we going to mix in with nobility, Korin?" Sarya asked. "We're not exactly their type."

"Leave that to me," he answered. "There's more work to be done, but this was important. We can at least, now, get through the North Gate and onto the grounds."

"And then what?" Jakx asked, still sharpening his axe blade.

"And then," Korin said, turning to the Israni, "we infiltrate the party."

+++

Baron Robern and Lady Trelayne lived decadently in a palatial estate north of the city square, in the large district known to citizens of Brightwell as The Gild. They enjoyed the type of lifestyle that most only heard about in bawdy tales sung by bards at the inn, full of parties and orgies and lounging. If you asked the nobles themselves what they spent their days doing, they'd say they were running Brightwell. And some may take them at their word. But everyone else knew better. Brightwell ran on the backs of its citizenry and the goods that traded hands day in and day out in Dockside and the markets of the city square. The northern estates sprawled out towards the foothills of the Valion Mountains, extending the political reach of Brightwell far past its original established borders. There had been territorial disputes during periods of expansion, but the nobles had a deep thirst for spacious land, a deep desire to outdo each other in dominion, and deep pockets to pay sellswords to silence rivals. Poor farmers and family titles meant nothing if your home was burnt to the ground and your family slain in cold blood. Perhaps the true tale of nobility was one of constant suspicion and gamesmanship as each family tried to outdo or simply destroy their neighbor.

Korin Ealwic held a strong dislike of the sort of people playing these games, and it made jobs like the one they were on much easier. Let them hold their gala balls and pissing contests to outspend each other and show off their decadence. The Hammers of Oryx would take from them without remorse, and use whomever they pleased to advance their own fortunes. Jakx, Darren, and Sarya had been at his side for several years now, and the bond they shared was one of trust, respect, and love. He'd give his life for a Hammer, and he knows each would do the same in return. They'd been through a lot, spilling blood and sharing beds, and their reputation often preceded them. This time, however, what they needed most was anonymity. For the Thyrian amulet, and all it may portend, he had spent most of their coin and called in all but the largest of favors. There was no room for failure.

The Baron's estate lay just inside the iron gates separating The Gild from the city square. Steel helmeted guards lined both sides of the wall that surrounded each district, but here they were doubled in number, and tonight they were alert for brigands and thieves. Lucky for Korin and his Hammers, they weren't looking for well-dressed party goers on their way to attend the Baron's gala.