tagSci-Fi & FantasyThe Surface Siblings Ch. 03

The Surface Siblings Ch. 03


Author's Notes: This story is erotic fantasy written by Etaski. I reserve the right to be listed as the author of this story, wherever it is posted. If found posted anywhere except Literotica.com with this note attached, this story is posted without my permission. (c) Etaski 2018.

This story takes place 40 years after the Epilogue of Surfacing and expands on established characters and story. It was the most-requested story following the finale of my epic, and acts both as a simple side-story in this setting, and a prelude to the next epic.

We welcome the "morning after" in Sivaraus.


The Surface Siblings

Part Three: Heritage and History

The dark quadruped streaked through the new late spring foliage, beneath tall, shading trees, and along cold-running streams. Aiming for speed over strength, the creature slipped between the hills rather than taking crest after crest. A black crow with lackluster feathers glided above, unnaturally enhanced eyes keeping track of her.

"She's heading for the border," Gavin murmured. He sat with his back against the midnight glass of his Mistress' Shrine, where mundane eyes might be convinced he was about to tumble down into everlasting space and stardust.

His own eyes, void-black with concentration, saw something much different.

Will she cross it? Arvada'zh asked, shifting his long stride in Lunda's direction.

"I suppose it depends if her Sire reaches it first."

Already your strengths are not enough to stop her, Grey Man?

"Do not sound so proud, Wild Man," the Herald murmured inside the Shrine, his voice an unsettling whisper that, had anyone been present to listen, would have made them shudder. "I have never turned them upon her. She has never tested the borders her Sire set, although she is not slowing now."

She misses Wruzdi and Erekstil.

"She is aware they are not here. Not necessarily the same thing. And, it seems, she can sense Morixxyleth's approach the same as us."

The Green's stride had picked up even more, gauging, timing. Abruptly, the crow witnessed the appearance of a massive, bearded giant, wearing animal skins and fur, and standing directly in the Dragonchild's path. Welundona could not stop in time; she collided with him but was unhurt as she was swept up in Arvada'zh's arms, her momentum dissipated by a single spin in place.

"Rathmanthagabbathres!" she garbled, and the Wanderer laughed out loud.

"Yes. Wait here for him, To'vah'hian."

Gavin watched Lunda shift from her most bestial form to something which resembled a Dark Elf, her metallic-silver hair easier to see from his vantage point than her Moon-silver eyes. Her tail expressed her excitement and anticipation well, though it had shrunk to be shorter in this form.

"It is safe to enter," Gavin said aloud, two fingers absently drawing a rune upon the clean floor with precision. "You are not being followed."

Thank you, Herald, Morix answered.

The Citywalker had no city to merely step into the Herald's sanctuary. Practically speaking, it always took the Dragon's wings or feet covering enough wilderness to come home to his Daughter. Morix had never been so much as threatened to be barred from coming and going as he pleased, of course. Their agreement was a matter of proper communication.

As Gavin had said to the Green—who could and had challenged the defenses of the Ley Tower—the Grey Man had never used his building resources and lessons upon either Father or Daughter To'vah. He did not need to. To this day, the Guild Leader of Augran made good on their Bargain made long ago.

"Sire! Sire!"

The large-boned, hybrid child appeared diminutive before the two, mature males. Lunda sprang up with impressive agility, gaining enough height for Morix to catch her without bending down. He held her to his chest, and she clung like moss to a boulder. The youngest To'vah nuzzled her, and the newest Dragonchild relaxed with all intent to challenge her boundaries seeming to vanish.

The undead crow banked and turned around, heading back to the Tower and its master. Meanwhile, the Herald stood up within his Shrine to the Grey Lady, allowing his Sight to change, to become more mundane, if only for a brief time. Gavin sighed with a sense of release. The Dragon's Daughter had two protectors and, for the first time in two years, one of them wasn't him.

Now. The Pneuma flint, or the Harmonine?

Both required regular study and idleness was never justified in the death mage's mind. Making his choice, Gavin took the steps up to the top of the visible watch-tower rather than those leading down to his lab. The peak room was more an aviary now, a nest for the screaming terror he'd revived at Manalar, who now resided on a world far from the nexus which saw her birthed.

"Roh'ghast," he murmured, and she answered in a shriek which caused the Ley tones to tremor in his ears and jaw, passing through the blackness of his bones.

Gavin crossed that top room half-filled with bedding material, his ear becoming tuned to the Harmonine once again as he reached the window. Setting his staff against the wall, he climbed easily enough outside to the sheer wall and up to the roof, where the Roh'ghast called another welcome.

"Keep singing, Huntress," he murmured, standing upon the highest outlook his physical body possessed in his home.

Roh shrieked, the hooked talons edging her wings assisting her movement as the blind flyer of the Greylands jostled the natural tones at the Intersection. Her song hit a chord just long enough to illuminate those with similar origins. Listening, Gavin once again turned toward the North, staring without focus toward the distant land of Yung-An.

She is nearly hidden, that new creature escaped from Ennikar and the Ascended. The Ma'ab likely do not realize what they have let slip through their fingers.

His Sight made out the shape of a pale, dark-haired woman. She possessed scars from her spirits of Crow and Wolf, marking and remaking her flesh, changing her eyes from Ma'ab black to canine gold. She had bonded to Miurag through her mystic's anchors, through pain like birth. At this moment she paused in her travels, stopping her enormous companion beside her as well. She looked to the South and the Ley Tower, but she could not see Gavin the way he could see her.

She still heard Lunda's Song, however. She always had.

"Child of the Exodus," the Herald murmured in the words of their mutual ancestors. "It did not take long, did it?"

He could not hear her the way she could hear him. The Grey Man narrowed his eyes and heightened his focus, icy-blue irises becoming near florescent. He watched her mouth. She shaped the words of a language he recognized.

Who are you?

"The Master of the Tower," he said. "You hear my home. Beginning forty years ago."

She hesitated, turned in place one time only, now sure she should face South to hear the tone of his voice. Her exotic eyes stared unblinkingly in his general direction as if she stood in a black room beneath the ground. Her sensitive ears were pointed, tipped with dark gray fur, surrounded by a thick, shaggy mane of hair, once crow-black but now streaked with silver.

Her lips moved. What did not take long?

"For the Ma'ab people to bear a child able to hear a song of life. A Ma'ab Druid."

You watch me.

She was frightened.

You hunt me?

Anger. Defiance.

I shall not return with you!

Her wolf's tail was puffed out and her sharp teeth bared in a snarl as she bit out the words. Gavin allowed her to hear mild amusement.

"I have yet to approach Ennikar. I cannot return to where I've never been, can I?"

You speak the Empire tongue, she accused.

"My mother escaped the Empire before you did. My father was from the Land of the Southern Sun. Her blood ran true, and I learned to speak after her death."

Her surprise showed, and her teeth were hidden again behind her lips. She wore a simple, taupe cheongsam, the sleeves capped at her shoulders to show pale, white flesh down to her elbows where banded a small ruff of black feathers. Her forearms, hands, and talons, which were black and roughly scaled like a crow.

Why do I only hear you now, Master of the Tower?

"Why do I still see you so far away, Druid of Yung-An, since you heard the Song."

A shake of her head. Why go where no help is needed?

"Curiosity?" he suggested.

The marked, Ma'ab woman smiled a little. In contemplation she looked down at her hands, sharp talons turned up and fingers curved. Curiosity alone kills. Necromancers know this best of all.

Gavin smiled back, though she couldn't see it. She still stared blindly at heavy, protective mists, her vision unable to penetrate.

"And if your help was needed closer to my Tower? Yours, and that of your long-lived companion."

Her dark brows beetled, and she looked to a tall figure guarding her body as she stood in her trance. Though it was mostly covered in mist, a deep rumble sounded through the Haromines in reply. Even Gavin heard it deep in his blackened bones.

Only if the Song changes, she said.

The Herald nodded once. "Discord."

Dissonance. We hear harmony right now.

"Very well. When it changes, travel toward my Tower, Druid."

Dah-bah, she mouthed. I am Daba.

"Gavin," he answered. "Until then, walk far and listen with care, Ma'ab sister."


Eallo ate her like his body starved for feminine nectar, yet he assumed every drop and swallow would be earned only by patience. He was on all fours, his ass in the air, his hands holding her hips and thighs. His tongue lapped over folds and creases, pressed on her turgid point, swirled around before his lips sucked on the many soft spots.

Sirana quivered, held on the edge by the Rin'oveaus, up on her elbows with her legs splayed. She tried to capture Shyntre's erection between her lips. Tried and failed.

"Uh-uh," the Dark Priest said with maddening smugness as he kneeled naked by her head, stroking himself as patiently as Eallo's tongue stroked her slit. "No cock until you cum on Eallo's face."

Sirana watched a single pearl of fluid arise from the Sorcerer's dark cock, squeezed and coaxed to the crown by his hands. She enjoyed the intensity of Shyntre's eyes as they slid over her, admiring, as he watched the older male servicing her, making her belly tense and suck in as she gasped. Sirana leaned back, off her elbows and reached out to caress the third male who was within reach.

His back, anyway. Still keeping his cock from me.

Her fingertips trailed down Ta'suil's spine though didn't quite reach his bottom as her Life Priest languished on his side. He was propped on one elbow, his arm hooked over the small of Eallo's back, and his head was ducked under the Rin'oveaus' taut belly.

Although Sirana couldn't see the detail from her angle, she watched the motion of her healer's head, back and forth, his spine moving sensually with his own service, which he relished as much as the Rin'oveaus did. Knowing Auslan's own skill, it impressed the Hells out of Sirana how Eallo could concentrate so and make it so right for her as well. The haze of their desire, of her pleasure and sensation, soaked her body and mind full. She felt so heavy and helpless, she wouldn't rise from the bed until the three males released her. Or she freed herself.

~Ohh, Goddess...~

The waves washed up and over her almost before she knew to be caught up in them. The pleasure caused her hips to roll with Eallo and Ta'suil; her lips opened as she moaned and chanted.

Not too loudly.


"Good. That's good," Shyntre whispered, stroking faster, the motion distinct next to her ear as he reached with his free hand to stroke her temple. "So sexy. Now you're ready. Choose your cock. Tell us where you want it."

"All of you," she gasped, forehead damp and hear pounding. "Whatever your pleasure."

Shyntre accepted the control and gave direction to the others without a significant pause. They positioned her, and she cooperated as Shyntre's warm hands took firm hold of her shoulders, pressing down so that her swollen sex hit where Ta'suil aimed from below. Sirana groaned as the Life Priest penetrated, welcoming his erection, her body clutching him familiarly.

The Dark Priest fisted her hair then, and he remained standing to feed his own cock into her mouth. She accepted, kept her eyes open, and the two stared at each other as Eallo got behind her, positioned his saliva-slick rod against her willing pucker, and pushed without hesitation or doubt.


Shyntre grinned at her, and Sirana let her eyes roll back as she was doubly-filled, her holes tight and twitching.


Eallo's hands were calloused and gripped her hips as he tested the angle and depth, easing deeper into her. Ta'suil's hands were softer and smoothed over her thighs and Shyntre's legs. Her sorcerer gagged her, sucking in air himself, pre-cum dribbling onto her tongue where she could taste it.

"Make sure the old-school Red Sister knows you're there, Rin'oveaus," Shyntre said in a deceptively calm tone, never taking his fierce and fiery eyes off her face.

Eallo chuckled knowingly, not speaking but fucking her back hole deep and hard while her slit clenched and drooled all over Ta'suil. The healer reached up to caress Sirana's naked breasts while Shyntre allowed her to move her mouth, sucking him as she would. He stroked her hair as his breath became unsteady.

"I've waited too long," he warned. "I'm going to cum."

~Do it, Shyntre. Now.~

The heat of his aura swept through them, soft waves from before now rising to a boil. Sirana braced to allow each of them in as deep as they needed to go, and Shyntre's cream had no sooner flowed down her throat than both buas behind and underneath her cried out. Ta'suil's cock flexed and sprayed her womb without the intent to catch, and Eallo buried deep between her cheeks, his gold-tinted fur pressed into her sweating crack as he grunted and added his own offering inside her body.

"Ohhh, fuck," Sirana gasped as soon as Shyntre was out, swallowing and licking her lips.

She made a face as Eallo carefully withdrew which made Ta'suil laugh, and the healer leaned up to kiss her semen-scented mouth before she eased off him, setting him free to wriggle out from between her thighs. Shyntre pushed Sirana over onto her side and lay in front of her, leaning in to kiss her multiple times while the other two caught their breath on their backs, Ta'suil's hand resting on Shyntre's hip, and Eallo's on Sirana's.

"Whooof," Eallo breathed. "My favorite kind of wake-up call."

Ta'suil chuckled his delight as well. "Even better than after the dance."

"Amazing what a good Reverie can do," Sirana agreed.

"I'm still amazed Vari hasn't knocked on the door yet," Shyntre murmured.

"What mark is it?" Ta'suil asked.

Sirana glanced toward the corner of the room and groaned in her temporary lethargy. "I don't know. I forgot to light the candle."


The rising Sun had never been the signal for Variset to awaken from Reverie; not as it was for many natural animals of the mountains, or for Mai, Tamuril, and Erek. She'd always slept far back inside the Grey Man's fortress and learned from her Dark Elf parents that it was just as easy to be up while the stars and Moons were still out as it was to be active while the Sun was shining. If the youngest Daughter at the Tower had ever timed anything, it was to watch the transition from day to night, or night to day.

Dawn and dusk.

This was when the wind shifted and carried the strange scents; this was when her eyes strained the most to decide how to interpret where she was. When Gavin's magic seemed especially potent, his servants restless.

Such a time of transition didn't exist in Sivaraus. In the time before that first dinner and the following dance, when Vari had asked so many questions she could hardly keep track, Meli had explained that the city was never truly still.

"Someone's always awake," said her strikingly intelligent relative; technically an aunt, as was Vekika, although both girls felt more like cousins, like Natia. "The slaves and merchants work in shifts. So does the army, the House Guards and various others. Some Houses cling to a 'Noble Rest' such as there had been at Court, enforced by the Priestesses of the Sanctuary. Sort of a 'cease and desist' period where the idle and bored would be sure to get some rest. It gave time for the divine mages to plot and perform their trances or rituals or whatever else they needed to do."

The young female had smiled in a wry way, much like her Sorceress Mother, offering a hint of the type of talk Meli usually listened to, sounding so much older than her age. "Few are idle or bored during this time. They cannot really afford to be. The lack of worship bothers some, and they are vocal about it, comparing it to a lack of focus. Mother said it was only a lack of relevancy, and their well-worn streambed where they did not have to think much has dried up, the life-water now diverted. She said, if she were them, she would focus on and follow the water."

Variset awoke at a time that had nothing to do with the sunrise or sunset, only when her body and mind had recovered from her Aunt's Blade Song. She realized how quiet it was in this room, although she believed she heard some deep thrum moving through the walls.

Where is that coming from?

Vari turned over beneath her blanket, believing she was alone, though she shouldn't have been. Her eyes worked as well as any Dark Elf in the dark, and even without lighting a candle, she could tell other two beds designated for Wruzdi and Erek were empty. She frowned and sat up, swung her legs over the edge, and the bare bottoms of her feet touched something solid and warm, something big. Alive.

"YAAH!" she cried aloud, jerking her feet up to wrap her arms around her knees and her heart pounding, as Vekika bolted straight up to her feet with a dagger drawn. The girl held a decent fighter's stance at first, but it was ruined by a lurch to one side and a hand clutching to her head as if to keep it from cracking.

"Shh, Vari!" she hissed. "Fyesh!"

"Wh-what were you doing down there?" she asked.

"Guarding you," Vekika grumped, opening one eye and rubbing her ear. "What does it look like?"

"I almost stepped on you."

"Yeah, well, it's a good idea to glance at the floor before you get out of bed around here. And check your boots."

Vari glanced at the two empty beds. One was utterly wrecked and unmade, the other tidy and hadn't been slept in. She was confident she could tell which was intended for which. "Where are my brothers?"

Vekika shrugged. "Both with the pale pair, I think. Wruzdi first, Erek later. Something about the dance scared him. Your brother's really strange. The Dark Elf, not the brown one."

Variset felt her temper flare as she frowned and began, "Wruzdi's not—!"

She stopped herself and sighed. But her brother was strange, even to her. Peeking over the side of the bed first, Variset got to her feet. Checking her boots before putting them up on a table, she began to wash up at the pedestal and to dress while Vekika watched her. The dagger was back in her sheath, and she still wore the same clothes from last eve; they still smelled like the dance.

"I think I get the brown one," Vekika offered as Vari brooded. "He acts more like some caits I know. I bet he can play some games and keep up with us."

"Who is 'us'?" Vari asked. She didn't necessarily feel like playing games and wouldn't blame Wruzdi for feeling the same.

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