The Sword and the Soul Ch. 02

"Yes," she whispered. "Yes, darling. You know what I require. Be my Soul Warrior. Let us make magic together."

Mag didn't know much about magic, but he knew what she wanted, insatiable devil that she was, and he was all too happy to oblige. By now he was hard enough to go, and he grabbed her arse with his other hand, squeezing the pliant flesh there. Norn had his tool with both hands now, one set of soft fingers cupping his balls, the other massaging the head and coating it with the slick, clear fluid leaking from the tip. He was getting even harder, if that was possible, and desperate to fuck her.

She let him go and took him by the shoulders, pushing him back slightly. With the grace of an acrobat, Norn climbed into his lap and wrapped herself around him, her legs curling smoothly around his back, her arms encircling his neck. Her skirt hung around both of their hips, obscuring her sex from his sight, but he could feel her slit quivering above his shaft. She sank onto him with a blissful sigh, slowly screwing herself down until he was seated fully inside her.

"Gods above," hissed Mag. Being joined with her once more felt like coming home. He'd forgotten how amazing it felt to be inside her. Her face was nuzzling into his neck, and he took a clump of her hair in one hand, steadying her backside with the other. "You're so hot. So tight."

Norn squeezed him with her inner muscles in recognition, so hard it almost hurt. He gasped, his cock feeling very hot now, and he grew even harder inside of her. Magic. She's doing magic to me again. But he didn't care. It felt too good to protest. His manhood throbbed and swelled, growing longer, reaching deeper. Norn used her legs to lever herself further onto him, their flesh grinding together. He could feel the head of his cock brushing something rough deep inside her, and Norn shuddered around him. She twisted her lips to his ear and whispered to him, her voice desperate and heavy with lust.

"This next part will feel strange," she said. "I need to take you even deeper. But don't worry, it won't hurt me. Or you, for that matter."

Then she bit down on his earlobe, hard enough to make him gasp, and he jumped a bit, the motion driving his cock forward again to press hard against the mouth of her womb.

"Yes," she groaned. "I'm going to open my Soul to you, Mag. Don't be afraid."

He wasn't afraid, only hard as hell and desperate to come, crushed as he was in her vice-like depths. In the confined space, with her wound around him like this, he could barely move, let alone fuck her hard, the way he wanted to. All he could do was grind his hips into hers, feeling with each motion how he massaged her innermost barrier.

Then something strange happened. He felt her core open to him, just a bit, enough so that the tip of his cockhead slipped into the breach. That shouldn't be possible. But it was. He pulled her head back from his neck and looked into her eyes, shocked and not believing it. But her own golden orbs had gone glassy with lust, her mouth hanging open, insensate. As he watched, she came violently, shaking and hugging him even tighter, legs and arms constricting like snakes around him.

And then he felt it, a piece of her scalding core parting the slit at the top of his shaft and dropping inside, wriggling its way down. It didn't hurt, not exactly, but it was a bizarre sensation, like a tiny living creature, burning hot with Soul, crawling inside him. It wasn't like the magic she'd poured into him before. That had felt molten, liquid. This bit of Soul that had broken off from her core felt solid. It reached the base of his cock and disappeared inside him. He could feel the heat of it in his abdomen, a kernel of pure magic.

Norn was still quivering in his arms, in the throes of an incredible climax, her hair now sticky with sweat. Gradually she came back to herself. He felt her womb recede and seal itself again, pulling away from his manhood. Norn caught her breath, some of the awareness returning to her eyes, which had reverted to their original brown color now.

"You all right?" asked Mag.

"Yes," she panted. "Yes. That takes quite a bit of concentration. But it's all right. I'm inside you now."

See?

He gasped. That thought hadn't been his own. It had sounded like Norn, but her lips hadn't moved. "What the fuck was that?"

Me. Norn. Your mistress.

"How the fuck are you doing that?" he said aloud.

Norn grinned with exquisite satisfaction, her smile near splitting her face. "I put a sliver of my Soul inside you. This is a powerful Soul Art, one that allows me to see what you see, to go where you go. I haven't done it in quite some time. It's been a very long while since I've found someone worthy of calling a Soul Warrior."

But you, I think, might be worthy.

"I'm not sure I like this," said Mag. "It feels, you know. Invasive."

It isn't forever. I'll need that piece back eventually. For now, return to supper.

She was looking into his eyes, mouth unmoving, yet speaking in his head, her voice echoing in the chambers of his mind. He gave an amused chuckle and shook his head. Then he squeezed her arse, flexing his cock inside her.

"Something I gotta take care of first," he said.

No. If you came now, you would risk releasing my Soul fragment. We cannot have that.

"What? You're gonna leave me like this?"

Norn responded by unhooking her limbs from him and slowly climbing off of him. Her clutching sex released his manhood with a slick pop, leaving him red and throbbing with nothing but air around him. He moaned pitifully.

"Real fucking nice of you," he said. "I'm dying here."

You'll have your release soon enough. She grabbed a bit of the soft parchment that sat next to him on the bench and used it to clean herself between her legs.

"When?" he asked.

Patience. All will be made clear. At present, I must go someplace safe where I will not be observed. This Art requires great focus. She fastened her bonnet back onto her head and smoothed out her hair.

"You're evil, you know that?"

Norn only turned back and gave him a wicked grin. Then she opened the door and slipped out of the privy.

"Fucking bloody shit-arse gods above," said Mag. He couldn't resist giving his cock an experimental squeeze, wondering how much it could hurt to pull himself off and relieve the maddening lust he felt. But even as he touched himself, he felt a small jolt, a sharp pain in his fingers like he'd been shocked. He yelped and pulled his hand back.

No. I warned you. Be a good lad and return to dinner.

"Fuck you," he spat.

Later.

With a snarl Mag got to his feet and wrenched his breeches up, stowing his turgid cock with considerable effort. It hadn't softened up very much at all, but he just managed it, sure that anyone who looked his way would be able to tell quite readily how worked up he was. Slamming the privy door open, he stomped down the hallway, full of wrath and frustration. He could feel Norn's Soul inside him like a warm marble in his guts. Mag was cursing her inwardly, wondering how he'd let himself get tangled up with such a cruel woman. She spoke in his mind as if reading his thoughts.

You'll thank me later. I promise, darling, the pleasure I'll give you will be unbelievable. They say the anticipation is better than the release, after all.

"Rather just release it now," he muttered under his breath.

He reached the dining hall and pounded his fist on the hard oak wood of the open door as he passed, startling the guardsman. They'd gotten the meat course out now, and the guests were too intent on their venison to pay much attention to Mag's reentry. Making his way back to his seat, Mag had to shove a few chairs and kick a few legs out of the way, but anyone with a mind to protest took one look at his face, cloudy with rage, and thought better of it.

Varak was staring at him when he crashed down into his chair. The lizard said nothing as Mag ripped a chunk of meat from the platter with his bare hands and bit into it savagely.

"What?" he asked around bits of half-chewed meat.

"Mag man seem upset," said Varak.

"Mind your own business," he spat back. Varak flicked his tongue out, but said nothing, eventually turning back to his own food, which he was skewering bits of with his claws and plopping into his mouth.

You should be nicer to your friend. He seems like a good lizard.

Mag sighed. She was right, of course. "Hey, Varak. I'm sorry. Couldn't find the privy. It was occupied when I got there. Had to wait ages."

Varak looked back over and considered this explanation. Then he gave a curt nod.

"Varak understand. Voiding in small room very strange," said the reptile. "Should just have trench outside. That way all go at same time."

Mag chuckled. "I'm inclined to agree." Lizards were nothing if not practical.

Getting some hearty food improved his mood. The venison was delicately spiced and soft enough that it just came apart in his mouth. Varak seemed to agree, as the lizard kept reaching for more, using his claws as utensils to tear into the meat and shovel it into his mouth. Varak wasn't sloppy as he ate, just practical. Mag knew from dining with lizards that eating with relish was considered polite among their kind.

Not everyone at the table seemed to know that, however. He caught Arnis Glabber smirking their way. The Lieutenant whispered something to the lordling beside him, which set the curly haired dandy to tittering once more. Mag paused in his eating and caught Glabber's eye. The officer stared back, evidently pleased with himself. The little piece of Soul inside Mag was burning hotly now, and he felt that anger from before rising again.

"I like a good joke," said Mag. "Maybe you'll tell me too."

"I'm not sure you'd like this one," said Glabber. "Your scaly friend certainly wouldn't."

Varak had stopped eating now too, realizing they were talking about him. The lizard flicked his eyes from Mag to Glabber and back again.

"Try us," said Mag.

"Well, if you insist," said Glabber. "It goes like this: how do you get rid of a lizard who's overstayed his welcome at a party?"

"I dunno," said Mag. "How?"

"Simple. Throw out the pig scraps, he's sure to follow after."

The dandy howled with laughter. Mag and Varak didn't.

"Varak not understand," said the lizard. "Pig scraps?"

"It's the food they give their stock animals," explained Mag. "Leftovers from the butcher. Brains and guts and stuff."

Varak scratched the underside of his chin with one claw, considering that. "Not make sense. Why Varak eat brains? Worst part of animal. Joke not very funny."

"I shudder to think at what a reptile finds humorous," said Glabber, which set his companion cackling again.

"Varak might not get that you're insulting him," said Mag, in a black tone. "But I do. This lizard's got more honor in his smallest claw than you'll ever have."

Careful now, Mag. If you make a scene, we'll learn nothing.

But Mag was fired up now. The Soul Norn had given him was like a red coal in his guts, and his cock was still half-hard too. He wasn't about to stop now.

"And I'll tell you something else, Lieutenant: that small-dick haircut of yours ain't fooling anyone. No way Lady Marilla's gonna go for that, or any other self-respecting lady, for that matter. In fact, the only way an ugly prick like you could get fucked is by sitting on a candlestick."

Glabber's face had gone near as red as his beard now, and he pounded both fists on the table, half rising from his seat. It was Mag's turn to smirk, now, and he took a swig of wine, swirling the cup happily before he swallowed.

"You should watch your tone, mercenary," said Glabber. "Or you might find yourself wishing you'd stayed with the reptiles."

It looked like Glabber might draw his sword and demand satisfaction right there, which was fine with Mag. But at that moment someone at the high table banged on the thick wood three times with something heavy, summoning the room's attention. Mag glance over and saw that the Duke himself had climbed to his feet, aided by his daughter and Magus Brand. A hushed silence fell as the gathered guests gave their lord attention. Mag spared one last glance at Glabber, to raise an eyebrow and shrug as the Lieutenant found his seat again, still fuming, but unwilling to defy his Duke.

"Thought Mag man said no wrestling at table," whispered Varak beside him.

"Ah, but he's a cunt," Mag whispered back. "That's different."

***

Marilla stood beside her father, ready to catch him if he fell, but he seemed steady enough now that he'd found his feet, leaning heavily on the oak table before him, looking down from the high table at the assembled guests. Rovish Silver's illness was a strange one. He could lay in bed near all day, barely having energy to take broth, his head so foggy that affairs of state were lost on him. But then on occasion he summoned some of that old vigor, and the mists cleared momentarily, leaving her to believe he was finally improving. But each time the mysterious illness returned, stronger than ever. It had no outward signs, no sores or fever or even a cough, but left him so drained of spirit and wit that he seemed a shell of his former self, gaunt and white-haired, where only a year ago he had been tall and strong.

Magus Brand had his spellbook open on her father's other side, and he was speaking an incantation in a low voice, causing the glyphs upon the page to glow with a faint amber color. The spell was familiar to her by now, for Brand had often used it to give her father back his faculties, at least temporarily. For all her misgivings about Brand, and his clear ambition to rise higher in his order, none could deny that his magic had preserved the Duke in his time of need. She'd never studied magic formally herself - being the Duke's only child, she was required to learn statecraft, and had no time for instruction in the magical arts - but she understood its principles well enough, and knew that, while Brand could not cure her father outright, the Magus could lend him strength, which he had done willingly many times. Sweat was beading on Brand's forehead already, and Marilla knew that he'd be swooning and weary himself from the effort soon enough.

"My lords and ladies," said her father. His once-basso voice was hoarse and strained, but with a suggestion of the old firm surety underneath. "It is my hope that you have enjoyed this modest fare. Despite my illness, I have decided to join you all tonight, for it is a poor Duke indeed who cannot dine with his subjects.

"And further, there are important matters I must speak of. So now, before we adjourn for wine and cakes, and summon the musicians, do me the honor of paying heed."

To hear him speak like this reminded her of the old Duke, the one who'd dandled her on his knee as a girl, the one who laughed with such mirth as to bouy the entire hall, the one who never shied from a wrestling match or fencing contest. Marilla glimpsed a bit of him now and even as she relished this bit of strength in her father, it pained her to remember him as he had been.

"As many of you know already, the old silver mine which gave my family our name was thought to be tapped out in my father's day. But several months ago my surveyors discovered a rich new vein of pure silver, and informed me about certain new techniques which would allow excavators to dig deeper than ever before and remove the precious metal with great speed. I ordered this done, investing in new equipment and updating the old facilities at the site, with scores of able-bodied mining men brought in from all over Cairen to aid the effort, and I am happy to report that in the days to come we shall at last see the fruits of these efforts. The first of the silver is being brought up from the new shaft now, and soon all in Seleca shall reap the rewards. If there is one thing I learned from my father, it is that wealth is to be shared, not hoarded, and that largesse is the finest quality of a lord."

That's a bit of a half-truth. Marilla hadn't known her grandfather long, but she'd heard stories from her father. The Old Duke had been famously stingy, disliked by most of his subjects and peers, and her father had learned his characteristic generosity by counter-example. And, indeed, the crowd was pounding on their tables in appreciation of his announcement, growing more boisterous until the Duke held up his hand for silence.

"And there is one more important thing I must share with you. As some of you might know, I recently offered a reward for a Soulkin called Norn which for many years has plagued the Forest of Seleca, and which has recently become more unpredictable and dangerous in its harassing of both human and lizardfolk woodsmen. As you know, my family has long considered it their duty to eradicate rogue Soulkin where we find them." He pointed above himself to where the horned trophy of the bull-like Soulkin hung. "And this case is no different. Well, I am happy to report that, no sooner had I posted my reward, than a courageous pair of adventurers rose to the occasion and claimed it. My lords and ladies, may I present Varak of the lizard clan and Mag the human, as well as the trophy they have returned to us. Please rise and be recognized, gentlemen."

Marilla looked out into the crowd. The named pair had stood even as a servant came forward and deposited the trophy of Norn's head on the high table for all to see. There were audible gasps from the guests at the fierce, ursine visage. The head was not as large as the one that hung on the wall above the Duke, but it was impressive nonetheless, and attracted an appreciative round of thunderous, table-pounding applause.

Mag was taking in the adulation with a sheepish, self-conscious grin, a playful glint in his wolfish yellow eyes. He loves the attention. She saw that blowhard Arnis Glabber across the table from him. The lieutenant had his arms crossed, staring daggers at the mercenary. She knew the barrel-chested officer fancied himself a suitor for her, and wondered at what the uncouth Mag must have told him to piss him off so. She couldn't help a small smile.

Varak the lizard had the same inscrutable look as ever. The guards had made him give up his polearm - it simply wouldn't do to have such a cumbersome weapon at the dinner table - and he seemed somewhat uncomfortable without it, flicking his tongue out repeatedly and glancing furtively about the room. He was certainly a credit to his race, big and muscular and smoothly scaled. She supposed he was probably considered attractive among his own folk.

The Duke held up his hand again, eventually gaining the room's attention. "To these two fine warriors, our Duchy extends its profound gratitude. And to Varak, we must say a special thanks. For too long, relations between our peoples have been strained. It has been many years since I spoke with Chief Vusz personally. This, I think, must be remedied in the future. Please convey my warm regards to the most honorable and respected Chief upon your return, Varak."

Varak thumped his tail on the ground emphatically, which Marilla understood to be a form of respect or applause among his kind.

"Silver man's words very honorable," said Varak. "Duke Seleca speak well for human people. Varak pleased to carry this message."

"I am glad," said the Duke. "And to Mag, I offer my profound admiration. I am told you slew this spawn of the Other Place in single combat. A most impressive feat. Would that my city guard had more men like you in it."

Lieutenant Glabber, Marilla was amused to note, positively scoffed at that statement.