Chapter 9

I picked up the rags that were formerly my clothes. A few tiny gemstones clattered to the floor, now freed of their secret pockets. I ignored them. Ghorza could call them payment if she wished. The orc's broad back rose and fell with faint shudders. The lewd position, the device still stuck inside her, I felt sympathy. Strange, yes, but in defeating her, I wanted to care for her. Yet I was under no illusions. I had no time to be a tender lover to the warchief.

I fashioned some of the rags into a makeshift loincloth and gathered my ironwood staff and few other treasures I had taken with me, my Shattered Mirror and the figurine of the bird-thing I'd found in Ur Adrax. Standing there in nought but my boots and a torn loincloth, I felt like one of the savage paladins of Kharsoom, a connection that would prove prescient. Though, in truth, I was overdressed for that particular comparison.

Tara, freed from the shackles, now sat on the bed, her slender shoulders slumped. She gazed down at Ghorza, her expression hidden behind a curtain of greasy platinum hair. I gently took her hand and helped her unsteadily to her feet.

"We must away," I murmured.

Her hand was cool, her long fingers interlacing with mine. I led her out of the bedchamber along the passageway, following Oddrin's dancing glow. My heart thundered in my chest. I kept imagining Ghorza coming to. It would not be long. She had nearly driven me to unconsciousness. My victory had been on a razor's edge.

We turned down the darker pathway, past the two storerooms, to the chamber that had originally marked my descent. Oddrin flew up through the hole, alighting on the side and peering down at me.

I knelt, interlacing my fingers, boosting Tara up to the hole. I was momentarily concerned, her being a noble, that she might not be able to get up. Her height was to our advantage, and indeed, her long limbs made the difference. She was able to clamber up with some difficulty.

I heard her, breathing heavily at the top, before she reappeared on her knees, reaching out to me. I handed Spire up, and she accepted it, setting the staff aside. My hand closed over hers right as a voice boomed through the corridors, bellowing in Orcish. I didn't need to know the language to understand the message. Our absence had been discovered.

I whispered a word, pulling wind to push me up. Tara hauled. My feet scrabbled at the wet walls. For a heart stopping moment, I thought she would lose her grip on me and I would fall, but my other hand caught the lip of the hole. My entire body was a web of aches, but the sound of the mines waking up around me gave me strength. I rolled onto the next level, gasping for air. After only a moment, I forced myself up, grabbing Spire and Tara's hand.

"This way," I whispered, following Oddrin down the corridors, his blue glow giving me enough light to navigate by.

Below, the clamor of orcs echoed off every wall. Voices, raised in anger, bellowing back and forth in harsh Orcish, then the clang and scrape of metal on metal, the pounding of heavy footfalls. The orcs were readying themselves for battle. I didn't think I could summon another storm now, and as well as Xeiliope trained me, I was not the equal to this war party. I had a few tricks left, and those would have to save Tara and me.

We ran along the corridors as below the orcs thundered about. I retraced my steps, squeezing through the last stretch of passage. The wind rustled the brush obscuring the way out, and it was a kiss on my skin. Then we were outside, the pitch blackness of the night closing around me. I knew that the trees were straight ahead, but it was one thing to know something and quite another to run headlong in the dark.

Tara must have sensed my hesitation. "Bel, I can see in the dark," she whispered.

"We need to get to the trees," I whispered, "then east to the lake. A stag is waiting."

I felt her breath on my cheek, and then her mouth on mine, her tongue sliding past my lips. "I will be your eyes, my love."

She led now, pulling me into the darkness. I only got glimpses, where Oddrin's faint glow landed. Off to the west, Orcish war cries echoed through the dark, followed by the crash of their passage through the underbrush. Unfettered by the dark, they moved with unholy speed. I don't think any saw us yet, concealed as we were by the tall grass along the path, but some closed quickly.

At my full strength I would not have worried. I would have summoned my clouds, sent sheets of lightning through them, forced them back into their burrow. Now, with my legs aching from the ride, my limbs heavy from my escape, my body bruised from my battle, I could not. I could barely keep running. Tara wasn't much better, exhausted herself and barefoot besides. The first orc that caught us would bear us back to Ghorza, and I did not think she would have mercy.

I reached for the pouches flopping about at my waist, unsure of which one I'd find. It was the jade figurine I had found in the ruins of Ul Adrax. I brought the statuette to my lips and breathed into the false creature's mouth, then dropped it onto the path behind me.

I could not see the process now, but I had seen it when I first discovered how to activate its magic. The statuette would grow, the jade becoming feathers and scales. Soon, it would stand to my waist, its muscular feathered tail sticking far behind it. Its clawed forelimbs would look like small wings, while its powerful hind limbs each featured an impressive hooked talon. Its color was a riot of greens, yellows, and blues. Striking, but perfect camouflage for the Adraxian jungle. This was one of the flightless bird-things native to that distant shore. Sarakiel would eventually name her Fidget, but I had yet to meet my beloved darkling.

Tara swallowed a yelp at the sight of the creature.

The creature--I shall call her Fidget out of convenience though she had not the name yet--made a cooing sound. I whistled, and she dashed into the tall grass at the sounds of the closest orc. He shouted something in Orcish that turned into a terrified scream followed by wet sounds like the tearing of a soaked garment. Fidget gave another coo, followed by a whistle, and she fell into step next to us, her muzzle and talons glistening with gore.

"What is that thing?" Tara asked.

"Just something I found," I said. A stitch had found a home in my side. I wanted to lay down for a hundred years, but it would be leagues before I could. I found the other pouch I'd brought, freeing the Shattered Mirror. This device, little more than a diamond of reflective glass set in tarnished silver, was not impressive on its face. The cracks dividing it into six unequal parts made it less so. It would save us now.

I caught my face in the reflection, but it was too dark. I cursed softly. Oddrin landed on my shoulder, his little claws biting into the flesh. His glow gave me the light I needed to activate the Mirror. It hurled my reflection out into the night, and now a half dozen Belromanazars ran through the dark.

Orcish cries, gleeful at having seen prey, sounded now, telling me the illusion was doing its work. While it would be easy to tell who the real one was--the one with Tara--it was enough to sow confusion. That was all I needed, time to get to the trees.

Twice more, orcs strayed close to us, and twice more Fidget leapt on them and tore them to shreds.

The trees enfolded us. The orcs were still out in the open ground, hunting my reflections. Arrows whistled through the night. Tara led the three of us deeper into the trees, picking over the uneven ground, following the line of the forest.

Gradually the orc-sounds receded, but they were never out of earshot. Fidget nudged my leg and gave a chirp. I whistled softly, and she leapt. Tara stifled a scream, but the creature turned back into a statuette to land in my outstretched hand. I returned it to its pouch. That was the end, I was entirely out of tricks.

Fortunately, it did not matter. Tara kept leading me away from the mines, and right as I was beginning to despair that the stag would not be found, the silver creature stepped out of the dark. I saw it clearly, as though it shed its own light. Tara approached it, murmuring in Elvish. He ducked his head, nuzzling her hand. His rack of antlers was a terrifying weapon, but against Tara, it was nothing.

There was light here, somehow, enough to see. Perhaps the stag shed it, perhaps it was some residual elven magic, perhaps it was Oddrin's glow being caught and reflected. In any case, I gazed at the beauty of my elf, my Tarasynora. Her long legs, bare, her flesh as silvery as the bark of a xilquinal tree. Then, the tiny loincloth that barely hid her buttocks, then the smooth expanse of her back, her lithe limbs, her long platinum hair. I found myself thinking of what she had endured, horrified but aroused, and ashamed of this latter reaction.

She mounted the animal and held her hand to me. I climbed up, securing Spire on the saddle and wrapping my arms around her waist. Her slender flesh was soft under my hands. I thought of the last time I had held her thus. She'd been bent over, I had been inside her, and she had moaned my name, begging me to lose myself.

Oddrin alighted on the antlers, clinging to the stag. Tara wheeled the beast around and we plunged into the night. The stag, Ailas, knew the way home, and he ran as though every orc in Chassudor was on his heels.

Her lavender scent bloomed in my nose, and I brushed a soft kiss on the slope of her neck. I was not intending anything else, merely an expression of my love. She leaned over in the saddle and murmured something to the stag. Then, with incredible agility, she lifted one impossibly long leg high, pointing her dainty toes, and turned about on the saddle to face me. Her leg then came down, and she wrapped her arms about my neck.

Her lips found mine and between soft kisses, she murmured, "Oh, Bel. I didn't dare dream you would come for me."

"Your leilasa summoned me."

"Itylara," she breathed. "Bless her." She kissed me again, gently at first, then deeper, a desperation to her, a need that I couldn't quite understand.

"What happened?" I asked into her mouth.

"I will tell you everything, Bel. Later, I will tell you everything." Her hands were at my loincloth, freeing my manhood, stroking the silky length.

"Tara, what are you doing?"

"I need you, my love. Right now."

"Now?" We were thundering through the dark on the back of the stag, wind in our hair, the ground bucking beneath us.

"Now," she said. "That beast ravaged me for weeks. I was slave to her desires. I need love. I need the feel of my leilatha inside me."

I thought of the ivory device that I had left inside Ghorza like a victoriously-wielded weapon. "Are you not...sore?"

She nodded. "I hurt. But I need you more than the hurt. I want you to replace it. Can you do that for me?" She rubbed my length, coated with the dried juices of the orc. She purred as she felt me responding, swelling to my full size.

"You are certain? You aren't disturbed by what you witnessed?"

She let out a shuddering breath. "Disturbed? I watched you master that creature. I longed to feel you like that, putting me on my hands and knees like a beast. That is for later, for now, I just need you."

Her strokes were heavier now, her cool hands raising the hair on the back of my neck. I watched her reach beneath her loincloth to brush her sex, then her fingers, now dripping with the lavender-scented nectar, rubbing over my flesh. She used both hands, massaging me, the bumpy ride adding a delicious unpredictability to her stroke.

"Yes," I whispered.

"Good," she said. She leaned back, lifting her hips up. I felt the petals of her orchid at the head of my staff, slick and hungry. Her folds accepted me, and she sighed as she leveraged herself onto me. The animal leapt, hit the ground, and the bump drove me into her to the hilt. She let out a squeal, gripping me about the neck, her legs now wrapped about my hips.

"Are you hurt?" I asked breathlessly, not yet moving, but the ride pushed me in and out in short bursts.

"Yes," she moaned, her hips rocking against mine. "I hurt, Bel."

I had an arm wrapped about her hips. The other was at her neck, holding her to my mouth. She let the ride bounce me deep inside her, her little sobs of mingled pleasure and pain into my mouth. I tasted her breath, that bright lavender.

After the intense sensations I had found between the thighs of the orc, these were but ghosts of pleasure. And yet, her sex was home to me. I was her leilatha. Though Mira might have initiated me into loveplay and Zhahllaia into love, it was the week spent with Tara that truly brought me into my sexual life.

Her sex sheathed me, cooler than the others. I couldn't help but compare her to the blazing Allegeth, who made me feel like I was being deliciously cooked inside her. Tara was soothing. Her insides gripped me as surely as her arms and legs did. She was wrapping herself around me. Perhaps I was home for her too.

I found her swanlike neck, kissing and nuzzling her sensitive flesh. She leaned back now, her arms off me, now taking the rack of antlers in her hands. She was splayed out over the front of the beast, her legs still about my hips, feet interlocked. Her bare belly undulated in the blue glow of the night eft. I pushed her top up, revealing her modest breasts with their violet nipples, covering one with my hand as I let the animal's gait push me in and out of her.

Her sobs had grown louder, her movements baser. She writhed along me, moving with the beast to take me deeply. I felt her holding, releasing, massaging. A forest breeze that drew me deeper into the mystery. My hurts were forgotten as I rode her on the back of the stag.

She found a crescendo as the two of us joined again and again. The pleasure that built in me was flavored with love, warm and affectionate. I wanted to bring her back from wherever she had been, and if this would help, then I wanted that.

Her shivers broke into shudders, and she gave one final sob. My own pleasure, held back by force of will, spilled from me, pulling a delicious lightning that ran from my body. I felt myself filling her with hot jets of my seed.

She leaned forward, wrapping her arms about my neck again, unwilling to release me from her carnal embrace. The ride continued to bounce me inside her, throwing little shocks through the two of us, a dessert after the meal of each other.

"What happened?" I asked, my mouth by one pointed ear.

"I was captured," she said.

"How?"

"I wanted a ride around the lake. The Council of Lords has been stressful of late, and I needed to clear my head. I set out midmorning, thinking I would return by afternoon. I made it around the south side, and I was about to turn back when I heard a noise in the woods. I told Aumeryl to be swift." She moaned with sadness, remembering her slain stag. "Oh, my poor Aumeryl. The arrows came from the trees and felled him. I tried to run, but that beast Ghorza caught me."

She shuddered, her violet eyes going far away. I clutched her closely. I was softening, but felt her sex grip me, holding me within her for a second longer. "If you cannot speak..." I said.

"No, I need to tell you. She took me into the mines. I thought I would be held for ransom. My family would pay...my husband has more than enough. But that was not everything. I was to be...used. I was Ghorza's plaything." She shuddered. "She liked the noises I made."

I held Tara, hiding the rage boiling in my breast. "It is over now. You're with me." I should have killed Ghorza when I had the chance. It would have been so easy, a draw of the blade across her helpless neck.

"I am safe with you," she said, her lips brushing my cheek.

"Why did you go?" I asked. "You knew the orcs were there."

"Ellisyr told me they had been dealt with. He suggested a ride to clear my head--"

"Hold. Ellisyr suggested you go?"

"Yes," she frowned. "Why?"

"I'll kill him," I snarled.

"What? I don't understand."

I looked into her beautiful, delicate face. The poor thing couldn't understand. She was an aristocrat, sheltered in her sylvan paradise. At least, that was what I thought then. I explained what I saw before me, what I now know I was supposed to see. "Ellisyr set you out to be captured, Tara. He had no intention of getting you back. It was Itylara who summoned me, and even after my arrival, he tried to stay my hand."

"Why would he do this?"

"Didn't you tell me two of you have the most expansive holdings of all nobles in Iarveiros?"

She nodded. "Yes, that was why our families arranged the marriage."

"If you were to die, what would happen?"

"My family's land would go to him..." She trailed off, her violet eyes going wide. "Oh, by all the Gods, old and new."

"I will kill him," I vowed.

"Bel, no. You will be killed if you murder him. My people do not take such matters lightly."

"What would you have me do, Tara? I cannot let this stand."

"Challenge him, my love. Difficulties between spouses and leilathas are not unknown. Jealousies can arise. If you challenge my husband, it will be a fight to the death in single combat."

"Then that is what I shall do."

She touched my face, her eyes searching mine. "I know you look at him and see an effete noble. Pampered and weak." An affectionate smile spread over her lips. "Especially compared to my mighty adventurer. But you must understand, he is an elf lord, centuries older than I. He is a skilled duelist, and his magic is equal...perhaps even greater than yours."

"I have grown in power since we were last together," I promised.

"You will be triumphant." She kissed my mouth, my cheeks, my eyelids. "My love, my champion. My leilatha. Oh!" This last followed a sigh as she felt me hardening once more inside her. "Promise me one thing," she said, beginning to move against me.

"Anything."

"You will allow yourself to recover. You are exhausted." A grin. "And soon to be more exhausted. You are injured. Recover, and challenge him on more equal footing."

I never promised her. I covered her mouth with mine and let the ride do the work.

***

We arrived at the stables after sunrise. Itylara was waiting, running to us as we rode up. As soon as Tara dismounted, the other woman hauled her into a tight embrace, kissing her savagely. "My love, you're home."

"I'm home," Tara said softly.

Itylara turned to me as I dismounted. She embraced me, pressing a kiss to my cheek. She parted, her turquoise eyes filled with relief and gratitude. "And you. Thank you."

"You're welcome," I said, adjusting the makeshift loincloth. I was falling out of it, and I stank of orc and elf.

We made our way up the tree and through the awakening city. With both of us clad in rags and plainly exhausted, we were a sight, and watched curiously by those who saw us.

By the time Tara's home came into view, I was utterly spent. I needed to rest my sore muscles, to tend to my bruised body, to sleep. We went through the garden, and I fell onto a couch, removing my boots and the remains of the loincloth. As soon as I was nude, I stepped into the pond and sank into the water. The magic of the elves instantly took over. Fatigue settled into me as I lay against the bank.

A half-elf appeared from a doorway, her eyes widening as she saw Tara. "Summon a healer for myself and for my leilatha," Tara said, "and inform my husband that I am at home."

The half-elf scurried off. Itylara held Tara. "You should go to your bedchamber. Rest."

"I will remain with Bel." She kissed her other lover. "Please, find the kitchen staff. I'm famished."

Tara removed the last of her rags and I saw her nude. She few apparent injuries. Lilac bruises covered her wrists, bloomed over her knees, and punctuated her buttocks. Other than that, she was whole. My gaze went from her face, down to her upturned breasts, down her long, slim torso, to her pouting sex, blushing lavender and painted with drying strands of me, to her lithe legs. She stepped into the pond, the same part I had taken her against, and went under, wetting her hair and brushing it back. Then she too lay down.

I had almost plunged into the welcoming abyss of sleep when Ellisyr bustled in. He wore his nobleman's gown, his delicate face a mask of confusion. "Tarasynora, my wife, how can you be here?"

"My leilatha rescued me from captivity," she said mildly.

"Belromanazar," Ellisyr said, "I must offer you the gratitude of my family. Your heroism is unexpected."

Tara saw the look in my eyes and desire washed over her face. "You should leave, husband," she warned.

"Of course. You wish to be with your leilatha."

I tried to get to my feet, but Tara put a hand on my chest. "Not yet, love."

I shook my head and managed to sit up straight. "Ellisyr," I said.

He looked at me for the first time. "What is it?"

I sighed, feeling the words spilling from my exhausted lips. I was too tired to hold them back. I should have waited, but the sight of him filled me with crimson rage. Oddrin let loose a hiss. "Ellisyr, I challenge you by the right afforded me as leilatha."

"What?" he said, a smirk quirking his lips. "Tarasynora, your human has taken leave of his senses."

"Bel!" Tara protested. "Do not do this."

"I challenge you, Ellisyr. To the death."

Silence stretched between us as his midnight blue eyes probed mine. Finally, he snorted. "As you wish. Sunset. I will make the arrangements. Tarasynora, I trust you can guide your fool to the proper place?"

"I will see him hence."

"Good." He looked to me one last time, gave a dismissive sniff, and swept from the room.

"That was foolish," Tara scolded. "You barely have a chance against him when you are rested and well! You are neither."

"I cannot let stand what he allowed to be done with you," I said. "He has to die. Today."

"I love you, Bel," she said, swimming across the pond to curl up in my lap, kissing me gently. "But you are a fool."

Her kisses brought me across the threshold and into sleep. When next I opened my eyes I found a tray of light bread and fruit, along with goblets of juice. Tara was already daintily eating next to me and I found myself ravenous. Elven fare is light, but eat enough of it, and it would slake any hunger. Oddrin stirred only briefly, curled up on a nearby chair.

I was still eating when the healer arrived. An elven man with long bronze hair and bright blue eyes, he bustled in with a pair of half-elves carrying a great gilded chest. The assistants set the chest down, opening it, and revealing a wealth of shelves and drawers. The healer spoke to Tara in Elvish, and mixed her up a draught, pouring it into her juice. Then he went to work on me. The draught he gave me put strength into my limbs, making some of the soreness bleed away into the water.

"You will want to rest," he told me.

"I have a duel to the death later today."

He chuckled, then glanced to Tara. "He is serious?"

"He is," Tara said. "Prepare him as well as you can."

The healer sighed. "Very well, Your Grace." He spoke in Elvish to the assistants and mixed me something far more complex and bitter that made me feel even better but put a buzz in my ears and behind my eyes. He mixed up a salve and directed me to rub it on my sore muscles when I was done with the bath. He took his leave.

Tara stood, and I watched the water fall in rivulets from her body. I wanted nothing more than to spread her legs and eat her sweet cleft, but I was exhausted. "Stay here, Bel. Rest. Sleep if you can. I have a few things to do in preparation for your duel."

I didn't think I could sleep, but I must have. It felt like a blink, but one moment a nude Tara was leaving the room and the next she was clad in one of her figure-hugging gowns, her heraldry embroidered into the cloth. A silver diadem sat on her brow. Evidence of her captivity was hidden beneath her long sleeves, only apparent at the slight lavender rings beneath her ageless eyes.

"It is time," she said.

"What?"

"You have slept away the day, my love. I let you stay, let the water do its work. But now it is time to ready yourself."

I stood. My body was heavy. As I moved, I felt new places where pain had nestled. I stepped from the pond and applied the salve over the worst hurts, exhausting the contents of the box.

"Can I have my pack?" I asked. Tara gestured and a half-elf servant brought it in. Another followed, holding a folded parcel. I drew out Zhahllaia's lamp, my fingers running over its brass surface. "If this worst should happen, I want you to give this to Allegeth ur-Udraeg. My party can assist you."

"Who is that?" she asked, a spark of hurt in her violet eyes.

"Please, find her and see that it's given. The rest should go to the Mythseekers."

"I will see it done."

I reluctantly put Zhahllaia's lamp down. I almost called her to me, but that would have been cruel. I would call her when I was finished, and I was not yet done. I looked at my old robes. "Not what I would hope to wear for a duel to the death," I said.

"Look in the parcel," Tara said, indicating the other thing she had brought.

I unwrapped it, finding elven robes. The embroidery contained pieces of Tara's heraldry, marking me as hers. "Amazing."

"They will last you the rest of your life, no matter how long that might be."

"I'll wear them to my funeral or his," I said with a flippancy I didn't feel.

"You must be serious, Bel. Ellisyr is a deadly foe."

I donned the robes. They fit me perfectly, even tightening and loosening to adjust to my body. They were light but perfectly warm. I took Spire in hand and gave the staff a twirl. I tried to remember Xeiliope's lessons, but I couldn't think of anything. Oddrin flapped to my shoulder, finding the robes an easy grip. His trilling did little to calm me.

"How do I look?"

"Like my champion," she said. She took my hands in hers. Her fingers were cool. Her cheeks were lavender, edging to violet. A blush. Later, I would think of this, these hints of arousal in her mien. She leaned down, her lips finding mine, her cool tongue tracing over my lips. "Whatever happens, I love you, Belromanazar."

I kissed her again, unable to speak any other words. We made our way outside, where Itylara fell into step next to us. Tara led me to a part of Laerothia I'd never seen before. A wide boardwalk stretched between four great trees, creating something like a town square. Half-elves in armor stood at every way in, their eyes straight ahead. Elven nobles gathered in groups of fours and fives, falling silent as Tara arrived with my hand in hers.

Ellisyr, now wearing a single enameled pauldron on his right shoulder and a bracer on his left forearm, watched us with a distant arrogance from the far side of the plaza.

King Tanduin, who I recognized from my last visit, came forward, flanked by two of his advisors. "Elion Tarasynora," he said, using her Elvish title. "We have been informed your leilatha is invoking his right to challenge your husband. Do you consent?"

She bowed. "I do, Your Majesty."

"And you have informed your leilatha that this duel is to the death?"

"He understands."

Tanduin turned to Ellisyr. "And you consent?"

"With pleasure, Your Majesty."

"Very well. Challenge asked and answered. You will fight here. Your magic is yours, but your only weapon will be one in hand."

Ellisyr held his hand out, and a half-elf brought him an elegantly-curved sword. He drew it from the scabbard and the half-elf scurried off. I clutched Spire.

The king moved away. Tara embraced me, whispering in my ear. "Fight well, my champion. I will either reward you or mourn you."

I stepped out. The assembled crowd made way for us. "I will make this quick," Ellisyr promised. Oddrin flapped into the air, circling the combat.

The elf lord swung, and my body responded automatically with the parry-riposte Xeiliope had drilled into my reflexes. My counter didn't hit, but Ellisyr moved, surprised at the swiftness of my response. He attacked again, and my reflexes took over. I was sore, tired, my actions slowed, but Xeiliope had drilled me well. I heard her stern voice in my mind now, Tired? You are not tired, you are dead! Though I'd never defeat him this way, the simple fact of holding my own gave me a sliver of will.

Will that, I invoked. Thanks to Allegeth, I had trained to call my magic under the sweetest agonies. I had managed it with Ghorza, and I would do it again now. The cloud boomed above and behind my back, gray tendrils reaching for Ellisyr, flashes rolled through the tendrils, lightning clawing from the tips.

For the first time, I saw fear in the elf lord's eyes. Just a flash of it, but it gave me strength. He feinted, and I saw the feint, but my reflexes were dulled by fatigue and I bit, parrying an attack that would never come. With a flick of his wrist, he was past my defenses and cut a long stripe into my arm.

My storm recoiled, reflected in my pain. Ellisyr called his own magic now. A shaft of sunlight speared the center of the plaza. Where it touched me, it curdled my skin, tightening the flesh, leaving red welts where it passed. My clouds shielded me, but the light was too powerful, shafts breaking through like daybreak through a thunderhead. Each time I thought I had a safe place, another shaft tore through the clouds. It was then that I knew for certain Ellisyr was stronger than me.

He sensed it as well, approaching with a flourish of his blade. He was slower than he had been at the outset, trying to maintain the power of his spell. He wasn't as used to splitting his concentration as I was. I blocked his attack, giving him ground. He was trying to herd me from the canopy of my clouds, into the burning light of his sun.

I realized then what was happening.

In my mind, I was across a frozen lake. Allegeth's fire shrank from my clouds. I took every bit of space, but that was not the goal of the struggle. She had drawn me out, and when I was at my thinnest, she struck true. I thought of my sorceress, so far away on another adventure, and I hoped she could feel my love. Without her, I would be dead.

I stopped retreating. He had taken the plaza. Only a tiny corner of cloud remained, a thick knot of gray. He thrust, ready to bury his blade in my chest. I blocked, beginning a move Xeiliope had shown me, correctly judging it would be the most useful thing a wizard would learn. I planted Spire between his legs and swept, knocking him off balance.

The stumbling lasted only for a second, but it was enough. He had walked to my clouds, within range of my weapons. I brought everything to bear on him now, a single, brutal assault. I raked him with lightning, scorching him in stripes. He screamed in pain as the lightning tore into him.

Staggered, Ellisyr fell to his knees, gasping in pain. I swung Spire then, the butt of the staff crushing the elf lord's jaw.

His sun retreated, the canopy of the xilquinal trees, formerly helpless to block it, now kept it at bay. He tried to rise, but I brought down another shaft of lightning, pinning him to the spot. It stabbed into his body over and over. A rumble shook the plaza. My thunder howled in triumph.

Ellisyr was defeated. We both knew it, the realization shared in the intimacy of battle. He looked upon me with hatred and contempt in his midnight blue eyes. His jaw hung loose, sticky strands of violet dripping from his lips. I expected him to beg for my mercy, but he didn't. He straightened up, meeting my eyes. Ready for his end.

I obliged him.

The scorched body fell limp to the balcony. I wanted to drop as well, but I refused to fall, leaning heavily on my staff. Oddrin landed on my shoulder. Tara strode out into the center of the plaza, took the blade from her late husband's nerveless hands. "My leilatha is triumphant! The matter is settled," she said, coming to me, pressing the blade into my hand. She leaned close to murmur in my ear, "This is yours, love."

I looked about, the elves watching me warily, as though I would leap upon them in my wrath. I couldn't leap. I could barely walk. "Is it over?"

"It is over," she affirmed, kissing me. "You remain my leilatha, and I am without a husband. Come. I will tend to your hurts and then I will reward your heroism properly."

***

Tara brought me home and took me into a bedchamber, laying me down on the bed. She took my staff and her husband's sword--now mine--and gave them to the servants.

"You are my champion," she purred. "Let me tend to you."

With care, she divested me of my robes and boots, leaving me nude before her. I was turgid, already wet with desire. Exhausted, yes, but she had a way of inflaming me. I loved her more than reason, more than the limits of my body. Her lips quirked, but she did not touch me yet. A servant--I noted, the same young mother who had been breastfeeding the child--brought a few salves. I was treated to the sight of a fine elf noble, gently rubbing salve into my wounds and over my burns, the greasy stuff taking the pain away.

"My love?" It was Itylara, striding into the room.

Tara leaned over and brushed a kiss over the head of my staff. "I will return to you." She stood and met her leilasa. The other woman embraced her.

"I was so frightened," Itylara said.

"Nothing to fear now," Tara said. "My champion delivered me. I was just about to reward him."

"I should leave you then."

Tara held her. "No. I would like you to join us."

"Join?" Itylara was unsure.

"My champion was brave. I wanted to reward him. And I wanted to watch you be taken."

The two elves stared at each other in silence. Tara was serene, Itylara, uncertain. Something passed between them in the quiet. Itylara, though outwardly the stronger of the two, with her leanly muscled arms and short bronze hair, bent to Tara's will. "What would you like me to do?"

Tara smiled, leading her leilasa to the bed. I watched, mesmerized by this beauty, exhausted and sore, but aroused past caring. Tara and Itylara settled beside me, and the bronze-haired elf looked upon my swollen manhood, her turquoise eyes widening. Tara took me gently in hand, stroking my length. I sighed happily.

"This is his weapon." Her lips quirked. "His wizard's staff."

"I've always found them vulgar," Itylara said.

"You've never lain with one who knows how to use it." Tara leaned over, running her tongue up my shaft on one side, then down on the other. "Taste him."

"Taste?"

Tara continued to stroke, her saliva smoothing the path of her hand up and down my staff. "Taste him," she said again, this time more forcefully. Her violet eyes bored into Itylara's turquoise ones. Once again, something passed between them, and Itylara broke the gaze first.

She leaned over on the bed. I felt her breath, cool and soft. I watched her regard my manhood apprehensively, then her tongue snaked from her lips. She touched it to the head of my staff, where the beginning of my juices had begun to drip. A thoughtful frown rippled over her features as she experienced my taste.

"Take him in your mouth," Tara said. "Like this."

She ducked her head, sucking my staff into her mouth. Not deep, but the feel of her cool flesh on mine, her tongue washing over me, was lovely. Better was the sight of the elven noble, her dainty mouth lewdly filled with my flesh. In our time together, she had vastly improved from her tentative earliest explorations. I felt as though she might have practiced in the interim. It had probably been with Ellisyr, a man I had just slain.

I moaned as she took more of me. I felt myself at the top of her mouth. I wanted her to take more of me. I wanted to be her throat, but she backed off, letting go. "Now you," she ordered.

Itylara leaned over, licked her lips in anticipation, then took me in her mouth. "Use your tongue," I told her.

"You will heed my champion," Tara ordered.

I felt the other elf begin to stroke me with her tongue. I moved my hips, sliding myself back and forth, taking care not to push as deeply as I wanted. I reached out, brushing her bronze hair over her pointed ear.

"I want her naked," I said to Tara.

A smile bloomed over her face. She leaned down, her mouth on mine, I tasted my own rain on her tongue. Her fingers caressed my cheek. I wish I could have seen that gesture for what it was, but I was in love. "I chose my leilatha well." She looked down at Itylara. "Undress, love."

Itylara took her mouth from me, and her lips held a slight lilac tinge from the exertion. Her cheeks had a bit of the color as well. She stood, doffing her top first. Her breasts were almost nonexistent, save for a pair of wide lilac nipples. After seeing the orc, Itylara's body looked positively small. Her muscles were well-defined, and every movement had them coiling powerfully beneath her skin. Her belly drew my attention, taut and defined.

Elven runes, tattooed onto her flesh, decorated her arms and shoulders. Each flowed naturally into another, mimicking the beauty of the natural world. She slid her pants off, revealing long, shapely legs. The aroma of her sex hit me then. Lavender, but muskier than Tara's. She looked to Tara, who nodded at me. She climbed back onto the bed, getting on her knees, leaning over and taking me in her mouth again. Her smooth hip was by my shoulder and I was overcome with inspiration.

I hauled her over. She yelped, but went willingly. I put her knees on either side of my head, her orchid poised over my face. The cage of her flesh trapped her scent in with me, and I found I craved it. I brought her down to my mouth, taking her soft lips in mine, parting her, tasting that delicious scent that surrounded me in a succulent fog. She was able to bend over my body and take me between her lips.

She shivered and moaned against my staff. The sensation sparked along my spine, the first true awakening to my bliss. I would encourage her. I explored her in earnest, and I was rewarded. Her nectar dripped in strands over my lips as she began to gyrate. She paused, her mouth leaving me. I kept my hands on her buttocks, and I gave her a swat. She understood and I felt her close around me again.

Hands pulled at my face. I moved away from Itylara's sex, flared and violet, to find Tara. She was still in her noblewoman's garb, fully dressed. I realized at that moment that we were performing for her. Her two lovers, leilatha and leilasa, giving her a show.

She pulled my lips to hers, and I felt her tongue seeking Itylara's juices. I parted from her. Above us, Itylara's sleekly muscular buttocks was parted. I hooked my arm about the back of Tara's head, and guided her to her leilasa's rosebud.

She never hesitated. I had never beheld a sight like this, so deliciously decadent. An elf noble in her finery, lustily performing the cleric's kiss. I felt Itylara respond, her head bobbing up and down, stoking something wonderful in me. I returned to her sex. Now she was undulating between us, desperately trying to get our tongues deeper into her body, angle both of us to her most sensitive spots. Her bliss came in the soft moaning she made against me, shivering pleasure running from the base of me up to the crown of my head.

Itylara went rigid, and a flood of her nectar washed into my mouth. I savored what she gave me only for a moment, sliding out from under her. She remained, bent double, her body heaving as she gasped for breath. Tara reached out, taking my staff in hand and guiding me behind her leilasa. She placed me at Itylara's sodden sex.

"Hold," whimpered Itylara.

I gripped her hips, waiting for her to gather herself before I took her. My staff was pointed at her dripping violet folds, ready to take her, to fill her with this blissful ache that collected in my belly.

Tara came up behind me, her hands sliding over mine, her body, still clad in her gown, pressing against my bare back. Her hips contacted mine, and I felt the small mound of her sex as she thrust, her hips driving me forward. I was besotted, too addled to resist.

I slid into Itylara, who sucked in a great gasp of air as I sheathed myself completely in her.

"Do you feel my staff?" asked Tara.

"Y-yes, my love," Itylara gasped, her head down.

"This is me. I am the one inside you." Tara's fingers interlaced with mine, her hips pressing me forward, then back, giving ground, guiding my stroke inside the other elf. Itylara whimpered every time she took me to the hilt, then sighed on the return. She began to loosen, her haunches up, her face down. Soon, she was moaning.

The whole time, Tara kept talking. "You will take me, my love. You will feel me in your womb."

"Yes," sighed Itylara. "Yes, my love, my mistress. Take me."

Tara's thrusts grew faster, hammering me into the other elf. The pleasure built in me inexorably, a great ache demanding to be spilled. My knuckles went white as I gripped the hard muscles of Itylara's hips. At the apex of each thrust, when her sex had swallowed mine utterly, I felt the end of her. I could go no further.

"I am going to spill inside you," Tara purred.

"Yes, my love," Itylara stuttered. "Fill me. Fill everything that belongs to you."

I looked down at the elf's back, her muscles coiling as she thrust back into me, though not into me, no, in her mind this was Tara inside of her. I freed my hand from Tara's, pushing it into the bronze hair, taking a handful.

"You're mine," Tara said.

"Yes," Itylara managed, and she was shuddering against me, lost in the bliss of being ridden. At that moment, I lost myself as well. What she had built broke free of me, lighting every part of my body. I buried myself in her, my staff bucking as I filled her.

Tara sighed. I pulled myself from Itylara, momentarily appreciating the sight of her exhausted sex, dripping with me. I turned about, desire still blazing inside me. It was Tara I wanted. "On your knees," I told her.

Her eyes sparked. "You dare?"

"On your knees. I conquered your orc. I slew your husband. On. Your. Knees."

Elion Tarasynora in her finery, dropped to her knees, looking up at me with wanton need. "What would you have me do?"

"You know what I want." I put my hand behind her head, my fingers threading in her platinum hair. She opened her mouth happily. I was only at half-staff, slimy with the mingled juices of man and elf. The elven noble put her lips on the tip of me, taking the base with her hand. She kissed, then running her tongue down my swelling shaft. She found a loop of pearl and brought that into her mouth, swallowing with relish.

She came to the head of me, speaking now her lips on my sensitive skin. "Will you despoil me, mighty wizard?"

"You're going to take all of me, Your Grace."

"I am yours." She kept her eyes on mine as her lips parted. I slid myself into her mouth. Her tongue ran over my flesh. Her hand rested on my shaft, her other held my hip. My manhood, turgid now, stopped here.

I kept contact with her gaze, and gently, but insistently, thrust. Her gaze wobbled, tears springing from the corners of her violet eyes. But she did not stop my motion. Her tongue caressed the underside of me. The desire I saw in her eyes, this need to be subjugated, I had never seen before. I should have known; her most shattering bliss had come when I had taken her in the Arthan way. I should have seen the connection here and what had happened with Ghorza.

My relationship with Tarasynora was one of me missing what in the clear light of the future, was obvious.

In the moment, I only craved this. I pushed deeper. Now I was in the back of her mouth, at the very gateway to her throat. She blinked, the tears falling down her cheeks only for new ones to spring into their place like gelatinous jewels.

Itylara sat up on her hip, watching us, her turquoise eyes bright. I thrust myself deeper. Now I pressed against the portal of her throat, its feathery touch caressing the head of me. I brushed her lips with my fingers, where her mouth was stretched around me, then pushed.

Her throat rebelled, but she did not retreat. She struggled to accommodate me, spasming as I pushed. My hand clenched in her hair, and her eyes rolled once. Now she was the one who pushed her head forward. Another blink, the tears streaming down her face. She would take it.

Her mouth moved up my staff, devouring me inch by inch. Her throat twitched, spasmed, trying to expel me. The rippling of her ignited my body, just as alluring, was the pained need in her eyes. I took her and she silently begged me for every last piece.

Her lips touched the base of me. Now I saw triumph in the violet. She retracted, following her head with a stroke. She came off the tip of me with a cough. She opened her mouth to say something, and I pulled her back into me, brutally this time, no longer giving her the chance to adjust to the size.

She swallowed, taking me as deeply as I wanted, her throat stroking me. Then off. Then back. Each time, she took me quicker. The tears fell freely, and she never broke contact with my eyes. She took me, again and again, stoking in me the explosion each of us wanted.

Finally, my whole body went rigid, a hundred lightning strikes all at once through me. The first shot went down her throat. She moved away. The second spilled over her tongue. And then I was in the air. The third and fourth and fifth striped her face with lines of pearl.

Taking me back in her mouth, she licked me clean with swift, sure strokes. I shuddered, pushing her away. My body was too alive with sensation to take any more in that moment.

She stood then, still in her elven finery, my seed dripping over her aristocratic features. A drop hung from her diadem. Another clung to her platinum hair.

"Did that please you, my love?" she asked.

"Very much."

She grinned. "My champion deserves his bliss, but we are not done tonight."

We were not. I stayed another day with the two of them before leaving, finding bliss between their thighs. It pleased Tara to watch Itylara and me together. I learned more of her desires, that sense of demanding, then relinquishing control. I admit, I started to crave the rougher games, something that would find full expression in that damnable war.

Tara nearly told me everything on that visit without speaking a word. Had I listened, perhaps things would have been different. Or perhaps I had been given what I wanted. Killed a rival, stayed with the woman who, at that time, I loved with the strength of a typhoon.

There. That is the true story of what transpired between Ellisyr and me. It was not simple jealousy. It was not a hot-blooded human desperate to possess an ageless elf. It was a far more sordid tale of politics and murder and lust. And yes, a man still young and foolish enough to love an elf.