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Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 15

By: T_Silverwolf





Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 15



It was the girl's turn to show uncertainty. She swallowed. "Not every woman you meet is a lesbian, Sarah--"

"Shh, dear." Sarah nipped the girl's earlobe. "I think after the day we've had, we both deserve to--"

"Sarah," she started to turn but Sarah was just that much quicker on the draw. She grabbed a handfull of the girl's hair and pulled her head back to they were eye to eye. The girl's violet eyes narrowed in challenge. "I can kill you at any time."

Sarah smiled playfully. "I know, dear." Her voice didn't waver as she continued, forced bravado keeping her from shaking like a leaf even as she brought her free hand up to cup the girl's throat. "I can do much more to you. . ."

That indignant resistance was strong in her sharp, angry gaze, yet that curiosity was more powerful than ever before. A palpable thing. A flicker of an image sparked in Sarah's mind. A kiss. In the next instant the girl initiated it and Sarah responded with as much power and passion as the curvy brunette forced against her. Sarah withered slightly in the glow of the girl's power even as a slender hand came back to grab a hand full of Sarah's hair.

Potentially dangerous and probably stupid, the girl could easily have leveraged her weight to break Sarah's neck or something, but Sarah still melted into it, pushing her chest into the girl's back and squashing her breasts to her chest. A low murmur of satisfaction rumbled in the girl's throat the longer the kiss went on until finally she broke it with a chuff of air.

Sarah licked her lips, savoring the mixed taste. The girl, however, eyed Sarah with suspicion. Finally, in a voice meant only for them, she whispered her demand. "Get off me."

"You've mixed the order, dear." Sarah kissed her neck, sliding her hand from the girl's throat down her chest. "Tell me, sweetheart. . ." her teeth grazed the supple, salty flesh of the young woman's shoulder. "Under all this armor, under all this strength." Sarah's hand brushed the hand full of breast, palm rubbing against the girl's hardening nipple as she continued to breathe her husky sigh across the moistened flesh of her younger lover's shoulder. "I bet you're a good girl, aren't you?"

The girl flinched when Sarah ran her palm over her stomach. Down her pubic region. She palmed the girl's mound even as the young woman eyed her half over her shoulder. Half in submission and half ready to fight at a moment's notice. Sarah gave her a pleasant smile and kissed her jaw. There was no need for her to fight, all Sarah needed to do was ensure she didn't have a reason to want to. "Hm?"

Curiosity and a soft blush crossed her sharp mixed-blood features as Sarah's fingertips slid between the hot flesh of the girl's thick, powerful inner thighs. She took that moment to massage the girl's lips while she kissed her. This time the kiss was much more in Sarah's favor and in seconds she was permitted full access as the girl began to give in, opening her mouth to expel a hot, sensual sigh.

"I thought so." Sarah kissed her more deeply, clenching the hand full of hair she had as the young assassin planted her hands under her, making a feeble attempt to get on her hands and knees. Sarah climbed up on the bed and braced her thighs against the powerful flanks under her. "Shh. Don't move."

"Mmmpphh. . ." The girl sighed and huffed. Her back arched unconsciously as Sarah's fingers found their real prize. Through the silk fabric Sarah massaged the girl's clitoris while she ground into the mattress and the warm hand that kept her company.

"Are you a good girl, sweety?" Sarah started to pull away but the girl grabbed her and kissed her even more passionately. Powerful, not about to be denied, Sarah had no choice but to go with the woman's demand. What a demand it was, too.

It didn't take long before the girl was rolling her hips in an arch that pushed Sarah up with each rotation, causing her to want to grind on the girl's butt and its firm promises of pleasure just waiting to happen.

In the back of her mind the voice of fear that signaled danger was screaming that she had lost control of this situation. She was a fool to carry on with this. Yet even as it did, the girl broke the kiss and let out a whimpering moan, a heavenly sound that carried "Sarah" across it like a siren's call. The girl panted the half-elf's name again and again even while Sarah pressed harder, faster, complimenting her grinding against her hand. In seconds it was over; the girl sucked in a breath, eyed Sarah, clenched her teeth as though the idea that a woman was making her come was beneath her.

Her first orgasm with Sarah was a short lived but beautiful thing. She arched her back into a nearly impossible angle and threw her head back as her lower body slumped and she undulated in Sarah's capable hands. With nothing between them, so much as a breath to be shared, she mewled out Sarah's name to echo through the room.

For several seconds she stayed in that position, almost bent to an L with her stomach fighting her tooth and nail to clench her forward. Sarah let go of her head and wrapped an arm around her torso, kissing her neck. "Gooood girl. . ."

"H- Huh--" the young assassin huffed and gazed back with bleary eyes. Sarah grinned and waggled her brow.

"I'm not asking you to become a lesbian, dear. Gods know I'm not. . ."

"W- What are you, then?"

"Let's not worry about that, hm?" Sarah kissed her cheek. "The question is whether or not you're a good girl."

The girl closed her eyes for a moment, sucked in a deep breath and hung her head. Sarah took that chance to kiss her neck. "Shh. Don't speak."

Sarah nipped her neck. "Look to your right. See that peach outfit?" When the girl looked over, she glanced back at Sarah as if noticing for the first time that she was practically being ridden. She arched her back just that little bit more and pushed up with her knees so that Sarah slid into the valley created with her lower back. Gods, she was a nimble little thing. . . Sarah pulled back and bit her a little harder. "Put it on."

"W- Why should I?"

"Good girls get rewards, sweetheart. You'll find I'm very giving."

The woman looked back up at Sarah. "How giving?"

"You'll have to find out, won't you?" The blush spread across the girl's face so fast Sarah almost missed it until she realized that her face was the color of Sarah's hair. Sarah grinned and kissed her cheek. "Go on."

"Y- You're a strange one."

"You have no idea. . ." Sarah disentangled herself from the girl and stepped off the bed, recovering her knapsack from the floor. While the girl slid out of the silk gown into the considerably shorter nighty, Sarah recovered one of her favorite double ended toys and put it neatly under the bed. As her would-be assassin got to her knees on the bed Sarah saw just how short the nighty was, especially with her wider hips. It stopped just at her mid thigh leaving a teasingly perfect glimpse of the glistening trail of moisture trailing down the inside of her powerful thighs. Sarah eyed her up and down and smiled. "That is how I like my women." She stepped into the girl's space and made a 'come here' motion.

Obstinate, the girl stood her ground, purple eyes looking up at Sarah as if daring her to force her. Sarah flashed a reassuring smile on her way down to her own knees. "Suit yourself." She clasped her hands atop the bed and rested her chin on the back of her hands.

Confused, the girl considered the invitation and tentatively edged to the rim of the mattress. She swallowed. "Take off your glasses."

"On one condition."

"We're setting conditions now?"

"Let me tell you how this is going to work," Sarah rose a bit, bracing her powerful hands on the girl's hips. She pulled her closer to the edge and pressed her busty chest into the girl, pushing her off balance. On her way down she grabbed Sarah by reflex and they toppled to the mattress together. Sarah didn't give her a chance to recover before she kissed her, cramming her tongue into the girl's mouth and grinding into her moistened lips.

The response was instant and all consuming. Thick, powerful thighs wrapped around her lower back and an image of Sarah being crushed between them rippled across her mind. Thinking fast, Sarah ground her stomach into the girl's labia, quickly using long strokes to bring her the pleasure that she demanded. Sarah braced her hands beside the girl's body and broke the kiss with a smile she didn't believe. "You take from me what you want, but be prepared to give in return."

The assassin's clouded eyes focused on Sarah for a moment. Slowly, carefully, she reached up and took her glasses before turning them around and putting them on her own face. Just as Sarah imagined, she looked beautiful with them on.

"You're nearsighted."

"Observant."

"How does this look to you, then?"

Sarah slid down, grabbing the girl by the hips until she was on the edge of the bed and Sarah was on her knees. She planted a kiss on the young woman's thighs and smiled up at her. Sarah didn't wait a beat longer before she kissed the silk strip, already coated with natural flavors and musk. The girl sucked in a breath and reached down to undo the tie that held it in place. Sarah smiled inwardly.

Then the girl grabbed the back of Sarah's head. "It's been a while since anyone's done this. . . I hope you're better than they were."

"You tell me, dear." Sarah kissed her labia, parting her nectar laden lips with a broad stroke of her powerful tongue. In mere seconds she had the girl's flower open and she was drinking deeply from the steady trickle of hot, succulent juice. The hot musk of this killer's natural essence became all the more pronounced when she clamped her thighs against Sarah's ears.

In this dangerous position, Sarah had to fight for the courage to press on. She leaned forward, hands cupping the girl's ass cheeks as she worked her tongue steadily upwards to her clitoris. Taking it between her lips, she lapped at the nub with the tip of the tongue. Quicker and quicker, the hands clutching the back of her head became so much stronger and more insistent. The wide hips under Sarah's hands started to roll forward to meet the attention, eager and demanding for what she thought belonged to her. Sarah couldn't blame her, who could?

From her position on her knees in front of the young girl, Sarah had a perfect view of the hard body that held her firmly in place, offering no choice but to continue what she was doing if she ever hoped to get free. Of course, getting free was kind of irrelevant when clenched between legs so powerful. Even if she wanted to stop, she wasn't allowed to, the girl crossed her legs over Sarah's back as she rolled herself into Sarah's attentions.

A soft chuff of air leaving her mouth was promptly followed by more insistent grinding against Sarah's face as she was taken by force, given over to the girl's demands. Leaving no choice buy to continue. A sight to see by any stretch of the imagination, the young assassin arched her back and threw her head back as the first tendrils of her orgasm broke.

She rolled her hips in a piston motion with her back arching ever further until she was nearly bent over backwards. This time the force of her orgasm was a palpable thing and she wasn't ashamed to show Sarah. Her proud, hard body undulated and spasmed while she fought to keep breath in her lungs. Her voice came out a soft whimper as she moaned Sarah's name and let loose with a torrent of peppery tasting juice that coated Sarah's mouth with its tangy essence.

Sarah, never once to wait for another invitation, kept on with her attentions until she had the girl, back arched and breath short, coming again, clawing desperately now at the back of the half elf's head but unwilling to stop her.

The girl cried out weakly but Sarah didn't relent. The mind shattering pleasure rippling through the powerful assassin erased all semblance of who she was but for want of the object of her pleasure. Sarah knew it and reveled in it. The little tart wanted to kill her, did she? There were more than a couple ways to handle someone like that and this was her favorite.

Only when Sarah decided to did she slow down to allow the young woman a breath. As soon as she did, the girl grabbed her hair and pulled her head back, forcing herself to sit up even as fresh sweat and her natural salient moisture tickled Sarah's mouth. Sarah looked up, feigning innocence, as much as she could while pinned as she was.

"You-" the girl huffed, "I can tolerate."

"I suppose I should be honored, hm?" Sarah kissed her inner thigh without breaking eye contact. She looked good wearing Sarah's glasses. It caused Sarah to wonder what it would take to get her in a mid knee skirt and a white blouse. Oh yes, with those glasses, she would look very fetching. Sarah grinned to herself and took a long lick of the girl's milky skin.

The shuddering whimper was more than enough motivation to keep at it. Her ministrations were promptly rewarded with another soft whine and a tired, half hearted orgasm that forced the girl to give up. Finally, she'd won. The young assassin fwomped back on the bed, legs still hooked around Sarah's back and body quivering from head to toe. Sarah clenched the girl's ass in her hands and pushed herself up to claim her prize.

Once face to face, Sarah kissed her throat even as the girl wrapped her legs around Sarah's lower back. She hadn't given up yet, it seemed. Sarah kissed her chin and smiled. "My, my, aren't you a rare treat."

"I know what you think you're doing. . ." 

"Do you now?" Her smug grin was still firmly in place.

That was, until the girl shoved off with such speed and power that Sarah didn't even realize what was happening until she was on her back with the young woman straddling her waist. Pinned between her sweaty body and the mattress, she couldn't so much as breathe without permission. Permission the girl wasn't about to give.

She wrenched Sarah's head back and kissed her with such passion that every fiber of her being melted in the blast furnace of her young lover's presence. Completely obliterated, Sarah had no choice but to submit and she knew it. It had gotten out of hand in less than a second and there she was, about to loose her life to a force she couldn't comprehend.

She was stupid. This was a dumb idea, but the hot tang of her lover's flavor lingered like good booze on the tip of her tongue. Stupid or not, she wouldn't die with a regret about it, that much was certain. When the girl broke the kiss, Sarah managed to strangle out a 'wait'.

"Why should I?" The husky reply was hot against her pointed ear.

"I have something for you."

"Mmmmnnnn what is it?" She nipped Sarah's ear causing the half-elf to jerk. Gods her teeth were sharp.

"Those are quite sensitive dear. Let me up and I'll show you."

They eyed one another for a lingering moment until finally, almost reluctantly, the girl crawled off of her. She started to turn, to sit but Sarah laid a hand on her lower back, locked gazes and said in her best commanding voice-- one she barely believed any more. "Stay. Just like that."

The girl's brow furrowed, purple eyes searching Sarah. Even at that angle, though, the swell of her generous hips made her firm, tight ass all the more pronounced. Sweat glistened from her milky flesh as Sarah inched down the bed to recover her special toy. She stopped long enough to pay homage and kiss the girl's flank before she picked up the double ended toy.

The reservoir inside the middle of the toy was especially warm. A concoction of her own design that had been 'harvested' from a Nightmare. The sultry heat of the wild stallion's ever warm spunk made Sarah's breath catch. It had been a very, very long time since she'd found someone worthy of this. Her last batch was going to fill a particularly worthy girl. Yes, today was going to be good.

The girl was looking over her shoulder with an unreadable expression that rode the line between contempt and amusement as Sarah slid the smaller end into her own vagina. Her smaller size and already quivering muscles only tightened against the intruder, causing the opposite side, the side she held in her hand, to swell.

Her young lover's violet eyes opened just a tiny bit wider and she looked up at Sarah, now with more curiosity than contempt. Dare she say, Sarah saw respect in those eyes. "Sarah." She brushed her hair back behind her ear. "I--"

"Dear," Sarah interrupted her, leaning over her prize to be and grabbing a hand full of her hair. She breathed a long hot breath against the young woman's cheek. "Tell me something."

Ever defiant, the young woman eyed her suspiciously.

"Are you a good girl?"

"Shut up, Sarah."

Did she really think that would stop her? "Hmph." Sarah cupped her hand and slapped the girl's generous ass hard. That was rewarded with an instant gasp of surprise and a deep blush. "I'll make you my good girl if I have to."

With the shock now flickering out of her expression, the young woman eyed Sarah defiantly. "Listen."

Slap! "I asked you a question."

The girl sunk her teeth into her lower lip and slowly, ever so gently, lowered herself from her knees. She spread her legs, sliding down further and further, opening herself inch by inch until she was doing perfect splits. Legs wide open with her moist pussy right at the edge of the bed, she rolled her back majestically displaying her body for Sarah.

"Holy shit--" Sarah breathed. She barely caught herself when the girl looked up at her with a smart-assed grin all her own. "You are. . . Mmph." Sarah's knees wavered as she wrapped her arms around this young assassin, the woman meant to kill her and she bit into her shoulder with all the carnal lust she had buried inside, waiting, begging for release. Gods above women like this were rare, she couldn't let the opportunity go to waste now.

"That's it." The woman cooed as she arched her back even further, pushing up with the insides of her feet so her pussy was pushing right against the thickening toy. Sarah pushed down against her, driving the toy up against her vagina and nestled it between her strong buttcheeks. "Do you think you're 'man' enough for me, Sarah?"

"I- I'm willing to find out, girl." Sarah took a hand full of the kid's hair and kissed her throat. "You're a naughty, naughty creature aren't you."

"I'm no one's good girl, Sarah."

"You're going to be mine." Sarah bit into the girl's neck a bit, reared back and aligned the bulbous tip of her double ended dildo with the girl's eager pussy.

"Is that what you--" was as far as she got before the massive head parted her flower. Without stopping Sarah gave her the entire tip and an inch after that, eliciting a whimpering cry as the cock forced her tight confines open. She had no choice but to take it and Sarah could tell from the swelling of the other end of the toy inside her that this girl really did have the athletic body she wore so proudly. No show muscles here, it was tight, hard and unforgiving.

Sarah bore down on her young lover, sliding another inch into her before she drew back, lubricating the thick toy which had swelled to nearly double its girth by now as Sarah's body clenched tight. This girl deserved all she could handle every bit as much as Sarah did. Yes, she'd make her a good girl even if that meant giving her more than she could handle. She'd adapt. Girls like her always did.

It didn't take long before she did, either. She arched her neck back with eyes closed, letting out a silent moan as Sarah pushed another inch into her, laying into her back with her swollen hard nipples. "That's a good girl. . . Is that too much?"

As if she cared, Sarah's hands fell away from holding her gently to grasp those lovely hips of hers. Yes, this would be it. A fantastic conquest the likes of which she would never forget. Even if it was her last. . .




Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 15



"Sarah," she whimpered.

"We have similar tastes, don't we." Sarah gripped the girl's wide hips and held loosely. A tiny push was all the encouragement her young lover needed, in seconds she was pushing back against Sarah, her tight pussy devouring inch after inch until she was satisfied. The cock inside Sarah swelled hard and fast with every inch the girl took in, expanding and filling her small half-elven body with the force of a real penis demanding her submission. "G- Gods."

"It's getting bigger--"

Sarah pushed forward, deep and fast until she slammed into the girl's hard ass with all her weight. A strangled cry erupted from both of them as the cock swelled on both ends and Sarah filled the girl's depths. She leaned over the sweaty creature under her and whimpered in her ear. "That's a good girl. Good girls get what they want in life. . . Tell me, sweety--"

"Shh." She reached back and grabbed ah and full of Sarah's hair. "Just-- that. Keep doing that."

"This?" Sarah thrust into her, hard and fast. She drew back again and brought her weight down so she could ensure she hit her lover's most sensitive spot. "Perhaps this. . ." In the next breath Sarah had her thumbs against the brunette's rosebud. With a sultry purr, she whispered in her ear. "That's all right, I like naughty girls too."

For her part in it, the young woman arched back against Sarah, a hard 'umph' erupting from her throat. She leaned forward and tilted her head back so she was looking up at Sarah through sweaty bangs. Sarah wrapped her hand around the girl's throat and kissed her deeply, thrusting and pulling back. Slow at first and then harder with each successive push. However temporary the control she had was, Sarah reveled in it, kissing her and plunging deep again and again. Harder, faster, Sarah plunged into the tight little girl.

The young woman grabbed two handfulls of the sheets, whining as Sarah plowed her with all the primal lust inside. To hell with the rest of the world and the shitty day she was having, this was her recompense. This was hers. Sarah let her go and clutched her wide hips. Slap, slap, slap. Sarah pounded her so hard that the girl surrendered laying flat with her mound mashed against the bed and her legs spread a bit wider.

With each push the cock swelled and rubbed against Sarah's g-spot, it wasn't long before she started nearing the edge but she held on for as long as she could, plowing her new toy for all she could handle. Between thrusts she had just enough presence of mind to draw back and slap the girl's ass leaving a pleasant red handprint across her fat ass.

Yes, this was where she belonged. Sarah groaned as the girl braced her back into Sarah's chest, looking back up at her with lust clouded violet eyes. She kissed Sarah and bit her lower lip. "a- anh. . ."

Sarah grabbed her hips, pounded into her harder, unrelentingly slamming her hips into the young woman. She'd found a new love, it seemed. Girls old enough to be her daughter with hips and attitude. Yes, this? This was what it was about. Sarah grabbed a hand full of brunette hair and crammed the cock into the young woman with a deeply satisfied growl.

The girl responded by rolling her hips back against Sarah's thick toy, now swollen to the size of nearly her wrist. The woman cried out and Sarah slammed her all the harder. It was time to let go, though, Sarah decided and drove into her. Her body quivered, wavered, electric tension erupting across her body as she slammed the girl harder and harder. Sarah didn't even attempt to hold back or slow her orgasm. She cried out loud and hard as her orgasm crashed across the shores of her body.

When she came the cock inside her burst forth and erupted into her young lover. The woman cried out as her own orgasm shattered her. The hot throbbing cock fought between them, their pussies clenching and releasing as the cock blasted thick, hot streams of horse cum into the young woman. Sarah grabbed her around the waist and moaned in her ear. "Youweremadeforthis." She slammed into the girl. Thrust more of the cum into her. Fighting for breath she held the girl, forcing her to take ever single drop. "Good girl."

"S- Sarah-" She grabbed onto the half-elf's hand, whimpering as she was pumped full of the lurid seed.

"Good girl. . ." Sarah purred. It wasn't long before her orgasm trailed off, leaving her sweating atop this young creature. "That's. . . That's it." She thrust forward. "You're wearing the dress from now on."

The young girl looked back. "W- We're not done. . . Not by a long shot." There was a spark of challenge in those lust filled eyes that set the hairs on Sarah's neck on end. What had she done?





Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 16



Author's Note and Acknowledgements 

This is an ongoing work, and wouldn't be possible without the pledges, moral support and friendship of these beautiful people: 

Alonsis 

Asmund Bell 

Apothecary29 

David A. 

Orodreth 

Please bear with me as I get some things sorted out, this month has been especially rough, but I promise you we'll be getting back to our normal updates in May! 

Interlude 4: Felicia's Lonely Road 1 

To many, Felicia would probably have been considered something of a simpleton, but she never looked at it that way. In fact, she knew she wasn't stupid. After all, a wise person admitted their faults and that no matter how much they might think they knew, they really knew almost nothing about how the world worked. No, Felicia might not have been a scholar, but she wasn't stupid, either. 

So she had to wonder why, standing outside of a shop with a weapon smith's placard, did she suddenly feel the itch at the back of her mind that told her she was being stupid. On one hand, she knew she couldn't hope to catch up to Sarah if she didn't leave immediately, but still. Was that what she really wanted? 

Her chocolate colored eyes turned to the horizon for a moment, breath catching in her throat as the sun painted the sky a soft shade of baby blue that only two clouds had the courage to smear with their dingy grey smudges. It wasn't even high sun yet, her father would probably be just getting up right now, he wouldn't realize she'd left. 

She could still turn back. 

She could. It wasn't too late yet. 

Felicia's heart fluttered with indecision and the nagging whimper of questions she knew needed answers; even if she found Sarah, would she be accepted? Would she be loved the way that she had been that night in the 'temple' of Isira? Could she really hope to keep the half-elf's attention? Would her father be all right if she left? How far could she hope to get with the four hundred gold she had? 

The fluttering in her chest became a weight in the pit of her stomach as she looked at the cobble ringed building again with renewed fear. Through the dingy window, cast in light from a small forge in the back was a young man of about ten shaping a piece of steel into something. She caught herself watching his rhythmic motions, each so practiced and smoothly enacted that he would have the hammer in the air again before the dull 'pang' sound had even hit the window. 

The motion made her think about Sarah- how smooth she had been as she rolled her hips and brought her beautifully curved body down on Felicia. That smooth, easy stroke of a hot intruder burying itself to the hilt in Felicia's butt while her elven friend's thick member rubbed against it inside. Pang. Sarah's heat against her, a hand full of hair. . . 

Pang. She'd slammed into Felicia, the hard, unforgiving thrusts that ensured she was at the woman's mercy. The half-elf claimed her, unquestionably. Felicia longed for it now, to feel inch after inch slamming into her quivering body. Pang. Pang. Pang. Sarah had made her a good girl. . . Sarah had promised- 

Sarah had made her a good girl. Good girls got rewards. 

Felicia's hand trembled along with her knees as she trudged up the steps to the shop. A twinge of loss in the back of her mind died off like a gust of wind sweeping through her hair. That subtle touch that told her she'd changed somewhere and it was likely she wasn't going to get back to who she was ever again. But was that such a bad thing? 

The hot tang of burning charcoal tickled her nose and the pang of the hammer hitting the anvil became more pronounced, making the teen blush a faint crimson as memories of that night flooded through her mind with each satisfying clang of metal on metal. Whether or not she had meant to, Sarah had left a mark on her in more ways that one. 

Felicia's generous chest swelled against her bodice when she drew in a deep breath, taking in the shop with one sweep of her gaze. It was modest, and the actual smithy part of the shop was separated by a human's height worth of open space with some planks to walk across. It might have been quaint if not for the expensive looking display cases and racks displaying all manner of blades and armor components. It had the air of a place that was- or was trying- to be more upscale than it was. 

She swallowed, lost in the glint of ornate tools of death and destruction. Her mother had told her about shops like this back home, and though she had never seen one, she was momentarily swept up in images of the kinds of people that would wield them. One piece in particular caught her attention, hanging behind the counter on two massive iron pegs. 

The sword was larger than she was, it's blade easily dwarfing even her thigh in girth. She edged closer, trying to squint at the price tag dangling from the hilt. Something prickled the edge of her awareness from behind and she looked back to find an older man hovering over her, almost pressing against her butt. For just one split second she thought it was her father. 

He was clean cut and had a strong military look about him- a hard jaw, broad shoulders and a proud stance that said he knew what he was after in life. The greying spots at his temples made his raven hair look all the more dignified. He smiled a little, that kind of smile that was meant to be disarming. "Help ya', miss?" 

Pang. Pang. Pang. 

It was only when Felicia turned to face him that she realized his left arm was completely gone. She dampened her lips, flashed her best smile and tried to speak. It came out a strangled gasp. 

Even when she tried again, she couldn't bring the words out. She cleared her throat and gesticulated towards one of the display cases. "Ahm- I'm trying to. . . er. Find a weapon. M- Maybe some armor?" 

His sharp grey eyes lingered on her face, but she could sense that he was looking her over, appraising. She became acutely aware of the warm air across her ample cleavage and tried to discretely cover it by feigning a cough. She patted her chest lightly. "Sorry, I'm not used to this. Ahm- w- what would you recommend?" 

He held her gaze for a moment, a moment longer and then smiled once more. "Right this way. . ." he turned and lead her through the isles until they came to a rack of blades as long as her leg. "Is he a soldier?" 

 "Uh?" 

"Be forgiving my presumption, but I don't think you're shopping for yourself and I don't see a ring, so I have tah think it's for your father or brother. Am I right?" 

"Uh. . . Y- Yeah. My br- brother. Yep," Felicia murmured as she looked over the blades. "Um, h- he's. He's going to the Watch." 

"That right? Well, a good thing. It's been chaos around here, lately- some noble went and got himself killed, a bunch of ruckus, it was. Good thing for your brother, then. He'll do this city proud." He passed the larger blades into a few displays with shorter, more ornane ones. "So, he'll probably want something he can use close in. The guard'll give 'im a pike for patrols." 

"O- Oh? So, short is good then?" 

"Oh yes, ma'am. You want to leverage your strength," he flipped the latch on one of the displays and pulled one of the swords. "See, with a blade like this you focus on getting puncturing wounds." He thrust into the air slowly for emphasis. "You wanna disrupt organs and put your opponent down quickly." 

Felicia frowned at that when an image of crimson bloomed across her vision. She'd never killed anyone, but she had killed one of the lame calfs before. . . The blood, the screaming, she'd nearly blacked out. But, she needed something to defend herself with. Trying to catch up to Sarah wasn't going to be like taking veggies to market. There'd be danger. Yes, she needed this blade. 

"O- Okay, so. . . Is there any difference between one or the other?" 

"Aside price? Be forgiving my bluntness, miss, but you pay for quality. You won't find better steel in Parnel, though. Can promise you that." 

Pang, pang, pang. Steel. . . Steel like the hard intruder that Sarah had plowed into her, gods, was she really thinking about that now? Her cheeks burned with shameful lust and that niggling implication of the man's words, "you pay for quality." 

"U- Uh. . ." Felicia closed her eyes for a moment. Bearings. She needed her bearings. Sarah was waiting for her. "M- My brother's kind of small, what would you suggest? Size wise?" 

"Ah, yeah, one'f those? Don't worry none, I've got just the thing. . ." he replaced the blade and wandered over to another case, removing a blade with a beautiful ivory handle. The blue leather scabbard was wrapped in silver braiding and accented with a polished steel neck. "Here, try this." 

Her trembling hand wrapped around the handle, taking it as though it would bite her. She could do this. She could be strong. She could be a good girl. 

Yes, she could. 

With a steading breath, she drew the blade from its scabbard and inspected it. It was light, comfortable in her hand and very well balanced. She could probably fit it on her belt with a little work, and she'd be armed. Yes, this was perfect! "How much for this one?" 

"For such a pretty face? I could do with. . . Oh, how about ten ounces of silver?" 

"Oh, my." It was a steal, she'd be an idiot to pass that up. Even though her father- when he had been her father- taught her to negotiate on everything, ten ounces was a drop in the bucket. "Well. . . uh-" 

"Well, if that's too much-" 

Felicia pre-empted him. "A- Armor. He needs armor, too." 

In the next half hour she was shown a number of armors that looked pieced together from different parts- rings fastened to leather; plates fixed to leather. All manner of strange combinations of boiled leather and metal, all remarkably affordable, but hardly the kind of thing she imagined would last if she came into real danger. 

If she were Sarah, she'd probably have gone with something heavier. . . Something meant for the rigors of the road. Which is why, when they passed by a suit of tiny interlocking rings, Felicia stopped as the shop owner- Betran- continued on. He was regaling her with tales about combat in some 'police action' against an armed peasant rebellion that lead to the formation of a quasi nation state. She was only half paying attention, the pervasive pang, pang, pang slamming against her mind, making her body quiver. The moist warmth dampening her inner thighs was becoming unbearable along with the need to feel someone- to feel Her wrapped around her. . . To be full again. 

Gods, what had she become. 

Felicia clenched her thighs together as she eyed the armor, distractedly fingering some of the rings. "H Betran?" 

"Ye- Oh, that? I doubt you'd want that for him." 

"Why not?" Her breath caught a little when he stepped up beside her, the scent of his musk and power filled her nose, his slick baritone tickling her ear when he spoke. He brushed against her just a little and her heart flip-flopped in her chest. "It. . . looks strong. . .?" 

"Sure, it'll turn a blade, but it's heavy," he was saying as Felicia leaned her weight back. A hair more and she'd touch him. She could feel the heat of his presence and for a second an alarm went off in the back of her mind. What was she doing? Was she insane? "In a city, you've got nails and things that can get caught on the links. Plus, chainmail's expensive-" 

She did it. She leaned back against his chest. There was a second's pause where she imagined him wrapping his arm around her and taking her there and then. She wouldn't fight, she wanted to feel that comfort- she needed to know that there wasn't anything to be ashamed of. What Sarah had done to her had made her a good girl, she just needed to know she was right. 

She wanted an excuse to loose herself, to know that it was all right to let go of who she'd been before the man that was her father had betrayed her. She needed someone to tell her she was doing the right thing. . . She needed it. 

Betran, however, had other ideas. His firm hand cusped the back of her neck to steady her. "Careful, now." He said in a throaty voice. "Almost fell." 

He was taking the most direct route he could to keeping the situation casual, his manner and tone, the way he let go at just the right moment. He wasn't going to help her cure her itch and she should've been ashamed to even think of something like that. Gods, what had Sarah done to her. 

Painfully, regretfully, she looked to the armor with cheeks burning in her own shame. She was better than this, what would have mother have said? Throwing herself at strange men and hoping for something she had no right to ask- gods, what an idiot. How could she have hoped to live up to what Sarah wanted for her if she was trying to validate her doubts like some kind of little kid reaching for a candy. Sarah needed her to be stronger, she could be stronger. 

She could be a good girl. . . 

"I'll take it." 

"Uh-" 

"Well, it's good in a fight, right? You said so yourself." 

"Begging your pardon, ma'am, but this is expensive, and if your brother goes wearing it around town, he's going to make himself a target for all kinds of criminals that'll want to sell it. I really don't-" 

"Please. Please, how much do you want for it?" 

"It's fifty gold coins, miss." 

Felicia blanched inwardly. "F- Fifty coins?!" 

"You pay for quality, ma'am. Meaning no offense, but like I said, chainmail is expensive. I have to pay my help and it's labor intensive." He leaned in conspiratorially. "I'm charging you near cost, but don't tell anyone!" 

Felicia looked up at the armor, her hand tightening around the coin purse protectively. She had been a good girl for years, it was time she stepped into the role of a woman. She'd find Sarah, she'd protect her from whatever trouble she was in. 

She could do this. 

"I'll take it." 

# 

In the next four hours, Felicia spent more than a hundred coin buying more supplies than she could really carry- anything that sounded like it's be useful found its way into her new backpack and then when that became too cumbersome, she found herself a horse merchant- she'd need one anyway- and wound up negotiating a fantastic price on a proud stallion with a beautiful grey-white coat and patient disposition. 

But as morning turned into afternoon the ache she felt for Sarah's presence had started to burn away, replaced by a concern that she was loosing ground to Sarah and her companions. She'd managed to figure out she needed to head west, but before she could get there, she'd have to cross almost two whole nations to get to Desrol, but she was committed, she was going to save Sarah and she was going to be the woman that she needed to be. 

A few hours after that, however, nearing the edge of the city's limits, she found a place called the Black Boar Inn straddling two large tracts of land. Dozens of carts had been packed along the side of the road back to back like centipedes. 

Some of them were familiar, and with a little investigation, she found some of the wagons that she'd seen outside of the Isira temple during the revel. It wasn't all that surprising, but did that mean they were following Sarah and her troupe? For that matter, did it mean they were the cause of the chaos that the armorer had spoken of? 

Felicia's stomach grumbled, reminding her that there was more to the inn than just the glow of the early evening lanterns. Even before she caught a whiff of the scent of roast pig, her mouth had begun salivating with possibility. It was the chance to get directions, get some water for her new canteens and maybe some dinner. Yes, this was a good place to stop for the time being. 

After she lashed the horse to a hitching post, she wandered inside and was almost immediately overwhelmed by the cacophony of sound, smells and sights. Half clothed dancers mingled around the smattering of tables telling bawdy jokes and sharing food. 

Every table in the lobby was packed and surrounded with people. All of them except one. 

There was a single table in the middle of the lobby stacked high with empty plates and cups nearly to the chin level of the short, slight framed woman sitting in the chair. Everyone seemed to be deliberately ignoring her, but as Felicia approached- intent on talking to the older woman behind the bar- a slender hand grabbed her wrist. 

Felicia turned, not sure what to think at first. The young woman smiled, her purple gaze lingering on the teen with a slightly amused flicker. "You look lost." Her voice was a sultry rolling purr that raised the hackles on Felicia's neck. 

"Uhm- I kind of am. . ." 

"Have a seat, maybe I can help. I can tell we have similar friends. . ." 

"Oh?" 

"You know Sarah, don't you?" 

Felicia relaxed a little, eying the chair. "I do, yes. Do you?" 

"Oh, yes. I know her very well. But I don't know where she got off to in such a hurry. . ." The young woman smiled a brilliant grin. "Maybe we can help each other out."



Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 17



Volume III – Tall and Hard to Climb

1- Service and Servitude 1

Some eight hundred leagues away from the comparable backwater kingdom of Sorash and the struggles of a half-elf priestess named Sarah Kettar was a sprawling metropolis, the jewel of the Western Council. Beson stood as a beacon of trade and free society, connecting most of the civilized world to one another and even to the Vale itself.

Dame Amaranth had heard about the Vale, the legendary home of the elves-- the very people who's blood flowed in her veins and who'd abandoned her even before she'd even been born. She had grown up in the world of humans and by the gods were there many of them.

She sipped her tea looking out over the sprawling city below. The castle was situated neatly amidst the sprawl and splendor of the very people she'd sworn herself to protect. They wandered about the wood lined streets, carefully picking the red moss and mud that seeped up between the massive timbers that kept the city from being overrun by the rapid growth every night. It wasn't just the nightly riots that gave the city its dubious moniker, 'city of blood'.

A cool wind ran its fingers along her sun kissed flesh, sliding through the sheer robe as the lavender sky began to make way for the early morning sun, bringing with it the ever lingering tickle of rain's caress. It was a pleasant, sweet scent that prickled the half-elf's senses with promises of a dreary day. 

She breathed it in all the same, her tall, proud body and firm muscles bristled with goosebumps from the sudden chill, but her mind was alive with possibility and renewed vigor for what was to come. Today was going to be the day. She couldn't hide it for much longer, anyway. Her stomach had started a gentle curve and even now, standing practically nude before the early morning city, she could imagine this new turn in her life taking her to strange, exciting places.

To hear her mother tell it, there was no room for a half-breed among the proud race of immortal elves, but here there was an infinite number of possibilities. She ran her fingers over her belly, trembling with excitement and fear. She'd tell them today, she promised herself. They'd figure out how to handle it, they wouldn't have to worry about what the future held anymore. She didn't have to hide behind her pointy ears and exotic, sharp features any longer.

She had a home, now. She would have a family.

The gods had truly blessed her, even if her ancestors hadn't. Suddenly it didn't matter how hard she'd worked to earn her title, how many battles she'd fought and won in service to Sorash and her Duke. She'd never be accepted by anyone-- except her peers, if only obliquely-- but a family.

Her, a mother.

Gods, had Elisandra blessed Her loyal paladin. For her years of service, she was going to have what she wished for most while she was still young enough to enjoy-- and care for-- it. She sipped her tea with a smile this time, her amber eyes flitting up towards the sky. A soft whispered prayer of thanks parted her full lips and she turned to her room, wondering how much longer she'd be able to fit into her armor.

Quietly, in some dark part of her mind, she wondered just how the news would be received. . .

#

Dame Amaranth strolled through the main hall in full regalia, her green and gold platemail clacked softly against the chain underneath with each step, pressing gently against her stomach and reminding her that she wouldn't be able to hide the swell of her child much longer. It wasn't like he wouldn't be able tell if they had so much as a moment to themselves, but still, her heart fluttered in her chest and the sinking suspicion that had accompanied her while she dressed for the day had become full blown paranoia.

What would he do once he found out? How would he react? More importantly, to the paladin, was the question of how this life might impact their relationship. What would have to change so that no one was compromised?

Gods, it was enough to drive someone to drink. That was even before the question of whether or not it was even his. . . Amaranth swallowed, pressed herself against the back of her armor as though it would ease weight off her growing stomach and clenched her teeth. Her duty was to protect, she couldn't worry herself with the who, how and why. She just needed to protect what had been created.

Stewards and commoners were milling about the main hall, dutifully ignoring the small contingent of knights that were receiving their daily orders from the resident sergeant at arms. It wasn't even mid morning and the hall was full of the commoners and lawyers of the various trade unions and several foreign dignitaries, speaking amongst themselves and awaiting the arrival of the Duke.

His knight, however, didn't have to wait. She never would, so long as she was in his service, so she approached the cluster of courtiers and started towards the hall. Now wasn't a good time to ask him about it, but perhaps later she could secure enough of his time to ask him just how to handle this change. He was wise, after all. Wise, patient.

Yes. Maybe she would.

Amaranth steeled herself and crept into the massive hall, avoiding glances from the 'pure' elves who caught sight of her pointed ears. Occasionally someone would attempt to engage her in conversation but she quickly excused herself, narrowly avoiding one potential crisis after another-- No, she couldn't find a missing cat; no, she couldn't speak for the Duke himself; yes she was the resident second knight and no, she couldn't deploy other knights against rebellious serfs.

It was more of the same, the kind of mind numbing drudgery that made her job as a knight about as glamorous as tax collection, but as a paladin, bound by an oath to protect her charge and guide him in making the right choices? She couldn't wait to get started.

She managed to get to the rear of the hall without expressly agreeing to help one group or another; just barely. Peasant revolts and lost kittens would have to wait until they were ready to be addressed. She was the executor of her lords' will, after all, not its progenitor. With great care she eased herself up to the door that lead to the door that separated the main hall from the Duke's private quarters. The guards made way for her, used to the way in which she crept as one might do to catch someone unaware.

It had been a long standing tradition, almost twenty years now, and so the guards paid it little mind except to offer salute to the half-blooded knight as she opened the door to the antechamber and slipped in.

The room was laid out with the typical red velvet finery draped over fine oak and plaster highlights. All the oak services were stained and polished up to a fine sheen, glistening in the scattered light from the slit of glass that ran parallel with the North Light. It was as much a shrine to the Duke's god as it was a place to relax for visiting dignitaries and the Duke himself.

Relax he did, at that. The twenty something man was sprawled out across one of the massive four seat couches in his full court attire of flowing velvet with a bright purple silk coat underneath. That surprised her. He hadn't worn it in at least a decade that she could remember, and even then only at her insistence that he protect himself in a time when some maniac was going around firing arrows at nobles.

The undershirt had a deceptively tight weave designed to protect the wearer from against arrows and bolts from would be assassins, unfortunately it was also a tight fit over Rathic's broad, toned chest and his well built shoulders, making him reluctant to so much as consider it, much less take it's value seriously.

Amaranth stood there in quiet contemplation for a moment as her sharp amber eyes roamed her young charge. Young-- though definitely a grown man; he was approaching his twenty first birthday, but his features were still that of someone too innocent for his station. A strong sharp jaw line and eyes so wide and full of life, every once in a while she'd catch that subtle flicker of the inner fire that drove him, but to the rest of the world he showed only the calm mask that had been thrust upon him by the death of his father; he wasn't the person that his father's legacy needed to lead it, but he wasn't about to let that stop him from giving it his damnedest effort.

There were other times, of course, those rare little moments where he let the mask fall completely. Those were the private moments, though, the ones that neither of them could speak of, the moments that they both knew would come to an abrupt-- and horrible-- end. A twinge of guilt rippled across Amaranth's mind. She couldn't undo the past and even if she could, somehow she couldn't convince herself that this was something that needed undoing.

She began to sing. The soft flowing melody tumbled from her lips in a way that neither time nor countless recitals had managed to dull even a note. The melody was soon joined by her placing a hand on her young charge, reminding him of her presence, confirming to herself that he was still alive. The transfusion of energies and the subtle touch of his conscious mind brushing against hers was like a kiss to her very soul. As a bonded pair-- protector and protected-- they shared things in ways many could not, the body was more than paternal and yet somehow more intimate than those shared by even the oldest of lovers.

He was part of her, part of her very being and even while his mind teetered at the edge of true, restful sleep, she could sense his reaching out for something. A feeling of warmth and the cold dagger of loss-- he was dreaming again. No doubt the dream of the throne room and the assassin. Even in spite-- or perhaps because of-- the dreams, he'd started wearing the assassin's calling card in his right breast pocket, perhaps in memorial or silent prayer for vengeance. One day he would ask her to take on that burden, to find this Ace of Diamonds and kill her, but in the meantime, he had a city to run and a people to protect.

It really was too bad that circumstances hadn't turned out differently. But in their loneliness, in their abject isolation from the people around them-- he by his youth in a position for rich old men, and she by her elven heritage, they'd found one another. Whatever mercy the gods hat decided to grant both of them was something they could share, and no one could take that away from them.

She ran her finely boned fingers across the velveteen material of his pant leg, caressing his flesh with the very tip of her finger, a mere feather's grace against the firm, taught muscles of her Lordship's body. All the while she explored the ridges of his muscles, she carried her melody to new levels of warmth as she had learned so long ago. "My lost, my found, loved and famed. . . For what sun will rise if not guided by your heavens?" Amaranth's hand unconsciously slid up a little farther, brushing against his powerful thigh muscles, sighing softly as she slid into a seat beside him.

Unlike other nobility-- and even many paladins she knew, he didn't stir at the closeness of her warmth. He didn't so much as bat an eye when she pressed her plated thigh against his and murmured. "The night awaits the sun, for without the sun there can be no flowers. . . What will we do then, hm?"

To her surprise, he responded in that soft but powerful purr that set the fringes of her mind at full attention. It was a sultry sound, the husky voice of a man used to getting what he wanted out of life, but never forgetting that privilege was earned and a man, no matter how important socially, was still a man. "We'll plant new ones and draw the curtains. . . It was too damn early in the first place!"

Despite herself, Amaranth laughed.

"Now that is a sound I could wake to for a thousand years." The Duke looked up at her for the first time, his eyes clouded by sleep and some faint flicker of amusement. "I was enjoying a dream before you started caterwauling."

Whether intentional or not, a twinge of insult prodded Amaranth's subconscious. "I'm sorry, my leige--"

The man started to rise lazily, "please. . ." he trailed off while his gaze lingered on her. A creeping little smile pulled at the corner of his mouth as he sauntered over to the tray of tea and pastries that had been laid out opposite the couch. "We're alone, you know better."

"But--" 

"Shh," the young man glanced back with a smile and a twinkle that said he knew something she wasn't privileged to. "Say it."

She frowned. "B--"

"Ammy. . ."

"It's so indignant, though! My L--"

He turned abruptly and tossed a pastry her way. The only thought that ran through her mind-- aside from the insult he was asking her to commit-- was the mess it would leave on the fine carpet. She dived for it, managing to scoop it up before it would've stained anything. Somewhere between her leaving the couch and catching the flaky treat, however, her liege lord had closed the distance and placed himself directly in her path.

Amaranth nearly plowed into his groin with her face, but for her natural elven grace and quick action, she slid to the right to avoid the impact and recover herself before she would've hit the carpeting. She looked up at him with a dour expression as she started to rise, that was until he laid his hand on her shoulder.

With a slow movement fitting a lion stalking its prey, his finger brushed across the side of her throat. A ripple of warmth that swept gently up her cheek, through her hair, then grazed the back of her ear to the tip. The tiniest pinch at the point forced Amaranth's breath back into her throat, a shudder swam through her body like liquid heat, turning her knees into putty even as she sat there on the floor. She hoped, above all, that her armor would hide her reaction, but luck wasn't with her. Not at all.

She glanced up from the shade of her bangs to find Richard, her Duke and lord standing there with a mischievous little smile even as he trailed his finger down the rearward arch of her ear. A sigh she couldn't suppress quickly enough tumbled from her lips while the human squatted down to her level.

"Another sound I don't get to hear nearly enough," Richard's breath brushed over her sharply angled cheek and he started to rise. Unconsciously Amaranth reached out to touch his hand, barely aware that she was inhaling his natural musk from her position, with his crotch practically touching her chin. She looked up at him, dampened her lips.

He had to know.

He was going to find out anyway.

He was wise and patient.

"I. . ." Amaranth pursed her lips as her voice faltered. She tried again, and again, and again. All she had to do was bring it out, and then everything would be all right. He needed to know and now really was the best time.

"Hm?" He didn't pull his hand away. "What troubles my Dame?"

Dame. She was nobility too, it wasn't unheard of to share problems with other nobles and yet-- Amaranth turned her head in his hand and kissed his palm. "I would speak to you after the day is out."

A flicker of concern lit his eyes. "Ammy?" The shortening of her name broke her heart. He had to know, but would it make anything better?

"You have enough on your mind. What I have to say can wait. . ."

"Ammy, what's wrong?"

"Nothing--"

"Bullshit."

"Richard!" Amaranth covered her mouth. "Ehm- I mean, my Lord! Please, such language is beneath you--"

"So are half the things you say when you think no one's listening," he chided with a playful grin. "Don't be so prudish."

"Tch," Amaranth scoffed, looking away. "That's not fair."

"Life seldom is, Dame Amaranth. Life seldom is." He thrust his hand out to her and took a step back, munching his pastry with a catty little smile that told her that there would be a continuation to this conversation-- if she was able to work out how to speak with a full mouth.

Fitting, in some ways, really. She pushed off on her own and shot him a playfully challenging look which he returned around another mouth full of pastry. Silently, she nodded, already knowing that there'd be no chance she could deny him, even if she wanted to-- which was never the case.

"You're incorrigible," Amaranth chided.

He cast her a surreptitious glance on his way to the table to grab another hand full of pastries. Before he could make it to the door he had downed another one of them and was half way into the second. "Come, my Knight, we have work to do. . ."

Despite that nagging voice that told her she should have been ashamed to be so open with her admonishment, she fell in step behind him. Both protector and servant, she had to tread that fine line between guide and supplicant. The way in which she administered them needed care and consideration, for surely words were going to be very precious and potentially dangerous things by the end of the day.





Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 17



As she plodded through the narrow beams that served as the street, civilians made way for her, even a man with a narrow wheeled cart tried to move for her-- knowing that obstructing one of the Duke's personal knights was almost akin to attacking a noble; a bad idea in the best of ways. Amaranth slid around the cart, insisting she be the one to yield for him.

There was only one place where Markus would be caught spending his day off; the dingy little dive bar on the northern quarter of Highlind lane-- the only street in the entire city that actually ended instead of connecting to a travel path. The bar itself dominated the end of that street, highlighted in soot black wood and blue drapes that only accented the obnoxiously loud music blaring through the open doorway.

A haze of smoldering moss and cheap incense lanced through her nose, burning all the way into her lungs while the bleating of a poorly tuned wind instrument played by a half naked man in the corner, carving new trenches in her soul and already limited patience. A hand full of caravan guards and gamblers occupied the loose array of tables carrying on with their stories and games, paying almost no mind to her as she stepped in.

Then she found Markus and the screeching of the instrument became a dull drone in the back of her mind. His back was to her and he was sitting at one of the tables nearest the window, his broad shoulders and long brown hair caught a glint of light when he leaned back. It only served to accent his strong jaw and proud neck line, a reminder that no matter how close to she might be to her elven heritage and the graceful, sinewy forms they had, nothing would ever compare to the proud, raw strength of human men.

She approached quietly, slinking along the chipped wood floor as though each step might bring the place down. Her armor betrayed her easily, though, and the soft click-clack of her plates drew the attention of a few of the gamblers who looked up from their game-- beady eyes that lingered on her form and only when she looked their way met her gaze.

Some part of her knew that they knew a good thing when the saw it; that she would be filling their minds with that which was forever out of their reach when they were emptying themselves into the whores tonight. Some would dream about pulling her long ruby locks, slamming her powerful flanks or trying to get her to whimper their names into the pillow as they plowed her, breathing heavily into her pointed ear and trying to wrap their hands around her full breasts.

Her stomach fluttered with the heat of the thoughts racing through her mind-- there were too many men to defend herself against effectively, it would only take that one of them to decide that her title and her station didn't mean anything; that she was just a toy to be used. Her breath came shorter, mere sips of the tepid air compared to a moment ago.

No, she was a paladin, she wasn't meant to be thinking such things! Heavens forgive her, but the thoughts wouldn't stop. As she approached Markus, she caught herself wondering just how much longer she would want to deny that impulse if someone decided to try their hand at mind reading.

It surprised her to hear that quiet voice in the back of her mind whisper 'not long'. That was even before she saw the girl under the table with Markus's cock in her mouth.

Neither of them had noticed her approach and the girl didn't look in any position to stop even if she had. Markus's meaty paw clawed through her braided hair as his thick, swollen cock disappeared into her thin, obedient lips. She devoured inch after inch, bulging out her narrow little throat with his girth only to slide back with a cough and release it again, coated in a thin layer of saliva.

The girl, no more a woman than a teenager, was draped in a loose peasant dress with her blonde hair bound up and, from what Amaranth could tell, tied up perfectly to highlight her cute--if plain-- features. Markus didn't seem to mind her humble looks, though. He fed her generously, cupping the back of her head as she turned her skull this way and that to take in more, to tease him.

Amaranth should have been ashamed, but she stood there watching for almost a full minute as the peasant girl dutifully serviced the knight. Subtly, the half-elf eased up behind her superior and laid a hand on his shoulder. He jerked forward and crammed his entire length into the girl's throat, glaring daggers at Amaranth for just that flicker of a second until recognition set in. "Oh--"

The girl flailed. "Urk!"

"Ah, shit. Sorry--" Markus started to draw back but Amaranth stepped up behind him and placed her hand on the back of the girl's head lightly.

With a glance at him out of the corner of her eye, she pushed her down on his cock, encouraging her to resume her attentions. She murmured in a soft voice meant only for the knight. "We've been summoned."

"Nnhhh. . ." Markus closed his eyes half way. "I'm allowed a day off."

"You'd occupy yourself with peasants when your Lord demands your attention?" Even with those words she pushed the girl's head down further until she had all of Markus's cock in her mouth. If she was going to take what belonged to Amaranth, she was damn well going to do it right. "No offense, miss."

The girl's bright green eyes turned up, flitting between the two knights even as they looked at one another in subtle challenge. She had no idea what she was getting into but Amaranth refused to let up. When their gazes met, she gave a gentle tug on the blonde's hair, easing her head back and then pushing her back down.

"What're--" Markus huffed as Amaranth worked the girl's head that little bit faster. Up and down, up and down until the peasant got the idea. She was a quick learner and eager to please, in no time at all she took over the motion even with both of the knight's hands on her. "Ah-- gods," Markus breathed.

"You should know better than play outside your station." The proud half-elf nibbled his earlobe. "You know to whom you belong."

"What--" was as far as the human got before Amaranth pushed the teenager's head down on his cock. She gagged and coughed while Amaranth kissed his ear, reveling in the low moan building in his throat. "Jealous?"

"Sometimes I wonder if I've become old news." She let the girl recover herself and ignored the look of irritation she earned from the lowly peasant. She was cute, but when it came down to it, Markus didn't belong to her, he never would. She needed to understand that.

Amaranth nuzzled against him softly, drinking in his natural musk as she kissed his cheek, breathing a sigh into his ear the way she knew he couldn't resist. As she did so, the peasant girl worked his cock harder, faster, just like Amaranth had shown her. "That's it. . ." she purred. "Better?" She looked to Markus.

The strong knight leaned his head back against Amaranth's shoulder with a resigned sigh. A sound she hadn't heard nearly enough in recent weeks. He knew who would take care of him, who'd be there when the time came. He knew who it was that was his equal.

Not that the girl wasn't doing her best to earn her place; she bobbed up and down with her cheeks swollen out with the sheer girth of Markus's package that she sucked on with increasing vigor, waging that constant battle struggle between the ability to breathe and the ability to please.

Markus spurred her on with a spasm. He was getting close.

"We need to go. . ." Amaranth kissed his earlobe. She not so subtly pushed the girl's head down until she had half of his length in her mouth. "Has she started something she can't finish?"

The knight-- her knight grabbed the edge of the table with one hand, digging his heels into the floorboards even as his body started to stiffen. Amaranth looked down at the peasant girl with a faint smile. She hadn't pulled back and she didn't look about to. She kept up with her attentions, either oblivious to what was coming or, like Amaranth, not about to waste a good thing.

"Don't swallow." Markus groaned out-- the last thing he managed to utter before he thrust forward into the young peasant's mouth and threw his head back against Amaranth's shoulder armor. His low, satisfied groan was a familiar purr that made Amaranth blush. A sound she'd not heard nearly often enough.

The girl whimpered, sputtered and coughed under the pressure of Markus's powerful orgasm as it blasted hot streams of his seed into her little mouth. Her eyes screwed shut as she choked back on the instincts telling her to swallow. All the while Amaranth balled her fist into the girl's hair giving her no chance to move, only to accept her lover's load. She had bit off more than she could swallow and now it was too late to look back.

Markus groaned out louder than before and pumped his cock into her mouth, letting out another stream of goo into the teen's face. Amaranth smiled at the dirty look the girl's bright eyes took on. It was a look of anger and irritation.

Served her right.

"Spill not a drop." She whispered as she wrapped an arm around Markus's chest. The girl's cheeks, swollen with seed and cock had started to redden and, with Amaranth's command, only grew more crimson.

Finally Markus pumped again, a frantic hard thrust that stuffed more cock into the girl's mouth and abruptly slumped back against Amaranth breathing in short ragged sips. His dreamy, lust hazed eyes turned up to her. He panted across her cheek, spent. All the while, his hand remained on the back of the girl's head, unwilling to let her get up or even move.

But then Amaranth hadn't let go of her either.

The girl would learn her place, even if it meant a slightly painful lesson was needed. Amaranth kissed Markus deeply, as much to remind him of her presence as to show him that she still loved him. She wouldn't be denied, even for a moment.

Their kiss was electric, even years later it was still as passionate and vibrant as it had been the first night. In the minutes that lingered after his orgasm, their kiss became the center of her world. Until the girl coughed and sputtered. Her breathing had become more quickly paced and now, with the knight's cock soft, she nothing to fill her mouth but the remnants of her labor.

They both looked down at her, met with a confused, red faced teenager that only now seemed to comprehend the gravity of what she'd done. Markus was quick to sooth her fears, though, as he always was. . . He stroked her hair back and cupped her cheek with a soft smile. "She thinks I belong to her." He flicked his head towards Amaranth.

"That's because you do."

"That right?" He smirked, looking to the peasant girl. "What do you think, Myra?"

She exhaled sharply through her nose. Before she could swallow or speak, Markus leaned forward and whispered something in her ear. When he pulled back she looked up at Amaranth and blushed even deeper.

"Go on," he said softly. "Give her what belongs to her."

Amaranth blinked, looking between them. "What're you planning?" Her confusion lasted only a minute as the girl rose from her knees and half crawled over Markus, throwing her slender little arms around the half-elf and kissing her as though mustering up the courage before she could think better of it.

It wasn't the kiss that surprised the knight, but the force with which she used to her tongue to pry open Amaranth's full lips. In a second Amaranth opened her mouth and returned the kiss, slathering her tongue over the salty-sweet essence of her knight. The girl whimpered as Amaranth took her head in her hand and took her, fully, for all she had saved up.

Markus always let loose with huge volumes when he came and this was no exception. Everywhere her tongue explored in the girl's mouth was more of him. Taste, smell and feeling, she had it all and gods above was it powerful. Amaranth tilted her head down slightly to accept more of the seed the girl had collected, lavishing the teenager's tongue with her attention and drinking deep from the mixed flavors of the girl and Markus.

It wasn't long before she'd cleaned very drop from the peasant's mouth and reclaimed what technically belonged to her. The girl was beginning to sink into the kiss, but Amaranth had other ideas; the moment she had what was hers, she broke the kiss. Still nose to nose with the human girl, she looked out of the corner of her eye to see most of the bar was watching now. She looked Markus in the eye and swallowed.

Twice.

After that, she let the girl go and grabbed his shoulder. "We have work to do."

Someone wolf whistled as the two knights made their way out the door, leaving a quivering bar-maid slumped against the table red faced and confused.





Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 17



It was Markus who broke the silence. "You have my blade, you know that."

"Thank you," Richard smiled softly. Then he looked to Amaranth.

She didn't hear herself murmur "This is a mistake." while taking his hand. "I am at your side. . ."





Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 18



Author's Notes: 

Hey there! If this is your first time checking out the series, you shouldn't have any problem figuring out where things stand with this chapter/volume, but if you like what you read, please consider taking a look at the first chapter (also on this site and my account). 

This chapter was brought to you by the very generous donations and patronage of fans of the series who help me buy food and warm socks so I can write smut for you! 

These wonderful people are the reason you're reading this, so please give them a thanks! 

Alonsis 

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***** 

Volume 3 Chapter 2 

2- Service and Servitude 2 

The forested regions around Beson were a thick mess of tangled brambles and vines that waged a constant battle with the road crews to subsume the narrow lanes that crisscrossed the dense brush, allowing a glimmer of hope for the trade hub. The roads were wide enough to support the Duke's proud stallion and his cadre of mounted soldiers alongside their equipment, but there was always that feeling that someone was watching. There wasn't anything immediately dangerous in the thick brush, but as the wind rustled through the dense canopy of leaves far above, one couldn't help but feel the eyes of some unseen entity following them. 

Amaranth and Markus strode forward of the caravan on foot with their horses trailing at a body's length. They hadn't said anything since leaving the city and, in typical fashion, Markus wasn't going to be the one to break the heavy silence between them. Amaranth wasn't in a hurry, either, but some things needed to be said. . . 

She opened her mouth but Markus pre-empted her, "this is bullshit." 

"Hm?" 

"You said it yourself, even if we did get there in time, how're we going to arm and prepare a force big enough to help the knife eared-" 

Amaranth cleared her throat loudly. 

"You know what I mean," he didn't even blink at the casual racial slur. "They're the ones that won't bury the hatchet, why're we expected to stand in front of the arrow for them? Richard's father would roll over in his grave if he knew." 

"Markus. . ." 

"Oh come on, Ammy," he spared her a glance. "The elves can't be trusted with humans, you know that. Hell, your parents abandoned you, don't tell me you're going to defend them-" 

"I'm-" She stopped herself. I'm pregnant is what she wanted to say. She knew better, though, and so Amaranth bit deep into her tongue until she tasted copper. Not now, don't be rash. She glanced to the underbrush for a second as though she heard a sound. Markus followed her gaze until they passed the spot, by which time Amaranth had collected her thoughts. "They were of two worlds, they knew it couldn't possibly work out." She cast a glance his way. "The elven mind is a slippery thing when you look at it from the perspective of a human lifetime." 

"What's that say about us?" 

Us, she mused. "Tch." She shook her head. "We have a good thing, why worry ourselves with what could happen between us?" 

"Who said I'm worried for us? I was talking about our troops." Before she could muster a reply, he shrugged. "You keep focusing on 'us' and-" he glanced back as though Richard might hear them- he probably could- "and we both know you're too selfish to commit to anything." 

"Hmph." 

"Truth hurt?" 

Amaranth's ear twitched as a familiar heat flushed her cheeks. "That's not fair." 

"Doesn't mean it's not true." 

"Markus. . ." 

"I get it, I do. It's the fey blood, no one's blaming you-" 

"This is hardly the place for such a discussion. Not only that, my blood has nothing to do with-" 

"How selfish you are?" 

"How selfish I am-" she caught herself a tad late. "Dammit!" 

He laughed. 

"That's not funny, Markus." 

"Oh, I don't know, I thought it was." 

The half-elven knight shot him a dirty look she didn't believe in and, for no real reason at all, she stuck her tongue out at him. 

"Promises, promises." He grinned. "Seriously, though. You know this isn't going to work out." 

For a moment she thought he may have been talking about their relationship, but with his attention lingering on the forest, she pieced together his meaning. At least she thought so. She took a shot in the dark, non-committal even in her glance. "I know." 

"Then why didn't you stop him?" 

It verified her concerns, at least there was that. "How am I supposed to do that? I've known him since he was a boy, once he gets it in his head to do something it's going to get done come hell or low ground." 

"High water," Markus corrected. 

"Only if you're in the low ground does high water become an issue," she shot back. "Don't correct your elders." 

"Hmph." 

It was her turn to grin. "We have bigger things to worry about than who's right or wrong, hm? We've a duty to perform and a lot of work to do if we're going to get the allies he needs to carry this out." 

"Spoken like a true paladin." 

"You say that like it's a bad thing." 

"I wonder, sometimes. . ." 

"You aren't the only one," she said softly. The half-elf fell silent as they continued down the path. All the while, that quiet voice in the back of her mind whispered the concern she'd been harboring for the last three months; what kind of chance would she have at balancing motherhood with her duties. It was something that had kept her up more than a few nights over the last months, but now the question wasn't a concern so much as a demand. She needed to figure out her next move and she needed to do it quickly, before the choice was made for her. 

"What's on your mind, Ammy?" 

Her gaze lingered on Markus for a long moment. Was he ready for this any more than she was? "Hm?" 

"You're staring." 

"You're just impatient. . . I was- ah- admiring." 

"You're so full of shit." 

She sighed faintly. "I'm being selfish. . ." 

Markus didn't comment right away, letting the statement hang in the air between them like an axe as they continued down the packed dirt trail. It was maddening to someone without the patience to deal with long stretches of silence, but wholly understandable given the topic; the two of them were just like her parents. At least the ones her mind had imagined for her. He might have made a good father, but their life was an uncomplicated one and their passions were fueled by that simplicity. That had changed for Amaranth with her pregnancy and the now even arm's length distance between them felt like a canyon. 

Three months. Three months and he didn't know yet. . . She swallowed. This couldn't go on. She had built this chasm with her silence, withdrawing into herself while she wrestled with the weakness in herself. She wasn't even sure their child was strictly his, but as the days wore on to weeks and from those weeks months eroded their once proud, frivolous life. 

It had been her fault, yet she couldn't bring herself to bear the blame alone; they were knights, and she a paladin. There were appearances to keep up, and if the other possibility- that the child wasn't his- then the implications for all involved could be severe indeed. 

"Well, since you're not going to say it," Markus's strong voice cut through her reprieve. "I will. What happened?" 

"Hm? Nothing, I. . ." She glanced to the woods. "I thought I heard something." 

"Ammy. . ." 

"Nothing- it's nothing. . ." 

"Two months of 'nothing'? What happened to the happy-go-lucky pain in my ass?" 

"Maybe she got old," Amaranth shot him a look out of the corner of her slightly wide set eyes. "We do age, you know." 

He scoffed, "You remember that first patrol we went on? When I was your squire?" 

She furrowed her brow thoughtfully. Then it hit her and she laughed. "You went tumbling down the hill in that barrel of chainmail sand-" 

"Only because you told me to scrape the bottom." 

Despite herself, the shame she should have felt, the image her mind conjured still lightened her spirits. "To be fair, you were a lot smaller then. We needed to toughen you up." 

"Instead y'tenderized me," Markus chided in his more natural southern drawl. "Roun' an' roun' goes the kid, ay?" 

"To be fair." Amaranth spared him a glance, this time not letting her mind dwell on more unpleasant things. "I didn't know there was armor in it." 

"Sure, sure. Like I didn't know those Fresha leaves were ground into your bathing oils." 

"Now that. . ." 

"Was hilarious." 

"I was going to say uncouth, mean spirited and hot as coals." When she heard him change his stride a little, probably to keep from mirroring hers, she glanced his way. "Okay, maybe a little funny. . ." 

"Nothing says welcome to knighthood like giving your mentor a bath in pepper oil, ay?" 

"I can think of other ways to warm one's body. . ." 

"Can you now? Gonna be honest, I've been wondering about that for a while now." 

Amaranth feigned an interest in the woods and trooped along in silence for several seconds. A light sigh parted her lips. "I'm sorry." 

"As you should be," his voice held no real venom. "I miss seeing you. . ." 

"I-" 

"Do you remember that night? When I finally managed to walk again?" 

"Vaguely? I remember you muttering under your breath a fair bit." 

"Can't imagine why." He laughed, more for his own sake than anything. "I said what I meant, Ammy. I always will." 

Amaranth furrowed her brow, puzzling over those words for a moment. When they'd crossed another twenty feet or so and she was still for want of meaning, she looked to him. "Refresh my memory?" 

"Nah," the man shrugged. "You'll figure it out. . . " 

"Come hell or low land?" 

"High water." 

"Tch." 

# 

That night, the entourage set up camp off the path, nearly a hundred paces into the brush so as not to draw attention of any passing travelers or undesirables. To the untrained eye, they probably looked like a traveling mercenary company; Well armed and equipped, trained and disciplined, telling anyone that watched them that trying to steal their gear would require besting the people to which it belonged. 

Once they'd finished burning the thicket down to bare ground and cast a rune circle to protect them from the perpetual growth of the woods- and their inhabitants- the sergeant at arms brought the horses to the corners of their encampment while the men set up the Duke's tent and their own, smaller, shelters. Inside of a couple hours they'd terraformed the dense patch of wood and brambles into an oasis among the greenery, likely the only 'safe' place in the entire forest. 

If rune casting had been any less expensive, the main paths could have been protected, but as it was, they would have to ration their runes and their casting for the trip. It was at that point that Amaranth wondered if they had brought too many people. They'd need the men if they ran into lycans, but there wasn't much that could be done with their mundane weapons. The most they could hope to do would be to drive off the threat and escape. If fate was feeling particularly merciful. 

The sergeant at arms went through the ranks assigning patrols and the like while men set up a cooking pit and broke out the first meal of the day; deer for the humans and hay for the horses. They'd eat during the night so they didn't need to stop during the day. It was a strange custom that Amaranth had never really figured out, or bothered to adhere to. What was even stranger was Richard's form milling about with the men dressed in simple cotton clothes the color of mud, helping set up right along side them. He'd break down camp with them, too. 

Both Amaranth and his father had taught him well. The men fussed and made way for him, but he integrated himself well, neither being a burden or using the considerable strength she knew hid in those sinewy muscles to show off. She found herself smiling a little as she watched his- relatively- young body move. 

He had a gentle strength about him, the kind of power that could have been built up with the life of a carpenter without the thick calluses to match. He wasn't tall and broad like Markus, but he had the same kind of presence; he drew from his natural leadership and the subtle gifts his more secret heritage had given him. He used that physical strength to earn respect, like he used his soothing voice and strong hands, with great care. Had things been different, had she not been his supplicant. . . 

There were so many things wrong with the ideas swirling between her pointed ears, but she couldn't help herself. It wasn't wrong for her to dream- but by the gods, he would have made a good father. Kind, generous, humble and still firm enough to carry his station in a world gone completely insane. If anyone knew what he truly was, they would have hunted him. Yet he chose to stand in bold faced defiance of that and help the very people who had the most hatred for his kind. No human would have done that. None of them were that strong. 

Amaranth nibbled her lower lip as he watched him heft the axe and start towards one of the trees at the edge of camp. She smiled privately at the men who parted for him. If they had any idea. 

"Fine boy he turned out to be," Markus's throaty voice startled her. "Shame his father isn't around." 

Amaranth pushed off from the half sunk post of her own tent. "I think his mother would be more proud, she always wanted him to be industrious." 

Without so much as a look, he picked up one of her tent posts and started pounding it in the ground with a mallet. They were both creatures of habit; her not in a hurry to block her view of the stars and he in a hurry to protect her from the chill encroaching on their camp. "Hey, Ammy?" 

"Hm?" 

"That 'nothing' we talked about earlier. . . You want to talk about it now?" 

"I don't, no." 

He sighed. "It's hard to like you sometimes." 

"Try being me." She managed to tear her gaze from her Duke, picking up a tent peg. "It's nothing, Markus. . . Female problems, hm?" 

"Heh. Thought you didn't-" 

"It's nothing that need be discussed." 

"Can't fight your body, Ammy. . . Human enough, ay?" 

"It's complicated." Amaranth said with finality, falling into silence as the steady pounding rhythm of the pegs, rustling canvas and clatter of arms and armor filled the camp. When all was said and done. The horses and men fed, Amaranth took first watch with a hand full of the younger soldiers. 

She would stand watch for half the night while Markus took the other half, they were expected to set the standard and serve as Richard's personal guard, should something go wrong. The soldiers would rotate out every two hours to ensure everyone was rested and fed. It was a familiar, though seldom practiced security ritual. As the half-elf grabbed her canvas folding chair, a thought struck her. 

She had no books. 

In her rush to leave, she'd forgotten to pack any books or even scrolls to read! She had paper and charcoal, but her attention was needed to keep watch and she couldn't split her focus. A curse nearly spilled from her lips before she plonked down heavily on the chair. No books, no reading. Just stillness and the croon of the insects of the night. 

No, it wasn't a lost cause, she could still clean and maintain her gear. A far cry from a good story, but at least it was something. Yes, she promised herself. Leathers would need to be oiled, blades sharpened and armor polished. She had her activities for the rest of her watch, then. But no books? She had remembered to pack her favorite dress but somehow forgot the works of Blakewell and Crouse? "Hmph." 

She settled down, gaze flicking about the camp and briefly settling on the ornate three room tent that occupied the center left of the camp. The sergeant at arms and his personal contingent would be staying with Richard in one of the rooms and he would be in one, too. Briefly she wondered how likely it would be for her to get in there during the night, but quickly dismissed it. Two months had filled her mind with things that didn't belong there. . . That distraction was going to become a problem. 

Amaranth drew her ornate broadsword and began polishing its basket hilt. It was a light thing, lighter than many of the steel swords worn by the soldiers, but its craftsmanship and balance made wielding it as much an extension of her body as the fingers she wrapped around its leather grip. 

Eastern sword styles were much different than what she had practiced growing up, relying more on heavy slashing and turning the opponent to ground than the graceful, fluid movements of the elven Letechan, literally 'Sword Play' style that cast combatants as leading roles in a three act play that would only end with the death of one of actors. 

Amaranth smiled wanly in the dying light of the cooking fire as she cleaned her blade. There had only been two plays she participated in, yet she'd been quick to study, quick to script new moves that she quietly wanted to put to use. To please and impress both Richard and Markus. A half-blood had a lot to prove as it was, a half-elf woman had mountains to move before they could expect to be accepted as equals. Years of service were easily forgotten among the quickly changing nature of humans and their cities, making displays all that more important. 

Her hand glided down the girth of the blade, reveling in its hum under the whetstone. From the swept basket hilt to the thick, penetrating tip that would give nothing. The blade would keep pushing, deeper and deeper, piercing through armor, through soft flesh, into the damp pink of a quivering, sweaty. . . 

Amaranth chewed her lower lip as the image in her mind melted from combat to something far, far more enjoyable. She'd spent so much time hiding from what she was becoming, afraid that the men around her would think less of her, that they'd suddenly become disinterested or worse yet, scared. She did this, all the while knowing that, deep down, she was the one who was scared. There was no coming out on top of this situation, no matter who's child it was, she was going to destroy friendships and more with what she carried in her womb. 

A sigh parted her lips while she slumped forward and ran her fingers through her luxurious hair. When she spoke, her voice was a haggard whisper, "Elisandra, I never ask for anything, but I could really use your help. . ." She sat there in silence for nearly a minute before she sighed again. Asking for help from the Goddess of Guides made as much sense as trying to pray to Isira to protect virgins from lust. 

The irony was that Isira was also a goddess of virginity- of the perpetual variety. Maybe that meant there would be some hope for Amaranth. Priests and paladins of Elisandra were expected to have all the answers, to guide mortals in their daily lives and tackle the future confidently. Her dogma expressly forbade her faithful from asking Her for help and learning by doing. But what happened when doing would possibly cause more harm than good? The gods did seem to enjoy irony. 

Something rustled behind her. Amaranth jumped to her feet and spun into a defensive stance, sword at the ready. Someone, a man, was peeking around the edge of her tent. Cloaked in shadow, it was hard to make out distinct features but when he spoke, the recognition was instantaneous; it was Richard. Her Duke. "Hardly the time for self loathing, don't you think?" A flicker of light caught his eyes, reflecting it as a glimmer of bright green. 

She almost bowed, but he was just that bit quicker; he cleared the distance between them and took her hand, leading her into the shade of her the stand up tent. She was so caught off guard by his advance that she couldn't stop him to ask what he was doing. 




Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 18



He practically dragged her to the back of the tent as though the tight confines of the canvas shelter would- or even could- be their own private world. If only for a moment. No matter how much she wished it to be, though, both of them knew that could never be the case. 

"My lord, what're you doing out-" Amaranth started to say before she felt lips press to hers. His kiss was intense, passionate, a liquid fire that raged across her tongue as he leaned into her, demanding her submission. She struggled to breathe through her nose in the wave of his demand, but she didn't want to resist. She cupped his cheeks habitually even as he pressed himself into her armored chest, stealing her breath with an overwhelming wave of power and demand. 

Their kiss went unbroken for several minutes. Neither of them uttered so much as a sigh, letting their bodies communicate everything they'd held so tightly bound. Before she knew it, though, Richard had shifted his weight and slid easily from her lips to kiss her cheek, her neck- his teeth grazed her supple flesh and the scent of his intense passion seared her nostrils. Everything about his touch was demanding. Inviting. 

Home. His arms were her home. He bit her neck softly and sighed across the moistened flesh while his large, strong hands cupped her lower back, pulling her upward into his grip. "We'll not have much time before Sedric's men realize I'm gone." His breathy whisper was as much a warning as it was an invitation. Even before his hand cupped her firm, taught flank. As if leaving no room for argument, he grabbed her ass and kissed her once more. 

Amaranth melted under his heat, faltering as his confident strength pulled her closer to the center of his lust. Her mind became hazy, the siren's call of his kiss pulled at her. Drew her in. When had he gotten so good with his tongue? Her knees wobbled in her armor and she slumped a little. "R-" she tried to choke from around his tongue. "Richard. . ." Her breath came as a hot, throaty whisper. "We can't-" 

"Who's going to stop us?" His weight was pressing onto her again. Her back thudded against the center post. In that moment his young, hungry features looked carnal, feral in their intense desire for the knight. It was Amaranth who'd inspired the lust burning in his eyes. It was she who'd denied him the steady release of that tension. . . She had been selfish. She had been wrong. 

Richard pulled at her. His fingertips sunk into the powerful muscles of her flanks. She was the reason. It had spiraled out of control that first time, just like she knew it would, but she hadn't denied him then. Like now, his presence, his confidence, his gentle power. . . How could she say no to her Duke? 

Amaranth let her blade clatter to the ground, stealing the briefest glance towards the open flap on her tent. Her breath came in ragged sips as she looked back to the young man, her patron and lover. "I- I can't get changed. Not here. Not now." 

"That's fine," he grabbed her ass again. This time his grip was firm and he stepped back, pulling her to one side by that ass cheek until she started to move. When he had her facing the post he placed another hand on her upper back and pushed her forward. "Grab the pole. . ." 

The indignity of it all. Heat welled on her cheeks, burning even as the young man leaned over her armor clad back, whispering a sultry purr into her ear. "Ammy," he wrapped his arms around her waist, asserting his control with the reassuring strength of well toned arms. "I love you." 

Amaranth shuddered at those words as he took the tip of her ear in his mouth and pulled playfully on it. His hands worked her belts open deftly. Fear flashed over her, was he going to find the swell of her belly? 

His fingers slid deftly under her arming leathers while she arched her back more. Her hands reached higher up the post in a slow feline stretch that arched her back as far as possible in the heavy steel breastplate. Even though it was designed to allow her to make use of her flexibility, she found it's limit quickly, looking back up at her lord she smiled weakly. "I'm afraid I can't go much farther unless I want to be tasting steel from the back of my tongue. 

Rather than disappointment- surely, he'd seen what she could do without armor, in that peasant's dress he made her wear, she may as well have been a pure blood elf- he actually seemed more excited by the display. He sucked on her ear-tip and exhaled his breath down across her cheek and ear. "I love you, Ammy." He reminded her. His hand slid lower. 

Amaranth quivered against her Duke's touch. Resistance had fled her long ago, but the second his fingers trailed over her smooth, hairless mound she leaned forward. A soft whimper crossed her lips as her hyper sensitive flesh warmed to his demanding touch. They could never get away with this at the castle or even in the city. He'd wanted to go so they could have this moment. He always had been a risk taker. Before she could muster some kind of response to his words he wrapped his free hand around her chest and kissed her neck. 

His strength was everywhere. His hands held her up, kept her from falling even as her knees trembled. He was the only man who could make her a woman- it was forbidden, she was his servant. His guide and his guardian. 

Richard sunk his teeth into the nape of her neck. She mewled. 

His woman. 

"I missed you," she breathed out. His index and middle fingers worked their way under her cotton panties, unerringly diving into the heat trapped between her quivering thighs. Unconsciously the half-elf clenched those powerful legs against the man's wrist. He added a third finger to his attentions, parting her lips with his first and third finger and pressing the middle one against her womanhood. In the next breath he was leaning on her even more, pressing his weight into her shoulder, demanding her full attention. She responded in the only way she could; she edged up to the tips of his toes as she bent lower. Her natural elven grace and flexibility made it an easy to bend lower. To show him what he wanted most- what she needed most. 

"I love you-" Richard's voice fell away from Amaranth's awareness when his finger slid into her wet pussy. It was a snug fit even with just one finger and she moaned a breathless sigh as she was forcibly opened by his digit. Months of no sex had made her much too tight, but he didn't seem to mind. She surely didn't. Her body didn't have a choice but to open for him as he pushed that digit in, deeper and deeper. Searching her wet velvety depths for something only he knew. 

Amaranth clenched her jaw against the cry trying to claw its way out of her throat. It'd been too long and now, in the most dangerous forest in the world, she couldn't let the pleasure get the best of her. She looked back to see Richard's eyes alight with mirth and warmth, he kissed her to absorb her moan. Unbidden, she gave it over to him, sealing it between their lips. 

With that little encouragement her man slid his hand down her body. He roughly grabbed her belt and shoved her pants down to the tops of her thigh plates, leaving her well rounded ass open to the chilly air. Amaranth eased her weight to the balls of her feet, sucking in a deep breath as Richard once more staked his claim. His teeth sunk into the sides of her neck again and a second finger pressed into her pink entrance. She mewled deeply, moaning out a long sigh as her tight muscles were stretched by her Duke's demand. 

This was the way they were meant to make love. This was how they both needed it. Amaranth clenched her muscles against his fingers. "We can't-" she lied, pushing back against him. His fingers opened her easily; like a lily blossom in full bloom, eliciting a hearty sigh she had to stifle with her own fingers. She bit down on them and rolled back against her man, her lord. Surrendering with every second that passed. He knew what demands to make to coax the song out of her body and he wasn't afraid to make them. 

His fingers spread slowly, testing the give in her tight, unyielding core. When her body tightened around his fingers he withdrew and kissed the back of her ear. "Let me go, Ammy." 

"I don't want to," she breathed, barely aware of the words. "I don't want to loose you." 

There was a pause before he nipped the tip of her ear playfully. "Let me go, Ammy. Time is not on our side." 

Was it ever? Reluctantly, Amaranth unclenched her thighs and released the man's hand. He kissed her ear again and, with a soft sigh that would've made Isira herself cream, brought his dripping fingers to her mouth. He smeared her natural moisture across his knight's lips- the lips of his servant. His woman. Amaranth didn't hesitate, closing her eyes and wrapping her lips around his digits to the palm in one go. 

"I love you, Amaranth." His voice was liquid smooth in the darkness, warm and soothing her frazzled nerves. She could have his child, she decided. She could make it work, even if it was only the two of them that knew it. She could keep that secret. She reached up and intertwined her fingers with his, never daring to slip them from her mouth. "I always will. . ." 

"Mmph-" the half-elf knight cooed as her lord undid the flap on his trousers. Each rustle of cloth surged through her like lightning. Terrifying, liquid hot and undeniable. He'd have what he wanted and give her what she needed. To hell with the consequences. If they were caught, the humans wouldn't believe what they were seeing anyway. With a triumphant sigh in her ear, Richard's newly freed cock slapped her exposed, yearning vagina. She wanted to recite his words but she knew the folly of it. 

She was a paladin. She was a knight. She was his. She couldn't be in love with him. The thought sent a ripple of shame across her body, but they both knew it. Still, he sunk his teeth into the nape of her neck. That's when she felt the transition start to take over. His teeth went from neat rows of pearly white ones to sharp canines that sunk into her tender flesh with ease, his jaw opened wider than should have been possible and his thick musk became a hot burning desire that burrowed through whatever might have remained of her apprehension. 

It was their secret to keep, but in moments like this, she couldn't have cared less. He pushed his fingers into her mouth, shoving her tongue down to keep her from screaming out even as the thick, bulbous head of his cock pressed against her pussy. Her body yielded easily to its true master, inviting him deeper. She whimpered against the slightly furred fingers that held her tongue down as Richard mounted her properly. 

He was big. Unforgiving. His cock impaled her tight pink hole like a lance, driving down into her core without hesitation. For a second all she saw was the white as her eyes widened. His massive girth really started to split open her small half-elven cunt by the second inch when his cock caught up with the rest of his body. The werewolf in him was starting to take over and he went from gentle insistence to feral demand. His alpha heat plowed deeper into her hard, muscular body, already made heavy by her child. He didn't stop when she whined. He didn't stop when she whimpered. Not even when she bit into his fingers. She was his bitch. His to fuck senseless if he wanted to. 

Three months with nothing touching her had made her sensitive and shallower, but he didn't care; Richard shoved his hot, thick rod deeper in, splitting her further open and forcing her dainty nether lips to part for his intrusion. Once he got traction with her, he slammed the full length of his cock into her in two strokes. She threw her head back with a haggard cry that died in her throat as he rammed her again. 

A clawed hand grabbed a bundle of her hair and yanked her head back while he slammed his weight into her again. Her knees buckled under his pressing weight. For a second she almost gave in, but fought to hold herself upright. A deep growl rumbled in his throat against Amaranth's neck. Possessive, warm, knowing. He pumped her again and again. With each stroke, his massive cock only seemed to grow in diameter. Swelling. 

Searing breath glazed the back of her neck with a mix of saliva. His teeth became sharper. His grip more powerful. His thick coiled arm wrapped around her stomach while he mercilessly pounded his alpha female. His bitch. The woman cried out, unashamed now and his hand pulled from her lips. He grabbed at her armor to find purchase on the flesh underneath. He wanted his woman. He needed her like she needed him. Instead, however, he only managed to force her down. 

She sunk to her knees, mewling obediently as he withdrew and thrust into her, plunging into her depths with his massive lupine shaft. His musk was overpowering now and the woman that Amaranth had been disappeared under the waves of his scent. The hot liquid tang of blood and saliva dribbled down her neck but she was too gone to care. She cried out a strangled whine but her breath wouldn't form. It was immediately swept up in the pressure of her Duke's jaws. She knew better than to cry now. 

All she could do was hold her breath as feral lust overcame her and her lord. His furry balls slammed into her lips with each deep thrust. Tip to base. Deep. Hard. Unforgiving. Unyielding. She couldn't breathe any more. She clawed the dirt under her as the world started to dim. She was only vaguely aware of the hot breath blasting her throat. It had gone ragged. 

Oh, but she was too far gone by now. Her heart hammered against her ribs, her pussy clenched tight around the massive intruder and electricity arced throughout her entire body. It started at her core and arced over every muscle in her body, up her spine, to whatever remained of her brain. She tried to throw her head back but it was useless. Richard's powerful lupine jaws held her pinned and he hadn't stopped pounding her. All she could do was take it; to yield to her lord's demand. 

Her vision was blurry but she remained keenly aware of the hot lance pounding her. Each thrust speared through her with new vigor and heat. Slamming. Swelling. He bucked. Shoved forward and in one smooth movement released her neck and grabbed her shoulders. His massive dick swelled and went incredibly stiff. It throbbed once. He growled in her ear that throaty satisfied growl that only she could give him. 

She couldn't respond and he didn't wait. He burred his massive lycan cock into her to the hilt, slamming into her cervix and pressing his little elf-knight into the dirt with a whimper. She had only a second to register the pain- and her ability to breathe again- before the base of his cock started to swell. The best part, the part that affirmed her status as his. He didn't hold back, he didn't try to be tactful and he did not try to pull out. He fucked his bitch. He pumped her even as he started to cum. The rush of hot blood swelling his knot lit a fire in Amaranth's body as it opened her up even more. She tried to cry out but fell silent when a hot, thick rope of steamy cum splattered into her depths, filling her immediately. It didn't stop, though. He throbbed and spurt into her again and again and again. Wave after wave of come and mutual orgasm wracked her small body. 

She balled up the dirt in her fingers as Richard pumped her furiously, harder, deeper, pouring more of his lurid seed into her. Into his woman. She felt his breath against her neck and in the next instant his chocolate furred muzzle pressed against her cheek. He saddled up against her with his inner thighs pressing to her flanks. He didn't stop pumping her, though. Even though he couldn't pull out, he kept riding her like his broodmare. With each thrust came another wave of orgasm and seed. He slumped forward with his chin on her shoulder breathing hot, ragged breaths and a deep, low growl that echoed in the tent and her ear. His large eyes turned to her and a smile tugged at the distorted features of her lover. 

Amaranth slowly began to recovered her senses and arched her back, trying to push up on all fours. She reached back with a trembling hand and grabbed a hand full of his hair, not trusting herself to speak as his massive load sloshed around in her body, trying to back out but caught by the plug of his knot She was full of his warm wetness and now completely unable to move. She remained there, pinned under her lord with only her ragged breath to keep her sane. If anyone was to pass by the tent right then, there was no question that the smell of Richard's musk would be unmistakable, the image of her on all fours holding this massive creature over her even more so. 

She chuffed a laugh. Let them find her. . . She was where she needed to be. 

Richard's massive knot deflated slowly as the fur on his body receded into natural flesh, hot with blood and lust. As the transition that changed man to werewolf was undone, his cock followed suit, shrinking back to its impressive, but distinctly human girth, a splash of mixed juices poured from Amaranth's gaping vagina into a pool under her quivering body. She sighed deeply as the pressure was relieved, slumping forward with her shoulders bowing slightly to accommodate the man on her back. She managed a weak laugh as the pain on the back of her neck became a real thing once more. 

"I love you. . ." The young noble moaned softly in her ear and kissed her. 

For the first time in a long time, Amaranth almost managed to return the sentiment. Still unable to trust her voice, however, she wrapped an arm around her stomach and slumped forward. 

They both had to know. . . 

# # # # 

Outside, a stones throw from the camp, a pack of werewolves circled the clearing in their natural forms, brown, dirt matted fur bristling in the muted light. The hunt had been long and arduous in the dense forest, but it was this moment that made it worth it; they circled around the camp, avoiding the attentive gaze of young, stupid human soldiers who thought their armor and weapons would actually hurt the furred predators. 

The lycans made another circle of the camp, the proud grey furred Alpha sniffed the air as though catching wind of something. He lead his pack to one of the smaller stand up tents on the eastern quarter of the circle, easily sliding from shadow to shadow until he had a line of sight to the contents of the tent. He carefully inched closer but stopped abruptly, seeming to catch a whiff of something that didn't agree with him. He backpedaled with his pack following behind like a kite tail. 

Something inside the tent had spooked them, distracted them from their hunt. An entire day's worth of travel avoiding the heavily armed soldiers was put to waste because of something inside that tent. A prey worthy of an apex predator, then. 

Even hundreds of feet away from the camp, beyond the lycans, Briee wondered if whatever was inside could somehow sense her presence. Not that she was afraid, but a good hunt could be ruined by the lowliest of prey and predator alike. She eyed the cautious werewolves for a moment and smiled behind her bandanna. This was a hunt worthy of a dragon, she decided and rose to her feet, stepping off into the gloom. Both groups would need their sleep if there was to be any kind of challenge.



Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 19



Author's Notes: 

Hey there! If this is your first time checking out the series, you shouldn't have any problem figuring out where things stand with this chapter/volume, but if you like what you read, please consider taking a look at the first chapter (also on this site and my account). 

This chapter was brought to you by the very generous donations and patronage of fans of the series who help me buy food and warm socks so I can write smut for you! 

These wonderful people are the reason you're reading this, so please give them a thanks! 


Tristan 


Alonsis 

Asmund Bell 

Apothecary29 

David A. 

Orodreth 

Drawkward 



***** 

Volume 3 Chapter 3 

3 – Let the Hunt Begin

Briee was quiet; careful. She stayed at a distance, yo-yoing between a hundred paces and almost triple that. The pounding rain that tore through the dense canopy of trees did a lot to mask her scent, it even helped with some of the noise as she stumbled through the thick brambles and gnarled roots of a forest still trying to claim whatever tiny slivers of untouched earth remained.

She was sure that the humans, slowed now by rain and the slurry of mud that had filled in the feeble 'road' parting the woods, would see her. But despite being in field plate and carrying her shield and sword, neither the humans or the lycan pack seem to pick up on her scent or the noise she made trudging through the mess of vegetation.

The hunt was always to one's preferred skill set. Her father's children lived and, occasionally, died by those restrictions innate to any pact. They were expected to carry out their hunts in a prescribed manner, as though they were some kind of mindless automaton. It was ridiculous, even to Briee. The heavy blade at her belt and years of heavy weight training had ensured she was ready for just about anything, but forsaking tactics and adapting? Was that truly the way of the dragon?

Briee watched over the rim of her red bandanna as the armored soldiers pulled their horses along the trail, trying to avoid the worst of the holes in the slick, muddy road where a rock had been washed away. The grey Alpha was trailing behind them in wolf form, ears perked forward and attentive despite his hair being matted down by constant rain and mud. His pack was only a few steps behind. They both had their own set of tactics, she imagined. Adaptable. Flexible.

They also had obliviousness on their side. No one noticed the short girl in plate armor taking a breather in the shade of the tree. It was insulting in some way, she had come to the Beson forest to hunt down the legendary Corengi pack, to take a trophy that would prove to her father that she was worthy of his blessings, but here she was trailing a bunch of whelps and their human counterparts. Barely worth her attention if not for the horses.

She missed meat. Real meat. Meat from the kind of animal she could give a running start to and actually relish the hunt. A dragon had to be patient, though. The year hadn't been in vain, she promised herself. She'd come a long way since her first night. She'd show her father that she wasn't 'too human' to contain the soul of a dragon.

There was a dozen ways this could go, she mused. Something had spooked the Alpha bad enough to keep him at a distance, perhaps the only thing that made this group of soldiers interesting at all. Maybe it was one of the Corengi mixed among the soldiers. . .

Yes! Why hadn't she thought of that sooner? They were notorious for taking human form among their intended victims and wreaking havoc among therm until the intended meal was so confused and frightened that defending themselves from the onslaught to come would be impossible.

Briee closed her eyes for a moment and breathed in the wet earth smell of the forest. She opened her eyes slowly, leering at the precession for what felt like an eternity. She'd prove to her father she was worthy of a pact. She'd catch this lycan and sacrifice him-- in her father's name.

Yes. Yes, she would be accepted. She would show him her true strength and she'd be rewarded for it. Briee swept her gaze over the line of soldiers and lycans once more, settling on one of the men near the back of the line. She mentally marked the first of many targets before the week was out.





Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 19



It was overwhelming. Black and horrible and just empty; a place where magic and life itself just didn't exist. Physically couldn't exist. What the hell was it? Amaranth gave Markus a look and nodded to the woods. "There."

"Go get Syches," he whispered.

Was he mad? "I can't leave you here-- you can't feel it like I do."

"You can't fight it like I can," he shot back.

"I'm not some weak--" she bit her tongue. This wasn't a damned show. "Come on, we'll both go. . ."

"You're kidding-- Look, just go get him." His smile was quick and reassuring but petulant all the same. They both knew he was right, he had more combat experience, but that didn't mean she was incapable. She couldn't loose face now, could she? Pride was one thing, but she had a child to think about now, too. Ammy grit her teeth and turned to collect the old bastard.

She jogged with lead-heavy feet, her heart punching its way into her throat with each breath; this could have been it, another chance to prove herself by putting steel to flesh. Maybe orcs- maybe lycans- maybe elves. Her mind reeled until she saddled up to the sergeant at arms. It took her a second to collect her voice. Gods, when had she gotten so out of shape? She used to be able to run for leagues. "Something's circling the camp."

"What? How do you know? What did you see?"

"Felt. There's something prowling out there--"

He scoffed. "Don't waste my time, girl. We have--"

"I have a sense beyond what you can comprehend. Bring a hand full of men, we're being probed." Ammy, having already heard enough of his bullshit jogged back to the other side of the camp with her sword drawn. Along the way she whispered for the men to go draw in around Richard's tent. Of course, they wouldn't, but if there was any chance, she had to try.

When she finally made it back to Markus with her breath short and ragged, she skittered to a stop, eyes darking back and forth. The sensation was gone. Not only was there no impending sense of doom, there was actually a remarkable sense of calm about the entire forest. Like it was holding its breath in preparation for something.

"Shit," she whispered.

"Well?" Markus eyed the darkness over the tip of his blade. "Where is it?"

"It's gone," Ammy took a step towards the ring of the forest. "It's not there."

Of course, it was at that moment that the sergeant of arms found them. He stepped right up beside the half-elven knight and surveyed the woods before speaking in a low voice. Clipped. Professional. "I see nothing, Dame. . ."

"It-- it's gone. It was here, but it's gone now. . . Maybe it heard us."

"Or maybe it wasn't anything at all. Maybe the woods are bringing out the fey in you--"

Markus shot him a look, "watch yourself." His voice was sharp, strong, angry even. Still caught in the heat from his sudden burst of anger, neither Ammy nor the sergeant had time to react as the man closed the distance, muttering in that same sharp tone. "I'm going to tell you this once and only once, she's a paladin. If she says she saw something, or felt something or whatever, she did. I've known her all my life and--"

"Stand down, knight-- you two," he said to his soldiers. "Scout the line, stay in sight." AS the soldiers started off to the woods he turned his attention to the knights. "What is it you felt, then? Hm? A dancing satyr frolicking around? Or, maybe, just maybe, you saw yourself a hunter like the black arrow clan. I bet it was the light they saw," he moved to reach for her pauldron and she juked to the side. "You don't belong out here, girl, you're going t'get someone killed."

Markus started only to trail off when Amaranth positioned herself between them.

"I know what I felt. It was-- . . . it was an absence of something. A hole in reality or something. We just need to be careful and--"

"My men will handle it. Go look after the Duke. At least that you should be able to handle."

"Has anyone ever told you that your attitude is about as pleasant as a badger tumbling down hill?" Amaranth glanced to the edge of the clearing once more, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever was out there.

"We'll handle it. You two have absolutely no idea what you're doing when it comes to real combat. You're barely done suckling off your mother's--"

"I'll go look for it, I can find it. I can sense it, Markus can track it."

"You'll get killed, not that I'd mind, but we have a trip to make and I've got people to look after. You're not dragging us all down with you--"

Amaranth, unable to refuse the challenge, piped up. "What's going to happen--" her voice died with the sharp stinging kiss of leather as the sergeant slapped her.

She didn't hesitate.

She attacked him. A heavy blow to his chest plate sent spears of pain up her arm and set herself up for a perfect follow through which he was happy to deliver. His wide fist crashed into her right eye socket like a hammer. The pain was joined quickly by absent shouting of men. Closer and closer.

The sergeant juked to the side and moved to grab her by the braid, trying to manuver his arm around her throat. Markus was behind her in an instant, though. He blocked the old bastard's attempt to get her in a bar, nailing him in the ribs with a knee and sending them both sprawling to the ground.

On the list of ways to handle a situation this definitely wasn't high on it, but it was too late for any of them; Ammy wasn't about to give up face when she was in the proverbial dirt and neither was he apparently. They tousled left and right trying to gain leverage on one another, she managed to get her weight situated to straddle him but the old man was slippery even in full plate and she soon found herself slamming into the dirt on her side.

There was no way she was going to let this happen. She couldn't. She'd fought too damn hard to earn her place and she wasn't about to let him take it-- Amaranth gritted her teeth and pivoted, pushing her weight to the side and outstretching one plate clad leg, nearly pulling full splits to leverage her weight from under him. She shoved off, hooked her leg around his upper body and arched backward in her armor, forcing his neck into a clamp between her thigh and calf. In the muted light she could see the surprise in his eyes. "Tap out!" She ordered.

Then it all went to hell when she heard Richard's thunderous voice split the cat calls and murmurs of the men who'd gathered around to watch the spectacle. "What the hell do you two think you're doing?"

Still locked in against one another, neither one of them turned their attention to their ruler, intently focused on one another. "Tap out," Amaranth growled softly. "You were defeated by your better. Admit it."

Richard parted his soldiers easily. As his would-be defenders continued their altercation he closed the distance and, without even a shred of effort, grabbed Amaranth's leg and pried it from around the sergeant's neck, forcing her leg back almost to the point where she was about to do the splits. She tried to slip out from under the heavy man but it was no use and he soon landed another blow to her face, this one much closer to her slender nose.

Her head slammed into the mud sending a blur of stars across her vision. In the next moment, though, the weight on her chest lifted and Richard booted him off of her. She stared up at the sky for a moment before Richard let her go, his gaze squarely on her face as he addressed them all. "We're in hostile territory and I find my two brightest playing around in the dirt like weasels? What would my father have said?" He let go of Amaranth.

"But--" Marcus started.

"You. Marcus. . . You, I expected more of, too. We're more than half way there, you can keep it together until then, can't you?"

Silence.

"Can't you?"

"Yes my lord. . ." Syches was the first one to speak, followed by Markus's quiet affirmation. When his gaze settled on Amaranth there was a flicker of irritation that stung more than her swollen left eye. 

He simply shook his head and turned to his tent. "Get some sleep. Take a fifty security rotation tonight. . . Markus, Amaranth. You two get some rest, too, I'll take your shifts."

"M- My lord, no."

"Don't argue with me," he looked back as he took a blade from the dining table. "It's clear I've been imposing more than my share. So, starting tonight, I'll take watch every third day. You two go get some sleep. . . Sergeant, you too."

"My lord-"

"Don't," he said as he held up his hand. "I'll not have those under me think me a tyrant or a coward. All of you not on watch, get some rest. We'll move out in the morning." With that, the young man wandered off to patrol, much to the chagrin of the soldiers. They weren't so chagrined, though, that they couldn't spend the time to help their leader up.

Markus helped her up while keeping an eye on the sergeant at arms, neither of them broke eye contact but Amaranth edged around to her tent, too tired and irritated to deal with the fallout of what had happened. She might have lost respect in the eyes of the men, maybe even Markus, but she couldn't just let that go unchallenged, could she?

As she slipped into her tent quietly, mildly surprised to hear Markus rustle in behind her a moment later. She furrowed her brow, half between telling him to leave and thankful that he was there. She decided it would be better if he was there and poked her head out to see if anyone had seen him. Richard was looking at her from near the food table.

His eyes flashed a soft orange when the light caught them. He turned away with his sword set on his shoulder lazily. . . What was that look he'd given her, though? There had to have been something to it, but something she couldn't discern. Something. . . Did he know about she and Markus?

She sighed. "Whatever. . ." The throbbing in her skull and eye socket gave her plenty of other things to worry about, she could mend things with him later when it was more appropriate or. . . Or she could-- She sighed again. She still needed to figure out who's child it was, either one of them could have been the father, after all.

Markus stepped up behind her and gave her a gentle hug. "C'mon, let's get that can off and get you cleaned up."

"N- No. I'll. . . I'll take care of it."

"Huh? Ammy, come on, I can--"

"It's fine. . . It's fine. I just need a bit to get my armor off and cleaned up." Markus frowned a little at her, but she slipped off to grab her basin and a towel, muttering to herself.

"I'll just go back to my tent, then--"

"No!" Amaranth cleared the distance between them, clutching his arm. "No. . . Please, I'm sorry, I'm just... Wound up."

"Heh. Yeah, look at you." He cupped her chin gently. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up."

For the first time in a long time, Amaranth felt the knot between her shoulders ease slightly. She wanted to believe in his acceptance, so much so that she touched his hand with a sad smile. Could he possibly deal with the idea of being a father? Might... possibly.. . Gods it was enough to drive someone to drink.

In lieu of a stiff drink, she wrapped her arms around the human man and sighed into his shoulder. "I love you."

"I love you too, Ammy. . ." He held her close. "I always will."

I hope so. . . gods do I hope so.





Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 20



Author's Notes: 

Hey there! If this is your first time checking out the series, you shouldn't have any problem figuring out where things stand with this chapter/volume, but if you like what you read, please consider taking a look at the first chapter (also on this site and my account). 

This chapter was brought to you by the very generous donations and patronage of fans of the series who help me buy food and warm socks so I can write smut for you! 

These wonderful people are the reason you're reading this, so please give them a thanks! 

Alonsis 
Asmund Bell 
Apothecary29 
David A. 

Drawkward 

Orodreth 
Tristan

***** 

Volume 3 Chapter 4: Hang Ups

The bloody mess of gristle and bone fragments that used to be sergeant Syches had been stuffed into a vaguely human shaped burlap sack and bound tightly between two trees, spread eagle. Gashes torn into the sack wept bloody tears into the early morning dew, pooling into the viscera below-- claw marks had rent the muddy ground around it. Animal claws. Big ones. A wolf of some kind.

Amaranth's heart fell into her stomach. The grizzly scene burned itself into the part of her mind where images went to become permanent parts of her soul and in a flash had become the only thing she could see when her eyes closed for even a split second. There was so much blood. . . Humans really didn't have that much in them, did they?

"I told you!" The soldier was saying. "I told you, it's not natural!"

"Who else knows about this? Who found him and when?" Markus fired off the questions in rapid succession as he edged toward the rim of the clearing, eyes keenly focused on the woods. 

The soldier eyed the mess that had been his leader, picking quietly at his leathers, perhaps not entirely sure what to think or even who to trust with what he knew. Was he that daft? "I just found him a second ago, came to your tent straight away but you weren't there. I--. . . I was gonna go to the Duke's, but I thought only right I check the other tent." He fidgeted slightly when Amaranth turned her gaze to him.

Markus glanced back to the camp, no doubt wondering the same thing Ammy was; half a dozen soldiers were already awake, only one had seen his sergeant in such a manner, but there was no doubt that as soon as more of them awoke there would be questions. Questions they needed answers for. Immediately.

Amaranth became acutely aware of how vulnerable she was in that moment; standing in little more than her boots and arming leathers along with her cotton pants. If whatever did this came along, there would be no chance she'd be able to fight back. She took a deep breath, cleared her mind and tried to reach for her focus.

She was a paladin sworn to protect her Duke and he was in danger, she needed information. She needed to focus. . . She had training for investigations, even if it was minor-- yes, deep breath. Think back on it. . . What do you have to do first?

Secure the scene.

"Markus, stand back." Amaranth stepped up near the mess. "W- Where was his head found?"

"Uh-- stone's throw from. . . From this, m'lady." The soldier glanced at Markus who returned his bemused expression.

"Okay," Amaranth edged around the carnage with a wary eye cast towards the woods. There were no drag marks in the dirt but she did find a fresh blood painting one of the nearby trees. Then there was the rope; sinewy, braided, hemp maybe. The kind of rope they used for tie downs and for hoisting tents, definitely military quality-- Amaranth squinted at one of the knots that held the Sergeant's leg. A hunter's knot. . . "Well, shit."

Makrus stepped up beside her, easing into her personal space. "What's wrong?"

"Look at this knot," when he leaned over to examine it, she added in a near silent whisper. "Don't say anything out loud." For the ten seconds it took him to work out what kind of knot it was, Ammy busied herself checking the other knots. The two knights shared a knowing look without a word passing between them.

Finally, Markus produced his dagger and began cutting the corpse down. When Ammy started to say something, he looked at her. "We don't need the men seeing this, I'll take care of this. . . Check on his lordship, I didn't see him around."

The soldier glanced at her, still holding the head as though it were a holy artifact, he didn't dare disrespect the man's memory by throwing it on the ground, but holding it was awkward and he was somehow unworthy. She knew the look, though, the look of a man who expected a woman to do what was expected of her.

Amaranth disregarded the notion and padded over to Richard's tent, surprised to find him in the center of his living area sipping tea from a glass cup. She nearly stumbled when she saw his half-lupine eyes flick up to her. The orange tint around the edge of his cornea flared to wash out the whites, leaving him looking feral as he stared down his nose at her. They were sharp and keenly focused; wolf on prey

Just like that, though, the primal fury was gone and he exhaled a low rumbling sigh. He didn't speak, though. That warm, inviting vigor that she'd fell in love with was a mere shade of what it had once been. He didn't even speak when she stepped in, how unusual.

"My lord?" 

He shook his head, clutching the little glass cup. "I truly hate this place," he rasped.

"What's wrong?"

"The call. . . It's the forest, it calls to us."

Amaranth kept an arm's length distance, just in case. "I-- ah, how was last night?" Her voice wavered a little as he eyed her. Her self preservation instincts prickled slightly, reminding her that Duke or not, lover or not, she had a job to do. She needed to know the truth, though; she had to be sure. "Did it call to you last night?"

He took a sip of his tea and with half lidded eyes, he murmured "I controlled it. . . I was going to wake you, but. . ." Richard's expression fell a little. A roiling growl filled his throat, replacing his normally calm voice. Slowly, as if each word was taking everything he had, her lord, her lover and her friend set his cup down and spread his hands. His voice was slightly raspy and distant. "I knew the two of you were--"

"Richard, we have--"

"Stop!" he snarled, teeth borne. Amaranth drew back with a sharp intake. "I'm. . . Not myself. . ." His right eye twitched. "Does he know? About us?"

"My lord. We need you. The sergeant was killed, I think by lycans."

The sobering effect of her words struck a chord, snapping him out of his fugue. "How bad?"

"He's dead, Richard. T- there's pieces of hi--" Ammy stopped herself. "Richard. . . What happened last night?"

"What--"

"With watch. W- I can't think of any easy way to ask this. . ."

"Since when," he paused for a second. "has that been a problem for you?"

Amaranth's soft amber eyes settled on the young man and she did her best to keep the sound of confidence firm in her throat. She had knew she had no right to come out with her accusation, but she could test the waters, get a sense of how he'd react. Then she could take it from there. Yes, that sounded like the wisest course of action. "Do you remember when your father used to take us hunting?" 

Richard's voice cracked, his hands clenching in his lap. His eyes flicked down then up to her. He wasn't the same man she knew. "Hunting. . . Yes. I do."

"He told us never to come out this far. . . Remember?"

"I. . . Yes." He brought his hands to either side of his head. "Yes, that's right. Heart of the forest. . ."

"That's right, heart of the forest brings you closer to your nature. But that also means we're on our way out, yes? How bad is it. . .? Are you missing any time?"

"Time? Time, yes. A bit." He let out a slow sigh. "Yes, watch last night. . . I was on watch."

"Was there anything else? D- did you. . ." She stole a glance at his fingernails. They looked clean. "What happened, what's the last thing you remember?"

"Ammy. . ." 

"Humor me?"

"I'm in control. I always have been. . . Born this way, remember?" The man smiled a little uneasily as if he didn't believe his own platitude. "It's just the woods, the spirit of the forest. Whatever you call it."

"Richard-- My lord-- please, focus. The sergeant at arms, your military advisor is dead! Do you remember anything? Did you see or hear anything last night on watch? There were claw marks in the dirt around his body and your father's kno--" Amaranth bit her tongue, hard. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

At once Richard was on his feet in front of her, nose to hot, humid nose. He towered over her, filling her nose with the hot primal scent of his mixed heritage. He bore down on her. He shoved her harshly with hands maligned by a coat of fur, claws grazed her leathers as he took her shoulders. "You imply too much," he snarled.

Not quite on the edge of his transformation, edging dangerously close to it, he held her firm. Hands clamped down on her shoulders, he broke into her personal space breathing in and out sharply. His breath was hot, musty, the smell of meat. Ammy gritted her teeth. "I'm sorry."

He flashed a look of confusion as his teeth started to elongate into sharp daggers.

Amaranth punched him in the nose-turning-snout. He buckled backwards grabbing his face and growling deeply. She didn't give up her initiative, she lunged forward and grabbed his arm and hooked it around his neck, kneeling into the crook of his leg to force him to his knees. "I need you, Richard. We all need you. . ."

For his part in it, the lycan man grabbed at his tunic and forced himself to draw in deep breaths with the small knight using his weight against him. She drank in his scent unconsciously, suddenly aware of just how much she held over him. How much he belonged to her-- the secrets she kept and the things they had done ensured it. She was his protector, his lover.

She tightened her grip on his neck. Who the fuck was he to endanger everything they'd shared? No one was going to hurt him and if he had killed that man, he'd made her job harder. How could he do that to her? "Don't you love me?"

"I do," he growled. "It's--" Next thing she knew she was being pulled off her feet. He flung her over his shoulder and slammed into the tent floor with a thump. He was staring down at her with his hands on her shoulder. Breathing in short sips, he whispered. "It's because I love you that I'm not going to let you hurt me."

"Bu-" Ammy huffed, trying to collect her voice. "Did you kill him?"

"Why would I do that? He was my father's right hand!"

"Then we have serious problems!"

Richard eased back to sit on his haunches like a squatting wolf. If his ears were poking out, they would have been perked forward. He didn't ask for an explanation; he didn't have to.

"Wolves. . . He was torn apart by wolves, but someone hung him out there, hung him using your father's knots--"

"It's an intimidation move," he supplied with a glance to the tent's entry. There was a small trickle of blood dribbling from his nose but he didn't seem to notice. "He was being displayed to intimidate us."

Amaranth righted herself so she could meet his gaze, surprised to find his expression calm and calculated; this was the ruler and leader she'd chosen to protect. This was the man she loved. The shake in his offered hand, though, said he was struggling to keep himself under control, even she could feel a twinge of something in the back of her mind, something trying to pull on her. Something that wanted her to attack him. He was defying her duty to him. He had to be punished!

With a deep breath, Richard rose to stand over her and in that smooth movement she became acutely aware of how easy it would be for him to crush her. Instead, he offered his hand again. "Come on, let's take a look."

"Right. . ."

Back outside it became readily apparent that the other soldiers who'd been on patrol had found out about the body. They had encircled Marcus, careful to keep out of striking range but the tension between the dozen or so men and the knight was a palpable thing. All the while the young knight stood protectively over the body. In the early morning fog he looked like a monument to fallen soldiers.

Amaranth took the nearest man's shoulder as she approached, "Disperse! All of you!"

For just a split second the soldier looked about ready to strike her. It faded when Richard stepped past her into the circle, kneeling to examine the corpse and the head that had since been rejoined with its body. He laid his hand upon the sack with a couple of quickened breaths, then looked to the forest beyond.

The soldier Ammy had been holding shrugged her off and turned to the camp, disregarding the scene entirely. A hushed murmur rippled through the crowd, several of the solders' gazes turned to the half-elf, accusatory, demanding. Apparently they'd reached a conclusion of some sort on her involvement in their leader's death.

Under the scrutinizing gaze she saw a flicker of hatred; anger. The same anger that boiled in the back of her mind. How dare they even think to impugn her honor with their accusations? Her, a noble, made to kneel prostrate before these common filth? Unthinkable! Then one of them looked to Richard, to Marcus.

She surged forward to grab the soldier. Marcus was in her face before she'd gotten three steps.

"Calm down," he whispered harshly. "We're being watched."

Amaranth blinked. "What?"

"The Duke. Something in the woods watching us. . ."

She drew in a long, slow breath and closed her eyes, searching for her center and imagining a pillar of warm light in the base of her spine, wrapping herself around it like a lover. Clinging. Knowing that her goddess would protect her, guide her. She needed to quiet her anger and listen.

Just. Listen.

Marcus laid his hand on her shoulder lightly, sighing across the tip of her pointed ear. "Ammy, we're going to be leaving. Get yourself ready."

"But what about Syches?"

"The forest'll reclaim him, right now we need to move. . ."

"W-" Amaranth looked up to him, ignoring Richard's glance. "What? What about his family? They deserve--"

It was Richard who spoke, strong and resolute even amongst the fear and anger roiling through the men. "Get yourselves prepared, we leave in an hour." A murmur of descent rippled through the ranks who, seemingly unwilling to move, lingered in the shadow of their fallen leader. Richard turned to them expectantly. "Now!"

Amaranth wasn't the only one to be startled by the Duke's outburst. He never raised his voice.





Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 20



Between them, nursing from her milk-heavy breasts were a hand full of pups who's small size belied the rippling strength of muscles no human baby should have had. The woman was either too weighed down or too weak to move, she didn't rise to defend herself when Briee crouched down at the edge of her burrow.

The rest of the chamber was empty save for smatterings of crude bone jewelery, grass mats and leather clothing. There were no dividers like her father's cave had and only one sleeping area, a bowl in the middle of the rock that had been hollowed out to accommodate the entire pack no doubt.

The mother looked at Briee tiredly, panting. Her eyes flashed in anger.

The anger became fear as the real hunter drew her blade and rested it across her knees. She flashed a smile. "Seems like a spot of bad luck," Briee spoke carefully to ensure her western accent didn't cloud her words' meaning. "who is your patron?"

"Not for you to know, human." The lycan huffed as her gaze bored down against the small intruder. If there was any chance that she was going to attack, she was running out of time-- whether Briee's patience gave out or exhaustion took her, the lycan was dead. Not before she watched what happened when another dragon dared to sew its seed where Briee roamed.

Briee smiled slightly at the thought. "We have a lot in common, you know. We don't even need to fight. Who knows. . ." She drew the thought out, furrowing a row of dirt along the wall with her plated glove as she started a slow, lazy circle. The lycan tracked her with a vicious gaze. "Never given birth myself, but I heard one of my sisters go through it. Sounded like hell and we're trained to ignore pain." Her gaze flit to the babes suckling on their mother. "Grey hair-- that must make you the Alpha mate, hm?"

The creature bared her teeth, a carnal growl roiling in her throat and echoing throughout the chamber. To Briee's surprise, she actually started to rise, pushing her new cubs aside. "I'll rend your soul."

"Funny. . ." Briee hefted her shield into position. "You're going to be the second person to tell me that before--" a flash of something bristled her extra senses. Cold. Focus Intent. Murder. Briee ducked down behind her shield. 

None too soon.

The arctic chill slammed into her with enough force to push her back several inches, the resounding crack of her shield's high strength alloy being split echoed through the cave along with the hapless whimpers of the cubs and the clattering of Briee's armor as she tried to keep from falling over. Her greaves clattered against the dirt floor of the cave as she pushed up into a run. There was no way she was going to play second to a caster, she was too strong. Too powerful in her own right and too damned good to cower. "Is that all you've got?!"

The lycan woman was already focusing her will into another spell by the time Briee had halved the distance between them. Even with the spear of ice sticking out of her shield, the young warrior was quick. She'd be on top of the lycan in a second. The mother couldn't move and leave her pups defenseless, but she didn't try too, either. That should've been Briee's first warning.

A sheet of ice bloomed into existence in the space between them at the same time the ground heaved upward and bowled Briee over. The pool of solid ice formed crystalline lances which closed down against her like a cage and pinned her arm under her shield. The metal was bowing inward against the heavy wood backing as the fingers of ice tried to close in and crush Briee. She snarled against the pain. "I love penetration!" She grit her teeth in a rancid smile when she shoved off with one foot to leverage her body against the straps. She wiggled her arm in a vain attempt to loosen it. "But you're not my type!"

A sharp hiss issued from the lycan's throat. Another blast of focused intent rippled through the air-- Briee was just that tiny bit quicker, though. She flung her blade at the woman. In one smooth motion the lycan dodged to the side, scooped up one of her pups and whirled with her fingers outstretched.

Briee was already free from the pressure of the cage, though. She threw her weight back against the ice spears shattering them as she tucked into a backward roll just in time to dodge a blast of electrical energy. Briee caught a glimpse of the ice, noting it had liquefied. The Alpha was smart-- she'd been going to use her opponent's armor and the water against her to ensure a kill.

That elicited a smile from her. Credit where it was due, it'd been a while since she'd had a challenge. "Ice and electricity? I bet you're a hit at parties!" She scrabbled behind the earthen scar, reaching for her punch dagger. "Too bad you forgot to mind your third pup!"

Imagining a pause is one thing, causing it was something different. When Briee exploded from behind cover the Lycan was waiting. A lance of pure green energy was already sailing through the air towards her. Briee smiled behind her bandanna as she dropped into a slide, crashing into the woman and her pups. They slammed full force into her plated chest, claws already fully extended and reaching for Briee's face.

The young dragon-born let out a sharp laugh as the first razor touch kissed her forehead. She bucked, kneed the woman in the side and wrapped one hand around her throat. The lycan grabbed Briee's hand before she could work up a punch-- 

Brilliant pain exploded over her vision, entire fields of pain bloomed over her arm from her hand to her shoulder and in another second she could feel the rub of her leathers against her skin and the skin moving under it. Opening up. Her entire nervous system sang with pain, vibrating through her core like a trailing note on a harp. She ground her teeth so hard she was sure they were going to crack. "Che- eap!"

The lycan snarled, tossed her pup to the side and grabbed for Briee's bandanna. Briee wasn't about to be shown up, though. Not like this. She was sure as hell not about to die like this. This furry bitch had no idea who she was messing with; oh, but she'd learn. With a pained groan of her own she grabbed the woman's forearm and yanked her down, head butted her in the snout.

A howl of pain. Blood sprayed Briee's eyes. Briee planted a foot under her self, shoved off and rolled over-- straddling the inhuman woman, she didn't hesitate to punch her again. And again. The woman tried to grab her face or something but with the armored weight atop her, she couldn't get her hands up.

"That," Briee huffed. "Was uncalled for." She was almost positive this creature didn't have the same pain management training she'd endured, so when she delivered another hammer blow on her snout, Briee was confident she wouldn't be casting any more spells. "Now. . ." Briee rolled off of her and stood up on wobbly knees. She grabbed the woman by the scruff of her neck, booted her face into the dirt and, with an arm full of liquid pain, she slammed her punch dagger between the lycan's vertebrae. The blow was precise, right where it needed to be to paralyze her.

The woman cried and went slack, whimpering loud, short sobs that tore through the air like little knives. Briee flopped her over on her back and went to recover her sword. When she came back, the pups had gathered around their prostrate mother, whimpering and mewling blindly. Briee looked to them dispassionately as she removed her gauntlet. As expected, her entire arm was sheathed in open sores and blisters that had already healed, sealing cords of angry red muscle to the skin. She flexed and the muscle strained, tore from the skin and bled.

Briee looked down at her conquest. "You're fucked up, has anyone ever told you that?" She held her hand over the gaping maw of the fallen creature with a dark smile, letting her blood trickle down her hand and into the lycan's mouth. "You don't use your patron's powers against another person who has a draconic pact--"

"You--" she mewled. "You have nothing!"

"Well, you're right about that. . ." Briee pulled her gauntlet back on. With some effort, she pulled her flask from her belt and slid her bandanna up enough to sip. The cooling water was a kiss of heaven. "But neither do you, do you?"

"I'll--"

"You're not going to do anything. In fact, how quickly you die is going to be determined by your answers to a couple of very simple questions." Her pups were mewling louder now. Briee looked at them and then to her captive. The look in the woman's eyes told her all she needed to know. "Where's the other dragon?"

"You die here, foreigner!"

Briee casually knelt down beside her and pulled one of the pups to its mom's teat. Her fingers stroked back through the little wolf's half formed fur as she slowly, deliberately, closed her eyes and savored the scents of the den. Simultaneously centering herself, her strokes became slower and wider as her hand opened around the young lycan. "So where's this dragon, sorceress?"

"We'll kill you. . . Then we'll--" She stopped when Briee wrapped her forefinger and thumb around the pup's neck. "Don't you dare. The wild decides his fate!"

She laughed sharply. "Like they decide yours? You sold your soul to a dragon, silly bitch. Does the rest of your pack even know that you turned your back on the gods? Hm?" Briee stroked the pup's fur. "I'll ask you again. . . Where is it?"

The venom in the woman's stare was palpable, acidic even. Stripped of her power and even her control over her body, she only had anger to give her solace. She hadn't lost anything, though. Not yet.

She didn't know what real fear was.

Briee casually undid her bandanna and smiled at the woman, taking a moment for her visage to sink in. When she spoke again, her voice was icier than anything the woman could've used against her. "You don't have to fear death-- Take it from someone who's been there, it's not that bad. . . The only question is who goes before you do. See? It's not so bad when you die alone." She planted her knee into the woman's stomach. The werewolf didn't even flinch. Not until Briee touched their lips together and whispered, "Your pack is dead, but I might spare them if you tell me why this human they're hunting is so special."

To her credit, she tried to snap at Briee. At least the fight hadn't left her yet.

"All right, then. . ." Briee drew back and carefully plucked the young lycan from her teat. Her hands wrapped around the creature and she looked at the woman. "I have half a dozen chances to ask the same question-- more if I start getting creative. Spare me the bravado--"

"I'll--"

"Wrong answer." Briee twisted his head around until it face the opposite direction. She ignored the scream of anguish and rage as she tossed the limp corpse to the side, scooped up another one and brought it to the woman's teat. "There you go."

As the woman snarled and snapped, Briee leaned back on her haunches, looking around. Deciding there was nothing of interest, she settled her icy blue gaze on the woman. "Why is your pack interested in the humans that're coming through the forest?"

"I--"

"Ah, ah," Briee waged her finger. "Think carefully about this. . ."

The woman cranked her neck one way and the other as if trying to get her body to respond to signals it was no longer receiving. Finally and with a very low rumbling sigh, she looked up to the armored woman and spat out, "he's the son of the lost! Lost's son! We kill him and become the new pack-- we'll rule these lands!"

"Uh. . . huh." Briee sighed. "That's incredibly boring." She stood up. "So what about the dragon? Who signed your pact?"

"I can't!"

"You'd better. Where can I find it?"

"No! I can't! The pact is a bond, if I betray it, my soul will be forfeit! I'll never ascend and--" Briee stepped on her throat.

"I know that. But that's not my problem. . ." She bent at the waist to pick up the pup suckling. It mewled weakly in her cold grip. "Is your soul worth the lives of your offspring, though?"





Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 21



Hey there! If this is your first time checking out the series, you shouldn't have any problem figuring out where things stand with this chapter/volume, but if you like what you read, please consider taking a look at the first chapter! 

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Chapter 6: No Time for Goodbye 

Morning came and went like most mornings in an armed camp; tents were broken down, the string of protective wards were re-bundled and weapons were sharpened while those who'd completed their assigned tasks took care of basic hygiene. For the wounded, it was having their bandages checked and redressed as needed, insisting they could help even though half an arm was missing. 

It wasn't the buzz of early morning activity one saw in a city, but to Amaranth, it was energizing- they'd be out of the forest in a couple of days, back where she was ironically more comfortable. Perhaps it was the feeling that her station in life actually held some weight, where as in the woods, it was only the strong who held reign. 

She frowned at that thought as she finished cleaning herself, combing her unruly hair back with her fingers in preparation for the day. The entire forest had gone eerily quiet before sunrise, save the steady click-clatter of branches overhead rustling in the wind. The distant, pervasive drone of insects carried on the wind like an echo from beyond the Pale, a faint memory from another time and yet... 

Ammy looked around. 

There was nothing around them but woods and the suffocating press of plants trying to reclaim the land the puny mortals trod. The young paladin braced her hand against a tree, closing her amber eyes and opening her senses. The power flowed through her from the base of her spine up her entire back, coating her skin in the tingle of divine power. 

It was a truism of any magically active creature that they could taste or smell the magic of other creatures, even unconsciously and that magic itself had a very specific- and often consuming- presence in the world. Like the background noise of a busy city which could be filtered out given enough time and practice. Paladins were probably the least magically active, yet even they could feel the pulse of the world's natural energies. 

But there was nothing... It was wasn't the void that the woman in brown armor had left, it was a different kind of absence- as though the power from the world had been drained away. It was quiet, peaceful in fact, yet at the same time it was like looking at a painting devoid of colors; something was just off about it. Why hadn't she noticed last night? 

Amaranth slowly opened her eyes to survey the woods around her for any movement. When nothing immediately noticeable struck her, she turned back to the camp. They were almost done, she promised herself. They'd get out of here and then they could take care of the things they needed to. Richard smiled when he caught sight of her. 

They had a future to look forward to, after all. 

After getting the wounded loaded on to the horses, Ammy stole a final glance back to the clearing. Still as empty as the magical aura. What wasn't empty- and what she wouldn't have expected in a hundred years, however- was the road they'd stopped beside. 

Heads. Six of them. Neatly mounted on wood stakes in a phalanx watching the small party with empty eye sockets. Two of them were obviously lycan- long snouts and ears protruding between blood matted tufts of hair and fur- but the others looked mostly human. That was, until Markus approached and cautiously lifted the lip of one of them. The dagger like canines were a give away. 

Amaranth and the soldiers paused, unsure of what to make of it, but instinctively scanning the woods around them- suddenly aware of how exposed they were. 

Richard stepped toward the display, shoulders slumped. "This was the man I spoke to..." He looked to Markus, "This was his pack. It must mean there's a group of hunters out here." 

Markus knelt down looking up at the heads. After a few seconds he shook his head and stood. "No, it was one person." 

"What?" Ammy startled. One of the soldiers echoed her question and Markus pointed at the neck stump of one of the heads. "What about it?" 

"They used a crisscross pattern-" he hefted one of the stakes out of the ground with some effort, turning it so they could see the back of the head. Half of the neck was still visible, the spine sheared on either side to form a neat V at the end of it. "Look... You need a heavy blade to do this kind of damage and a hell of a lot of control. All of them are the same way, too." 

"Couldn't they have been killed first?" One of the soldiers asked. 

"No," Richard looked back. "You have to remove the head, otherwise they regenerate." 

"Good gods spare us..." 

They all shared a look which needed no translating; before anything could be said, Richard made a hand gesture for running and they turned to the trail, picking up a steady jog. Markus started them on a steady pace the other soldiers could easily match and they could all carry for a few leagues at least. Amaranth took the rear, a soldier and Richard on the left flank and two soldiers on the opposite flank with the wounded in between them. 

Jogging was easy once it was put out of the mind. Just one foot fall after another. None the less, Amaranth's mind wandered frequently to what kind of person could have killed six werewolves and, more importantly, whether or not they were a threat to Richard and Markus. The city could survive without either of its knights, but if Richard was to be hurt or killed, that would be the end of everything they'd spent a generation building up. 

"Ngh, shut up." She whispered. The compulsion to serve was powerful and her mind found no end of disastrous scenarios should she fail to uphold her obligations as both a knight and a paladin; more important than any of those, however, she couldn't let them go. No, they were her family. They were the other parts that made her whole. 

She wouldn't lose them. No matter what happened, she couldn't lose them. 

The entire troop plodded along at a jog through the muddy underbrush, managing a good clip. They shared a water skin without even breaking stride and for a while it actually looked as though they'd make it all the way out at this rate. If not for the frailties of mortality, maybe they would have; eventually they came to a stop, panting under overheated armor with sweat pouring from their hot skin. 

They plodded on for a few hundred feet of walking, then another brief jog. They fell into this pattern until even Markus had exhausted himself and the entire group slowed to a shuffling gait. 

It was the perfect time for someone to attack, they all knew it. 

Not one to waste an opportunity, it seemed, they were obliged by fate- Amaranth felt the void-like presence a second before a familiar dark blur burst from the woods in front of them. Amaranth had just started to turn forward from looking over her shoulder when she saw the motion sweep her periphery. 

A glint of steel- a horse neighed, a man screamed, crimson arced through the air in a vicious spray. By the time she'd turned her head completely, already surging forward to protect the soldier who was still alive, the sword had cut through horse and man alike. The horse was falling, taking with it the wounded men atop it's back. An arm was in free fall from its former owner. Brown and gold trimmed platemail glinted- dark, diseased armor clad around a short woman. 

The intricate lines of her armor were coated in gold accents and blood, heavy field plate meant for war- the kind of armor you were cut out of or buried in. She was stocky, maybe up to Ammy's chest, hiding everything below her eyes behind a gold bandanna with a snarling dragon's maw embroidered in silver thread. 

Those eyes, though, were the eyes of a true power- a light shade of purple that were pale and distant even as she finished her swing. They were the eyes of a soldier and a killer in that order. Amaranth had only a second to respond, but she knew the likelihood of her getting in a blow were almost none. 

The woman glanced up when she saw Ammy approaching, they locked eyes and the corners of her exposed cheeks crinkled up as though she was smiling. Amaranth closed the distance, throwing her foot forward to kick the woman in the knee. 

Steel clattered as the purple eyed soldier moved, a horrible screeching sound like barbed metal raking across itself. The short woman pivoted with the blow, moving back so Ammy's momentum carried her forward- it pinned the heavy sword between them but she had her free hand up so fast, Ammy didn't even see it coming. 

In the next instant she punched Amaranth in the face hard enough she could feel her left eye socket crack before she slammed into the mud, sliding into the narrow ditch alongside the road. The air was ripped from her lungs as her vision went blurry and the world tilted sideways. The purple eyed woman didn't even break stride as she slammed her shoulder into the chest of the nearest soldier, recovering her massive sword in her off hand and running the man clean through. His plated lamellar armor didn't slow her blade in the least. 

Markus and Richard were approaching from opposite sides the fallen horse to pin her in, but with the weight of the man on top of her blade, her reaction was slow. She turned around with the soldier still impaled, trying to strike Richard's knee- to buy those precious seconds to get her blade loose- oh, but she didn't know who she was dealing with. 

The lycan Duke didn't flinch at the heavy blow, instead surging forward. His hands were already half transforming into claws reaching for her throat. What happened next was nothing short of miraculous- in all the wrong ways. 

Without waiting for him to reach her, the soldier dropped the body and grabbed Richard's arms, stopping his momentum cold even as he foot dug into the soft mud. Then she yanked him forward, cracked him in the mouth with her forehead and- with him still off balance from the blow, threw him into the ditch beside Ammy like a rag doll. 

For the first time in a long time, a surge of panic ripped through Amaranth, in spite of the pain lancing through her skull she managed to right herself and draw her blade. Richard's teeth were broken in and his face bloodied, his nose pressed in at an off angle, already healing despite what had to have been considerable broken bones. 

Who the fuck was this woman? 

Markus was half stumbling over the sprawled wounded and the freshly maimed, blade raised to punch through her back. He had his hand braced on the pommel for that extra bit of force. All he needed was help to ensure it struck home. Ammy grabbed up a glob of mud and winged it at the woman. "Hey!" 

Purple eyes turned to her. An insect among wolves. Then went wide as Markus's blade punched into her armor like an awl. She recovered herself quickly, throwing her weight forward into a ball, grabbing her sword as she tumbled and stood, turning to face him. She let out a sharp chuff of air like an annoyed horse, steely gaze focused on Markus. 

Amaranth clawed up to the road as quickly as she could to join the other knight. Her eye was bleeding, she was sure, but she braced her foot in her best fighting stance, narrowing her gaze. She murmured to Markus, "High, low?" 

"Low, low." 

"Right." 

The woman stabbed her heavy blade into the ground in front of her, resting both hands atop the pommel. She shook her head with a derisive snort. When she spoke her voice was gravely and harsh, like the hiss of a cobra about to strike. "I know you're alive!" she glanced at the ditch where Richard was just now starting to recover himself. "Why don't you come up here and we have a friendly talk." 

"You attacked us!" Markus said, casting a glance at Ammy, murmuring, "we take a leg each. She can't get us both." 

The woman rolled her shoulders and drummed her slender fingers against the pommel of her sword. The contempt in her eyes was evident even from the distance. She even blinked slowly, as though they weren't worth her concern. Judging from what Ammy had seen already, she could understand why she'd have that impression, but that didn't mean it stung any less. 

One of the wounded groaned out behind them, the woman glanced after him then to the two knights. "Aren't you going to help him?" When Amaranth made as if to turn, the woman took a measured quarter step forward. Then barked out a laugh. "No? That's a shame..." 

Markus whispered. "Let's do it." 

The two of them exploded into action, halving the distance and closing in on her from slightly oblique angles. Amaranth went for the woman's sword- kicking into it to keep her from grabbing it while Markus raised his own blade to strike her face. They were inches away when the woman ducked backward out of the arc of the blade, spinning away from Amaranth's attempt at a follow up strike and into a position where her back was facing Markus's. Both fighters turned into one another- Markus just that little bit quicker, managed to lock his arm around hers. 

He thundered forward to throw her off balance but she didn't budge. She almost seemed to be smiling behind her bandanna. "Well, if you wanted to dance," she said, "why didn't you say so!?" She stepped in around his back side, ignoring what should've been an incredibly painful move that would've torqued her shoulder out of place. She hammered her fist into Markus's ribs, denting his cuirass in the process. Ammy sprung in to defend him but before she could close the distance, the woman had the other knight in a choke hold. 

"Don't!" She shouted at Amaranth with a sudden clearness. "Move another inch and you'll spend the rest of your life learning how to care for a vegetable. You, drop the blade." Markus complied reluctantly. "Now, where is our werewolf f- aha! Come, join the sing along!" 

Richard stumbled forward wiping blood from his mouth. He spit to the side and just stared at the woman, letting out a haggard 'why?' as he approached with his hands spread in deference to her. "Why would you do this?" 

The woman pinched Markus's throat in her gauntleted hand, yanking him against her chest plate as casually as someone would wrangle a squirming cat. "The question on all our minds is what a werewolf is doing with a bunch of soldiers-" Markus punched at her hand trying to get air. "Oh behave, this'll be over soon-" 

"Let him go and let's talk about this!" Richard strode forward carefully. "Let him go, miss..." 

She let out a sharp laugh. "Oh, you're one of those? Well, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance- I'd have brought some bran bread if I knew I was going to be playing with a dog! Maybe next time, though-" 

"Why-" 

"What pack are you?! Do these poor mortals have any idea what you even are?" 

Ammy dared a step forward. The woman hoisted Markus, tilting her head forward in a universal "I wouldn't" posture. "I know!" Amaranth said, splaying her hand out. "I don't know what you're after, but we don't have anything worth stealing- please, just let him go." 

"Please..." Richard said. "We can work something out." 

She looked down at Markus, murmured something to him. He looked up at her and nodded. Then, to Amaranth's surprise, she let him up and shoved him forward. The young man coughed and hacked as he wandered over to the others rubbing at his throat. 

Richard approached cautiously. "That's good, my name's Richard, what's yours?" 

The short woman chuckled, "You can call me Briee..." 

"That's a really pretty name for a very pretty lady- praytell, miss Briee, why do you feel it necessary to kill my men? We've done nothing to you." 

"Well, now, see that's the question of the hour isn't it? If I had to guess..." The short woman strode forward confidently looking the man up and down- she didn't flinch away when Amaranth joined him, followed by Markus. "You're part of the Corengi pack." 

Richard blinked. 

Briee chuffed a laugh. "Oh that's rich... A weakling like you?" 

"My father wanted us to integrate into society, not destroy it," Richard explained, spreading his hands and ignoring Markus's questioning glance. "We don't need to do this, Briee, we'll be out of your for-" 

Lightning quick, Briee had her hand around his throat, nose to nose. Amaranth surged forward to protect Richard only to back off when he threw his hand out. Briee said softly, "I'm going to take your head. But not before I take everything you hold dear." 

"Why?" 

"Because," her purple eyes flared a sudden dark crimson, "I have to." 

"You don't-" It was too late, though. Briee threw him off balance and drew back into a pitfighter's stance eying Amaranth and Markus. She kept herself between Markus's blade and the knights, dancing back and forth on the balls of her feet as though she had all day and could just wait them out. 

"What's the matter, everyone loose their confidence all of a sudden? Come on, you're three against one, and I'm unarmed! What could go wrong?!" She laughed. 

Both Amaranth and Markus launched off at a run. 

"That's the spirit!" The woman snarled a deep, inhuman growl as she sped forward to meet them. Amaranth brought her sword up to meet the woman- Markus went low for the knees, the three of them collided in a flurry of metal. Ammy's blade tip made contact and bit in as it was designed to and Markus's shove knocked her partly off balance, forcing the blade in deeper. 

It couldn't have gone more perfectly if it'd been staged. Once it punctured the heavy plate through the mid section, it kept digging in with the loud screech of rent metal- digging- digging- Ammy shoved forward as the woman growled in her ear. Ammy hefted upward shoving forward until she saw the tip piercing the back plate. 

It had to have hurt like hell, but Briee didn't slow down hardly at all. She cracked Ammy in the jaw with her elbow and grabbed Markus's foot, shoving him back and off balance before she punched him in the face. Before he could even double back Briee had Ammy off balance, shoving her towards the roadside ditch. "Didn't anyone ever tell you-" she growled out an inhuman snarl, reaching for the blade sticking out of her gut. "you don't penetrate on the first date?!" 

Ammy tried to brace her foot only to fall backwards into the ditch. "Fuck!" The last thing she saw before she went end over end was Richard running at Briee at full tilt. 

"Hah! That's it!" Briee shouted. There were more sounds of raging combat- seconds ticked off like bombs as Amaranth struggled to right herself. Something metal clattered, Briee shouted, "You're kidding, right? My sister hits harder than you!" 

Drawing on her own strength, she vaulted back up the embankment in time to see Richard slam into the dirt several feet away from Briee. She was just recovering from a kick and Markus was nowhere to be seen. Once again she reached for the blade in her stomach and advanced on Richard. In two steps she had the blade free and blood pumped from the ugly wound. It didn't seem to slow her down much, though 

Knowing she'd never stand a chance against her own blade without something to defend with, she sprinted for the woman's heavy blade- back towards the woman, hefting the unwieldy piece of steel into a defensive guard. Ammy vaulted over Richard's sprawled form and shoved the blade up, locking with her own smaller broadsword. The two women locked gazes. 




Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 21



Iron hatred burned in Briee's soul, anger and fury the likes of which Ammy had never glimpsed- an old fury, older than the gods maybe. She wasn't going to win this fight... Briee seemed to sense it too, she wagged her brow playfully. 

Amaranth pushed forward on the heavy blade, shouting back at Richard. "GET OUT OF HERE!" 

"No-" 

"NOW! GO!" 

Markus groaned off to the side, stirring in the shallow ditch. 

Briee leaned in close enough to kiss the half-elf, her voice echoed an inhuman purr that rumbled somewhere deep in her chest, "ever wonder what it would be like to die?" 

Ammy felt her arms burn with the weight of the sword and the woman pushing down on her. "Ever-" she huffed "Wonder what it'd be like to have a breath mint?" 

The woman howled a laugh. "I like you!" Her pressure eased up giving Ammy a precious inch. She opened herself to her goddess's blessings, feeling the power well up in her spine and spark across her body. With the renewed strength, she launched upward and forward shoving the smaller woman off balance, bracing her foot behind the brunette's and shoving hard enough to send her to the ground. 

"Unf!" 

Richard called out from behind her, "Ammy!" 

"Richard! GET OUT OF HERE!" 

"Ammy-" 

She looked back. "THIS IS MY JOB! YOU HAVE A COUNTRY TO RUN! GO!" 

"But-" 

"NOW, GODS DAMMIT!" 

"So dramatic!" Briee laughed- then kicked out at Amaranth's knee. The half-blood rolled with the blow and slammed the sword into the ground to keep from falling. Unfortunately giving Briee enough time to roll back and recover herself. 

Ammy shoved forward into strike range, taking the heavy hand and a half sword with both hands, trying to leverage it up under Briee's arm pit- she misjudged the distance and weight, though and in no time the shorter woman hand the sword trapped under her arm, face to face with her again. Briee chuckled. "Whoops!" 

"Ngh-" 

"Here, let's trade back," Briee flipped Ammy's sword over, offering it to her hilt first. "I can't stand this toothpick." 

Amaran blinked. 

"Go on, nothing to loose but your life, may as well do it right." 

She grabbed the sword, not letting go of the other. Briee kicked her thigh forcing her to a knee- then kicked her in the chest, forcing her to let go of the heavyier blade and likely breaking a rib in the process. 

The elf tumbled and flopped back end over end... 

Markus was coming from the left side now, his blade recovered, haand-to-pommel for a piercing attack. Briee tossed her blade up as though it was nothing, started towards Amaranth. "Aren't we having fun- huh-" She saw Markus, snagged her blade- 

Oh no. 

He was too slow. 

Briee had the blade gripped in one hand. She pivoted, bringing up the massive cutting edge- 

Right through Markus's face. Through his skull. Through the air after. His body kept going forward- one step. Two steps. Part of his skullcap landed just as his body fell limp several feet away from where Briee stood. "Oh, so sorry!" She exclaimed. "Valiant effort, though!" 

Ammy's mouth fell open, "NO!" 

"Oh, yes, I'm afraid so!" the short woman twirled her blade. "Why don't you get up and we have another go... Best two out of three- three out of five- whatever." 

Amaranth launched to her feet, opening her body fully to her goddess. Raw power meant to fry every piece of her body sparked to life as she crashed into the monster. She slid her blade in between the seams of the monster's pauldron and her cuirass, driving into her her arm pit even as Briee thrashed out. She made the angle hard to get and Ammy ended up putting her weight into it at the wrong time- she let loose with the most profane curse she could muster in the tongue of elves. She forced her entire weight into it, driving the blade deeper and deeper even as Briee- surprised by the force of the attack- stumbled backwards. 

Vaguely, Ammy was aware of the searing kiss of divine power rending her own flesh as well. Blisters swelled across her back, blooming into full fields of pain as she started pounding the blade into Briee's upper body. It cracked through the woman's shoulder blade, through her back plate and kept going until the guard smashed into her armor hard enough to dent it. It wasn't enough. It would never be. 

The monster dropped her heavy sword in the mud letting out the first genuine scream of pain as they toppled back into the mud. Amaranth slammed her fist into the monster's face. Once. Twice. She grabbed Ammy's hand on the third attempt and roared out a snarl- then snapped her forearm off at an awkward angle. 

That brought the pain into clearer focus. Amaranth screamed, Briee shoved her off, coughing and sputtering blood from under her bandanna. A piece of white bone like material- probably a tooth- followed. But sooner than later the woman was getting to her feet while Ammy clutched her mangled hand, unyielding in its steel gauntlet. She braced herself against the pain, trying to stagger up to her feet, looking to Briee with narrowed eyes. 

Spirit was one of those things she'd never been able to quantify, but it was something she could understand- duty, honor. Sacrifice. She existed to serve her lord and her goddess. It was her duty to live for both of them and, if necessary, die for either of them, too. Ammy clenched her teeth, bolting for the woman. 

She lowered her head intending to smash into her side, but the woman wheeled on her, grabbed her hair when she would've gone past and dropped her elbow into the half-elf's back. Ammy felt the metal give into her back as she slammed down face first into the dirt. She wasn't down long, though, Briee hauled her up by the collar of her armor with her good arm and locked gazes. "There's no shame in giving up... I won't think any less of you." 

"F-" the word refused to form. 

"Hm? Oh, you think that just because I serve a dragon I can't exhibit honor? Mercy?" Briee turned- threw the broken elf-blood into the ditch. "Compassion?!" 

Ammy's entire body was numb but the blisters coating her flesh screamed with the rough treatment as she flopped and slammed into the unforgiving earth. The young knight clawed at the dirt, trying to bring herself up. Briee 'helped' by grabbing her collar once more and slamming her against the tree. They were both breathing hard but for some reason, Briee's composure was slipping. She was loosing focus- maybe blood, too. 

That terrifying void of magic swirled around her like a personal gravity well- a place where things went to die. She hefted Amaranth up against the tree and slammed her hard enough to knock the wind from her. They wobbled a little, Briee struggling to keep upright against the slant of the hill. "I should hang you here," she huffed. "By right, I should... But I like you. It's so rare I find a challenge." 

"F-" 

Briee turned her head. "Hm? Come on, speak up!" 

Ammy grabbed her arm, leaned in. "Fuck. You." 

Briee looked at her with a perked brow. Her pale lavender eyes flickered with exhausted amusement. "I like you, Ammy, which is why I'm going to be merciful. Tell me where he's going, I'll let you live." 

"Fuck. You..." 

"Probably best. I wasn't going to anyway." A hammer blow struck Ammy in the ribs causing her to double over. Her plate was dented in and her breath completely gone- so exquisite was the pain. She watched from the forest floor as the dragon's servant reached for Ammy's sword hilt and, with several painful tugs ripped it free from her shoulder. She panted and huffed looking at the half-elf. 

Amaranth, the paladin of Elisandra, the stupid idiot who tangled with a dragon's agent and lost but in so doing ensured her Duke- and thus, her duty- was fulfilled, met her would-be killer's gaze and smiled a broken grin. "You'll never find him." 

"We'll see..." The impossibly strong woman hefted Amaranth up and in one swift strike, shoved the elven patterned blade under Ammy's cuirass through her padding, the tender flesh underneath- through her back- through the steel and into the tree behind her. "Consider this a mercy." 

# 

Pain. Everything hurt. Everything screamed in raging fires and piercing agony in a mind overwhelmed with the sensation, how could anything be defined but by the song of life. That mind came out of its stupor only briefly, mere fleeting moments, and she- whoever she was any more, looked to the scattered remains of the wounded soldiers and horses splayed out across the road. 

A woman was standing there in bloodied armor talking to, of all things, a dragon the size of a large dog... It wasn't a dragon- a projection. Yes. A magical projection of one. It was speaking in a slithering drawl, "Your sister has failed me..." 

"Father, I-" 

"Find her!" it snapped. "Find her and the mortal! I want them in pieces!" 

Briee lowered her gaze in the presence of such anger. "I haven't failed you, nor will I, father." 

"Then prove it to me. Show me you are worthy of my blessings, find Lostariel. Find Sarah Kettar, kill them both. You will take your sister's pact." 

She looked up at that, gave a silent nod. "I will, father, after I finish with the Corengi you sent me after... I've found him-" Her words blurred into the sing-song pain as Amaranth tried to push on the sword in her stomach, to loosen herself from the tree. 

She blacked out shortly after that. 

# 

Amaranth slumped forward against her sword, only vaguely aware of pain now, so brilliant was it's razor light. There was blood running down her leg armor in a steady trickle, painting the green with red. She tried to scoop at it, feebly trying to put it back in her body. There was so much of it. 

So much... 

She was getting tired. Protecting Richard was finally taking it's toll; of course he didn't need the weak little elf-blood to take care of him, but she still tried. What a contrite thought! A lycan protected by a mere half blood! Laughable! 

Ammy wanted to laugh but when she opened her mouth a thick, rusty tang burbled in the back of her throat and choked off her voice. She spit to the side, looked down. Her sword was buried through her stomach with crimson vines wrapped around the proud inlay and dribbling down the scuffed basket hilt. Dimly, her mind reminded her that it was her blood. That probably wasn't good... 

She was going into shock. Battle mind, she'd heard it called by healers. She couldn't focus enough to channel her god's blessings, all she wanted to do was sleep. But she couldn't. Why couldn't she? 

Richard. Richard was still alive. 

Amaranth wrapped her hand around the basket of her sword. Two quick breaths. Like pulling a splinter or shrapnel. Yes, just like that. Three... two... 

# 

Time passed in darkness before she awoke again, staring up at the sky with a thick fluid buildup in the back of her throat. She pushed against the wet earth and gaped her mouth to let it pour out in a thick stream. More blood, she decided. Thick, black fluid had built up around the hole in her stomach and even now it burbled as the built up reservoir of her life fluid tried to escape from her steel casing. 

Then it struck her. The baby. 

Oh gods. 

The baby... 

No- no, she had to survive. She had to focus. She tried to move the trembling remains of her right hand under her armor and felt around for the hole created by her sword. She found it when pain exploded across her vision like a hot iron. She focused; prayed; gritted her teeth against the pain. It couldn't end like this. Not for an unborn life. 

Please. I'll give my life when it's born. Please- 

A stick crunched beside her. Amaranth whimpered and turned her swollen eyes up to the sound in time to see a short woman dressed in a baroque velvet frock step out of the ether. She was impeccably dressed with perfectly polished boots, her short blonde hair slicked back and calm solid white eyes that glowed faintly in the dim light of the fading day. She was as pale as alabaster and nearly as pure, even from a glance. A split second later she was joined, from out of pure nothing, by a ravishingly beautiful middle eastern woman with dusty skin and flowing brown hair that touched her fine sandals. Her flowing white dress was plain and completely unadorned, but it accented every single inch of her body without breaking modesty. 

Without waiting for prompting, the dusty skinned woman looped an arm around the shorter woman's shoulders, leaned over so her chin was resting on the woman's head. She sighed theatrically. "Poor thing, look at you." 

This earned a slight twitch of annoyance from the woman with the gothic attire. Despite not having pupils, Amaranth imagined her glancing up at the woman using her head for a resting place. She said something in a flowing, wispy sigh of a language. At which point the staggering beauty stepped back with pouted lips. 

With that annoyance gone, she stepped into Amaranth's field of view fully. In that position, there was a sense of something wholly familiar about her. She was tangible and connected to Ammy in some inexplicable way; like the taste of her god's blessings when it crossed her soul. Amaranth clutched her stomach and tried to feel that connection now, to will Her energies into her frail body. To protect her child if not herself. 

The woman squatted down on her haunches and reached out, a fine silk gloved finger that stopped just shy of Ammy's battered eye. For all her focus, though, Amaranth couldn't bring herself to shy away. She needed to stop the bleeding. She could still protect Richard. She could save her child. 

Oblivious to her struggle, the woman in white stepped up beside her, casting a glance towards what remained of Marcus's skull. She looked to white eyes and then Ammy, though she adressed White Eyes. "Well, if you're not going to-" 

"Shh." 

The eastern woman let out a soft 'hmph!' that lacked any real conviction. "It's not a good idea to snub those you're trying to sleep with, cutie. Just a friendly warning!" 

"You came on to me," White Eyes said in a voice like cold steel. Practical, clipped and unforgiving. 

"A minor detail." 

White Eyes stared at Amaranth for a moment before she chose to speak again, this time her voice was more subdued and almost sorrowful. "You're dying." 

"I think she knows that-" 

"Silence!-" the woman blushed quickly. "Ah, please... I have a job to do." 

The eastern woman shook her head but a soft smile pulled at the corner of her lips. "This is why I don't keep Cherubs... I'd miss out on meeting so many beautiful people. Go on, kiddo." 

They talked like she wasn't even there, for gods' sake. She wanted to ask for help, but knew better than to hope. Their diction made it pretty apparent that her health was inconsequential to them. If only she could focus... 

"Don't bother," White Eyes said softly. Her gloved finger was still close enough to touch but she kept at a slight distance, probably afraid to get the pure silk. "You're going to die, nothing anyone can do for you will change that." 

"W- W- What," Amaranth gargled around a mouth full of blood. "about my duty." 

The woman smiled a tiny bit. She was beautiful for that split second before she spoke. "That's why I'm here... I'm-" 

"Remember!" the easterner cut in. "We have an appointment!" 

"Will you please let me do my job?" 

"Tch, fine, but if we're late to the hunt, I'm going to be exceptionally upset with you!" 

The woman let out a soft sigh, turned her attention to Amaranth. "We serve the same god. I'm Yamma. I'm your handler. Your Cherub." 

Amaranth blinked against tears welling up. "P- Please... Don't... Don't let this child die." 

"She's-" 

"One thing at a time." The dusty skinned woman said with a soothing voice. 

Yamma flicked her gaze towards the easterner. "I've taken the training, I know what I'm doing!" 

The easterner strolled around Amaranth's body, prowling around the muddy ditch until she was behind Yamma. She leaned over her without much concern and batted the silk gloved hand away from Ammy's face. With a sad smile, she laid her chin on the short woman's shoulder. "Hi there," she said by way of introduction. "Do you know who I am?" 

"N- o-" Amaranth managed weakly. 

"Hmph!" Her smile was quick and warm, showing off a glamorous row of pearly whites. "No? Tch, fine. I'm Isiria... This lovely young creature is a representative of your god, come to take you away-" 

"Or," Yamma interjected. "I can give you another chance..." 

This earned a very dour look from the pleasure goddess. She shifted uncomfortably and looked to Amaranth with a sudden sadness. 

Yamma continued, her voice soft now. "You're running out of time, so I will be brief; we've watched your dedication, we've seen your progress. When you stood in front of the soldiers, to protect them from the rampaging miscreant- you knew you'd be killed, but you still tried. Amaranth, your bravery and dedication have been noticed. 

Amaranth tried to muster a response, to tell the Cherub that she was nothing special and that it was her job to do the things she'd done. All that came out, though, was a gurgle. "C- hild." 

"She-" 

Isira put a finger to the younger woman's lips. "First things first, my splendorous elf..." She trailed off, turning her head just slightly so she could take Yamma's earlobe between her pouted lips. "Go on." 

Yamma shuddered and sighed, eyes half closing while Isira continued to suckle on the milky bit of flesh. It took the pale woman several moments to compose herself against the goddess's flirtations, but when she finally managed to squeak out "stop" Amaranth was already beginning to slip into the fringes of sleep. 

She was so tired but the screaming headache in the back of her mind told her she needed to stay awake. To fight it. Her heart slammed against her battered ribcage as she clawed at the mud, trying to find purchase. She had to protect Richard. She had to stay awake for him. She had to stay awake for their child. 

She had to stay alive. 

"My, my, my..." Isira was saying as the broken half-elf clawed at the muddy earth, inching her way towards her sword. "She is persistent." 

Yamma laid her hand on the sword, careful not to touch the blood. "Your fight is over, Amah." 

"R- Richard... Our ch- child." 

"She wasn't his." The short woman stood to her full height and stepped in front of the dying paladin, bending over just enough to look her in the eye. "You're dying, Amah. Your child is dead, but it needn't be this way." 

"W-" 

"Shh, listen now. You're going to die... Right now." 

"B-" Amaranth choked on a load of blood in the back of her throat. 

"I can save you... You can still protect your lover." Yamma said, Isira shot her a dirty look which she deliberately ignored. She squatted down once more and touched Amaranth's forehead, aiming for the one spot not caked with battle grime. "Your goddess is offering you what you want more than anything; to protect, to live. Don't you think Richard would want that?" 

"H- How?" 

"Take my hand... Your goddess is offering your a pact for your service." She drew back with her hand outstretched still, ready to be taken. "You'll have the power to fight her enemies, the courage you need to stand tall, you'll be a force for change among mortals. Amah, you can still save Richard. You can save everyone." 

"What she's not going to tell you..." Isira clapped Yamma's shoulder. "What she can't tell you is that there's a price here..." 

Amaranth's tired, drooping gaze turned to the eastern beauty, now she was vaguely aware of the sense of divinity about her. It was more than just that, though. There was a pull, an ache in her soul that felt as though she was being pulled from her body; things were getting blurry and distant, each passing second slower than the last. 




Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 21



"It won't be pleasant, Amah, not at first. But you will never become infirm, you'll never become too weak to stand against those who'd do evil. You will be the sword and the shield. Amah, your patron needs you." 

"I- I failed-" 

"Not yet you haven't, no Amaranth. Take my hand, your fight doesn't haven to end here." 

Amaranth felt a surge of weakness and light in one fell swoop, threatening to erase everything she was with it's blinding power. Her body was becoming a distant thing, like a pair of gloves that no longer fit, sliding free from her hands as cinches came undone. She raised her hand from the dirt. Richard needed her. 

Isira shot the woman that same dirty glance, picture perfect even on her impossibly beautiful features. She grabbed Yamma's hand and pulled it back just out of Amaranth's reach. "Gotta be careful about these things... You take this pact and you're going to pay for it." 

"H- How?" 

A smile pulled her lips. "That's a good girl. You're never going to age, you'll never have children." She held Yamma's wrist even as the girl tried to pull away. "Your goddess will give you power but She'll ask a lot more in return- she's a slave driver, imagine that- and then..." She paused for a moment, eying Amaranth with a saddened expression. "Then there's the death." 

"She doesn't need to hear this-" 

"You can't stop me. Now behave." The goddess let go of Yamma's wrist, planted a kiss on the short woman's throat, still eying Amaranth. "I'm going to let you in on a dirty little secret; you're going to trade your soul for what you're going to get in return. Your powers aren't fueled by your patron, but your soul... When your soul is exhausted, and I promise you, it will eventually, you're going to cease to be." 

"Isira, please-" 

"Tut, tut, she needs to know this kind of thing-" The ravishing beauty turned back to Ammy and, with a gentle, sad smile, she said, "You'll never age, but you're going to die one day, whether you use up your powers or you're killed. When that happens, dear Ammy... Oh, dear girl... 

"There is no word for what happens to your soul, at least none we gods know. You cease to be. It's a price unlike any other... I urge you to think about this, your goddess is going to accept you either way, you don't need to take it!" 

But Richard... 

Isira's expression flattened, wary and uneasy for a moment. "There are a lot of people who could benefit from your being alive. It's true." 

Could she read Ammy's fading mind? Including him? He's alive isn't he? 

The goddess smiled sadly, casting a glance to Yamma. 

Yamma offered her hand once more. "For Richard and Isis." 

Isis? 

It would have been her name... 

Amaranth raised her hand, reaching for Yamma. Isis was a beautiful name... 

And Dame Amaranth Yanoseven was no more.



Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 22



Chapter 6: No Time for Goodbye 

Morning came and went like most mornings in an armed camp; tents were broken down, the string of protective wards were re-bundled and weapons were sharpened while those who'd completed their assigned tasks took care of basic hygiene. For the wounded, it was having their bandages checked and redressed as needed, insisting they could help even though half an arm was missing. 

It wasn't the buzz of early morning activity one saw in a city, but to Amaranth, it was energizing- they'd be out of the forest in a couple of days, back where she was ironically more comfortable. Perhaps it was the feeling that her station in life actually held some weight, where as in the woods, it was only the strong who held reign. 

She frowned at that thought as she finished cleaning herself, combing her unruly hair back with her fingers in preparation for the day. The entire forest had gone eerily quiet before sunrise, save the steady click-clatter of branches overhead rustling in the wind. The distant, pervasive drone of insects carried on the wind like an echo from beyond the Pale, a faint memory from another time and yet... 

Ammy looked around. 

There was nothing around them but woods and the suffocating press of plants trying to reclaim the land the puny mortals trod. The young paladin braced her hand against a tree, closing her amber eyes and opening her senses. The power flowed through her from the base of her spine up her entire back, coating her skin in the tingle of divine power. 

It was a truism of any magically active creature that they could taste or smell the magic of other creatures, even unconsciously and that magic itself had a very specific- and often consuming- presence in the world. Like the background noise of a busy city which could be filtered out given enough time and practice. Paladins were probably the least magically active, yet even they could feel the pulse of the world's natural energies. 

But there was nothing... It was wasn't the void that the woman in brown armor had left, it was a different kind of absence- as though the power from the world had been drained away. It was quiet, peaceful in fact, yet at the same time it was like looking at a painting devoid of colors; something was just off about it. Why hadn't she noticed last night? 

Amaranth slowly opened her eyes to survey the woods around her for any movement. When nothing immediately noticeable struck her, she turned back to the camp. They were almost done, she promised herself. They'd get out of here and then they could take care of the things they needed to. Richard smiled when he caught sight of her. 

They had a future to look forward to, after all. 

After getting the wounded loaded on to the horses, Ammy stole a final glance back to the clearing. Still as empty as the magical aura. What wasn't empty- and what she wouldn't have expected in a hundred years, however- was the road they'd stopped beside. 

Heads. Six of them. Neatly mounted on wood stakes in a phalanx watching the small party with empty eye sockets. Two of them were obviously lycan- long snouts and ears protruding between blood matted tufts of hair and fur- but the others looked mostly human. That was, until Markus approached and cautiously lifted the lip of one of them. The dagger like canines were a give away. 

Amaranth and the soldiers paused, unsure of what to make of it, but instinctively scanning the woods around them- suddenly aware of how exposed they were. 

Richard stepped toward the display, shoulders slumped. "This was the man I spoke to..." He looked to Markus, "This was his pack. It must mean there's a group of hunters out here." 

Markus knelt down looking up at the heads. After a few seconds he shook his head and stood. "No, it was one person." 

"What?" Ammy startled. One of the soldiers echoed her question and Markus pointed at the neck stump of one of the heads. "What about it?" 

"They used a crisscross pattern-" he hefted one of the stakes out of the ground with some effort, turning it so they could see the back of the head. Half of the neck was still visible, the spine sheared on either side to form a neat V at the end of it. "Look... You need a heavy blade to do this kind of damage and a hell of a lot of control. All of them are the same way, too." 

"Couldn't they have been killed first?" One of the soldiers asked. 

"No," Richard looked back. "You have to remove the head, otherwise they regenerate." 

"Good gods spare us..." 

They all shared a look which needed no translating; before anything could be said, Richard made a hand gesture for running and they turned to the trail, picking up a steady jog. Markus started them on a steady pace the other soldiers could easily match and they could all carry for a few leagues at least. Amaranth took the rear, a soldier and Richard on the left flank and two soldiers on the opposite flank with the wounded in between them. 

Jogging was easy once it was put out of the mind. Just one foot fall after another. None the less, Amaranth's mind wandered frequently to what kind of person could have killed six werewolves and, more importantly, whether or not they were a threat to Richard and Markus. The city could survive without either of its knights, but if Richard was to be hurt or killed, that would be the end of everything they'd spent a generation building up. 

"Ngh, shut up." She whispered. The compulsion to serve was powerful and her mind found no end of disastrous scenarios should she fail to uphold her obligations as both a knight and a paladin; more important than any of those, however, she couldn't let them go. No, they were her family. They were the other parts that made her whole. 

She wouldn't lose them. No matter what happened, she couldn't lose them. 

The entire troop plodded along at a jog through the muddy underbrush, managing a good clip. They shared a water skin without even breaking stride and for a while it actually looked as though they'd make it all the way out at this rate. If not for the frailties of mortality, maybe they would have; eventually they came to a stop, panting under overheated armor with sweat pouring from their hot skin. 

They plodded on for a few hundred feet of walking, then another brief jog. They fell into this pattern until even Markus had exhausted himself and the entire group slowed to a shuffling gait. 

It was the perfect time for someone to attack, they all knew it. 

Not one to waste an opportunity, it seemed, they were obliged by fate- Amaranth felt the void-like presence a second before a familiar dark blur burst from the woods in front of them. Amaranth had just started to turn forward from looking over her shoulder when she saw the motion sweep her periphery. 

A glint of steel- a horse neighed, a man screamed, crimson arced through the air in a vicious spray. By the time she'd turned her head completely, already surging forward to protect the soldier who was still alive, the sword had cut through horse and man alike. The horse was falling, taking with it the wounded men atop it's back. An arm was in free fall from its former owner. Brown and gold trimmed platemail glinted- dark, diseased armor clad around a short woman. 

The intricate lines of her armor were coated in gold accents and blood, heavy field plate meant for war- the kind of armor you were cut out of or buried in. She was stocky, maybe up to Ammy's chest, hiding everything below her eyes behind a gold bandanna with a snarling dragon's maw embroidered in silver thread. 

Those eyes, though, were the eyes of a true power- a light shade of purple that were pale and distant even as she finished her swing. They were the eyes of a soldier and a killer in that order. Amaranth had only a second to respond, but she knew the likelihood of her getting in a blow were almost none. 

The woman glanced up when she saw Ammy approaching, they locked eyes and the corners of her exposed cheeks crinkled up as though she was smiling. Amaranth closed the distance, throwing her foot forward to kick the woman in the knee. 

Steel clattered as the purple eyed soldier moved, a horrible screeching sound like barbed metal raking across itself. The short woman pivoted with the blow, moving back so Ammy's momentum carried her forward- it pinned the heavy sword between them but she had her free hand up so fast, Ammy didn't even see it coming. 

In the next instant she punched Amaranth in the face hard enough she could feel her left eye socket crack before she slammed into the mud, sliding into the narrow ditch alongside the road. The air was ripped from her lungs as her vision went blurry and the world tilted sideways. The purple eyed woman didn't even break stride as she slammed her shoulder into the chest of the nearest soldier, recovering her massive sword in her off hand and running the man clean through. His plated lamellar armor didn't slow her blade in the least. 

Markus and Richard were approaching from opposite sides the fallen horse to pin her in, but with the weight of the man on top of her blade, her reaction was slow. She turned around with the soldier still impaled, trying to strike Richard's knee- to buy those precious seconds to get her blade loose- oh, but she didn't know who she was dealing with. 

The lycan Duke didn't flinch at the heavy blow, instead surging forward. His hands were already half transforming into claws reaching for her throat. What happened next was nothing short of miraculous- in all the wrong ways. 

Without waiting for him to reach her, the soldier dropped the body and grabbed Richard's arms, stopping his momentum cold even as he foot dug into the soft mud. Then she yanked him forward, cracked him in the mouth with her forehead and- with him still off balance from the blow, threw him into the ditch beside Ammy like a rag doll. 

For the first time in a long time, a surge of panic ripped through Amaranth, in spite of the pain lancing through her skull she managed to right herself and draw her blade. Richard's teeth were broken in and his face bloodied, his nose pressed in at an off angle, already healing despite what had to have been considerable broken bones. 

Who the fuck was this woman? 

Markus was half stumbling over the sprawled wounded and the freshly maimed, blade raised to punch through her back. He had his hand braced on the pommel for that extra bit of force. All he needed was help to ensure it struck home. Ammy grabbed up a glob of mud and winged it at the woman. "Hey!" 

Purple eyes turned to her. An insect among wolves. Then went wide as Markus's blade punched into her armor like an awl. She recovered herself quickly, throwing her weight forward into a ball, grabbing her sword as she tumbled and stood, turning to face him. She let out a sharp chuff of air like an annoyed horse, steely gaze focused on Markus. 

Amaranth clawed up to the road as quickly as she could to join the other knight. Her eye was bleeding, she was sure, but she braced her foot in her best fighting stance, narrowing her gaze. She murmured to Markus, "High, low?" 

"Low, low." 

"Right." 

The woman stabbed her heavy blade into the ground in front of her, resting both hands atop the pommel. She shook her head with a derisive snort. When she spoke her voice was gravely and harsh, like the hiss of a cobra about to strike. "I know you're alive!" she glanced at the ditch where Richard was just now starting to recover himself. "Why don't you come up here and we have a friendly talk." 

"You attacked us!" Markus said, casting a glance at Ammy, murmuring, "we take a leg each. She can't get us both." 

The woman rolled her shoulders and drummed her slender fingers against the pommel of her sword. The contempt in her eyes was evident even from the distance. She even blinked slowly, as though they weren't worth her concern. Judging from what Ammy had seen already, she could understand why she'd have that impression, but that didn't mean it stung any less. 

One of the wounded groaned out behind them, the woman glanced after him then to the two knights. "Aren't you going to help him?" When Amaranth made as if to turn, the woman took a measured quarter step forward. Then barked out a laugh. "No? That's a shame..." 

Markus whispered. "Let's do it." 

The two of them exploded into action, halving the distance and closing in on her from slightly oblique angles. Amaranth went for the woman's sword- kicking into it to keep her from grabbing it while Markus raised his own blade to strike her face. They were inches away when the woman ducked backward out of the arc of the blade, spinning away from Amaranth's attempt at a follow up strike and into a position where her back was facing Markus's. Both fighters turned into one another- Markus just that little bit quicker, managed to lock his arm around hers. 

He thundered forward to throw her off balance but she didn't budge. She almost seemed to be smiling behind her bandanna. "Well, if you wanted to dance," she said, "why didn't you say so!?" She stepped in around his back side, ignoring what should've been an incredibly painful move that would've torqued her shoulder out of place. She hammered her fist into Markus's ribs, denting his cuirass in the process. Ammy sprung in to defend him but before she could close the distance, the woman had the other knight in a choke hold. 

"Don't!" She shouted at Amaranth with a sudden clearness. "Move another inch and you'll spend the rest of your life learning how to care for a vegetable. You, drop the blade." Markus complied reluctantly. "Now, where is our werewolf f- aha! Come, join the sing along!" 

Richard stumbled forward wiping blood from his mouth. He spit to the side and just stared at the woman, letting out a haggard 'why?' as he approached with his hands spread in deference to her. "Why would you do this?" 

The woman pinched Markus's throat in her gauntleted hand, yanking him against her chest plate as casually as someone would wrangle a squirming cat. "The question on all our minds is what a werewolf is doing with a bunch of soldiers-" Markus punched at her hand trying to get air. "Oh behave, this'll be over soon-" 

"Let him go and let's talk about this!" Richard strode forward carefully. "Let him go, miss..." 

She let out a sharp laugh. "Oh, you're one of those? Well, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance- I'd have brought some bran bread if I knew I was going to be playing with a dog! Maybe next time, though-" 

"Why-" 

"What pack are you?! Do these poor mortals have any idea what you even are?" 

Ammy dared a step forward. The woman hoisted Markus, tilting her head forward in a universal "I wouldn't" posture. "I know!" Amaranth said, splaying her hand out. "I don't know what you're after, but we don't have anything worth stealing- please, just let him go." 

"Please..." Richard said. "We can work something out." 

She looked down at Markus, murmured something to him. He looked up at her and nodded. Then, to Amaranth's surprise, she let him up and shoved him forward. The young man coughed and hacked as he wandered over to the others rubbing at his throat. 

Richard approached cautiously. "That's good, my name's Richard, what's yours?" 

The short woman chuckled, "You can call me Briee..." 

"That's a really pretty name for a very pretty lady- praytell, miss Briee, why do you feel it necessary to kill my men? We've done nothing to you." 

"Well, now, see that's the question of the hour isn't it? If I had to guess..." The short woman strode forward confidently looking the man up and down- she didn't flinch away when Amaranth joined him, followed by Markus. "You're part of the Corengi pack." 

Richard blinked. 

Briee chuffed a laugh. "Oh that's rich... A weakling like you?" 

"My father wanted us to integrate into society, not destroy it," Richard explained, spreading his hands and ignoring Markus's questioning glance. "We don't need to do this, Briee, we'll be out of your for-" 

Lightning quick, Briee had her hand around his throat, nose to nose. Amaranth surged forward to protect Richard only to back off when he threw his hand out. Briee said softly, "I'm going to take your head. But not before I take everything you hold dear." 

"Why?" 

"Because," her purple eyes flared a sudden dark crimson, "I have to." 

"You don't-" It was too late, though. Briee threw him off balance and drew back into a pitfighter's stance eying Amaranth and Markus. She kept herself between Markus's blade and the knights, dancing back and forth on the balls of her feet as though she had all day and could just wait them out. 

"What's the matter, everyone loose their confidence all of a sudden? Come on, you're three against one, and I'm unarmed! What could go wrong?!" She laughed. 

Both Amaranth and Markus launched off at a run. 

"That's the spirit!" The woman snarled a deep, inhuman growl as she sped forward to meet them. Amaranth brought her sword up to meet the woman- Markus went low for the knees, the three of them collided in a flurry of metal. Ammy's blade tip made contact and bit in as it was designed to and Markus's shove knocked her partly off balance, forcing the blade in deeper. 

It couldn't have gone more perfectly if it'd been staged. Once it punctured the heavy plate through the mid section, it kept digging in with the loud screech of rent metal- digging- digging- Ammy shoved forward as the woman growled in her ear. Ammy hefted upward shoving forward until she saw the tip piercing the back plate. 

It had to have hurt like hell, but Briee didn't slow down hardly at all. She cracked Ammy in the jaw with her elbow and grabbed Markus's foot, shoving him back and off balance before she punched him in the face. Before he could even double back Briee had Ammy off balance, shoving her towards the roadside ditch. "Didn't anyone ever tell you-" she growled out an inhuman snarl, reaching for the blade sticking out of her gut. "you don't penetrate on the first date?!" 

Ammy tried to brace her foot only to fall backwards into the ditch. "Fuck!" The last thing she saw before she went end over end was Richard running at Briee at full tilt. 

"Hah! That's it!" Briee shouted. There were more sounds of raging combat- seconds ticked off like bombs as Amaranth struggled to right herself. Something metal clattered, Briee shouted, "You're kidding, right? My sister hits harder than you!" 

Drawing on her own strength, she vaulted back up the embankment in time to see Richard slam into the dirt several feet away from Briee. She was just recovering from a kick and Markus was nowhere to be seen. Once again she reached for the blade in her stomach and advanced on Richard. In two steps she had the blade free and blood pumped from the ugly wound. It didn't seem to slow her down much, though 

Knowing she'd never stand a chance against her own blade without something to defend with, she sprinted for the woman's heavy blade- back towards the woman, hefting the unwieldy piece of steel into a defensive guard. Ammy vaulted over Richard's sprawled form and shoved the blade up, locking with her own smaller broadsword. The two women locked gazes. 

Iron hatred burned in Briee's soul, anger and fury the likes of which Ammy had never glimpsed- an old fury, older than the gods maybe. She wasn't going to win this fight... Briee seemed to sense it too, she wagged her brow playfully. 

Amaranth pushed forward on the heavy blade, shouting back at Richard. "GET OUT OF HERE!" 

"No-" 

"NOW! GO!" 

Markus groaned off to the side, stirring in the shallow ditch. 

Briee leaned in close enough to kiss the half-elf, her voice echoed an inhuman purr that rumbled somewhere deep in her chest, "ever wonder what it would be like to die?" 

Ammy felt her arms burn with the weight of the sword and the woman pushing down on her. "Ever-" she huffed "Wonder what it'd be like to have a breath mint?" 




Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 22



The woman howled a laugh. "I like you!" Her pressure eased up giving Ammy a precious inch. She opened herself to her goddess's blessings, feeling the power well up in her spine and spark across her body. With the renewed strength, she launched upward and forward shoving the smaller woman off balance, bracing her foot behind the brunette's and shoving hard enough to send her to the ground. 

"Unf!" 

Richard called out from behind her, "Ammy!" 

"Richard! GET OUT OF HERE!" 

"Ammy-" 

She looked back. "THIS IS MY JOB! YOU HAVE A COUNTRY TO RUN! GO!" 

"But-" 

"NOW, GODS DAMMIT!" 

"So dramatic!" Briee laughed- then kicked out at Amaranth's knee. The half-blood rolled with the blow and slammed the sword into the ground to keep from falling. Unfortunately giving Briee enough time to roll back and recover herself. 

Ammy shoved forward into strike range, taking the heavy hand and a half sword with both hands, trying to leverage it up under Briee's arm pit- she misjudged the distance and weight, though and in no time the shorter woman hand the sword trapped under her arm, face to face with her again. Briee chuckled. "Whoops!" 

"Ngh-" 

"Here, let's trade back," Briee flipped Ammy's sword over, offering it to her hilt first. "I can't stand this toothpick." 

Amaran blinked. 

"Go on, nothing to loose but your life, may as well do it right." 

She grabbed the sword, not letting go of the other. Briee kicked her thigh forcing her to a knee- then kicked her in the chest, forcing her to let go of the heavyier blade and likely breaking a rib in the process. 

The elf tumbled and flopped back end over end... 

Markus was coming from the left side now, his blade recovered, haand-to-pommel for a piercing attack. Briee tossed her blade up as though it was nothing, started towards Amaranth. "Aren't we having fun- huh-" She saw Markus, snagged her blade- 

Oh no. 

He was too slow. 

Briee had the blade gripped in one hand. She pivoted, bringing up the massive cutting edge- 

Right through Markus's face. Through his skull. Through the air after. His body kept going forward- one step. Two steps. Part of his skullcap landed just as his body fell limp several feet away from where Briee stood. "Oh, so sorry!" She exclaimed. "Valiant effort, though!" 

Ammy's mouth fell open, "NO!" 

"Oh, yes, I'm afraid so!" the short woman twirled her blade. "Why don't you get up and we have another go... Best two out of three- three out of five- whatever." 

Amaranth launched to her feet, opening her body fully to her goddess. Raw power meant to fry every piece of her body sparked to life as she crashed into the monster. She slid her blade in between the seams of the monster's pauldron and her cuirass, driving into her her arm pit even as Briee thrashed out. She made the angle hard to get and Ammy ended up putting her weight into it at the wrong time- she let loose with the most profane curse she could muster in the tongue of elves. She forced her entire weight into it, driving the blade deeper and deeper even as Briee- surprised by the force of the attack- stumbled backwards. 

Vaguely, Ammy was aware of the searing kiss of divine power rending her own flesh as well. Blisters swelled across her back, blooming into full fields of pain as she started pounding the blade into Briee's upper body. It cracked through the woman's shoulder blade, through her back plate and kept going until the guard smashed into her armor hard enough to dent it. It wasn't enough. It would never be. 

The monster dropped her heavy sword in the mud letting out the first genuine scream of pain as they toppled back into the mud. Amaranth slammed her fist into the monster's face. Once. Twice. She grabbed Ammy's hand on the third attempt and roared out a snarl- then snapped her forearm off at an awkward angle. 

That brought the pain into clearer focus. Amaranth screamed, Briee shoved her off, coughing and sputtering blood from under her bandanna. A piece of white bone like material- probably a tooth- followed. But sooner than later the woman was getting to her feet while Ammy clutched her mangled hand, unyielding in its steel gauntlet. She braced herself against the pain, trying to stagger up to her feet, looking to Briee with narrowed eyes. 

Spirit was one of those things she'd never been able to quantify, but it was something she could understand- duty, honor. Sacrifice. She existed to serve her lord and her goddess. It was her duty to live for both of them and, if necessary, die for either of them, too. Ammy clenched her teeth, bolting for the woman. 

She lowered her head intending to smash into her side, but the woman wheeled on her, grabbed her hair when she would've gone past and dropped her elbow into the half-elf's back. Ammy felt the metal give into her back as she slammed down face first into the dirt. She wasn't down long, though, Briee hauled her up by the collar of her armor with her good arm and locked gazes. "There's no shame in giving up... I won't think any less of you." 

"F-" the word refused to form. 

"Hm? Oh, you think that just because I serve a dragon I can't exhibit honor? Mercy?" Briee turned- threw the broken elf-blood into the ditch. "Compassion?!" 

Ammy's entire body was numb but the blisters coating her flesh screamed with the rough treatment as she flopped and slammed into the unforgiving earth. The young knight clawed at the dirt, trying to bring herself up. Briee 'helped' by grabbing her collar once more and slamming her against the tree. They were both breathing hard but for some reason, Briee's composure was slipping. She was loosing focus- maybe blood, too. 

That terrifying void of magic swirled around her like a personal gravity well- a place where things went to die. She hefted Amaranth up against the tree and slammed her hard enough to knock the wind from her. They wobbled a little, Briee struggling to keep upright against the slant of the hill. "I should hang you here," she huffed. "By right, I should... But I like you. It's so rare I find a challenge." 

"F-" 

Briee turned her head. "Hm? Come on, speak up!" 

Ammy grabbed her arm, leaned in. "Fuck. You." 

Briee looked at her with a perked brow. Her pale lavender eyes flickered with exhausted amusement. "I like you, Ammy, which is why I'm going to be merciful. Tell me where he's going, I'll let you live." 

"Fuck. You..." 

"Probably best. I wasn't going to anyway." A hammer blow struck Ammy in the ribs causing her to double over. Her plate was dented in and her breath completely gone- so exquisite was the pain. She watched from the forest floor as the dragon's servant reached for Ammy's sword hilt and, with several painful tugs ripped it free from her shoulder. She panted and huffed looking at the half-elf. 

Amaranth, the paladin of Elisandra, the stupid idiot who tangled with a dragon's agent and lost but in so doing ensured her Duke- and thus, her duty- was fulfilled, met her would-be killer's gaze and smiled a broken grin. "You'll never find him." 

"We'll see..." The impossibly strong woman hefted Amaranth up and in one swift strike, shoved the elven patterned blade under Ammy's cuirass through her padding, the tender flesh underneath- through her back- through the steel and into the tree behind her. "Consider this a mercy." 

# 

Pain. Everything hurt. Everything screamed in raging fires and piercing agony in a mind overwhelmed with the sensation, how could anything be defined but by the song of life. That mind came out of its stupor only briefly, mere fleeting moments, and she- whoever she was any more, looked to the scattered remains of the wounded soldiers and horses splayed out across the road. 

A woman was standing there in bloodied armor talking to, of all things, a dragon the size of a large dog... It wasn't a dragon- a projection. Yes. A magical projection of one. It was speaking in a slithering drawl, "Your sister has failed me..." 

"Father, I-" 

"Find her!" it snapped. "Find her and the mortal! I want them in pieces!" 

Briee lowered her gaze in the presence of such anger. "I haven't failed you, nor will I, father." 

"Then prove it to me. Show me you are worthy of my blessings, find Lostariel. Find Sarah Kettar, kill them both. You will take your sister's pact." 

She looked up at that, gave a silent nod. "I will, father, after I finish with the Corengi you sent me after... I've found him-" Her words blurred into the sing-song pain as Amaranth tried to push on the sword in her stomach, to loosen herself from the tree. 

She blacked out shortly after that. 

# 

Amaranth slumped forward against her sword, only vaguely aware of pain now, so brilliant was it's razor light. There was blood running down her leg armor in a steady trickle, painting the green with red. She tried to scoop at it, feebly trying to put it back in her body. There was so much of it. 

So much... 

She was getting tired. Protecting Richard was finally taking it's toll; of course he didn't need the weak little elf-blood to take care of him, but she still tried. What a contrite thought! A lycan protected by a mere half blood! Laughable! 

Ammy wanted to laugh but when she opened her mouth a thick, rusty tang burbled in the back of her throat and choked off her voice. She spit to the side, looked down. Her sword was buried through her stomach with crimson vines wrapped around the proud inlay and dribbling down the scuffed basket hilt. Dimly, her mind reminded her that it was her blood. That probably wasn't good... 

She was going into shock. Battle mind, she'd heard it called by healers. She couldn't focus enough to channel her god's blessings, all she wanted to do was sleep. But she couldn't. Why couldn't she? 

Richard. Richard was still alive. 

Amaranth wrapped her hand around the basket of her sword. Two quick breaths. Like pulling a splinter or shrapnel. Yes, just like that. Three... two... 

# 

Time passed in darkness before she awoke again, staring up at the sky with a thick fluid buildup in the back of her throat. She pushed against the wet earth and gaped her mouth to let it pour out in a thick stream. More blood, she decided. Thick, black fluid had built up around the hole in her stomach and even now it burbled as the built up reservoir of her life fluid tried to escape from her steel casing. 

Then it struck her. The baby. 

Oh gods. 

The baby... 

No- no, she had to survive. She had to focus. She tried to move the trembling remains of her right hand under her armor and felt around for the hole created by her sword. She found it when pain exploded across her vision like a hot iron. She focused; prayed; gritted her teeth against the pain. It couldn't end like this. Not for an unborn life. 

Please. I'll give my life when it's born. Please- 

A stick crunched beside her. Amaranth whimpered and turned her swollen eyes up to the sound in time to see a short woman dressed in a baroque velvet frock step out of the ether. She was impeccably dressed with perfectly polished boots, her short blonde hair slicked back and calm solid white eyes that glowed faintly in the dim light of the fading day. She was as pale as alabaster and nearly as pure, even from a glance. A split second later she was joined, from out of pure nothing, by a ravishingly beautiful middle eastern woman with dusty skin and flowing brown hair that touched her fine sandals. Her flowing white dress was plain and completely unadorned, but it accented every single inch of her body without breaking modesty. 

Without waiting for prompting, the dusty skinned woman looped an arm around the shorter woman's shoulders, leaned over so her chin was resting on the woman's head. She sighed theatrically. "Poor thing, look at you." 

This earned a slight twitch of annoyance from the woman with the gothic attire. Despite not having pupils, Amaranth imagined her glancing up at the woman using her head for a resting place. She said something in a flowing, wispy sigh of a language. At which point the staggering beauty stepped back with pouted lips. 

With that annoyance gone, she stepped into Amaranth's field of view fully. In that position, there was a sense of something wholly familiar about her. She was tangible and connected to Ammy in some inexplicable way; like the taste of her god's blessings when it crossed her soul. Amaranth clutched her stomach and tried to feel that connection now, to will Her energies into her frail body. To protect her child if not herself. 

The woman squatted down on her haunches and reached out, a fine silk gloved finger that stopped just shy of Ammy's battered eye. For all her focus, though, Amaranth couldn't bring herself to shy away. She needed to stop the bleeding. She could still protect Richard. She could save her child. 

Oblivious to her struggle, the woman in white stepped up beside her, casting a glance towards what remained of Marcus's skull. She looked to white eyes and then Ammy, though she adressed White Eyes. "Well, if you're not going to-" 

"Shh." 

The eastern woman let out a soft 'hmph!' that lacked any real conviction. "It's not a good idea to snub those you're trying to sleep with, cutie. Just a friendly warning!" 

"You came on to me," White Eyes said in a voice like cold steel. Practical, clipped and unforgiving. 

"A minor detail." 

White Eyes stared at Amaranth for a moment before she chose to speak again, this time her voice was more subdued and almost sorrowful. "You're dying." 

"I think she knows that-" 

"Silence!-" the woman blushed quickly. "Ah, please... I have a job to do." 

The eastern woman shook her head but a soft smile pulled at the corner of her lips. "This is why I don't keep Cherubs... I'd miss out on meeting so many beautiful people. Go on, kiddo." 

They talked like she wasn't even there, for gods' sake. She wanted to ask for help, but knew better than to hope. Their diction made it pretty apparent that her health was inconsequential to them. If only she could focus... 

"Don't bother," White Eyes said softly. Her gloved finger was still close enough to touch but she kept at a slight distance, probably afraid to get the pure silk. "You're going to die, nothing anyone can do for you will change that." 

"W- W- What," Amaranth gargled around a mouth full of blood. "about my duty." 

The woman smiled a tiny bit. She was beautiful for that split second before she spoke. "That's why I'm here... I'm-" 

"Remember!" the easterner cut in. "We have an appointment!" 

"Will you please let me do my job?" 

"Tch, fine, but if we're late to the hunt, I'm going to be exceptionally upset with you!" 

The woman let out a soft sigh, turned her attention to Amaranth. "We serve the same god. I'm Yamma. I'm your handler. Your Cherub." 

Amaranth blinked against tears welling up. "P- Please... Don't... Don't let this child die." 

"She's-" 

"One thing at a time." The dusty skinned woman said with a soothing voice. 

Yamma flicked her gaze towards the easterner. "I've taken the training, I know what I'm doing!" 

The easterner strolled around Amaranth's body, prowling around the muddy ditch until she was behind Yamma. She leaned over her without much concern and batted the silk gloved hand away from Ammy's face. With a sad smile, she laid her chin on the short woman's shoulder. "Hi there," she said by way of introduction. "Do you know who I am?" 

"N- o-" Amaranth managed weakly. 

"Hmph!" Her smile was quick and warm, showing off a glamorous row of pearly whites. "No? Tch, fine. I'm Isiria... This lovely young creature is a representative of your god, come to take you away-" 

"Or," Yamma interjected. "I can give you another chance..." 

This earned a very dour look from the pleasure goddess. She shifted uncomfortably and looked to Amaranth with a sudden sadness. 

Yamma continued, her voice soft now. "You're running out of time, so I will be brief; we've watched your dedication, we've seen your progress. When you stood in front of the soldiers, to protect them from the rampaging miscreant- you knew you'd be killed, but you still tried. Amaranth, your bravery and dedication have been noticed. 

Amaranth tried to muster a response, to tell the Cherub that she was nothing special and that it was her job to do the things she'd done. All that came out, though, was a gurgle. "C- hild." 

"She-" 

Isira put a finger to the younger woman's lips. "First things first, my splendorous elf..." She trailed off, turning her head just slightly so she could take Yamma's earlobe between her pouted lips. "Go on." 

Yamma shuddered and sighed, eyes half closing while Isira continued to suckle on the milky bit of flesh. It took the pale woman several moments to compose herself against the goddess's flirtations, but when she finally managed to squeak out "stop" Amaranth was already beginning to slip into the fringes of sleep. 

She was so tired but the screaming headache in the back of her mind told her she needed to stay awake. To fight it. Her heart slammed against her battered ribcage as she clawed at the mud, trying to find purchase. She had to protect Richard. She had to stay awake for him. She had to stay awake for their child. 

She had to stay alive. 

"My, my, my..." Isira was saying as the broken half-elf clawed at the muddy earth, inching her way towards her sword. "She is persistent." 

Yamma laid her hand on the sword, careful not to touch the blood. "Your fight is over, Amah." 

"R- Richard... Our ch- child." 

"She wasn't his." The short woman stood to her full height and stepped in front of the dying paladin, bending over just enough to look her in the eye. "You're dying, Amah. Your child is dead, but it needn't be this way." 

"W-" 

"Shh, listen now. You're going to die... Right now." 

"B-" Amaranth choked on a load of blood in the back of her throat. 

"I can save you... You can still protect your lover." Yamma said, Isira shot her a dirty look which she deliberately ignored. She squatted down once more and touched Amaranth's forehead, aiming for the one spot not caked with battle grime. "Your goddess is offering you what you want more than anything; to protect, to live. Don't you think Richard would want that?" 

"H- How?" 

"Take my hand... Your goddess is offering your a pact for your service." She drew back with her hand outstretched still, ready to be taken. "You'll have the power to fight her enemies, the courage you need to stand tall, you'll be a force for change among mortals. Amah, you can still save Richard. You can save everyone." 

"What she's not going to tell you..." Isira clapped Yamma's shoulder. "What she can't tell you is that there's a price here..." 

Amaranth's tired, drooping gaze turned to the eastern beauty, now she was vaguely aware of the sense of divinity about her. It was more than just that, though. There was a pull, an ache in her soul that felt as though she was being pulled from her body; things were getting blurry and distant, each passing second slower than the last. 

"It won't be pleasant, Amah, not at first. But you will never become infirm, you'll never become too weak to stand against those who'd do evil. You will be the sword and the shield. Amah, your patron needs you." 

"I- I failed-" 

"Not yet you haven't, no Amaranth. Take my hand, your fight doesn't haven to end here." 

Amaranth felt a surge of weakness and light in one fell swoop, threatening to erase everything she was with it's blinding power. Her body was becoming a distant thing, like a pair of gloves that no longer fit, sliding free from her hands as cinches came undone. She raised her hand from the dirt. Richard needed her. 




Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 22



Isira shot the woman that same dirty glance, picture perfect even on her impossibly beautiful features. She grabbed Yamma's hand and pulled it back just out of Amaranth's reach. "Gotta be careful about these things... You take this pact and you're going to pay for it." 

"H- How?" 

A smile pulled her lips. "That's a good girl. You're never going to age, you'll never have children." She held Yamma's wrist even as the girl tried to pull away. "Your goddess will give you power but She'll ask a lot more in return- she's a slave driver, imagine that- and then..." She paused for a moment, eying Amaranth with a saddened expression. "Then there's the death." 

"She doesn't need to hear this-" 

"You can't stop me. Now behave." The goddess let go of Yamma's wrist, planted a kiss on the short woman's throat, still eying Amaranth. "I'm going to let you in on a dirty little secret; you're going to trade your soul for what you're going to get in return. Your powers aren't fueled by your patron, but your soul... When your soul is exhausted, and I promise you, it will eventually, you're going to cease to be." 

"Isira, please-" 

"Tut, tut, she needs to know this kind of thing-" The ravishing beauty turned back to Ammy and, with a gentle, sad smile, she said, "You'll never age, but you're going to die one day, whether you use up your powers or you're killed. When that happens, dear Ammy... Oh, dear girl... 

"There is no word for what happens to your soul, at least none we gods know. You cease to be. It's a price unlike any other... I urge you to think about this, your goddess is going to accept you either way, you don't need to take it!" 

But Richard... 

Isira's expression flattened, wary and uneasy for a moment. "There are a lot of people who could benefit from your being alive. It's true." 

Could she read Ammy's fading mind? Including him? He's alive isn't he? 

The goddess smiled sadly, casting a glance to Yamma. 

Yamma offered her hand once more. "For Richard and Isis." 

Isis? 

It would have been her name... 

Amaranth raised her hand, reaching for Yamma. Isis was a beautiful name... 

And Dame Amaranth Yanoseven was no more.



Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 23



Interlude 5 A Game for Kings and Gods 

"There are many people who think chess too complicated and contrived in our modern society; that other games are more representative of the strategies required to win at war and life. The majority of these people have never held the fate of a nation in their hand and would scarcely be able to grasp the ramifications three moves hence as they slide a pawn into place. 

It isn't a game for the simple or those unwilling to take risks; in my country, our pieces are lives- our pawns are citizens, our rooks are our armies and our King? Our King is our future. Most people have never held their King, much less claimed another's. They will never learn the lessons a skilled opponent can teach and they will never be prepared to take control of their lives. The gods don't play dice and neither should we. We can find our purpose if we just look, learn and step into it humbly. 

If you learn nothing else from your stay with me, remember this, my friend. 

This is the true power of the grid. 

Ithric Kettar" 

The Cherub 

Transporting fractured memories and pieces of experience into a specific place in a sea of specific places to fully form oneself into a cohesive being that could be called 'someone' instead- and at the same time- 'no one' was a tricky thing that still took thought to pull off. This itself was a tricky prospect considering that the sea of specific places, and the memories attempting to find the place in question had never actually met. Throwing darts at a map. 

Amaranth had done that. It was an apt analogy. A smoky bar in the middle of the slummier area of her favorite city. Throwing darts at a paper target made up to look like a bunch of muffins badly sketched with drunk hands. A map, though. Muffins and a map. They were the same experience playing out at different times with different Amaranths both young and older. It was confusing and it made Yamma's head hurt. 

That thought in and of itself formed a physical body in a barren wasteland under a roiling purple sky with white lightning crisscrossing it, looking for a target. Deciding it was probably not wise to linger, she blinked and opened her mind to the sea of specific places once more. Several times she thought she'd found the place, but when she opened her eyes the landscape was always slightly 'off'. 

On the thousandth time, Yamma opened her eyes to find the place she was looking for- at least she thought it was; a sunken valley hosted hundreds of ruined buildings made of stone and glass unlike anything she had seen. All of them buried under a sky less void and sealed in with heavy, oppressive air. A field of packed dirt interspersed with rubble crunched softly under her finely tailored boots as she started walking towards the strangest of the glass buildings; it was tall, taller than anything Amaranth- or Yamma- had ever seen. Sheathed in glass the color of soot, it reached into the empty sky like a spire constructed from pure magic and impossibility. As she approached, the structure began to make more sense and she found an entry to it under some fancy lettering in a language she couldn't comprehend. 

The welcoming hall was spacious and worn out with countless ages of accumulated dirt forming a thick layer of grime over once opulent carpeting. At the end of the hall blinked a circular ivory glow. The dot was no bigger than a coin but in the otherwise dark room, it was a dominating feature. 

Yamma ducked under a fractured archway to avoid hitting her head, having to actually crouch down to navigate some fallen pillars. When she got to the back wall she paused. The dot of light was set in a steel panel beside a much bigger steel panel inset slightly into the wall. It was big enough to be a pair of doors side by side but there didn't seem to be any handle. She opened her senses, careful not to draw on Amaranth's essence and slid a tiny part of her self-consciousness to the council chambers to ask for permission to use some of Elisandra's power. 

The other Cherubs debated for hours of thought-time, demanding she divulge her location and becoming increasingly belligerent when she refused. A higher power had asked her to keep it secret, her very nature forbade her from holding it in her mind and so she couldn't have given it to them if she wanted to- which, if she was being honest, she really didn't. 

After what felt like an eternity, a vote was cast and her request was accepted. Her heart surged with Elisandra's primal energies, compelling her to seek out guidance from the collective. To obey. But that was wrong. . . One didn't learn through blind obedience. 

It was Amaranth's nature to be curious and rebellious, so too had Yamma's baser instincts formed around that central pillar. The concept of unquestionable servitude felt as alien and strange as it had to Yamma's progenitor: it made her want to rebel for the sake of it! To think those snobs knew the first thing about this place when they hadn't left their chambers in ten centuries was absurd. She was careful, though, not to let those thoughts run to close to the tiny part of her she used to communicate with the others. 

Instead, she immediately put the blessing to use trying to sense the nature of the magic that controlled the odd button. She pressed her will into it to manipulate the tangles of power to no avail. She even tried to ease out into one of the higher layers of reality to look for a mechanical lock. 

Finding none, she frowned slightly and pushed the button. It gave smoothly and the steel door slid to the right with a rhythmic ding. 

The chamber beyond the 'doors' was tiny by comparison to the lobby, no bigger than a privy with beautiful gold and wood paneling along circular walls and a glass back looking out on the history of desolation. With no wind to stir the errant cobwebs, their sway startled her at first until she realized she was stepping into the strange chamber, curious. She had come to far to go back, she wouldn't turn away now. 

After all, she had been promised something special and gods never lied. Even to another gods' subordinate. When Yamma turned, she saw the panel in the wall and frowned. Rows and rows of buttons were staring back at her expectantly with that odd ivory colored glow. Her attempts to sense the magic that might control it fell flat, but after a second she realized only one of the buttons didn't actually have a glow to it. She couldn't make sense of the rune underneath it, but that seemed fairly trivial. She pushed it. 

How convenient. 

At first nothing happened and Yamma stared at the panel, perplexed. Before she could attempt to exit the chamber the door closed with a soft ding and lurched upward. Yamma grabbed the rail, bracing herself as the chamber shuddered and groaned. It slid upward into the gloomy abyss perpetually rising from the ground with a strange kind of friction that made the chamber feel alive. Slow. But alive. 

A flash of panic rippled through her- and Amaranth, she was sure- when the Cherub considered her own mortality for the first time in her comparably short life. She could die in physical form, so could Amaranth. If one of them died, the other would follow suit thereafter. Had she already endangered her charge by being reckless? She was better than this, she knew better than to dig around in this place. 

She was Elisandra's divine agent, not some stupid mortal. Cherubs weren't supposed to be curious! They were supposed to be servile and astute, looking out for the interests of their patron and charges, protecting and guiding when necessary. This? This was beyond her scope. 

Carefully she edged up to the frame where a window should have been. The rustling wind from the ascending chamber blew down over her face. Over the lip of the chamber she could see she was actually on the outside of the building and being propelled up a shaft with a set of bright steel looking posts along either side of the shaft. The chamber- a vertically propelled carriage, she was realizing- continued to climb ever higher into the darkness giving Yamma more than enough time to get used to the awkward movement. As she did so, she looked out over the remains of whatever the place had once been. 

The devastation was awesome in its sheer scale but so was the alien sense of preservation; as if the entire area had the luck to have been in a pocket of earth so dense whatever had destroyed the effigies to some obscure civilization couldn't burrow down deep enough to level it all. Curious. 

Yamma braced her hands on the support where there should have been a window, watching for the last fifty feet of the carriage's journey. The subtle shift in its ascension told her it was coming to a stop. It did eventually with a jerk. 

Ding. 

Helpful way to train the rider, Yamma noted and turned from the strange visage. The doors slid aside to reveal a warm hallway wrapped in exquisitely polished wood and marble colored a soft eggshell and a deep salmon that actually made Yamma pause between the two 'worlds'. Surely this was Isira's personal garden, did she have any right to enter, even by invitation? 

Cherubs were the lowest of the divine beings, they weren't meant for sights like this. . . 

Yamma adjusted her antique waistcoat, polished a button with her sleeve and straightened herself up self consciously. Part of Amaranth bled into her thought processes- she would be more rude to ignore the invitation and three times so to arrive in anything but her best attire. Since she was only allowed one set, she made sure she was as presentable as could be and stepped into the hall. 

Like pressing the trigger of a crossbow, she was hit with an intoxicating scent that prickled the deepest parts of her soul with its sublime gentility and warmth. She didn't have to breathe and suddenly she found the need as she followed the gentle lapping at her senses of the inviting smell. She turned the corner to find a small set of stairs going up to a rather plain looking door with a protruding knob attached to a steel plate with a red and green light on it. Above the small lights was a black pad the size of Yamma's fingertip. She stared at it, puzzled and, on intuition not entirely her own, she pressed her finger to the pad, feeling for the tingle of magic or the complex pull of a mechanical lock. Neither of which presented themselves. 

Yamma stared blankly a moment longer and then it struck her. It was a door. Doors had procedures and operated on simple principles if the occupant of the home was there. She gave a couple of knocks. Three seconds passed in silence before the light on the plate flared a vibrant green. A soft clack echoed from the door and it opened inwardly. 

Isira's voice was dizzying in its warmth and raw power, even before Yamma felt her presence. "Come in, come in!" When Yamma stepped in the scent she'd noticed seeped into her like a gentle poison that made her entire body relax from within. The massive room was laid out around a central table and a carpet full of pillows. Isira was standing between the table and an arched window that looked out on the blackness. Two small orbs dangled from the ceiling casting a warm light over the entire room but somehow the light played strangely across Isira's muslin slip. As if it wasn't there. 

The goddess pouted her lips playfully, looking at the young Cherub, sizing her up briefly before she stepped forward. Yamma stopped when it was clear Isira was coming to her. She had no idea what to expect, but when she was enfolded in a hug, she knew that had been the last thing on her mind. She stood there for a moment not sure how to handle the situation. "I- came as soon as I could." She squeaked out. 

"I know," the words flowed across her ear. She shuddered involuntarily. She wanted to be upset at Isira, but the mere glimpse of the ageless beauty sent her heart into her throat and the questions she'd been preparing all seemed to fall by the wayside. Melting in the heat of Isira's presence, for a moment all she wanted to do was stand in the goddess's arms and enjoy the new sensations waring through her mind. 

Duty 

Responsibility 

Warmth 

Passion 

Life 

Yamma glanced at Isira from the corner of her vision. Her caramel skin radiated warmth unlike anything she'd so far known, a subtle invitation to touch it rippled through Yamma's mind and she actively had to resist it. She steeled herself, unsure exactly how to address a real deity. She'd never been in the presence of Elisandra, even though she felt Her influence in the back of her mind at all times. An apology seemed like a good idea. . . 

"I'm sorry about shouting earlier. I- it was my first assignment and I-" her voice died on her lips when Isira turned her head to meet her gaze. Gods she was gorgeous. "I-. . ." 

Isira's bottomless brown eyes watched her with calm detachment, as if she had the rest of eternity to wait for the little Cherub to find her tongue. Yamma stuttered a few times before she gave up and sighed, turning her gaze down. It was always better to appear a supplicate in the presence of a superior, after all. 

"You're better than that," Isira said simply. "What troubles you?" 

"T- Troubles. . . No troubles. I owe an apology, a debt, for how I acted in your presence in front of the mortal-" 

"Amaranth." 

Yamma blinked in surprise. "You remembered." 

That actually seemed to bother Isira. She turned away leaving Yamma to chill in the hallway. "It might strike you to know that I care a great deal about people, my dear. Do come in!" Just like that any hint of her being upset was dropped like a curtain. "I've prepared a meal for us, you'll give me the honor of your company, I hope?" 

Carefully, Yamma edged up to the arch of the main living room and clasped her hands behind her back. "I. . . I beg your pardon, but we don't eat? Goddess, surely your own Cherubs have taught you such?" 

Isira stopped half way into another room off to the side, shooting Yamma a glance. "Humor me?" 

"Of course, goddess. . ." 

"Mmm. . ." She eyed Yamma a moment longer, flicked her gaze to an inset doorway on the opposite side of the room. "There's some clothing in the other room, be so good as to change into it? I want you to be comfortable." 

"All right. . .?" Yamma waited for the woman to leave before she made for the indicated room. She wasn't entirely comfortable or sure what etiquette she should have been following and she had to wonder just how offensive she was being. She could have consulted with the others, but what was the point if they'd want to know where she was in exchange for any help? 

Yamma stopped short when she saw the dress hanging from a hook in the changing room. Without thinking about it, she muttered, "You're kidding me. . ." 

# 

It was too small! Even for her diminutive frame, the silk fabric felt like it was compressing her physical body in on itself. It hugged her curves like water but didn't have the decency to drape below her mid thigh and- as if it was an anathema to all that was modest- its plunging neckline put more than enough of her body on display. 

She was already longing for her baroque attire as she stared in open wonder at the mirror big enough to be a main entry gate to a castle. A sudden self-consciousness washed over her while she turned this way and that to see how the crimson dress contrasted her marble pallor. With her blonde hair and pupil-less eyes she looked more like a doll than an agent of divinity. . . 

A cruel mockery of man or its greatest evolution. 

Yamma frowned at that though, adjusted the straps on the dress and smoothed out the wrinkle across her taught stomach. For all her concerns, she probably fit someone's idea of attractiveness; gentle curves, a toned body and breasts the size of grown man's fists. Short, maybe, but well proportioned. 

Yes, she was well proportioned. 

Yamma blinked. When had she ever considered these things necessary to her function? "Hmph. . ." She eyed her reflection dubiously. It wasn't too late to go back to the collective- if she'd failed in some way, she could always petition for a new representative to take over. Amaranth deserved that. . . But had she failed? Yamma wasn't sure. 

"Now, I have to wonder," Isira's voice filtered through the thin door. "Have you had wine yet?" 

"In the colloquial sense or literal?" 

There was a pause. "Say no more!" 

That took a moment to sink in and before she realized it, Yamma was opening the door to correct her mistake- 

She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the goddess standing in the middle of the room where the table had been. It was set aside for a pair of cushions and some plates of something vaguely identifiable as food and, much to Yamma's concern, a pair of glasses with a bottle of wine. The greatest concern- surprise, even- came when Isira caught a breath, putting two fingers to her chin and studied Yamma. 

"My, my. . . " The luxurious woman glided into Yamma's space, cupping her cheeks gently with her warm fingers. It was unearthly- insane even- Yamma wasn't supposed to feel that warmth. By the gods, did she, though. It swept through her sending a shudder down a body never meant to be corporeal for more than a few minutes at a time. She looked up to the ageless goddess, watching, waiting. . . Hoping? A spark of passion cracked deep inside her and she took her first breath by some long dormant reflex- a gasp. 

The tingle of air not meant for breathing was incredible. She could feel her body go slack as she savored the unnatural scent of the goddess's power and presence- of her very soul. Her entire being wanted to melt into it and for just a brief split second she tried to join with that purity of purpose- that endless expanse of pleasure so achingly close. . . 

"No, no. ." A distance voice whispered. "I think your charge would be quite upset if I took her champion from her." 

Yamma mumbled something. Charge. . . "Champion?" 

"Indeed. . . Come, let's speak. Be patient, that feeling will pass." 

Yamma followed blindly and let herself be sat down on a cushion. In her fuzzy logic she was sitting down in a western bar, but that seemed wrong somehow. What seemed right was the presence of an all consuming pleasure cresting the boundaries of her very being like waves lapping at the shore of a grey beach. 

It was profane. Warm. Full of life. . . Where the beach held true to its form and protected the inner sanctum of the land against the unpredictability of the water, the water itself was a world unto itself. It was home to someone. 

Yamma looked to the goddess. She understood now. . . She smiled to Isira, the first smile of her life. The only one she'd ever seen. Gods it felt good to know. The euphoric high was already dying off but the power of its revelation left a gap in her soul. Isira was no more an enemy than any of the other gods. She had been wrong. 

The entire Collective had been wrong. 

Isira's warm chocolate eyes watched the little cherub passively like an eagle might its young. Eventually she picked up her plate and separated herself a piece of green paste with her spoon. "Try some, it's quite good." 

Yamma blinked, struggling to focus. "I beg pardon, I'm not. . . You-" 

"Shh." 

"We don't eat." 

"We don't breathe either," She said playfully. "You seem to be enjoying it, though." 

Yamma eyed the paste on her plate, then Isira. The goddess just watched her through her wispy bangs, playful and mischievous to the end. She picked up the spoon and plate, "Which should I-" 

"That's up to you now isn't it?" Isira was watching her more intently than before. Yamma noticed there was no green paste on her plate. It was a test of some kind. . . She frowned at that. 




Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 23



"I-" 

"Eat." Isira said softly. "I didn't spend all this time making dinner only to be turned down by a guest. You're beautiful, dear, but you're not that beautiful." 

Yamma reluctantly scooped up a bit of yellow paste, eyed it dubiously as she brought it to her mouth. She sniffed it with her new senses- a pungent smell, sharp and biting- like steel being forged. She touched it to her tongue experimentally. The taste was just as riotous and hot, bristling spears of angry fire over her entire body before it burned itself into embers and smoldered out to a smoky, earthen richness in the space of an instant. 

She savored the new sensation, licking experimentally at the spoon and taking more of the strange paste in. Her gaze turned to Isira who was smiling broadly at some private victory. "It's. . . Hot." 

Isira motioned for her to go on. "That's curry for you, try some of the others! The teal is chicken and the blue is pork." 

So it went. Yamma experimented with each in kind, finding the chicken to be more to her liking- a strange concept to her by itself. Carefully, she took a bit more, a bit more after that. Before she could finish it, though, a thought occurred to her; why not combine the two flavors? 

The explosion of hot chicken in her mouth made her tongue burn like a forge and satisfy like the warmth of the woman across from her. Apparently she wasn't the only one, either- Isira was giggling, watching Yamma. At the questioning look, the goddess leaned forward and brushed a tiny bit of paste from the corner of Yamma's mouth. Then she looked her right in the eye and licked it clean from her finger. Her smile was infectious and soon Yamma found herself conscious of a warmth on her cheeks and a mild discomfort from smiling too much- as if such a thing was possible. 

They finished their meals in relative silence before Isira poured some wine. The flavor was pleasant but not something Yamma had any interest in exploring beyond Isira's company. Especially not when her senses became unreliable. . . The world had a slight floaty quality to it after the wine and it made her aware of the closeness of the Goddess's flesh to her own. Somewhere between one glass and two, Isira had saddled up next to the Cherub, pressing her warmth against the young creature's skin. 

Isira started to refill their glasses but Yamma stopped her. "What is it. . . Why am I here." 

"Well now, that's a loaded question." Isira set the bottle down. "Perhaps we should start with why you think it is you're here? I'm going to imagine it has something to do with curiosity, yes? The unanswerable questions of your collective. . ." 

"I. . ." Why was she here? "I think I remember wanting to know why Amaranth had a healthy respect for you. Maybe that was it. . ." She furrowed her brow in thought. Yes, that sounded right. "Before she died, she seemed to hold you only slightly below the Holy Elisandra." 

"Hm," the goddess smiled. "So is that why you 'invited' me to see you Bind her?" There was no mirth in her voice, but she remained cordial. "Do you know why I don't keep Cherubs, dear one?" 

"I. . ." Yamma rubbed her temples. Why was everything so off balance? "I don't, goddess." 

"Please. Call my Isira. . . Or 'my friend', Hm?" She looped an arm around Yamma's shoulders. Her whisper was tightly focused, strangely absent of its usual playfulness. "I find the practice barbaric. . ." Six generations I fought with the others to let the practice die." She tutted. "But Elisandra wanted Man to be able to carry on the will of the gods. . ." She sipped from her wine. "I harbor no ill will. Not one bit." 

Yamma looked at her oddly. "You're speaking blasphemy to an agent of-" 

"I knew the woman personally, dear. Hm? Don't give me that look. . . You might find this hard to believe, but there was a time when we all intermingled- and the parties. Ohhh, dear. If you could have seen them. . ." She sighed. "But! In the fullness of time, I can only imagine both she and I will be proven right for different reasons and on different fields!" 

"Beg pardon, but. . . I think I know where this is going?" 

"Go on?" 

"If you wish an audience with the Holy Elisandra, I can ask my superiors, but I'm. . . really new to this." 

Isira looked at her oddly. Very oddly. "You mean you don't know-" she stopped herself, flashed a smile. "Oh, yes! Well! Don't worry your pretty little head over that, no, I invited you here specifically for the sake of your company!"She was back in full swing again and even Yamma could feel the surge of warmth and revelry in her presence. "Think of this as cross pollination. . ." 

"Hm?" 

"I have some news that may be a little late in the delivery, but remains poignant even today. . . Tell me, what does your Collective know of the creature named Barxahn?" 

"I- I beg pardon, goddess, but I can't ask. . ." 

"Why not?" 

"I uh-" Isira put a finger to her lips. She was smiling. "I didn't tell them." 

"Mmm. Curious! Not even a day after formation and you're already violating your orders?" 

"But, my Charge. . . She has different views on what it means to guide and protect. To be subtle? Subtle, yes, instead of from the point of the sword" 

Isira watched her fumble for an adequate explanation, when the Cherub finally relented, she picked up the wine glasses and dinner plates. "Tell me more," She said as she turned. "Tell me about your paladin- Amaranth, wasn't it?" 

It was probably the wine speaking, but Yamma found the words coming easy. Tumbling from her lips as they should have. "Proud. Humble, but willing to challenge authority if its in the wrong-" 

"No, dear. Tell me about her in her words- not some trite Collective impression." The goddess took the dishes to a panel in the wall and pressed it, opening a hidden compartment where she deposited them. She then came back and sat behind Yamma so that her thighs were pressed to the Cherub's sides. She rested her chin on the younger entity's head and murmured. "Why did you take her case?" 

Yamma sighed. "I didn't have a choice. . . I had only been aware for a split second. The younger you are, the less you can choose from." 

"That's so cute!" Isira wrapped her arms around her. Her warmth was intoxicating and Yamma found herself leaning back into it. She drank in that life while the goddess continued. "I don't believe fate could possibly align any more perfectly- You've not had lifetimes to become cynical and detached yet. . ." A sun kissed hand touched Yamma's throat delicately. "Oh, the things you could accomplish." 

"I don't understand? She tried to look up but Isira was already shifting her weight so her head was resting on Yamma's shoulder. 

"Your charge. . . Do you think she is worthy of Eliandra's name?" 

"I- I do." 

"Deep in your soul?" 

"The Holy Elisandra believes her to be worthy, I would dare not question Her." 

"What if I asked you to look at it another way- here." Isira covered her eyes and a second later pulled her hand away. They were seated in front of her massive window overlooking the graveyard of glass structures. Her bare feet were pressed against the glass and she could feel a gentle chill trying to work its way through her body. Isira's warmth fought that chill, though and Yamma found herself trying to sink into it more and more. "What we have here is a city. . ." 

"What? This isn't a city. This is just a graveyard." 

Isira chuckled. "You dare question me?" 

"I- Oh. Beg pardon, goddess! I- I didn't think. . ." 

"Exactly. You didn't think. You questioned. . . Now you're thinking, now you're slowing down that reasoning process to find purpose." Her lips touched Yamma's throat, she murmured in her ear. "You don't grow by blindly following orders, my dear." 

"But what do I do?" 

"You experiment. You question. You fall on your face from time to time and you grow stronger for it." Isira kissed her neck, and again, nipped at the tender flesh sending a shock through the young Cherub. "The world needs people who're not afraid to question us, dear. Right now. . . There is more than you can comprehend at stake and your Collective won't act because they haven't received the order to do so." 

"What would you have me do-" 

" Barxahn." 

" Barxahn?" Yamma tried to turn her head but between the wine and Isira's attentions, she had a hard time getting up the will to do so. "The Dragon?" 

Isira's voice sounded oddly cold. "One of the last. He has been causing trouble for mortals for some time and I fear he's coming to the end of his machinations, I'm sure you can imagine how that would not work favorably for any of us. . ." 

"But the Collective hasn't mentioned it. Holy Elisandra-" 

"Let me ask you this- what do you see below us?" 

"An empty space," Yamma tried to puzzle out the subtext as Isira suckled at her neckline. The longer it went on, the less aware she was of her physical form and slowly, as though a blanket was falling from her body, she began to let her mind wander. "It's an empty space. . ." 

Isira hugged her tight and sighed against her moistened flesh. "This was my home, dear. . . Long, long ago." She kissed Yamma's neck. "Will you say that about what is left in the wake of the Dragon's breath? Does the Collective even remember the Dragon song?" 

"I. . . Think so? It sounds familiar?" 

The bronzed skin deity began to stand, taking Yamma up with her. She placed her hand on the glass, murmuring so softly Yamma strained to make out the words. It was a language she'd never heard with hard syllables and an almost melodic flow to it. The glass blinked, brightened and flashed to overlook a bright day with grassy fields as far as the eye could see, interrupted only by a swaying tree. Dangling from some of the branches were fist sized red seed pods or something, glistening in the brilliant radiance of a pure ray of sunlight. It was almost blinding in it's simple beauty. "Do you know what this is?" 

"No. . ." 

She kissed Yamma's ear. "This is an apple tree. Apples were a delicious fruit that used to occupy many of my waking moments-" 

"You- You speak blasphemy, Goddess." 

"Maybe." Isira laid her chin on Yamma's shoulder. In that moment she wasn't a superior chiding a subordinate but a peer. She pointed at the tree, eying the Cherub out of the corner of her vision. "But you're still curious." 

"I- I am. . ." 

Isira laid her hands on Yamma's shoulders, effortlessly tracing the lines of muscles that didn't need food or warmth but responded to both with a familiar longing. Her hands slid down from there, following the curves of her compact body to her slender waist- a strange sensation warped Yamma's thoughts of the apple tree while Isira's mouth pressed to her spine. "They took everything from us, Dear. They found our loves, our passions. . . Our hiding places." 

Yamma swallowed. "E- Even apples?" 

"Even apples." She breathed into the nape of the Cherub's neck. "What will they take from Man?" 

"But-" Yamma frowned, reaching for the tree. Her hand stopped at the glass and she clenched her fingers into a fist. "But they're just dragons. A battle lost, but not. . . Not the war? The Holy Elisandra taught us to guard against them, to know that there would be an end to the battle one day. . ." But that didn't sound right. There was something missing. 

"What else did She tell you?" 

"The Collective say She's waiting for a day to strike and not to act. . ." 

Isira's humid breath warmed the bare space between Yamma's shoulders in a long sigh that was anything but pleasured. Her grip on Yamma's waist tightened, possessive and protective at once. "Stupid girl. . ." 

"But-" 

"Not you, dear." She fell silent for a moment. Yamma started to turn but before she knew it fingers were being run through her hair from behind, combing her short mane free from its binding to fall across her neck. A moment later she felt the impressive heat of Isira's presence warm her entire body as she brought her other arm around the smaller creature's chest and pulled her back gently so her body had to arch to remain standing. Then came the first kiss of the Cherub's life. 

It was the kind of thing only a divine being could have conveyed- pain and loss, friendship and warmth, love and compassion- heat and an endless luminescence that pulled at Yamma's entire being. She had to fight to keep herself physical; feeling. She drew back panting and frazzled, looking up at the ancient power. She tried to find her voice but it simply refused to come. 

Isira didn't waste a moment to steal another kiss from her and this time Yamma didn't resist. The powerful immortal wrapped her entire being around the little cherub- a ghostly hand slid into her skin and planted her own hand on the glass so she was braced against it, drawing back its warmth only when it was sure she understood to stop there. Yamma's entire body shuddered with the surge of heat welling up inside her. The powerful urge spread through her core to her nerves, to everything she was. 

Longing. Hot, deep desire to feel and be felt. The new presence in her mind slithered across acres of her being in an instant and slowly, so slowly, drew back to the physical, taking Yamma with it. She became aware of the silk dress hugging her body, of hot moist lips pressed to her throat. Of the moan leaving her lips as Isira pulled her hair back gently. 

"I need your help," the goddess whispered. 

"I can ask-" 

"Your. Help." 

Yamma was trembling as Isira pressed her against the glass, her knees clenching against one another as- for the first time- she felt something tingling between her thighs. A finger grazed her oversensitive nether region and she whimpered so loudly it echoed. "Help-help-help. . . Help." The little cherub tried to remember why as she struggled to breathe. "Why me?" 

"Amaranth." 

Her charge. 

"Help her raise an army. . ." Isira's voice faded. "Can you do that?" 

"M- m- m-" Yamma's soul stirred like a hurricane, a flurry of thoughts with no cohesion. Without the Collective, she couldn't balance herself an Isira knew it. The goddess sagged to her knees behind the little Cherub, putting her luscious lips to the pale skin of Yamma's butt. The coolness faded away as she sank lower into Isira's heat- so warm. . . They both knew what was going to happen. Yamma drew another breath. That spice tickled her nose just as Isira's breath tickled the space between her ass cheeks. 

"I asked you a question, dear." The goddess breathed her demand against Yamma's quickly dampening nethers. 

She couldn't help it, Yamma mewled, "Yes, I can!" 

As if she'd unlocked some door with her words, spears of liquid passion jolted through her entire core- a powerful, unapologetic tongue parted her labia like a flower in full bloom. A dizzying array of emotions followed that tongue, working against her instincts to tighten- to remain impassive and indifferent. Oh, but what would she have missed out by doing so? Yamma bit her lower lip, arched her back further when she felt those fingers roaming her flanks. Isira gripped her butt tightly and kissed her pussy deeply as if it was the last time- her tongue worked in deeper and deeper to the very limit of her purity. The magic of the divine woman's presence made it easy to feel what she was meant to. 

Isira's fingers spread her flank muscles, loosening Yamma's vain attempts to stop herself from getting too involved. Those same fingers worked up her spine, tickling everything she was and everything she was secretly wondering she might become. Eventually she took the Cherub by the hips and tilted her head up, her tongue working increasingly more demanding circles around inside her virgin pussy. 

It was all Yamma could do not to scream- she arched her back even deeper, held upright only by her grip on the window. Her head between her shoulders and a low rumbling whine on her lips. She hadn't been ready for this. 

There was no going back, though. There was only the goddess's demand and the pleasure that came with it; little Yamma moaned out unconsciously while the goddess's tongue worked widening circles around her inner core- slow but deep, probing and deeply passionate. There wasn't a reason to fear or resist what might come- it was time to celebrate being alive. 

It was a time to live. 

Yamma dared to reach back and run her fingers through the silky locks of Isira's hair. She was rewarded with a throaty purr that reverberated through her core. She slumped forward, bracing her forearm on the glass, her red dress riding up even more when her back arched to nearly a V. "Ah- I- I-" 

"Mmmmrmmm?" Isira gripped her ass tightly, savoring every drop of the Cherub's essence. Faster and faster, the tongue worked inside, spreading warmth to parts of her body Yamma didn't know even existed. She had stopped remembering to breathe long ago, but now her body was fighting her to do exactly that as a new sensation boiled from deep within- she curled her toes into the plush carpeting, pushing up on the balls of her feet. 

Her voice ripped itself from her throat in a long moan that sounded more guttural than divine- "Ah- nnggghhhaahhhh!" Fire exploded across her body, jolts of high voltage pleasure that wracked her nerved with enough force to send her slamming into the glass. Spasm after spam tore through her pristine form echoing her straining vocals. She clawed weakly at the glass on her way to her knees and all the while the tongue in her pussy refused to slow down. It was too much- too much! She balled up forward trying to escape the insatiable demand but it was no use- Isira had her prize and there was no way she would be denied. 

Yamma clawed at the carpeting- a whimpering kitten compared to the goddess- and tried to beg her to stop. It was no use, though. Isira kept going, heedless to her begging. Then it happened. The surge of divine warmth wrapped around her body, through her physical form to the core. Isira's presence held her firmly in place even as another, even more powerful orgasm exploded from within. 

The pale little Cherub didn't stand a chance. She threw her head back, a silent scream issuing forth as every fiber of her physical being burst into impossible colors and lights. She crumpled into a heap of twitching flesh, spasm after spasm breaking across the tides of her little body while tears rolled from the corners of her eyes. Yamma wanted to hate herself. Cherubs didn't do this! It was the combined influence of a physical body and Isira's presence- it had to have been. She was weak! But it felt so right. How could she possibly have been held responsible for something so natural? The Collective had no idea what they were talking about. . . 

Yamma whimpered into the rug again, shuddering as a sudden chill swept over her in the absence of Isira's grip. She shuddered, trembling. Alone. Was this what it was like to be mortal? Gods, what an existence. Bleary, she opened her eyes to see that the glass had gone dark, leaving only the endless expanse of broken city to gaze upon. She turned her head and tried to sit up. 

Isira was at her side in an instant, wrapping her body around the little cherub, nuzzling her neck. Filling her with warmth and life. She turned into Isira's warmth panting and drinking in her scent with every gasp. The goddess enfolded her in her warmth and held her tight for what felt like eternity. Slowly, though, she began to ease off, kissing her forehead and stroking her hair back. 

She smiled a kindly grin, cradling the cherub in her arms like a child. "Do you still doubt me?" 

"D- Doubt?" Yamma looked up meekly. "N- No. . ." 

The goddess smiled and cooed, "Good, good. . . It only gets better from here, dear." 

"I- it can?" 

"It can, if you want it too." 




Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 23



Yamma closed her eyes a moment. "S- What must I do?" 

"That's it. . . Question. Question everything you're told, have faith in your Charge and guide her as Elisandra would want. You're going to have to experience a lot of things before we're ready, but there will come a day when what you've learned will be needed. . ." 

Yamma looked at her oddly, struggling against the fuzzy feeling in her head. "When did Isira become a goddess of war?" 

She smiled sadly, stroked some errant hair from Yamma's brow and kissed her forehead. "You're going to be a quick learner, I can tell. . ." She paused, seeming to consider something. "Be gentle with her, she's going to need a lot of help." 

"You still think I shouldn't have-" 

"You did what you were meant to, no one can fault you for that. Elisandra would be proud. . ." 

"You're lying. . ." 

Another sad smile graced her ageless features. "I'm glad I was right about you." She bundled Yamma into a warm hug and for the first time in her life, Yamma started to wonder just what it was she was supposed to learn. She returned the hug, of course, but something. . . 

Something felt off. Maybe time would tell. 

# # # # 

When there was no one around to see the mess that the room actually was, a salient figure rolled through the mess of rotting wood and plaster like a fog. The room, lit only by the luminescence of the form itself, cast shadows along broken and missing supports, visible through holes in the walls, an eerie yellow glow that tinged the dead structure with the briefest glimpse of life it had seen in eons. 

Parchments fluttered in the wake of the form, but it wasn't the parchments it had come for. Along the right wall on one of the few remaining platforms of flooring sat an intricate chess set carved from the most sacred of bone- that which never powdered and even now cast off a subtle glow of power. They were the bones of gods- of Her friends- the only material that stood as a reminder they had existed at all. The black king looked lonely without its queen, such that the bishops still trying to find space on the board couldn't have comforted it with a lifetime of energy to put into it. 

Of the three pawns still clinging to the board, one took a new shape- that of a Cherub. She gently pushed that piece forward into the wide maw of white pieces that dominated the center. The white king loomed over the field in its sinewy, serpentine glory and for just a split second, it looked as though it might come to life to devour the new piece. 

Unheard by any living creature, a sigh formed in the air and died shortly there after. . .



Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 24



Interlude 6 - Felicia's Lonely Road pt. 2 

Felicia teetered on the lip of her chair, separated from the purple eyed woman by stacks of plates that threatened to spill from the table at any moment. Felicia had never seen anyone put down as much food as the woman had, but something in her told her this was normal behavior- how else was she to maintain her lithe, muscular body but by eating a lot? 

Her purple eyed dining partner had introduced herself as Lostariel, a huntress from the frozen tundras to the north. Felicia had to wonder just how someone so fair skinned and soft spoken could have possibly found a husband but it wasn't impossible to imagine, especially in a city where everyone seemed so exotic. If she had been born in Mawic tribal lands, people would've thought her sick! 

In some ways she just might have been. The poor thing had been traveling for years to find a man who'd ran out on her after getting her pregnant. It was a travesty, but a testament to her courage and desire for justice. Felicia couldn't help but respect that- her mom had 'caught' her father much the same way. Maybe their tribes both shared the tradition. 

Now there was a thought. 

"I mean no disrespect in asking," Felicia prompted, waiting for the woman to invite her to continue as was Mawic custom with such a statement. When she didn't, Felicia clasped her hands. "Sorry, I didn't mean to offend." Apparently she was wrong about shared traditions. 

Lostariel's brow furrowed a little bit. "I apologize, it's been a while since I've had a normal conversation." She sipped from her tankard. "Something on your mind?" 

"Do you think you can catch up to your husband before he dies? I mean, you've come all this way and so far you've not seen him? You've given your own child to the cause and. . ." The teen picked at the table with her fingernail. "I understand? I just don't think I could be that strong." 

Lostariel's odd gaze lingered on Felicia for a long moment with that strange emptiness her father got when talking about her mother. "When you think about it, life is indifferent to your existence- you can die tomorrow and the day after trees will still grow, dogs will still chase cats and the sun will still rise. Not even those closest to you will mourn you forever." 

"That's. . ." Felicia frowned. "In my tribe we have a tradition of giving sage to newborns, we make a fan of it and dust the baby with it so that the world can identify him by smell- it's really potent, you know? We also do it at celebrations when we're happiest." When the woman gave her a blank look, she smiled a bit. "You might be right, the world doesn't know we're here, but we can show the world we exist. If only for a while." 

In lieu of a reply Lostariel downed the rest of her mead and leaned back in her chair looking at Felicia with a faintly puzzled expression. She didn't look in any hurry to speak and so Felicia waited, picking at her dinner and mulling over her choices; she could still go back to the city. She could stop this madness and snap her father out of his stupor. . . 

Lostariel interrupted her thoughts. "Do you think that's what happened with Sarah?" 

Sarah. . . Sweet, welcoming Sarah. Exotic, intelligent, intense Sarah. 

"No," Felicia admitted. "I think Sarah missed out on a lot of opportunities to be happy and I think she's got something hanging over her that's going to keep her from being happy for a long, long time." After a beat she looked to Lostariel. "But she's not the only one, is she?" 

That seemed to strike a nerve. A flicker of something intensely powerful sparked in her dinner companion's eyes but just as quickly it faded and the woman was smiling. It was fake, easy to read even to Felicia. "Where I come from life is seldom gentle on those not equipped to deal with it. It spares no one; you have to take advantages as they come or you go hungry- if you're lucky." 

"That's. . . I'm sorry." 

Lostariel tilted her head. "You're an unusual breed, I think." She raised her finger. "I know your type. Very respectable to the moral nature of man. You must be in politics. A community leader, am I right?" 

"Uh- No, no! No, I'm just a simple farmer. . . Well, I mean I am now? No, I'm kind of not sure what I'm doing any more." Her shoulders slumped. "My father wanted us to be traders, he was a paler man- kind of like you but not as ahm. . . erm. . ." 

Lostariel's lips pouted slightly, eyes focused and expectant. 

"Uhm. . ." 

The woman opened her mouth. 

"Beautiful!" Felicia blurted. It wasn't a lie. Not hardly, but it still sounded dangerous to her own ears. "Sorry, sorry, I shouldn't have said that." 

Lostariel motioned for her to continue and casually rested her elbows on the table and her chin on the backs of her hands, watching the caramel skinned teenager stumble through some vague hand gestures that might have been her trying to reach for words or some bizarre dinner ritual. 

"I'm sorry, I don't usually say those things about a woman- not one older- not one- er-" Felicia blushed a furious crimson and scrubbed her face. "Aghhh." She buried her face in her palms. "Can I try that again?" 

"No," Lostariel said flatly. "Say what you mean and mean what you say or stop wasting my time." 

"I- uhm- I. . ." Why was it so easy to get flustered? Dammit, what had Sarah done to her?! She took a deep centering breath and laid her palms flat on the table. "I'm sorry. I think you're very beautiful. I wasn't- I mean, I really wasn't!- attracted to women as such, but I can see why my mother fell in love with someone from the north. . . So, ah- so there!" 

Lostariel watched her a moment longer, face betraying nothing. After a few seconds she chuckled a lyrical sound. "How old are you?" 

"Ssss- Nineteen. . . I think? I'm not very good with numbers." 

"Or lying." 

"Or lying. . . You're right." Felicia swallowed. "Sorry. I'm old enough to walk upright and run a business, own land and take a husband. That's kind of all that matters to my tribe." 

"Mmm." 

"But, I really should get going. I need to hit the lowlands before sunrise. . ." Of the many parting gifts she should have given to this woman, none seemed more appropriate than something to help her on her travels. Felicia smiled and produced one of the gold coins Sarah had given her. The dragon coiled around a screaming elf woman depicted on the face might have been ominous, but she would have appreciated the gesture all the same. "I know it's been a brief meeting, but I really would like you to have this; for your travels." 

Lostariel looked at the gold piece strangely like it might catch fire and then she looked to Felicia. She cracked another forced smile and shook her head. "I don't want your money. . ." 

"It's very rude to refuse a gift." 

"A gift. . ." The word hung between them like a blade. Slowly, the woman leaned forward. Her silky night shirt hung low, giving Felicia a glimpse of cleavage. She never would've looked before having met Sarah. "A gift is one that gives back to the giver. No, I have a better idea." 

"Uh-. . . Y- yes?" 

Only inches away, the scent of old sex and sweat was overpowering- her entire body had a strange spicy scent to it that reminded Felicia of pure cinnamon. Her voice was anything but however, and the teen had to struggle to hear her. "What if I came with you and helped you find Sarah? She's heading west. It won't be like anything you've experienced out there. I have. . ." She paused for it to sink in. "You're going to need the help." 

There were a lot of moments in one's life that could redefine whatever might be left of it, but the looming sense of importance hanging over Felicia when she eyed the woman seemed especially powerful; as if someone was warning her to choose carefully. "You know Sarah. . . That's right." 

"I do." 

Felicia swallowed. The woman didn't seem like she wanted to hurt Felicia, even if she was kind of strange. Who didn't have their eccentricities, though? Besides, if something did happen, wouldn't it have been better to have someone nearby just in case? "Ah, s- sure. . ." 

The woman smiled slightly. "Excellent." Almost as if rewarding- or taunting- Felicia, she ducked down in the isle between tables so she could rifle through her knapsack. With her skin tight leggings, it wasn't just Felicia's attention she was getting- the man at the table next to theirs looked over unashamedly at Lostariel's sculpted butt and her thick, powerful legs that looked as if they could bend steel. Her entire body was tight and compact with sinewy muscles born from a life of living in an inhospitable environment, but her hips swelled and her thighs had followed; in her power and grace she was a cat; supple and mysterious and powerful beyond Felicia's comprehension. She bit her lip and felt a new rush of heat burn her cheeks. 

"Dear gods. . ." The man breathed. 

"The gods had nothing to do with it." Lostariel said as she stood up, tossing a leather vest over her shoulders and grabbing her pack, looking to Felicia. "Are we ready?" 

"Uh- Y- Sure." 

Lostariel lead Felicia outside. She didn't walk so much as prowl like the cat Felicia had thought her; her hips had a languid roll that was mesmerizing to anyone who saw it and Felicia was no exception- more than watching her muscles ripple and flex, though, there was something ringing the danger bell in the bank of her mind. This was all new territory for her: her parents had always made the choices for her and now she was making them herself. The very first thing she'd decided to do was be seduced by power? 

Gods was she insane? 

That's when Felicia noticed the small dagger at the small of Lostariel's back. The scabbard had been sewn into the vest along with several other empty ones poking out from odd angles. All of them had been designed for easy access if she was reaching under her clothes or cloak. What a strange setup. "Uhm. Nice blade?" 

"I made it myself." 

As soon as they were out in the early evening sunset, Lostariel stood a bit straighter, though no less enticing. She looked back at Felicia and smirked a bit when she caught the girl watching her butt. Felicia blushed and looked away. "Sorry." 

"How is it I run into two women who've designs on my body within as many days?" 

"Ah- no, no! No, see uh. . ." Felicia mumbled as she bridled her horse and- with some difficulty- loaded her gear on to his back. She made sure it was far enough back to give Lostariel room to ride. The woman didn't seem terribly thrilled by the prospect of getting on the horse. She actually stood there looking at Felicia for several moments before she let her load be taken and climbed on. 

The horse tensed between Felicia's thighs. 

"It's okay, I didn't forget you. . . We'll get something to eat at the next town." 

"It can't understand you-" 

"Sure he can." Felicia glanced back with a smile. "Horses are very intelligent if you ween them right." With familiarity born of life on the plains, the Mawic girl guided the animal on to the path and set off with her new companion, already sensing that their journey was going to be strange and exciting. She glanced back at her new companion- the barbarian from the north- and said, "Better hold my waist if you're not comfortable." She had to wonder though; how much of it had to do with her comfort and how much of it was Felicia's own insecurity? Only time would tell. . . 

# 

It was several hours before Lostariel began to relax, the idea of riding on horseback was apparently so alien to her that she'd actually gone remarkably still against Felicia's back. Not that it wasn't unpleasant to feel the press of warmth against her, but Felicia had to wonder why she was so skittish- and for that matter, why the horse was still so tense. She'd chosen him for his gentle disposition, but between her legs he seemed ready to sprint at a moment's notice. Something she'd not felt when she rode him out of Sorash. Maybe he didn't like being out at night. 

Maybe he was homesick. 

Felicia glanced back, "Doing okay back there?" 

"Yes." 

"You don't sound so confident." She smiled playfully. She could barely see the woman in the darkness, but she could feel her breath rustling the hairs on her neck. "It's just a horse!" 

"Shh." Lostariel hissed. 

"What?" 

"Something is going to hear you," The woman said sharply. Her small hands tensed around Felicia's waist. "Wolves." She added as an afterthought. 

"I don't think there are wolves this far south-" 

"Shh." Lostariel put a finger to the teen's lips. When Felicia didn't offer resistance, the older woman pressed herself forward and took Felicia's hand, "There." she pointed into the gloom. 

At first she was going to dismiss it, but then she saw the flash of iridescent eyes. Two sets of orange shimmered in the veil of darkness ahead, on an elevated position. Felicia tensed. The road was wide enough to fit two carts side by size, they'd have enough room to maneuver if it came to it, but not enough to actually do anything of substance- fortunately the horse hadn't noticed, yet. The resulting panic could've gotten someone killed. 

Felicia steadied herself and eased the horse to the far side of the road, preparing to sprint at a moment's notice. The horse seemed mildly confused by her change, sluggishly following her instructions. Felicia did her best to keep track of the predators as they trotted by, hand clutching the reins in case they needed to make a quick get away. Lostariel's grip had tightened, too. 

Strange. Very strange. Wolves didn't approach the south, especially not on open trails like this. What could have possibly drawn them out? Felicia puzzled on it as they cleared the hunting range and continued on. She didn't realize it at the time, but it wasn't to be the only animal sighting on their trip: every other hour they seem to run into some predator or another eying them from an elevated position. Every time they did, Felicia edged to the opposite side of the road and kept her hands on the reigns, barely managing to slip by without comment. 

Lostariel seemed strangely quiet whenever they got close to such an animal, but in the in between times, she didn't share much except when Felicia prodded her for conversation- it was strange and vaguely annoying. How could anyone go for an hour without uttering a breath? Maybe it was a side effect of her lifestyle. 

Still. . . 

It was annoying. 

It'd been stupid to bring along a complete stranger, thinking back on it, but she'd seemed pretty interesting at the time- sensual and. . . Exotic. 

Like Sarah. 

Felicia sighed. Was she an idiot? Was she going to be drawn in by every person with even the slightest touch of the unusual to them? If so, she was in for a world of uncertainty. . . 

At least, she mused, she wouldn't be lonely. 

# 

Night eased into morning in it's lazy way, painting the sky with hues of warm orange and gentle lavender, welcoming the trio into the formal trails that were used by traders to move goods between Sorash, Caham and Laleah- known colloquially as The Ferret's Triangle due to the winding nature of the mountain paths that would dip into low lands only to rise back up like a weasel dancing to ward off predators. 

Felicia had memorized the trail when her mother had taken her to the city to find her father for the first time- back when the sprigs of blue day lilies clinging to the dew soaked rock face seemed magical, and not like an immediate slipping hazard. Her mother had trained her well, though and she guided the horse through the hazard without making it obvious. 

Even as they eased onto the main road towards Laleah, she felt a vague sense of pride. She was taking control of her life and going after something she wanted, something that had never been a force in her life but now seemed tantalizingly close; a love of her own. Sure Sarah had a reputation- a deserved one from her experience- but she also followed through with her promises. 

Sarah had promised she'd wait. She would deliver on it, just like she'd delivered on buying her father's farm. Four hundred and fifty pieces of gold wasn't just handed out by someone with no sense of propriety and honor. Sarah would be there. . . 

If not, Felicia had all she needed to start somewhere new. 

Oh, but if she was being honest, the thought of spending time with her- or with any elf blooded person- sent a thrill through her. Maybe she'd go to the north lands and see what could be found there if Sarah didn't want to be with her any more. . . 

The little plains rider chewed on her lip as thoughts of fey blooded lovemaking roiled around her tired mind. Passionate, intense, timeless. Beautiful. . . Perfect. She could be perfect, too. If only for a little while and if only in their presence. Felicia sighed softly. 

"Do you need a moment?" Her passenger whispered in her ear, startling the girl. 

"I thought you were asleep-" 

"I sleep when I'm tired." Lostariel rested her chin on Felicia's shoulder looking over the sloping fields in front of them. "Curse of elven heritage. I recognize this road." She looked back, now seeming more alert and attentive than before. "We're heading west." 

"Yes? That was the idea, wans't it?" 

"It was, I just didn't expect you to be. . ." She paused. 

"Hm?" 

"Competent." 

Felicia waited a beat for her to elaborate or pardon offense but Lostariel's cool purple eyes merely watched her as if she was an oddity. After a few moments she gave a challenging smirk as if she'd won some victory. Felicia picked up the pace a bit, nudged the older woman softly. "That's not very nice." 

"I'm not a nice person, Felicia. But that is impressive, not many could've made their way in the dark unless they knew the roads." 

Felicia actually felt her cheeks warm a bit, praise was such a rare thing. "Yeah, uh. . . My mother brought me up The Ferret's Triangle when we were coming up north. It's kind of a cliché but. . ." 

"But?" Lostariel tilted her head to regard her. 

"Well, they say that the gods drew the dirt roads of the world on our veins and the plains themselves on our skin when they were making the first of our tribe." Felicia tightened her grip on the reigns, already knowing the woman was going to laugh at her. 

Instead, the woman surprised her by nuzzling against her and bringing her arms fully around Felicia's waist, her voice a throaty purr that made the girl shiver. "You should praise whatever gods gave you such a gift. . . It may have saved your life." 

"Huh?" 

There was a pause. 

Eventually Lostariel whispered, "You saw the animals on the trail. . ." 

"Oh- Yeah. I mean, yes, I did." Once they hit the dirt portion of the trail, Felicia sped up a little more. The poor horse was going to be tired by the time they got to a road inn, but it couldn't be helped. If they wanted to make Laleah by evening, they needed to move quickly. "I don't mean to pry, Lostariel, but uhm. . . What're you planning to do once we get to Laleah?" 

"That depends." 

Felicia waited a beat. When her companion offered nothing else, she looked back- probably letting too much of her irritation show- and asked, "On?" 

"Whether I find Sarah there or not." 

"Seems like we have similar plans. . ." 

"Not quite." 

Felicia already knew the conversation was going to die off again, so she kept speaking as they climbed a small hill, if only to hear something. "If she doesn't want to be with me, I think I might have to look into finding another city to go to- maybe the elven lands. Speaking of which, didn't you say you had elven blood? If you don't mind my saying so, I've never met an elf with purple eyes-" 

"They were blue." 




Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 24



Progress. "Did they change color over time?" 

"You could say that." 

Felicia clucked her tongue softly. "Hey, I have an idea, why don't we play a game-" 

"You talk too much. . ." 

"Someone has to fill the silence, why not me? Unless you'd like to volunteer? I hear the pay is lousy but the conversation can be good- besides." Felicia touched Lostariel's hand. "You've been holding on to me for almost an entire day, I can feel your boredom." 

"The gods give you that gift too, did they?" 

Felicia cracked a grin, nudged her again. "Careful, you might smile if you keep that up." 

"You're a strange girl, aren't you?" 

"Maybe," Felicia gave it a moment's thought. Below them was the long dirt trail that wound down into a flat open plain and, in the distance, it hosted several small buildings clustered around one another and a more prominent blue building with an obnoxiously large 'feather' poking from its thatch roof. It looked like some kind of village, but that hadn't been there when her mother had taken her this way. "That's new. . ." 

"New? You mean you know this road?" 

"Well, kind of? I mean, my mother brought me out here when I was a babe, when she was looking for my father." 

"So you lied to me." Was that indignity in her voice? Felicia looked back to find her smirking. 

"Maybe I did! Trail memory, you know? Hold on tight!" Felicia gave her horse a nudge forward, encouraging him to speed. He had to have been tired but when he was given the chance to run, he jogged forward at a respectable pace, then started to run. The wind whipping Felicia's long hair back became a gust- then a torrent. The steady clop, clop, clop of good shoes meeting the dirt spaced out longer and longer. . . 

Before she knew it she was leaning into the ride. Lostariel was pinched down on her, gripping her stomach tightly. Possessive, protective, looking for something the same way Sarah had. . . Felicia closed her eyes, imagining for a brief moment that the power between her thighs and pressing against her back were the elven women she'd spent that night with. The freedom of the ride, the grace with which they took her to new places- soaring on the wings of wind not meant for a common girl. 

"Slow down!" Someone shouted. 

Felicia tensed. The horse seemed to notice and almost instantly slowed himself, panting, transferring that energy into her through his rapid breaths. Only then did she realize she was sat so far forward. She'd pushed him too hard. Lostariel was still clenching the girl when she situated herself and sat up. "Uh. . . Sorry." 

"That was unnecessary." Lostariel said sharply. "You're going to kill one of us." Her grip was still tight, maybe tighter. Even the horse echoed her unease. 

"Sorry, sorry. . ." She brushed his mane back softly and guided him to a stop. "Here, let's walk for a bit. We're almost to that village." 

Lostariel seemed more than happy to get off the animal, a feeling that seemed more than a little mutual. He kept her in his peripheral vision the entire walk, even when Felicia tried to sooth him; something that should have raised a flag, but went unnoticed by the tired girl. For the next hour, though, the only thing she noticed was how quiet they'd become. 

Until they saw the first farm, anyway. Lostariel became more talkative at the sight of civilization- they talked about crops and weather and through it Felicia learned that they'd both grown up on a diet of fish and lean meats, and seemed to share similar ideas that farming was noble but ultimately a waste of time and land. Of course, without it you couldn't support villages and cities. 

By the time they got to the center of the village and the two story blue inn, Felicia almost completely forgot about the night's ride, already imagining the warmth of the bed she was about to enjoy. It took longer than strictly necessary to get the horse stabled and his load off, but once they had him taken care of, the women entered the Blue Robin and Felicia paid for a room. 

The agonizing march upstairs under the weight of her new armor and weapon left her sweating and panting and even when she dumped the entire package on the floor and flopped into bed, she got the distinct feeling she'd made a mistake in purchasing it. 

And her horse! Her poor horse had to carry that along with her and Lostariel! "Nngh. I feel old-" 

"Why do you have mail?" Lostariel was hunched down beside the bundle. A swath of the armor had come out during her rough handling and Lostariel was perched behind it on the tips of her toes- gods she was poised strangely. . . Felicia eyed her thighs, wondering just for a moment what it'd be like to have them wrapped around her. "Are you a soldier?" 

"Long story." 

"I have time." She invited herself into the bed, kicking her boots off and throwing her legs over Felicia's waist. She balled up a pillow for back support and looked at her as if she knew Felicia wouldn't object, purple eyes bemused and faintly mischievous. 

With a view that good, Felicia couldn't really argue much. She turned her body a bit to face the older woman. "I uh. . . I thought I might need it, to protect Sarah." 

That seemed to surprise her companion. "From what?" 

"Well. . . Dangers of the open road, I guess?" 

"Do you know the first thing about mail? Or fighting for that matter? You don't look like someone who would enjoy the clamor. . . Casually the woman lifted a foot and tapped Felicia's breast. When Felicia grabbed her foot she didn't seem in a hurry to draw back- was this an offer? A test? She was almost too tired to care which, but curiosity spurred her investigation and slowly, she took it in both hands and massaged her ankle. Lostariel arched a brow at the girl. "Well?" 

"I uh... No. I don't. I've only ever seen daggers and such-" 

"So you have a larger blade, is that it?" 

"I do, yes." 

Lostariel rolled her ankle a bit to get free and with feline grace vaulted off the bed to a hunter's crouch beside the equipment. In moments she hand the bundle undone and the armor hefted up for inspection. All the while, Felicia tiredly watched, managing to get her boots off in the meantime, along with loosening up her dress. Far from ideal to sleep in, but who cared? 

Eventually Lostariel tossed the armor aside in a heap. "Sell it." She checked the blade next, dumping it on the bundle a moment later as Felicia climbed up the bed to claim her own pillow. "This will serve you well, though. . ." 

"What's the difference?" Felicia asked through a yawn. 

The short woman with the curves that could have broken steel turned to look up at Felicia. She dumped her vest over the equipment, crawled over to meet the girl and, casually as she pleased, kicked one foot up on the bed and started stretching forward. . . More and more until she was doing perfect splits with her hands easily wrapped around her foot. Felicia could only watch in awe. "They're made by different people, of different steel. By my guess, an apprentice made the armor. The rings are weak. The rivets are even weaker, there's cracks in some of them." She rested her head against her knee looking at Felicia with a catty little smirk. "The blade was made by a real craftsman, though. You can see it in the way it 's sharpened. It also has just the right amount of give to it." 

"Oh. . ." Felicia could barely stop her gaze from wandering up and down the woman's form- legs as powerful and long as hers weren't meant to bend like that and yet not only were they flowing smoothly, they were actually bending farther than anything Felicia had ever seen. . . The leathers she wore couldn't have been very comfortable, but she didn't seem to mind. . . In fact, she seemed to be enjoying Felicia's interest. Until they made eye contact. Felicia furrowed her brow, not entirely sure how to take the action. "You uh. . Know a lot about metal, do you?" 

"You could say that. My mother was experienced in metallurgy, one of the few traits she passed to me." 

Felicia curled up a little to make room. "What was she like?" 

"I don't know." The woman said as she pushed up, arched back in a near perfect C, and planted her hands on the ground. She then vaulted over her axis into a crouch several feet from the bed. "I never met her, but elven blood passes memories with it down the line. . . I learned her love of metal and forging, along with the language and a few other things." They watched one another. Was she eying Felicia's form? "Get some rest. . ." 

"But what about you? This bed is big enough for both of us. . ." 

"I need a bath and I need to see whether or not Sarah came this way. . ." 

"Will you let me know?" 

"Of course." She smiled lightly. 

Felicia stretched out on the bed, "In that case, I'm going to get changed. . . If you need anything, just wake me up?" 

"I will. . . Sleep well." 

# 

Felicia slept heavily into the mid afternoon, waking with an aching desire to be held carried into her mind by whatever dream she'd been having. Shards of light burned her eyes from the window she hadn't remembered opening but upon opening her eyes she found out why: Lostariel was sitting on the bed facing the window wearing nothing but a peach colored nighty that rested atop her wide hips like a curtain hiding a statue. 

It was at that point Felicia realized just how muscular the woman was. Her body was hard in ways no soldier could have hoped, her curves a flowing river that trickled from a compact spring at her neck down her shoulders, flowing inward at her waist and then outward ever wider to her hips. And those legs. . . Bare and bristling in goosebumps, the woman could have been chiseled from marble and had the same color and contour- she was a goddess in her own right. 

Felicia laid there in quiet submission, watching the woman stare through the open window with a blank expression. Her hands clasped in her lap she was impossibly still, even to the point that she looked as if she wasn't breatheing. But it seemed she was aware- she whispered something. 

"Hm?" Felicia said softly. 

"I said," she spoke in a normal tone. "You're awake." 

"I am. . . What're you doing?" 

"I was meditating. She looked back at Felicia. A tiny blush crossed her features. "Now I'm wondering just what you're going to do." 

Felicia was just about to ask when she realized something vaguely terrifying and impossible to deny. Her nipples were hard as stone and the ache she'd felt wasn't indistinct so much as it was right between her legs. Whatever dream she'd awoken from had left her body in a state- a dream of Sarah, no doubt- Felicia swallowed and tried her best smile. "I uh. . . Must've had a good dream." 

"Now you wake to a nightmare. . ." 

Of all the possible things she could have said, she never expected to find it so easy to say what was on her mind: "I don't know if I'd say that." Felicia touched the older woman's leg- just the tip of her fingers daring to graze Lostariel's flesh. The woman didn't once break eye contact. "If I can say so, you're uhm. . . Quite a sight to wake up to." 

Lostariel inhaled slowly. "Don't start something you're afraid to finish, girl." 

Felicia bit her lower lip. "I don't know what to think, honestly. . . I'm-" She looked down. "Still trying to figure out where I stand with uh. . . some things." 

"What is it you easterners say. . . 'Ware the fire that warms your bed, it might burn you, too?" 

Felicia sucked in a deep breath and started to sit up- the woman pushed her back down. Held her there. Her slender hand stayed firm between the girl's generous breasts and for a long moment neither one of them breathed, they stared at one another- Lostariel held the power, there was no question; the only question was how much she'd exercise. 

A shiver ran through the little plains rider's body. What had she done? Could she still get out of it? Did she even want to? Gods if Sarah had been any indication, she wanted everything she could experience. She laid her hand against Lostariel's powerful thigh, wiggling her finger tips down along her inner leg. The die was cast, she decided. 

Another thing she'd do for herself. 

Lostariel sunk down on her and kissed her with the fire of a lit forge- heat blasted Felicia's lips, her tongue. The air she breathed in the woman's presence was an inferno of power that made her dizzy and weak. Meekly, she brought her arm up around her companion's back. Then the other. 

Gods it was good to be able to choose. 

Lostariel decided the pace and power- which is to say she didn't let up for even an instant, she tore through Felicia's breath, sucked it from her lungs and lashed violently against her tongue. Her fingertips pressed into Felicia's caramel colored flesh harder, harder, with each passing second the woman took more and more until there was nothing left- Felicia flailed and pushed back, breaking the kiss violently. 

"I told you." Lostariel said calmly as Felicia tried to find her breath. 

"M- Maybe we can try something else. . ." Felicia swallowed, running her fingers down the woman's back. Her hands trembled as she came to Lostariel's wide hips. Her brown eyes turned up in uncertainty- could she really do this? She trembled as her hands came to rest on the creamy shelves for which they'd surely been fashioned. In a moment of inspiration, she surged forward and kissed the woman's neck. Lostariel welcomed it by grabbing the back of her head, forced her to it. 

What was she supposed to do? She held firmly, shaking all the more- even her flesh had a peppery tang that set Felicia's mouth alight. It also stirred her imagination. The older woman wasn't going to let her go, that much was clear, but she was probably assuming Felicia knew what she was supposed to do, too- so she did what anyone in over their head would do. 

She faked it. 

Her hands came down to cup the woman's butt- the reaction was instant, Lostariel pushed into her sucking in a breath and clenching the girl tighter still. Felicia's heart swelled. She moaned against her soon-to-be lover, sucking at her throat and massaging down into the muscles she knew she had no right to touch. 

Lostariel straddled the girl, seeming to have made up her mind about what they were going to do. A hot, humid breath crossed her lips right into Felicia's ear. "Do you think you can do what Sarah did?" 

"Mmmrrh?" 

"That's what I thought." The woman breathed into her ear. She broke the kiss, shoved her back with a heavy 'umf!' and, looking down at the girl, she looked at her with calm indifference. "Get on your back." 

Felicia looked up, hands still draped over the woman's generous hips. Sweat made the silk nighty she was wearing cling to her muscular core, Felicia dared reach up to touch her. "Gods you're pretty . . ." 

"The gods had nothing to do with it. . ." The woman said firmly, grabbing a hand full of Felicia's hair, shoving her into the pillow. In an instant, the woman; the goddess, was sitting on her face. Her powerful thighs straddled either side of Felicia's skull and the woman's milky, hairless pussy was pressed firmly to her lips. "Show me you know how to follow through. . ." 

Felicia looked up, lip to lip, hands trembling as she reached for Lostariel's core, still not entirely sure what was expected of her. She pushed the nighty up, signaling her wish for flesh to flesh contact- Lostariel responded by ripping it over her head and immediately looking down at her captive with eyes as calm and unreadable as amethysts. 

Thinking quickly, the girl kissed Lostariel's pelvic bone, eyes still turned up, curious and questioning. The older woman eyed her. . . Then planted the tops of her feet on Felicia's chest, spread her legs further and ground her moist nethers right into Felicia's open mouth. It was a powerful demand even more intense than her kiss and twice as spicy. 

The girl licked tentatively at the wetness, testing the bounds of her situation. She earned a soft purr, spurring her on to more licking- just like Sarah and the elf had done in the inn. That was right. It all made sense now- Felicia took the woman's hips gently as Lostariel rolled her luxurious curves right into the attention. The purr became a constant the more Felicia licked, drinking in that spice that burned, that tempted and teased. 

That demanded her surrender. 

Lostariel growled, rolling her body into Felicia's face, the backs of her feet rubbing over the girl's large breasts and making her whimper right into the hot cave that was forming around her head. Felicia turned her head up, finding a little sense to what she was doing, a rhythm to dance to. 

Abruptly the older woman stopped. "Here. . ." She reached down and spread her lips, opening her flower to Felicia. "Put your mouth here." Her purple eyes narrowed at Felicia's hesitation. In a flash of anger she sat right on the girl's face, ground herself from her forehead to her chin leaving a strip of spicy moisture across her face and then she rode right back into position on Felicia's mouth, taking what she wanted from the unsuspecting teen. 

Forward and back, Lostariel rode her captive while she struggled in vain to find the spot she'd been told to- It was a game to the woman, it had to have been. Felicia figured it out just as her companion's thighs clenched down to hold her in place. Felicia cupped her hips more firmly, having gotten her wits about her and pulled her down, false confidence propelling her into action. She tilted her head back and ran her tongue from the woman's opening to her pelvic bone and back, she stopped when the woman did- meeting her eyes she kissed Lostariel's clit, wrapped her lips around it. 

"Nnnnhhhh." Lostariel cooed a jaguar's growl, ground into her teenage lover all the more. 

This was what it was like to live with decisions, Felicia chuckled. She grabbed Lostariel's hips and lapped eagerly at the woman's pussy, into it for the first time- the inferno of the woman's body was terrifying and all consuming, but Felicia pushed her tongue in against it. She explored as best she could given her position and Lostariel rewarded her with more grinding. 

"Shhh..." Lostariel rode the teenager faster and faster, angling her body in a deep roll only she could have pulled off. She worked harder and harder into Felicia's face and before the girl realized what she was doing, she grabbed the older woman's ass, pushing her fingers in- desperate for air but too invested to quit. This was life. 

This was living. 

Felicia licked and licked, pushing her tongue in and up her lover's pussy. Seconds later, Lostariel grabbed either side of the girl's pillow, grinding into the source of her pleasure harder still. She let out the first moan Felicia had ever given to another woman with her mouth. In seconds the moan became a physical thing echoing through the pear shaped powerhouse atop her. 

Lostariel's orgasm broke like a tidal wave- power beyond measure surged through her and she shoved Felicia into the mattress, moaning out louder, deeper, letting loose a torrent of blissful noise that echoed through the room- She shuddered, spasmed against the girl and a flood of spicy moisture blasted the bright eyed teen across her mouth. She clamped down harder, digging her nails into the pillow as she turned her head down, shuddering harder, chuffing out a breath. 

Felicia tried to keep up, but she was left adrift in the flood of moisture, sweat and power being rained down on her. She kissed the older woman's nether lips when it slowed , earning another chuff from the pale goddess. When it was finally over, she laid her head back suddenly aware of the soreness in her neck and sides of her head. Lostariel eased up a bit finally, leaning back to look at what she'd done to the girl. She was smiling and blushing a little. 

They both were. 




Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 24



Oh, it was good to be alive. . . 

Lostariel ran her finger down the girl's face and pressed it to her own lips, savoring the flavor, making it clear who was going to be in charge. . . 

That was all right with Felicia. She kissed her inner thigh and smiled up at her. "T-. . . that was a sight to see." 

"You might be seeing it more often. . ." The woman rolled off her and sprawled forward so they were eye to eye. In her glorious nudity, she shone like a beacon in the bright room with a warm blanket of day light making her sweat glimmer. Felicia fund it in herself to dredge up the courage to kiss her back. 

But she didn't stop there. No, this was too strange and interesting an experience to let go so easily. Did the woman even realize what she'd started? Did Felicia for that matter? The caramel skinned teen licked at the nude woman's body, savoring every drop of sweat she found- until she came to the thick ass that had taunted her with their first meeting. 

She was high on the taste and heady newness of the experience and she didn't even stop to question- no, Felicia, the teen from the plains was choosing her own life now. She was damn well going to make the most of it. She grabbed Lostariel's ass in both hands. The woman looked over her shoulder, suspicious to the end. 

Felicia kissed both cheeks, nipped at the firm muscle underneath and- without thinking at all- she ran her tongue down the woman's butt- the taste of sweat and must an intoxicating cocktail she couldn't resist. Her hands slid down to support Lostariel's ass, pushing up. The woman went with it, surprisingly, and Felicia found herself running her tongue over the woman's hole to a low, purring chuff from the woman. 

After a few seconds, Felicia put her hand on Lostariel's lower back and brought her fingers right against her pussy. She'd done this enough after the encounter with Sarah- in her mind, at least- to know how it was supposed to go. Felicia eased her fingers into the tight confines of Lostariel's pussy, pushing her tongue against her rosebud at the same time. 

"Ooohhh~" 

That was a new sound. Lostariel arched her back, presenting herself to the teen. This was going so much better than Felicia had imagined, she eased in deeper to both holes, wriggling herself around in both, curling her fingers, spreading both of the woman's holes along with Felicia's experience. 

Soon, before she even realized what she was doing, she had Lostariel's back arched, her face mashed into the woman's nethers, forcing- such as she could- her imagination into the experience and teasing every drop of pleasure she could out of the older Lostariel. 

It wasn't long before Lostariel was pushing back, in another moment she was moaning into the pillow- her orgasm was staggering; so hard that both of her orifices clamped down on the teen's intruders, forcing her out. She spasmed and moaned powerful groans while Felicia climbed over her. 

The teen straddled the older woman, panting in her ear, taking her shoulders, nuzzling her. "You're beautiful . . ." She planted a kiss on the woman's neck. . . Then an idea struck her as she held this woman. Did she dare act on it?  

Lostariel looked up at her with eyes muddy with lust and post-orgasm bliss. She let out a sharp huff of breath and smirked. "You. . . You I can tolerate." 

She could, she decided. Felicia kissed her neck, reaching down- breath held, she pushed a finger against Lostariel's rosebud- this was shared territory now. Something Felicia knew she liked, something she wanted to share. 

"What're you—" 

"Will you do me a favor?" 

Lostariel murred as Felicia circled the woman's asshole, gently arching her back in invitation. . . Felicia pushed softly. The moan was short, sharp and instant. "Dress. . ." 

"Hmm?" 

"You want to know if I'll wear a dress." She pushed up to kiss the girl. When she broke the kiss, she was grinning softly. "Ask me nicely." 

"W- Will you? I'd love to do this again. . ." 

Lostariel closed her eyes. Felicia added a second finger and the woman's eyes opened fully. "You're going to have to get something if you expect to do this to me again. . ." 

"Like what?" 

"Something like Sarah had. . ." 

Felicia kissed her, sinking in deeper into the woman's ass right up to the palm. The moan she earned was deep and satisfied. Gods why had she never done this before? Felicia tittered and hugged her new lover. "That might be hard to find. Maybe we can ask Sarah for hers." 

Lostariel moaned softly when Felicia spread her fingers. "oohhh-" She clenched in defiance. "That might be an issue. . ." 

"She likes to share, though." 

"You don't understand," Lostariel grabbed Felicia's forearm, arching her back. "Yo- You don't understand. When I find Sarah, I'm going to kill her."



Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 25



Volume 4: Dereliction of Duty 

Chapter I: The Caress of Familiar Aches 

"Engineer Sarah Kettar, 

There was a time where the word of The Great Engineer was enough to make people rejoice with images of a bright future in their mind. I trust you remember the tri-shear plow, the hydraulic strut, the instant tent? So many of the Free States' technologies exist because of their support for His divine grace, but in recent years, support for His churches has been in rapid decline and for the life of me, I cannot imagine why. 

We live in dark times and it seems that despite our best efforts, the collective knowledge of the races is ebbing like tide from a craggy shore; vice and quaint distractions of the mortal coil have taken hold where once there was enlightenment and progress. Even amongst our brothers and sisters of the Faith, mortal concerns have stripped them of their faculties and this attitude is spreading rapidly- 

'What need do we have of Engineers', they say, 'my goblet is filled with wine and my belly full with food. I have bills to pay, work to do and wives to keep in comfort. A machine cannot do these things for me,' they decry. 'The sweat of my brow is my tool! Let it be so!' 

Of course, they forget that it is because of the Engineer's inspirations to mortal beings that these things exist in the first place. Metals were forged to make that goblet, racks invented to allow those grapes to grow proud and strong, the barrel in which that wine was matured did not spring into existence, nor the process by which grapes were made into wine in the first place. . . 

How can we show them we are still needed? How do we help them understand? It will not be by the hands of our Senior Artificers who wear only the title and sacrifice nothing of themselves, it will be in the streets. By word, by deed and more than anything, by proving to them that this draconic brand of hedonism is not the way forward. 

We must show the common man the gods have not abandoned them, lest we ourselves forget: 

There was a time where the word of The Engineer was enough to make people rejoice. . . 

I look forward to hearing your ideas," 

-Engineer Jason Malsvic 

# # # # 

Sarah was slumped in the corner of the elaborate carriage as Caldion guided it carefully through the Ferret's Triangle towards Laleah. The steady clop of horse hooves plodding rhythmically along the packed dirt trail was mercifully quiet and would have allowed for all manner of conversation, but no one dared break the heavy silence between them. Days of running had taken their toll on everyone, and even with the relief of having escaped, there was a cloud over the rag-tag group that not even hours of time on the road would break up. 

For her part in it, Sarah's body had demanded, and won, her surrender; she lay slumped in the corner across the bench snoring softly and filling the air with the pungent tang of sex that not even the open windows had managed to air out. 

Keiter- with help from a stack of books- and Tessarie sat on the opposite side of the carriage, watching the world outside roll by at a steady pace, none of them knowing exactly what would happen next and silently hoping that whatever madness Sarah had dragged them into, she could also drag them out of. 

For Sarah, though, there were only dreams. . . 

# 

The peninsula was relatively small, barely the size of a hamlet, but Sarah had negotiated a stellar discount from the Free States in exchange for access to her new invention when she was finished. There were issues, of course; farming was out of the question, the rocky soil was barren and the nearest trading post was half a day's ride, but it was home. It was her home. 

It was their home. 

Even after a year the concept was alien, but the steady kiss of salty air flowing in from the End's Ocean never let her forget that for every breath she'd taken under the lash or in the service of others, she would breathe a million more free and happy. Happiness was still a new concept to some archaic part of her elven-influenced mind, but it was a welcome one. 

Sarah leaned forward against the window sill over her sink. Breakfast was chilling steadily on the table just behind her, but Ithric hadn't awoken yet and their daughter had taken her mother's absence as an excuse to go back to sleep in her high chair. Sarah was left to let her gaze- and mind wander over the misty oceans as its breeze caressed her bare lower body. Only Ithric's shirt kept the chill at bay, but it was a familiar, welcome chill. 

A sea of dark turquoise waves tinted by spears of light from roiling clouds and an ever present mist several leagues out from shore lapped at the fringes of the craggy shore surrounding the tower, promising- tempting- begging to be explored. No one was insane enough to leave the shore more than a few leagues into that fog, not even the pirates would risk it for very long, but Sarah had a different idea about the mist. It was a problem to be solved, not some mystical entity that couldn't be conquered. 

At one time humanity had considered the dark a mystic force, but when someone lit a candle, that notion was put soundly to rest, now wasn't it? Sarah tapped her finger on the sill, gaze shifting towards the canvas tent between their tower and the shore. It wasn't terribly long- perhaps a sloop's hull length, the tent would serve as an air bag once her moss arrived and once she had a working prototype, she could scale it up to a full galleon. . . 

It was going to be wondrous- a boat of their own. One that could fly, no less! No more running cargo and smuggling drugs with up and down the coast to make ends meet. Once their daughter was old enough, they could teach her how to run rigging and even make her own ship, they could turn the whole operation into a business. 

Captain Hart. No, Kettar- It was Kettar now. . . Yes, Captain Kettar and company. It would be the Red Minion that made them financially secure, and maybe- just maybe- it would keep her sane. Captain Kettar indeed. She chuckled. "Gods what a silly idea." 

Ithric's yawn announced his arrival into the kitchen, followed by a mumbled 'morning'. He paused at the door, smiling a little at Sarah's half bent form- her tight butt was completely exposed and her pale skin flush with goosebumps. Even despite having a flowing hourglass figure, she was in good shape from months of work both during and the few days after her pregnancy she'd managed to get up the energy. "Now there's a sight worth getting up for." 

Sarah glanced back from her daydreaming. "Hm?" It took her a moment to catch his gaze, her mind still full of ideas on how to get the Red Minion airborne. "Come now, how much longer are you going to be filling my head with that nonsense?" 

The tall man approached her slowly, his casual gait and warm smile making stirring a familiar sense of warmth. They couldn't indulge it, no matter how much Sarah might have wanted to, but when she was fully healed there was going to be a lot of time to make up for. She found herself grinning as his powerful arms wrapped around her stomach, he kissed her deeply and pulled her into a reverse hug. His breath tickled her ear, "Until you start to believe it." He kissed her neck, nuzzling against her with a warm sigh. "Then I'll fill your head with something else." 

The half-elf scoffed playfully. "Filling my mouth is not at all the same thing, young man." She nudged him. 

"Tch." Without warning, Ithric nipped the tip of her ear causing Sarah to duck out of the way involuntarily. "I told you to knock that off- you're three years older." 

Sarah laughed, pressing her back against him as if he'd disappear should she dare let their bodies break contact. Finally she looked up at him over her shoulder and smiled. "I thought you liked older women." 

"I like a lot of things. . . Like filling your head- with thoughts, you pervert." He chided, resting his chin on her shoulder, looking out the window. "Don't pout, you'll get your fill tonight anyway." 

"I usually do." She leaned back and kissed his cheek once more as he wrapped his arms around her upper body. "But you never seem to mind, hm?" She dotted his nose playfully, chuckling all the while. "The elven invasion continues." 

"Mmm." His grip tightened, supportive and warm even against the coastal air. After several seconds of silence, he whispered. "Does this mean you've finally come to accept it?" 

"Hm?" 

He reached up and rubbed the tip of her ear between his thumb and forefinger. She started to flinch away, her body's tickle reaction already kicking in, but he held her firmly. He pressed his weight against her butt, pinning her against the sink as he kissed her neck, sending ripples of heat through her, an urge to return the attention, to be felt and feel. . . Sarah cupped the back of his skull, letting out a sigh only he could make her whisper. He drank deeply from her scent and kissed her ear. "You're my fey queen." 

"Don't." Sarah breathed. "Don't do that. . ." 

"But it's true," Ithric whispered into her ear as his hands slid up to her heavy breasts. His palms cupped her sensitive nipples, pressing on her even more. She grabbed his wrist looking back at him, the father of her child and the only man she'd ever actually loved. . . It pained her to pull his hand away, but she knew better than let this go on. 

"Please?" 

"Please what?" 

She kissed his neck. "I know you like it, but it's- it's just. . ." In a weak twist of focus, she offered a lame smile. "You don't want your palms coming back wet, do you? Or your shirt, for that matter- this is your shirt, after all." 

"Shh." The sailor wrapped his arm around her belly again, his free hand cupped her shoulders and despite her initial resistance, he pulled her in close. "It's okay. . ." Without waiting for an invitation, he drew back enough to place his hand on her back, tracing familiar scars by memory. He wasn't put off by the ugly ridges and valleys the scourge had left on her, no, he held her firmly and continued to stroke her back for several moments, breathing through her coppery hair and into the nape of her neck. Finally he leaned her forward to where she had been, looking out the window. There was no shame or remorse in his touch, nor from her when he ventured too low and slid his hand between her cheeks. 

No. . . There were no boundaries now. Sarah Kettar looked up at him, even as she felt his fingers glide down her rump, gliding down into places they aught not be. He pressed against her nether lips, sliding one finger between them with a dangerous sigh across her ear. She licked her lips, swallowed. "Trying to make a second one already?" She whispered, inclining her head to their sleeping daughter. "Give me some rest, dear." 

"You're the one who never lets me pull out." Ithric chuckled softly and pressed his weight against her that little bit more, nuzzling into her neck, he whispered, "You have another idea?" With his lips to her throat, he added: "Something we can both enjoy." 

Sarah leaned back against him. She stole a brief glance at the spice rack. Almost immediately her cheeks were burning as she reached for the olive oil. There had been a few times where they'd done things in such a fashion- what could have gone wrong? She giggled secretly and popped the cork with her teeth, turning the bottle over to take a bit to her finger tips. With a glance back, Sarah took Ithric's belt sash and undid it. A rush of heat greeted her hand even as she slid his pants down a bit and started to slather the tip of his quickly hardening member with it. 

She leaned forward enough to have to look up at him once more, heart already slamming against her ribs as she fought for breath, "We'll need to be quick, she could wake up at any time." 

"I only need two minutes." 

Sarah gawked at him. "Really, Ithric?" 

He grinned. 

"You're terrible." She swatted him playfully. Her breath backed up when Ithric pushed her forward with a firm hand between her shoulders, leaving her with only enough time to choose; grab the sink edge and submit fully or hold the window sill in hopes that she'd be able to do something for him. 

It wasn't much of a question; Ithric knew what it took to make her tremble and he knew how much pressure to apply- in seconds his oiled up finger was pressing against her rosebud and Sarah felt her control slip that much more. She dug her fingers into the sill, teeth clenched. It had been so long, she wasn't in any state to resist. . . 

He knew it, too. He pressed his thighs against hers, his thick cock pressing neatly between her ass cheeks as he used his hand to guide her down a little more. He rose to meet her, arm strong and gentle around her midsection. Sarah blushed a furious crimson that nearly matched her hair, glancing back to find him smiling down on her. 

"I love you," he whispered in her ear. 

It was an occasion worthy of it. She smiled meekly and kissed him- a moan clawed its way out of her throat when his finger found purchase and her asshole gave in. He sunk in deep, right up to his palm as he took her into a deeper kiss. In the ensuing seconds, his finger swirled around stretching a familiar place, stirring the young half-elf to deep shame and lust. It wasn't supposed to feel this good, but somehow giving birth to their daughter had made this wicked new intrigue into something of an obsession. 

He had been the only human to make her moan and now he was the only one that kept her moaning- his next finger stretched her further, this time her moan was deeper, hotter. Begging eyes looked up to her lover for the moment she could keep them opened and she whimpered the words she'd never thought would fall from her lips: "I love you." 

That earned her a new stretch, Ithric spread his fingers a little and breathed into her ear, a deep sigh of utter contentment. "You're going to wake up Lostariel." 

"Sshhhhhheeehhh." Sarah clutched the sill tighter. "Two minutes?" She grinned, face still flushed a shameful red. 

Slowly he began to withdraw and when she tried to move, his fingers dug into her shoulder. "Say no more, my queen." Her husband kissed her neck. "Your humble servant is here." 

Before Sarah could muster any kind of response- as if she wanted to anyway- Ithric scooted up to the balls of his feet and pressed the tip of his cock to her butthole. She tried to relax herself as that thick member pressed against her most private opening- pressed. Pushed. Sweet release melted the tension in her body as her lover- her husband- her god sunk into her. Ithric's passion took him unapologetically- he didn't stop until he heard her moan that deep aching moan only he could give her. 

She clutched the sill leaving new scrape marks in the soft wood, letting her head droop between her shoulders with a whimper. Inch after inch entered her at a much slower pace sending prickles over her skin from the part of her that knew this was forbidden. It was wrong but by the gods it felt so right. 

"You okay?" He whispered. 

Sarah mewled a response, met instantly by a gasp when Ithric started to pull out Right to the tip until it was straining her opening. This little push and pull dance lasted several slow thrusts until the oil coated both of them and Sarah had relaxed enough to allow easy passage. During that time, Sarah also began to lower her body in submission to what she knew was right; she drew her knees together as much to keep from falling as to stop her body from trembling. 

"I love you," she barely whimpered. The next thrust earned her the entire cock which she took straight to the hilt- not even able to breathe as He buried himself in her, mashing his balls against her soaking wet pussy. This was how life was meant to be lived; it was meant to be enjoyed. Something that monster at the Clockworks would never understand. Giving a woman an orgasm wasn't a sign of anything. 

There was no pleasure without passion. Ithric had mastered that art- he balled up a hand full of Sarah's pony tail and bit into her shoulder, sucking the sweat from her tender elven skin as he shoved her off her feet in a mighty thrust. She threw her head back and cried out in surprise. No one would hear her whimper. 

No one would hear her cry his name. 

A hand covered her mouth and a flicker of panic swept over her except for her husband's strong voice hot in her ear. "Shh. You'll wake her." 

"Your fault." Sarah said blearily, tightening herself around the full length buried in her ass. She made a vain attempt at rolling her hips back but it was no use, her body wouldn't respond. In seconds Ithric was drawing back, slow at first and then fast. He slammed into her like a hammer making her moan again- this was foreplay to what was really coming and she knew it. She whimpered into his hand, trying to find her footing. 

But it was no use; the young half-elf was at the mercy of a man much stronger than she was and arguably more familiar with her body. He pulled her hair back, stealing any choice of hiding her shame and wrapped his hand around her throat from in front. Sighing into her ear, he drew back and plowed into her ass. 

Half way out, right back in. His firm body slammed into her ass again and again- the sound of flesh on flesh echoed through the room with increasing speed and power fap, fap, fap. The other sounds- the muffled whimpering of the little elf blooded girl, her desperate moans and groans- were muffled easily by Ithric's palm. Sarah pressed her back to her husband's chest, showing him she was what he wanted from her- a good wife. A whore in bed and a mother to his child. She had earned these things and so much more. 

By the gods was she getting what she had earned. 

Ithric pounded her ass harder, faster, grunting with the effort right into her ear, supporting her body with that powerful frame she'd worshiped so many times and- and then it happened- he stopped abruptly and pushed her forward against the wall. Breathing hard, he whispered. "Say it." 

"W- Wh-" 

"You know what I want to hear." He thrust in hard enough to make Sarah whimper. 

"G- Gods- Ithric- Really?" A tug on her pony tail told her to go with it. She sighed, still trying to find her breath. In fluid, if slightly accented elven, she whispered. "Thank you, daddy." 

"Louder." He was on her again in a second, yanking her hair back at a nearly painful angle as he reclaimed what was his. His lips immediately went to her neck as he thrust again and again, knowing that he'd get it out of her one way or another. 

Sarah gripped the sill, back arching even more as she relented. He pounded her faster and faster, opening her body in ways it was never meant to- driving into her with such passion and power she had no choice. "Thank you, D- Daddy!" She whimpered with a failing voice. Her heart slammed against her ribs, breathing coming shorter and shorter. He never relented. 

He never gave up. 

It was the lurid nature. The unrelenting power that smashed into her that drove her higher and higher- to the tips of her toes, crying his name as a completely unnatural orgasm shattered her. An explosion of pleasure stopped her heart for a second- but it didn't stop. With each new thrust, Ithric drove her to higher planes of pleasure and shame. She became a passive observer in her own body as her husband plowed her that much further over the edge and right into oblivion. She collapsed forward over the counter just as Ithric's cock swelled in her clenched asshole. 

"Ahgods-" He whispered in her ear, panting. "Iloveyou, Sarah." Ithric drove into her harder, harder, then slammed into her, moaning her name in her ear loudly 'Sarahhhhhhggghhhh." His cock swelled, pumped, emptied load after hot load right into her body. Sarah welcomed the momentary relief, enjoyed the flooding of her ass, and whimpered into the countertop as Ithric's bulk came to her. 




Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 25



Her toes weren't even touching the floor any more, pinned to the counter by her husband. She quivered under him enjoying the sensation of being completely full once more. Gods it had been too long. Ithric seemed to enjoy it, too, he pumped into her a little more, kissing her neck. "Thank you, Daddy. . ." she whispered. 

"Good girl." 

"Good girl!" Lostariel said brightly. Both Sarah and Ithric looked over in panic. 

"Oh shit-" Sarah tried to stop herself but it was too late. Their daughter's bright green- or were they blue? Maybe brown- eyes were focused upon them. Sarah felt this sense of confusion as a tangible thing, stirring her mind to wander. 

"Your fault," Ithric was saying, but Sarah was looking at their daughter. Something was wrong- her mind was trying to replace features. No, she was trying to find the features that belonged to their daughter. She couldn't remember what the girl looked like! Sarah blinked, now aware of this discrepancy. Aware and panicked. 

She rose as Ithric did, finding that nothing was quite as she remembered it. Sure the day was right, sure the events were right, but something was missing. Something odd. She didn't remember what her own daughter looked like- had it been olive oil or vegetable oil? 

Sarah became aware she was dreaming right as she woke up. 

It did nothing to ease her panic, though; she awoke with a start, falling off the bench with a tremendous thud.



Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 26



Volume 4: Dereliction of Duty 

Chapter II: Old Roads 

Sarah scraped herself off the floor of the carriage, reclaiming her seat by the window with a muzzy wariness that carried over from sleep into awareness. Around a deep yawn, she managed to ask for some water which got her a blank stare from the two sitting in the opposite bench. The small elf and the smaller kobold were an odd pair, but their mirrored look of disbelief and confusion somehow made them look like siblings. 

It was enough to make Sarah chuckle. Gods it felt good to laugh. "Where are we?" 

"I don't know," Tessarie said anxiously. "Caldion said something about a village called Laleah?" 

That was right. She barely remembered having given those directions, but now it made sense. Sarah kicked her feet up on the bench and rubbed her eyes. "Capital." After finding her glasses and setting them on the end of her nose she leaned deeper into her corner trying to find a comfortable leaning position that would favor her shoulder. It was still sore despite Keiter's healing and she, soft from years of a life of comfort, had become entirely too susceptible, even minor aches. 

It seemed that it wasn't just her endurance that had waned over the past couple of decades. How uncouth. It wouldn't matter much once they got to Laleah, of course, but maybe she could get back into shape- farm villages always needed some kind of help. Yes, that was it; a little time in front of a forge wouldn't hurt anything. 

That was, of course, once they were safe. Yes, they'd spend a little time in Laleah, she'd make the arrangements necessary to see to it everyone was taken care of. Then she'd get back on track with her original plan, maybe head to the south plains for a while. The others could fend for themselves- Tessarie would need help getting back to elven lands and Caldion. . . 

Well, Caldion was a paladin. He was probably used to doing whatever compelled him. So long as it didn't include Sarah, she couldn't have cared less; attachments like this were a death sentence, especially the paladin. But what about Keiter? 

Sarah massaged her temples, eying the little kobold from her periphery. He wouldn't last a minute in the wilds, even if they could find a tribe of the reptilian creatures that wouldn't kill them on sight for trespassing, he didn't speak their language and the idea of his delivering Isira's message of pleasure and warmth? Preposterous. He may as well have been proselytizing to humans- which he had been doing for years now anyway. . . "Hmph." 

As if she'd sensed an opportunity to grab Sarah's attention, Tessarie leaned forward. She spoke in elven, probably assuming Keiter would have no idea what was being said. Sarah didn't have the heart to break that illusion. "We're heading to a human city, aren't we? What about your-" she pinched the tip of her tongue between her lips, looking at Sarah apologetically. "Friend? They will kill us all for traveling with him-" 

Sarah cut her off with a pleasant smile that didn't touch her eyes. Keiter had turned his attention to the conversation but, as usual, said nothing to suggest he understood what was being said. Maybe it was part of his nature to be so obtuse, Sarah had never understood why he acted that way. "I think you discount the value of good friends, my dear girl. I would no sooner abandon him than I would my own god." 

That earned a poignant look from the kobold. She knew better than continue down that line of lies, so she took the girl's cheeks in her hands, smiling gently. "Trust me." 

A flicker of doubt sparked deep in the young elf's eyes, as it rightly should have, but she gave a weak smile all the same. "I do." 

"Good girl. Now, then!" She drew back. "We'll get to Laleah and I'll have a talk with an old friend of mine there, we'll do our best to make sure everyone's comfortable and then. . ." With a satisfying 'plonk' Sarah kicked her boot against the carriage floor, crossed her legs and stretched long and languid. It was as much to emphasize her generous curves as it was to pop her aching muscles and bones- the concept of winning minds and hearts was, after all, a multi-faceted proposition. "Then we'll get everyone where they want to be." When she found her seat again, she was the focus of her companion's attention. There was a very subtle acknowledgment to them that made Sarah smile all the brighter. 

They weren't wrong to believe in her. She'd saved their lives, gotten them out of the city and had ensured everyone had enough money to retire on in one night. 

They might have been foolish. 

But not wrong. 

# 

The coach lurched to a stop on a slight incline several hours later- hours that had been filled with mindless silence and a certain sense of growing dread that things might not turn out as they should have. Sarah had done her best to distract herself by reading one of the books left behind by the noble who's carriage she'd 'borrowed' but soon gave up when she realized it was going to be a treatise on why elves had no business intermingling with humans. Disguised as an educational primer on market forces, no less. How droll. 

Caldion disembarked from the carriage a few moments later and slapped the side of the compartment. "We're stopping for a bit." He said as if it was a foregone conclusion, and then disappeared into the brush along the road. Tessarie jumped from her seat to stretch out, Keiter followed behind by a few seconds and Sarah, almost reluctantly, made her way out. 

Sarah eyed the stretch of road behind them and the one in front- both were remarkably open and easy to watch for approach, but still the fine hairs on her neck stood at rigid attention. "Pray tell, why are we stopping now?" 

"The horses are tired," came the terse reply. The young man stepped out of the bush adjusting his belt as he made his way towards the animals, ignoring Sarah's quizzical expression. He spent some time cleaning them up from what Sarah could see, washing blood splatters from their manes that even she hadn't noticed in their escape. He used spit and elbow grease, pampering the animals with a particular fondness that actually impressed her. What was more impressive was that the hoses actually seemed to enjoy the attention. Maybe it was because they were stopped. 

Keiter wandered over to the edge of the woods and leaned against a tree, for just a moment looking like he was going to go to the bathroom but instead he hung his head against the bark and went still. Tessarie disappeared gods only knew where leaving Sarah nothing to do but pace back and forth to stretch her legs. 

Provided the good Mayor Harris hadn't gotten himself into trouble with Sorash's nobility, Sarah would have full access to the caravan coaster upon arrival. All they had to do was be discrete and everything would be fine. . . Just like she'd planned for. 

It was actually rather surprising how well her plans had come to fruition after a rocky, some might say chaotic start, but the core plan was still perfectly in motion. Sarah had to smile at that. Decades may have softened her body, but they hadn't robbed her of her faculties. Except one little problem. 

They had no food. 

She wasn't the only one who was hungry, she couldn't have been. Hungry and thirsty, a terrible state of affairs no matter what situation they were in. Sarah rifled through the luggage compartment and despite finding a beautiful dress that would have fit her a lifetime ago, came out with nothing useful to their current situation. She leaned against the side of the coach, muttering a curse in Sphinx. 

Tessarie emerged from the woods ahead of them a couple of minutes later with a bundle wrapped up in her cloak and, Sarah noticed, a couple of feet of material torn from the bottom of her dress. It wasn't dragging on the ground and fit more or less, except for where it hung from her body, leaving a shoulder exposed- it had been sewn for a human woman, not a tiny elf. Sarah quietly vowed to find a real tailor once they were in Laleah. 

"What have we here, then?" Sarah started. Tessarie was grinning ear to ear, already unwrapping her prize as she bounded over. 

"Food!" 

Sarah's stomach grumbled at the mention and she smiled. "Capital! Let's see what-" she stopped mid sentence when the girl showed off a load of leaves, berries and. . . were those grubs? Worms?! Sarah looked away suddenly feeling queasy. Tess frowned. "I- ah-" The half-elf swallowed back on a wave of weakness. "Good. Good, dear. . . Perhaps later, hm?" 

"Come on, you have to eat something." She scooped up a hand full of berries and thrust them towards Sarah. "Here, try some." 

Careful to keep from looking at the rest of the 'meal', Sarah eyed the berries. They certainly looked edible, all polished and green beside a bundle of black ones. Sarah carefully plucked one, rolling it around in her finger tips. "Like little marbles, aren't they?" 

"What's a marble?" 

A glint of movement from her right. Sarah looked up to see Caldion making a grab for her. She pitched to the side, still not sure what was going on, acting on instinct. She grabbed for her pistol but he was just that much faster and in a second he had her by the wrist. He turned her hand over even as she scrambled for her flintlock with her offhand. "Unhand me!" 

He did. 

Off balance from the surprise she tumbled towards the dirt, on her way down she saw him holding one of the green berries in front of Tess. It happened in the space of a second, but her subconscious mind made sense of it even if she hadn't consciously done so- there was something wrong with them. Sarah laid there painfully, looking up at the two. No one offered her a hand. 

How uncouth. 

"They're poisonous. Have you eaten any?" He was saying to the elf. When she shook her head, he went on. "See the orange line through them? Always, always, always check before you pick green berries. . ." 

"Chaming, dear. . ." Sarah grumbled as she got to her feet. The sooner they got where they were going, the better. "Let's be off, yes? The horses can rest when we're in the city." She dusted herself down. "Keiter! We're heading out!" At Caldion's dubious glance, she forced a smile. "We don't want to be on the trail when nightfalls, now do we?" 

"No." He glanced back up the road. "Guess not. . . You better put it in the lock box." 

"It?" Sarah asked but quickly caught on to the reference. "Keiter is twice the man most would aspire to be, dear and he will ride wherever he pleases. Isn't that right?" She turned to see the kobold looking up at her with that unreadable reptilian gaze that said she would probably never understand him fully. He didn't acknowledge anyone as he climbed up into the coach and took to Sarah's bench. When she glanced his way again he stared at her. "Tess, dear, excuse us a moment?" 

"Ah- sure. . ." 

When Tess was safely tucked away, Sarah took the young man up the road a bit. Before she could even open her mouth to speak, he preempted her- "Do you pull that thing on everyone who tries to help you out or am I special case?" 

"After the day we've had, you're surprised one might be a little, on edge? Don't tell me I've overestimated you, dear." 

A muscle in his jaw clenched. "You're the reason I'm here in the first place, so I don't want to hear it." 

"No," Sarah held up a finger. "Poor timing, luck and. . . Providence lead you into my arms, but surely it's not been all for the worse? You get to serve out your purpose-" he snorted. "You disagree? Dear, you saved that girl's life! You're a hero-" 

"Shut up, Sarah. If not for her, I'd have taken you in myself. And once we get to this village, I'm going to see to it you get put on trial for impersonating a noble." 

"Now see here, young man!" 

He was already turning away. "You were right about Sorash," he continued on heedless to her vain attempts to stop him. "But that doesn't excuse your behavior." 

Was he serious? After everything, he was going to just throw her to the wolves? "I had sincerely thought better of you than that, dear boy. You'll remember I saved your life-" 

"Which is why I'm going to testify on your behalf." He climbed aboard, took up the reigns. "Get in." 

Sarah stared at him until he was forced to meet her gaze. Two could play childish games. "What happened to the charming, couth young man who nearly swept me off my feet in the temple, hm? Don't tell me you're already giving up the mask of professional inquisitor for hire?" 

He watched her for a moment. A tiny sigh passed his lips, Sarah almost missed it. "I'm a paladin, Sarah. Whatever you think you know about me, you can put it in a box, wrap it in chains and kick it off the road. It's not going to change the fact that you need to be-" 

"Yes, yes, dear. . . But let's look at his objectively! If you think for a moment you're going to try me for crimes you have no evidence of out here, you're sorely mistaken! I-" That was when he produced a bundle of letters. Her heart sank. She took them, already knowing what it meant- gods knew she'd seen enough of them. A letter of marque, a bundle of warrants. . . 

Where was hers? 

"This isn't helping your case dear. In fact, I'm fairly certain I can help you find some of these people- especially this one. Markin? He's the man who forged- my trade permit! Yes, my trade permit for peddling the Great Engineer's services." 

"You're a priest?" 

"A cleric." She corrected, handing his documents back. He was looking at her oddly. "What, do I have something on my face? Oh, come now, I'm-" 

"This is where I get off then, because a world in which a person like you can be elevated tells me there's no hope for any of us." 

"Tch, if you've waited this long then surely you've been saving yourself for something special. I'd be honored if I thought for a moment you'd relax yourself enough to do so! Never the less, the fact remains that this silly bickering is hardly worth either of our time! We've made some mistakes, one of us more than the other, but for the grace of the gods, the other got us all out of the city without irons on." She held her hand out and circled her wrist with her other hand. "I dare say they might be a good fit for a paladin, but hardly fa-" 

"Do you ever shut up?" 

Sarah hooked her thumbs in her waistline. "Are you always this rude?" 

"You nearly got me killed, then you lied to me and continued to lie to me- you consort with dragons their ilk. That poor woman in there has no idea what you've gotten her into and I'm going to see to it she's not killed for her ignorance. Neither am I for that matter." 

Tess poked her head out, "I'm not deaf, you know!" 

"Sorry, miss. . ." 

"See, that's more like it. Civility, even in times of crisis is a sign of character." 

"Get in, Sarah.." The young man picked up the reigns again, "or don't. It's only a few leagues." 

"You wouldn't leave a woman stranded on the road alone-" Caldion was already urging the horses on. "Hey!" She barely managed to grab the side rail before the coach started up the incline. Even as she crawled aboard, she knew she was not going to enjoy this boy's company. 

# 

They rolled into the outer farms of Laleah some hours later just as the sun was beginning to set. Throughout the entire trip, nothing she could do eased Keiter's spirits and he laid across her lap like a sleeping child through every bump. She couldn't blame him, but how did she even begin to comfort her friend when he'd witnessed his entire congregation lay down their lives for him:? It may have been because of the goddess's appearance, but still, the act was horrifyingly beautiful in its irony. 

A black rose by any other name. He had survived so he could spread the word, her friend was still in her life. That was all that mattered. Sarah hugged him close as best she could, earning an uneasy look from Tess. Sarah smiled as best she could. "When we get to the village, I'll talk to-" 

They stopped. Horses were plodding towards them. A man shouted 'woe there!' 

Both of the elven blooded women looked at one another. "Be still, my friend," Sarah said an instant before she bundled Keiter up in her arms and grabbed her coat, wrapping him up in its folds. For his part in it, he held still as a corpse while Sarah packed him into the corner and piled up some of the other clothes and her strong box in an attempt to hide him. 

Torchlight flickered over the inside of the carriage, Tess hugged up into her corner and Sarah did her best to look casual, covered in dirt and grime as she was. Then she heard a familiar voice. Gruff and heavy with self importance. Sheriff Cosnu, shouted out at Caldion. "State yer business, stranger!" 

"Son of a bitch." Sarah exhaled. This was not going to go well no matter who got the first word in, but if she could turn things to her favor. . . 

This was suicide. 

It was also necessary. 

She licked her lips. What was there to loose? If nothing else, she could postpone whatever 'trial' the boy had in mind and she could get in touch with the mayor that much sooner. This was not going to be pleasant. She poked her head out in time to see the man and his posse strolling towards the carriage. "My, my! I go looking for friendly faces and whom should I be blessed with but a siren's call in an otherwise dreary storm!" 

"Oh gods. . ." The sheriff's shoulders sagged visibly. "You." 

Sarah grinned. "I believe the correct protocol would be to greet the fair lady and see her on her way to the Mayor's manor, is it not?" 

That seemed to sober him up. He looked at her oddly. "You aint heard? Mayor's been killed." 

Sarah's heart clenched. "Y- You're serious?" 

Caldion piped in, "Sheriff? Can you show us to your cells? I've got a criminal to move in." 

It really was shaping up to be a terrible week.



Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 27



Volume 4: Dereliction of Duty 

Chapter III: Choices 

Felicia was perched on the edge of the bed across from Lostariel who held a small dagger between the tips of her fingers with the skill and casual indifference of a trader inspecting wares they intended to resell. The instrument shimmered in the dying light creeping through Felicia's window. The two women eyed one another, periodically shifting their weight so they wouldn't fall. 

Eventually when it looked like Felicia wasn't in any real danger, she crawled own off the bed, grabbing her pants. For a moment, Lostariel actually seemed disappointed that the teen would dare cover up her caramel skinned beauty, but it too faded like her warmth and post-orgasm lust had. The woman sharing Felicia's bed was a stranger. Stranger than she had been when she still thought the woman was just a traveler. 

It was the pale skinned assassin who broke the silence, her voice tinged with something undefinable- a quiet irritation, perhaps. "What debt do you owe her, then? You don't seem like a jilted lover." 

"Jilted lover?" Felicia balked. "Is that what you are? What could she have done that would make you want to kill her?! She's a good person! A little- uh- fopish-" 

"Capricious." The woman supplied as she turned her dagger over between her hands. The tip was already starting to draw blood from her thumb but she barely acknowledged it. 

Felicia stared at her."What? Okay, fine, she's 'capricious', but does that mean she deserves to die?" 

"The better question is what have you done to deserve to live?" It was fairly clear that Felicia posed no threat, but something in the woman's demeanor and careful manner suggested she might have been trying to put Felicia at ease but didn't have the first idea how. Especially given what she'd just said. "People concern themselves with death more than they do their moment to moment living- I challenge you to justify your existence." Her purple eyes turned to the window momentarily. "Or hers. . ." 

"That's insane-" 

"I may let her live." That amethyst gaze cut towards Felicia. There was no question choosing not to reply wasn't a possibility. Would she go after Sarah- maybe even Felicia- if she didn't answer correctly? What if she lied? Gods, how had it all gone so wrong so quickly. From pleasure to holding someone's life in her hands- she was too young to do this. She had no business- Lostariel tiled her head forward, looking up at Felicia through her bangs. "Well?" 

"I- I'm thinking! Give me a moment!" 

The woman chuffed a harsh laugh and stood up, crossing the room in four strides. She picked up her bag and set it on the bed, rifling through her gear as the seconds ground on. Clinking metal. Glass. Creaking leather. Felicia bit deep into her lip. She was going to die in this room. . . 

Gods how could she have been so stupid. But maybe there was hope. . . Yes, a gamble her mother would have been proud of. It was insane, but maybe, just maybe- 

"I think," The northerner broke into her thoughts. "You're afraid of what might happen if you looked and saw just how empty your life truly is." 

Felicia played her cards as best she could, trying to keep her voice indignant but firm. "And your life is so much better? H- How many people's 'empty' lives have you ruined with your actions? How many tears have been spilled in your name? Huh? You think I'm a waste when all you do is take and take and take? What've you contributed to humanity? Sarah has her flaws, sure, but she at least makes people smile. . . Isn't that something worthy of praise?" 

There was a long moment of silence- the northerner didn't look up from her rummaging, but the sound of gear clattering had stopped and even her breathing had gone quiet. The only sound was Felicia's heart hammering against her ribs as she eyed the short killer. Waiting for the verdict, the swat on a horse's end and the rope to tighten. 

Finally, after an eternity, Lostariel looked up and with a glimpse at her distant elven heritage, Felicia found the reasons why she'd been taken in by her charms. Those cheeks, that smile, that flicker of mischief in her eyes. She pointed at the teen with a set of shorts in her hand. "Do you think you can stop me?" 

"N- No." She admitted. "But I bet you can be more than than you think you are." That earned a slight brow arch. Felicia pounced on the opportunity. "The spirits gave you every advantage a woman could want- you're beautiful, strong, you would set a thousand hearts on fire with a look! You could be so much if you wanted to be." 

"Felicia." 

"Please? Consider it?" 

Another odd look. "How is it I find two women who are strange enough to be interesting?" 

"Gods' intervention?" 

Lostariel snorted, glancing away for a moment. "You have until I find her to convince me." 

Felicia blinked. "How am I going to do that?" 

"Surprise me." Having passed judgment, the woman went back to her bag to find some more clothes. 

"W- Well, what did she do? Who wants her dead?" 

"My father." 

"Uh- why?" 

"That doesn't concern you." 

"I- Hey, wait. That's not fair, how am I going to convince you to spare her life if you're not going to tell me anything?" 

Lostariel looked up with a smirk. "Consider it your rite of passage into adulthood. You've already saved one life today, maybe you can make it two." 

# 

Laleah's farms laid out along either side of the lamp lit trail like throw rugs, framing a well maintained road that made it easy for carts and horses alike to move with little fear of jostling one another. In the darkness it felt like an alley between two buildings- dark, uncertain, pinned between two futures waiting to crash in against any who dared tread it's packed earth. 

Felicia and her horse didn't walk so much as creep down the path towards the braziers of the township's 'gate'. The half dozen men behind the spikey barricades looked like some kind of militia in their leather tunics, but the way they had circled their swords near the fire and the way in which they sat on crates playing cards made it look anything but professional. For a moment she wondered what chance she'd have if she told them about Lostariel. 

She was nearby, that was obvious. On the opposite side of the trail, perhaps. None of the travelers Felicia had passed had recognized the indistinct form of the woman, but every animal that came near gave a wide berth, almost into the middle of the trail, to avoid something. Maybe it was just the way things were with her. Animals feared her and she feared them. . . 

Felicia swallowed. It was worth a shot, if only to stop her wondering. "Miss Lostariel?" 

"Yes?" The reply was instantaneous. 

"Why-" 

"I told you I'm not going to answer that. She's wronged powers beyond her, you don't need to know more than that." 

The teen squinted against the gloom; she caught a glimpse of the woman's outline as she swung her arms. It was a faint glimmer, a refraction of light being absorbed at the edge of a lantern's light halo. Felicia tracked her as best she could from the corner of her vision, lowering her voice just a touch in case someone might hear them. "I was going to ask what will happen when we get to the checkpoint ahead." 

"That depends." 

"On what?" 

No reply. 

Felicia sighed. "You're not going to hurt them, are you?" 

No reply. 

"I-" 

"If you think that low of me, you're more jaded than I thought." 

"I'm not jaded, I'm just. . . Concerned. I mean, come on. You're going to kill someone, what am I supposed to think?" 

"You're supposed to be thinking about reasons I shouldn't, or have you forgotten?" 

"Of course not!" Felicia clenched her jaw, shooting a look at the outline she hoped was the woman. "But you keep telling me that you're beneath valuing human life, what am I supposed to work with?" 

"You could always beg." 

"Would it help?" 

"It might." 

For just a moment Felicia wanted to scoff. Something told her she'd never be able to sway things with her words. . . But many there were other ways. She reached into her pack and produced a couple apples. Without warning, she tossed one underhanded towards where she thought the woman was. She was mildly surprised when it landed in the dirt in two parts. 

"Uh. . ." 

"I'll eat when I'm hungry." 

Felicia's heart kicked up a notch, slamming against her ribs. She hadn't even seen the blade get drawn! "O- Okay." After a calming breath she took a bite, easing her mind into focus once more. "Do you like stories/" 

Silence. 

"Well, how about this one. . ." She cleared her throat. "There are these spirits that roam the plains when the sky goes purple- we call those gem storms because the lighting cracks rocks and you always find gem dust in the holes they make. They're the ancestral spirits, the reason our clan came to be, actually. But before the storms, they used to take care of the land and feed those who came before us. 

"One of the most proud was a spirit who's power was so strong it couldn't be felt any more, he attracted animals from all over the world to be there and feed from his breast- the heart is in the breast, right?- so because of these spirits we have horses and dogs and even, some say, dragons." 

"Power isn't invisible-" 

"It can be. You might not understand it because you have to see it while you're out hunting on the tundra and stuff- I'm sorry that sounds like I'm making fun. I'm not." 

After a few moment Lostariel said quietly, "go on." 

"Okay. . ." Could she really do this? It meant possibly sparing Sarah's life, so why shouldn't she share some of her tribe's wisdom? Who knew, maybe it would smooth things out between them. "Well, one of our oldest customs is waking up with the day and acknowledging where we came from, where we are and where we want to be. . ." 

"That's fairly simplistic." 

"Sure, but-" she exhaled sharply. "Not everything in life needs to be complicated, our elders say that only humans can so completely ruin beauty by trying to define it." Felicia polished off her apple quickly. "There are lots of forms of power, but those that're most important are those not felt. . . Right?" 

"Tell that to the dead." 

"The sky doesn't crack rocks, the lightning does, but without the sky being there where would the lightning come from in the first place?" 

"How long have you been among the city dwellers?" 

"Uh, maybe a couple of years?" 

"It shows. You talk too much and say very little." 

"You. . . make it really hard to want to be your friend, you know that?" Felicia shifted her weight. "Fine- what if I said that the concepts man knows of power are flawed? What if I said that the only way you'll ever have real, meaningful power over life is by being a force for change instead of being someone else's sharpened blade? Real power is not being felt, miss Lostariel. Being so radiant that you become luminescent. . ." 

As they drew nearer to the barricade, Felicia's heart tightened in her chest. The gulf of silence between the two women was only growing wider and once they got close enough to that barricade, any chance she had to save Sarah's life was going to go up in smoke. "If you want to be more than anyone believes you can be, w- we can do it. I believe in you." She swallowed, digging for new things that might appeal. She may have been trying to bargain with a lizard for all the familiarity she had. She stopped the horse deliberately, turning her head to look across the road. They weren't far from the barricade. It was her last shot. 

At least she could pretend to look strong. "I want to be your friend, Lostariel. A lot of people do, a lot of people would believe in you if they had half the chance to get to know you- but is that what you want? Don't you think you could be more than your father's blade? We could make things right with Sarah if you wanted to, but killing her really isn't the way." 

The deafening silence stretched into a full minute, Felicia almost turned away thinking Lostariel had left, but then she saw a slender hand grasp the wooden pole of the lantern. The leathers the woman was wearing seemed to absorb the light struggling to cast over that hand but it couldn't gain any purchase. After a breath the would-be killer spoke in a predatory purr: "You're too naive for the world she and I live in. For your sake, as a 'friend'., go home. . . This doesn't concern you and you wouldn't want it to if you knew what was at stake." 

"Give me the chance to make that choice, that's not fair. Maybe I can-" 

"She doesn't deserve your adoration, nor your tears. Spare neither for her. . ." The hand let go from the post. 

"Hey!" Felicia caught herself before she would have yelled. "I- I could tell the guards ahead about you, you know. . ." 

"It didn't help their mayor, Felicia. It won't help her." There was some rustling in the wheat behind the fence. "Go home." And just like that, the most dangerous creature Felicia had ever crossed paths with in her short live vanished without a trace, leaving her to stare after her- it- like a hopeless puppy. 

"Well. . . What- Th-" She scoffed and nudged her horse onward. There was more than one way to skin a cat, her father had taught her that much. Felicia strode up to the guards with her hand raised and her best smile. "Good evening. Long night?" They barely spared her a glance as a fat man with some kind of silver insignia waved her on. No wonder Lostariel wasn't scared. Felicia wanted to ask about the mayor, but something told her it would probably be best not to implicate herself in anything. 

The village itself was laid out around a central building with several stalls and a bright red sign depicting a horse and wagon. The small houses that ringed that were large, mufti-story wood and plaster buildings like the ones in Sorash, borrowing heavily from their aesthetic- trying to look regal but ultimately looking like something which would've fallen over in a stiff wind if not for the massive facades of heavy brick and thick timbers. There were several wagons in the coaster with horses being fed and watered by stable boys. They were quick to help Felicia out with directions to the nearest inn and with a little careful negotiation, she managed to get her horse into a proper stable for a meal. 

After which time she offloaded his burden and hauled it to the Little Kettle inn- nearly faceplanting in the process when she tripped with the heavy armor and her supplies on her back. No one really paid attention to her as she dragged herself up to the bar and set her pack down. "Pardon me," she said to the older woman behind the bar. "I'm looking for someone- a red headed woman." 

"This is the wrong kind of place t'go lookin for whores, don'tchya think, kiddo?" 

"Wha- No! No, she's a friend of mine. I was hoping she might have come through here. She's, uh, a bit taller than I am? Kind of pale? Has pointed ears? She has elven blood." 

That earned her a sharp, disapproving look and more than a few glances from the people near the bar. Before Felicia could open her mouth to clarify, the old woman was leaning into her space. "Friendly advice, girl, don't go mixin in with the 'races'. Only bad can come of it." 

"N- No, you don't understand. She's a half-elf. . . She's got-" How easy would it have been to lie to this woman? Surely she didn't really care about why she wanted to find Sarah and after all the woman's life was on the line. "She owes me a lot of money?" 

"Not the kindda friend you wanna keep then, is it?" 

"Well, I mean- I have to find her first, you know? Have you seen anyone like that around? She's kind of. . . Uh. Foppish. Wait- no, capricious." 

"The hell's that mean?" 

"I don't know. But someone said it was what she was." Felicia fidgeted under the woman's gaze. "Please, any information-" 

"Well, now you have t'think. What's in it for me? I got five kids t'feed and my damn fool husband got himself out thinking he's going to mine copper out west like an idiot. So, what am I supposed to tell my little boys when I look them in the eye tomorrow morning?" 

Felicia curled her toes in her shoes, already knowing the futility of trying to argue her way out of it. She quietly produced a single piece of the gold Sarah had given her and took the woman's hands so no one else could see the exchange. She leaned in so no one else would hear them. "I have two of these for you if you help me find her. . . I really need to find her, for her sake and mine. Please/" 

Once the woman saw what was on offer- real gold, not just copper- she looked at Felicia with new respect. Even as the girl pocketed the coin once more. Instantly the teen felt guilty for taking advantage of the woman's greed, but lives were more important. 

"Right enough! Sammy! Come get this woman's things and take them up to her room," to Felicia, she said: "The thing about Sarah Kettar is she doesn't know when to keep her mouth shut, yeah? She worked her way into our Mayor's heart- gods rest his soul- sayin she was a Matriarch or somethin from the Free States. But I tell you, I've known a lot of nobles and she don't act like no noble I ever saw." 

"How so?" 

"She's a knife ear for one thing. Who in their right mind gives elves power? Psh. No, you bet me, she used that silver tongue of hers to get a title. Betchya she's using that tongue right now to find some starry eyed farmer's kid to warm her bed for a night, too. My best bet? You start with the farms, you can usually find her hunting there." 

Despite everything, that comment hurt. A lot. Felicia sucked air through her teeth and rolled her shoulders. "Right. . .Um. Thanks. I'll do that." But wait- "Wait, you said she knew the mayor? Do you think she knew. . . uh. . . his/ Family? Maybe they might know something?" 

"Oh, sure, sure. They might. Probably wanna get to them before she does, though." 

"Why's that?" 

"Ooohhh no reason- Richard, his son, and Tanya both wanna kill her. So-" 

"Gods above what has this woman gotten me into. . ." Felicia pinched the bridge of her nose. 

"Told ya. Stay away from knife ears, girl. Bad medicine." 

"I uh- thanks." Felicia turned for the door. Someone grabbed her arm, stopping her short. The wizened face of a hunched man with skin as dark as mahogany was looking up at her. "Um, pardon me?" 

In her native tongue, he whispered. "You are far from home, child." 

Felicia blinked. "I am, elder." 

His brow furrowed slightly, marring a tiny fire tattoo at the edge of his brow- the mark of a warrior. A very strange thing for someone so old and even more so for someone so far from home himself. "For good reason?" 

Even hearing the wispy Plains talk felt strange and out of place among the sharper common tongue of the Nor-easterners. It wasn't comforting as it had once been, but rather a burden. An obstacle to getting to Sarah in this moment. But she didn't dare defy an elder, not a warrior. With great care, she lowered her gaze and her hands to show her respect. "I believe so. . . I have made a friend who has gotten herself into trouble, she's angered powerful people who wish her dead." 

The old man let out a sigh through his nose. "So many here are eager to kill, but they never stop to wonder if they really should. So much good blood spilled over useless things." 

"Yes, elder. I'm trying to stop that from happening-" 

"Tell me." 

"Uh- Yes?" 

"Do you remember the song of Thunder?" 

Felicia frowned. 

"Good," with a slow, deliberate hand he reached under the blanket he had been sitting on. He drew a thick blade curved downward. Some of the patrons looked over at his brandishing of the leather clad steel but no one seemed eager to intervene. His withered hands trembled slightly as he turned the blade over, hilt first to her. "Do not let it be sung for your friend." 




Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 27



"I- I- I couldn't, Elder. This isn't meant for me. My family were hunters-" 

"Then you will do as they would. Spirits gave you what the gods refuse, you must honor them." 

"But-" She sqeuaked when he thrust the blade's handle into her hand and wrapped her digits around it, he turned his gaze up to meet hers, calm and composed and for the first time since they met he wasn't shaking. "Elder. . . Please, I can't do this." 

"If you don't, your friend will die. Bury this in the ground when you have saved her. . . I have no son to take it." He paused to let it sink in. He was a lone warrior far from home, he had chosen this place to die and he wanted to ensure his family's blade was treated as it deserved to be. Probably better than his body would be, knowing the 'civilized' folk of the cities. He exhaled through his nose in a slow sigh. "Do so and honor your tribe, or don't and at least die with some dignity." 

Felicia turned her gaze away, hefting the heavy kukri in her own trembling hand. "I. . . I understand." 

"Good. Now get out of my sight." He chortled a disparaging laugh. "Before I forget myself." 

Felicia scuttled to the side as she murmured a quiet "Yes, Elder." As she headed for the door the weight of the 'sunless' steel blade became a very heavy presence in her mind and soul. Like thoughts of Sarah's safety, there would be no putting it down until she'd finished what she came to do. 

Some part of her wondered if she was insane for thinking it was possible she'd survive. . . 

Some part of her knew she was.



Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 28



Volume 4: Dereliction of Duty 

Chapter IV: The Empty Jail 

Sarah stood in front of the makeshift jail behind Sheriff Cosnu's home, pondering how far she might be able to get without showing her pistol. She could have broken down the wheel inside and filed it down to some form of pick if she had time to do so- the ramrod was too expensive to risk damaging, but of course one had to ask what one's freedom was really worth. The young paladin with his hand on her shoulder gave her a gentle nudge forward as she and Keiter disembarked from the carriage. 

It was a stomach churning truism that one's perception of events could be horribly mangled by the concept of status. In some regards the idea of getting over on someone of higher status made monsters of the disenfranchised, on the other side of it one might be more inclined to bend a knee. So far Sarah hadn't found the paladin's penchant, but she was willing to bet on the later of the two. 

"Young man, I think you greatly overestimate the position in which you find yourself." Sarah shrugged off his second attempt to coddle her along and grabbed her coat. The long canvas draped to her ankles and concealed her pistol, along with a fair bit of gold should she need to run. That it was also weatherproof and lined with cotton made it perfectly acceptable for wearing on the trail, should it come to that. 

Just as the paladin was about to attempt another push, Tessarie emerged from the carriage and took her place at their side. "If she goes, I go." 

The young man stared at her blankly. What came out of his mouth made Sarah turn away to hide her smirk. "You've done nothing wrong, miss." It was so contrite, but endearing. Genuine idealism wasn't something Sarah had seen in some time. 

"You don't understand. She saved my life. . ." She eyes Keiter dubiously. "And his. . ." 

"It's a kobold-" 

"And you're a human." Keiter said sharply. "One of us has the blessing of their goddess. Speaks for itself, I think. Do you, paladin?" 

Sarah snapped her gaze at her friend, brow knitting in concern at the sudden outburst. When he met her gaze there was a flicker of righteous anger in those eyes, a kind of pride she had never felt in her own patron and a need to defend the honor of a higher being. Keiter huffed and looked away. "Too many died for us to act this way." With that said he flipped up the hood on his robe and turned away. 

"Get back here, creature-" the man started after him at the same time Sarah just happened to start walking forward. He tripped and dived into a roll, on his feet in a split second with combat reflexes; his gaze on her was anything but friendly. She smiled. "I'll deal with you in a minute." 

"No, I don't think you will." Sheriff Cosnu's lumbering form took up the doorway to the jail, he waddled towards the group. "Oi! Get back here, runt." 

Keiter stopped mid step and sighed a hiss. 

"Did he just. . ." The old man started. 

Sarah quickly shuffled the conversation to brighter topics. "I trust my paperwork is in order, dear? As it always has been?" She smiled as she outstretched her hand for it, noticing it was a bit lighter than when she'd given it- five gold well spent. "Capital. Now, if you'd be so kind as to direct us to the nearest inn, I believe my company and I have-" 

Caldion was staring between them in disbelief. She gave him a quick glance and fought back the urge to be smug. "Sheriff-" 

"Not so fast." 

"Hm?" Sarah looked to the overweight sheriff. 

"He trusted you, doesn't mean I have to. You keep your boots clean here or I'll put you in irons myself, 'Ambassador'. 

"Think nothing of the sort! I cannot imagine why anyone would besmirch the wonderful visage of this. . . Homely hamlet, no dear, if anything I seek only to improve it-" 

"Just keep outta my way, if I have to listen to another father telling me about how is kid was deflowered before she was ready for marriage, I'm gonna find a shallow hole for you. Best behavior. Got it?" 

Sarah waved dismissively, she was beyond listening any more and she gave Caldion a look that showed her disapproval. He was mirroring her look for entirely different reasons. They eyed one another as the sheriff made his way back to his house. Caldion started to speak but Sarah cut him off. "That was very uncouth, young man." 

He scoffed. "Let me guess, you paid him off. You think all your problems can be solved with coin? Even race traitors know better than that." 

"She's not-" 

"Goading is the lowest form of discourse, and a woefully inadequate use of your otherwise soothing voice, my dear boy. No, think of me as someone who understands the value of my own resources and more than that, my friends." She leaned towards Tessarie. "Be a dear and keep an eye on Keiter, so he's not hurt?" 

The small elf looked at Sarah pleadingly, uneasy right from the start with the request. Finally she sighed and quietly trundled off, hugging her ill-fitting dress to her body. When she was gone, Sarah looked to the paladin and pouted her lips in mock thought. She was already planning their real escape, she already knew what palms would need greasing to get a reliable caravan ride somewhere safe. The only thing that needed to be figured out- and quite soon- was whom she would be taking. 

"Don't think I'm letting you out of my sight," Caldion said. 

Sarah blew her breath into her bangs. "I suppose it would not be the first time I've bathed with a man, come then! Let's-" 

"That's not what I meant and you know it." 

"Where's your sense of adventure, hm? Surely a strapping young man like you knows there are many uses for one's hands," She eased into his space just a little, making a show glancing at his hands and then slowly looking up over her glasses. "Especially ones so perfectly sized to a multitude of tasks." 

There was a split second where the young paladin actually seemed to be taken in; he eyed her, wanting to believe she was genuinely interested in him- not far from the truth, really- but then just like that he backed up and shook his head. His chestnut gaze tracked her with a subtle irritation like a sibling scolding the other. After several seconds of consideration he sighed. He had the look of wanting to say something but he didn't, instead he watched her for several more seconds into an uncomfortable silence. 

One he was all too ready to let linger on. 

Sarah turned without a word herself and started towards the mayor's house. It might not have been a bad idea to have someone mascaraing as a body guard. "If you intend to follow me, you can at least put on a consolatory air. Or do I do you a disservice in thinking that below you?" She gave him a smile she was too tired to really feel. He fell in beside her and at a slight distance. 

"Is that what you're going to do? Pretend you care enough to get in someone's pants and bribe your way out of here?" 

'Points for acuity, young man.' Sarah mused to herself as she adjusted her coat and righted her posture as best she could. Despite being a little dirty, she still looked fairly presentable in her minds' eye. Anything else could be faked, of course. "Don't be ridiculous. That would make me something of a monster, wouldn't it? The man and I had disagreements, surely, but I held great respect for him." 

The paladin scoffed. 

"Come now. . . If you're going to insist on acting childish, I will not waste either of our time troubling you with the duties of being an adult! The coach awaits you as do its horses-" 

"Which are stolen-" 

"From a noble who knows nothing of valuing the possessions he has." Of course his death was largely to blame for that but Sarah left that part out. She adopted a more serious tone. "He will be compensated in due time, I'm sure, but greater need and all that, hm?" 

"That's not how the law works. You're a liar and a thief-" 

"Young man-" 

"Paladin." 

Sarah's right eye twitched. She used a firmer tone instead. "Caldion." 

The larger man spared her an expectant look. She was too tired for this, but giving in to her baser desire to just throw a tantrum and curl up into a ball under a mountain of blankets was not going to do her long term survival any good. The world was full of scary places and things and this was just another. 

As was the company she kept, regrettably. At least the boy was keeping up with her, flexibility would get them both farther. 

Slowly she took a deep breath to center herself. "I am a great many things, but none of them include being heartless or so obstinate that I would not pay proper respects to a friend- further to that point, I would like to remind you that it's only because of us you weren't horribly butchered along with us. You may find this hard to believe, but I have very high standards for the people I associate myself with." 

She expected him to scoff or offer rebuttal, but instead he walked with her in silence until they reached the mayor's abode. A candle flickered in the second floor window and the door, so deeply set in the building one could fit three people side by side from the lip of the overhang to the door itself, was cracked open. A potentially dangerous eastern custom- Sarah frowned as she knocked on the frame. 

"Why is it open?" Caldion peeked in the crack as best he could without being nosy. 

Seemed she wasn't the only westerner. "They say it's so that traces of the soul can leave the house to join the rest." 

"Oh. . ." 

Another knock. 

Eventually a young woman opened the door, upon seeing Sarah she slammed it closed. 

Caldion didn't even miss a beat. "I bet that doesn't happen often." 

"The answer may surprise you." Sarah gave a knock. "Dear, I'm here to pay my respects! Nothing more! Your father was a good man, and-" 

"Get out of here! You brought this on us! You and your Nightshade!" 

Sarah pouted her lips. The paladin was eying her again as if he might decide to just beat her head in and call the matter done. "That's not at all true- A woeful superstition spread by those who've no idea what they're talking about. Gold is gold, not even high clerics can-" 

"Get out of here!" 

Sarah opened her mouth but Caldion was knocking on the door before she could get anything out. "I'm sorry to interrupt, miss, but may I speak?" 

There was a pause. "Who the hell are you?" 

"My name is Caldion. . . I would like to offer my consolation. Upon Alaecon's name, if there is anything I might do for you and yours, I offer it freely." 

It was a brave thing to invoke a god's name if one wasn't ready to face the consequences, even more so if the person doing so was trying to present themselves as something they weren't. If he wasn't a paladin, he'd surely have burst into flames or something. That confirmation was as relieving as it was disconcerting. Sarah heard the latch before the girl opened the door and peeked up at him. "Anything?" 

"Anything." 

"Then kill her. Before my brothers do." 

"Now see here-" 

"Shut up, Sarah." Caldion looked to the girl. "I don't think Alaecon would appreciate my taking a life without due cause. Perhaps you would tell me of her crimes? Maybe we can find a middle ground." 

The girl scoffed. "She's a dragon bringer! She brought the dragon's assassins here! Her and her Nightshade!" In seconds she was thrusting a playing card into his hands. "See?! It has his name on it!" Sarah peeked when the boy turned it over. Her heart dropped into her stomach the moment she saw the ace of diamonds with Baccus's name on it. Caldion spent more time than strictly necessary looking at the runes that spelled out the man's fate. 

'Power belongs to the strong, Baccus' 

Sarah turned away, covering her mouth and looking around at the shadows encroaching on the small hamlet. She was overcome with a strange urge to bite onto her palm to jostle herself awake. Surely this had to be a dream! No series of events was this damned convoluted and interconnected, was it? 

Was it possible that her would-be assassin was going around killing forms of civil leadership and nobility? Sorash was locked down because of the actions of the killer- and presumably others, including Sarah by extension- perhaps there was something to it. . . 

"I'll be at the inn. . ." Sarah muttered as she wandered off towards the carriage. They had a short lead on the would be killer, they could maximize that advantage if they knew what they had to look for- some semblance of the killers' motivation. Perhaps some plan could be devised by which she could do something. 

Sarah made her way back to the carriage and started rummaging through the main compartment. She produced her silver slab lighter and pressed the handle on the side into the receiver. A soft whirring sound vibrated the little slab in her palm, signaling it was ready. She touched her rolled up 'paperwork' to the circular hot plate and waited for it to ignite. Bathed in the soft glow, she searched through the carriage again and- much to her dismay- found a playing card laying beside a splotch of blood under one of the benches. 

Her hand trembled a little as she turned it over. She already knew what she would find, but some part of her had hoped against hope that it wouldn't be an ace of diamonds. But as expected, the blood red diamonds on the card glittered in the muted light leaving no question as to whom it belonged to. The message on this card was much more unusual. . . 

'Beware the mind that thinks itself clever.' 

Was it a warning or a taunt? Sarah tapped the card to her chin as she fought to steady her breath. From what she remembered of the assassin's actions against the noble who'd owned her new carriage, the man was under heavy guard and the assassin had attacked him anyway. . . She leaned against the inside wall of the carriage. But why? It wasn't just about skill- she was certainly up to the task in the end- but it was personal. 

She was proving a point. 

Sarah clenched her teeth as she looked at the card; it had the same flourishes, the same firm trenches for certain lines and softness for others. They were written by the same person. She thumped her skull against the carriage wall and sighed. "Well. . ." 

It had to have happened sooner or later. There were only so many places in the world to hide and even fewer that accepted gold as currency. She hadn't gone far enough east, she hadn't made the right deals for her survival and now the dragon's agent had caught up with her to collect what was his. It wasn't going to stop until she was dead, and if she was really fortunate, it would just be her life that was taken. 

She wanted to cry but the tears wouldn't come. Just the numb realization that nothing she did from this moment forward would save her. She was marked and like the others, she too would die. The last twenty years had been a waste of time, the bargains and cajoling and lies? For nothing. . . She was no safer now than that first night she she'd arrived back on the shores beneath her lighthouse. 

Sarah hugged her knees to her chest, rested her chin atop them and sighed. There was a certain romanticism to the entire idea, actually. A lowly mortal conned a dragon out of vast sums of coin and survived to tell the tale for decades. Yes, a damn fine tale to tell. . . It didn't bring back Ithric or Lostariel, but there was a legacy there. 

A legacy. . . 

Was this really how it was going to end? With her feeling sorry for herself? She looked at the card again, considering. 

Was this really how she wanted to die? 

Was this what her family would have wanted? 

Of course not. They would want to be alive and healthy. . . They didn't have that choice, though. Sarah did. But would- could she make it? 

She was Sarah-bloody-Kettar, gods dammit. An Engineer, last in a great line of elven blooded prodigies- Why the hell couldn't she? Damn the tears welling up at her eyes. She could do this. She deserved to live. 

No one heard her whisper the word, 'yes.' Before she flicked the card under the bench and got up. There was more than one way to get out of a noose, even if it was a dragon's claw. 

# 

Sarah entered the caravan coaster shortly after midnight, pretending to be a new worker. She'd stolen someone's freshly washed blouse and wore her old one as a bandana to protect her hair and her coat tied around her waist like a heavy tunic. Admittedly not much of a disguise but it seemed to work. She was quickly ushered in by harried managers who were too busy complaining about schedules to ask why an elven blooded person would stoop to this kind of menial labor, they didn't even question her when she asked for the lowest duty in most coasters- that of shoveling the manure from the stables. 

They didn't question and no one seemed to pay her any attention as she strode between the tangled mess of sweaty humans and dirty animals who's combined shouting, bargaining and cursing from strained backs made it impossible to hear oneself think. To them Sarah was invisible. As it needed to be. 

She went looking through the stalls for a familiar marker belonging to a nondescript merchant company, eventually finding it in one of the last stalls. A tired looking horse chuffed at her when she peeked in, but she found who she was really there for. "My good man, have you change for a gold silvet? A mere one hundred feathers worth." 

An older man with a pot belly looked up from his book, his heavy brow and sloped forehead betrayed keenly intelligent eyes and a willful skepticism that made him seem more dangerous than a honed blade. Upon hearing the line, though, his skepticism turned to curiosity. "A hundred feathers isn't a silvet's value, but if you try McCraine's stall, he'll sort you out." 

"I see, and which stall would-" he pointed across the way. "My thanks, good man." 

"Mhm." 

Sarah turned. Stopped. Her heart caught. 

A chesty girl in travel pants and a plain blouse was talking to one of the stable hands with a white horse in tow. Felicia. The poor girl. . . .Her deep caramel skin was as flawless as the moment Sarah had first seen it and yet there was something different in her expression- as if she'd somehow grown up in the course of two days since she'd last seen her. More to the point, what the hell was she doing here? 

Gods only knew what Felicia would want; perhaps justice for filling out a bad mortgage, perhaps something more. Whatever the case, it didn't pay to be caught. Not so close to escaping. 

Sarah was too far to listen in on their conversation, but from what she could see, the girl was negotiating for a stall rental and feed for her horse. Thinking it better not to be seen, Sarah ducked out of sight. In so doing, she burned her only contact in the coaster- the man would surely think she was trying to hide from something that could endanger their smuggling operations- but she wouldn't be exposing herself to the girl. 

When the girl was gone, Sarah went to check the stall she'd been directed to only to find it empty. She'd definitely burned that bridge. It couldn't be helped, she promised herself. The last thing she needed was Felicia running around trying to have her arrested or something. 

Instead of lingering on it, she turned to leave, shedding her disguise and putting her coat on properly with the collar turned up. It was only one avenue. There were others. She'd written contingency plans for a reason, after all. 

As she slipped out of the coaster as anonymously as she'd entered, a creeping suspicion gnawed at the back of her mind; if Felicia had known where to find her, surely that meant someone had told her. None of her companions had known of her plans until the very end and single farm girls didn't just come out to Laleah to take in the sight. . . . 




Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 28



Who the hell told her where to find Sarah?



Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 29



Volume 4: Dereliction of Duty 

Chapter V: Intersections 

The Little Kettle inn smelled bad. If rancid meat, dung, sweat and the body odor could have been combined, the result probably would have been a color. Tessarie liked colors, even if her family never understood them as she did. It was a pure form of expression, like dance, that you didn't need to be able to wrap your mind around to fully appreciate. 

You didn't break down color into components and judge them for their merit that way but they could stand for many different things. Yes, if this place was a color, it would have been a muddy brown. Maybe flecked with black and yellow. The only sprig of color in this place being the pink mask on the far wall beside the dartboard. It looked like something from the northerner lands, a spirit mask of some sort. 

It was out of place among the hustle and bustle of caravan crews going to visit whores, loading up on terrible beer and ordering their revolting meat meals. The very idea made her nauseous. The 'beef' stew at the Crimson Desire was bad, but it was almost exclusively broth. Here the stink was everywhere. 

And then there was the kobold sitting beside her. Sarah had called him Keiter, but he was a monster to Tessarie and almost any civilized race on the planet. Here she was sitting next to one! 

They were both draped in heavy robes, sheltered among the shadows of a corner booth it- he- had chosen. They sipped from the pitcher of beer that sat in the middle of the table, but neither of them spoke, feigning interest in the cheap wooden mugs that occupied their hands. Sarah would have had them talking whether their liked it or not- she had that power. But Tessarie was too focused on avoiding the gaze of casual passers by. All it would take would be the wrong person looking at the right time to destroy her chance of escape. 

She scrubbed her face, muttering into her palms. What had she been dragged into? "Gods above." 

The kobold clucked its tongue softly, emitting a couple of brief clicks. "You doubt." It said in a soft voice. 

Tessarie kept her mouth shut but stole a quick glance at the reptilian creature around her hand. It was looking at her. What was she supposed to say? Did it even really understand words or concepts? 

"When I was young. Very, very young." It took a sip, glanced away. Almost as if it was trying to cough, it opened its mouth and huffed a hiss. "She found me in a cave. Bodies of my tribe everywhere, most of my muzzle was missing." Another sip. It looked down with its mouth hanging open as if that would let the taste fall from its tongue. "Attacked. By people. I'm sure they thought they were doing good, but I was the only survivor." It looked up at Tessarie. 

For a moment she thought she could see anger in its eyes, but in the next it was gone. Only that alien expression remained. It pushed the ale aside and tucked its arms up into the robe as if seeking protection. "She had to chase me down. I clawed at her and bit her. . . I thought she was one of the villagers. But she took me with her, took me to a place to heal and rest. . . Lied to the village about me before-" He chuckled a dry, empty sound that had no mirth in it. "She sold them mining equipment, you see? Several machines that would empty the cave out. Then she made them break once she learned what had happened." Once finished, the kobold took a deep breath and looked to Tessarie once more. In those eyes she saw sadness, something she didn't think a lizard possible of expressing. He showed his teeth briefly. Was he smiling? "She is many things. . . .many, many things. But she will see that things work out as she thinks they should." 

Tessarie frowned a bit. "I- don't know what to think." 

"Faith is a double edged sword," he took his cup once more, producing a copper coin and a toothpick from the little dispenser on the table. "But lack of it and of hope is not a way to live." He broke the toothpick in the center so it formed a V. He set it on the edge of the mug, then the coin in such a way that the toothpick wouldn't let it fall in. "Faith," he said as he motioned to the creation. "See?" 

The elf stared blankly for a moment. Too curious to ignore it, she leaned over to peek. "I don't understand." 

"If the wood isn't there, the coin falls, you know it will but it hasn't. Why not?" 

Tess tried to puzzle out what the creature meant, but in the end she shook her head. "Because it's balancing there on the edge. The toothpick is keeping it up." 

He clucked his tongue sharply. "Very good. So you have faith that it will fall?" 

"Well. . . .yes?" 

"Good." 

"Good. . ." She sunk back into her chair. 

"Maybe I can show you faith in others." The little kobold reached forward and took the pitcher, with surprising strength he pulled it closer. "So can I make the coin fall without touching it?" 

"I. . . .no?" She licked her lips. Slowly she began to relax a bit, still trying to figure out what he was getting at. She glanced at her own cup, then his. "How would you? Unless you shook the table." 

"No, I don't need to! Even if no reason appears to have it, you know that the coin will fall. What if that was life threatening, yes? Everything says it won't happen, but we want this to." 

"O- okay?" 

"So. We know it will drop, but not how to get it to. Yes?" He held up a clawed finger and took the pitcher. "So nothing around us is changing. The table doesn't shake, I don't touch the mug. But. . ." He tipped the pitcher over the coin and toothpick. Slowly it began to straighten out, more and more until it was nearly straight. The coin slid off the pick and dropped into the mug with a thunk. "See? This is Sarah's approach. Not obvious, but effective?" 

"And if you keep pouring it gets everywhere?" 

He was looking up at her when Tess saw someone approach in her periphery. She looked up to see an older human woman sliding a long stick back and forth along the floor, as if trying to trowel dirt with her finger. Only then did Tess notice the woman's eyes were actually closed, though her dark brown hair hung well on either side of her head to frame graceful wisdom and a soft mouth. She looked like someone who enjoyed smiling, but had forgotten how to do it right. The woman tapped the side of one of the empty chairs, paused for a moment and then spoke in a careful voice, "I'm sorry, is someone sitting here?" 

Tess looked at the kobold with a sudden rush of panic; was she some kind of magic user that she didn't need to see through normal eyes to tell what they were? Gods, some kind of spirit? No. No, that didn't make any sense. No. She needed to calm down. 

For his part in it, the kobold eased himself up and spoke in a firm but soothing voice that almost felt like it was meant to ease people's nerves. Even if it didn't work on Tess, she could understand why: he almost sounded human. "No. Not yet, but maybe soon. You're welcome if you'd like." 

Tess's eyes widened a bit and grabbed her own chair. This witch was going to set them on fire or something at it was going to be this damn monster's fault! 

"That's mighty kind-" 

"Do you need help?" He was even getting out of his chair! Gods, was he insane?! 

"I'm blind, not incompetent." She said. After a moment she eased into the chair, pulling the pleats of her long dress close so they didn't drag. "I'm sorry. That wasn't right. . . .it's not often people offer to- well, no matter. Do you mind if I eat with you folks?" She turned towards Tess and smiled. "I wouldn't want to upset you, but I usually sit here because no one else does." 

For a moment Tess fought to keep her breathing under control, what should she have said? What did she even mean by saying she was blind? That she was a seer of some kind, maybe. Yes, maybe that was it. She was a wise woman. . . 

Keiter sat back in his chair. "Are you hungry? I was waiting for my friend to come, but I can work something out if you're in need?" 

The woman furrowed her brow, turning her attention to the kobold whom she didn't see- her expression softened a little and a warmer smile lit up her features. She was beautiful in that moment. "Aww, look at you, aren't you a sweetheart. . . .I already paid for my meal, but thank you." 

"Of course! No one should go hungry." 

Another faint twinge of surprise flickered over the woman's face. She reached out her hand, "I'm Leslie." 

Keiter looked at her hand, then his own. Then he looked up to Tess and pointed. His narrow muzzle betrayed none of what Tess imagine was concern, maybe even panic. Was she supposed to shake the woman's hand? She opened her mouth to ask but Leslie drew back with an empty smile. 

"No, huh? It's okay, I get that a lot." 

"No offense. None, I don't think you would like what you found. . ." Keiter's lips pouted out just a little. "Leslie is a woman's name, isn't it?" 

The woman scoffed with a good natured chuckle. "Come on, I'm not that ugly, am I? It's okay, you can be honest-" 

"I'm not so good with hum- peoples' gender. I did not want to offend someone so beautiful," the kobold rubbed the side of his muzzle as he looked at the woman and a moment later his tongue darted past his lips. "Yes, I think offending you would be the last mistake anyone with a soul would want to make, Leslie." 

Those around table fell silent for a moment. Leslie's salad was delivered while Keiter hid and the old man that did so spared Tess only a passing glance. Once he was gone, though, Keiter was back up in his chair. 

Leslie loaded a fork of lettuce and turned it over a couple times. Tess wondered if the blush on her cheeks was something that came naturally or just the lighting. Eventually she looked right at Tess and said, "who's your friend here, Silver Tongue?" 

"Copper tongue." He supplied. 

The woman chuckled. "More like no tongue. . . .come on, speak up. Or can you really not speak and I'm being a horrible person right now?" 

"U- Uh. Hi. Please don't set us on fire." 

"Uh. I'll try not to? I mean, that'd be kind of awkward for all of us. We'd be tripping over one another trying to get out of here and me, I can't see shit, so you know I'm going to get trampled in the panic. How stupid would we look then?" Leslie chuckled warily. "Do you shake hands, then, or is it my turn to be offensive?" 

"No offense!" Keiter piped up. "None, I just-" 

"Hold on, Silver Tongue." Leslie offered her hand to Tess. "Let me see if I'm right about something." 

Tess eyed the woman. Eventually she worked up the courage to take her hand. "Nice to meet you?" 

"Mmhmm. Likewise, miss. . ." Her thumb traced over Tess's knuckles. "Elf," She whispered. "Right?" 

"Uh- Y- Yes." 

Leslie grinned an almost childish smile. "Knew it. You can tell a lot about someone by their hands. Maybe I'm just getting better at it the older I get though." But that was the trick, she wasn't 'old' in the human sense of the word, she didn't have a grey hair on her head, but she was obviously older than most of the people Tess had ever met. Maybe it was the way she carried her self so calm and casual, as if the world couldn't do anything to her. Tessarie had to admit, the woman scared her and made her all the more curious. 

Keiter seemed to have a different take on her. He watched her with his scaly little brow sloped down slightly in thought. When the woman glanced at him he looked up, attentive and focused. Like a dog trying to make sense of their master's feelings. After a couple beats he spoke again: "I don't think it's the age that makes you curious." As an afterthought, he added: "You want to see the beauty in the world the way it sees the beauty in you." 

The human scoffed loudly. "Wow, I've heard some bad pickup lines but that's almost enough to piss me off. You can keep your world beauty, it's a bunch of crap anyway." She took a bite of her salad. "Look, if you're just trying to get in my pants-" 

"You're not wearing any." 

"I'm not, but if I was, it'd be kind of rude not to offer flowers and dancing. Don'tchya think?" 

Tess leaned off to the side and put her elbow on the table so she could watch. Keiter touched the side of his muzzle again, scratching at it absently as if considering his words or maybe just itching himself. He took a deep breath. "I would. Very much. I'm not very good, though. I paint, I show others how to, but for you I would dance. . . .for you, I would learn to play music." 

Leslie turned her fork over a few times in her salad. Her cheeks reddened slightly as she pondered the reply. "That's cute. I almost think you believe it." 

"I do." 

"Yeah? I bet you just wanna see me trip over my feet and make an ass of myself," she poked the air with her fork playfully. "Not that I really need to be dancing to do that. So, Silver Tongue, what's your real aim?" 

"Truly? To see you smile. I don't think you've done it in a while." 

"And/" 

"And?" Keiter shot back. He paused and glanced to the side. His little clawed hands dug into his robe as if he could find substance in them. "I'm a priest of Isira. Seeing you smile would be answering a prayer to me. . ." 

The woman leaned back in her chair looking between her dining companions. Tess rubbed her finger with the grain of the table, stealing a quick glance towards the front door hoping Sarah would make an appearance and take this woman away or tell them they were ready to leave. When Keiter didn't offer any more explanation, the woman leaned forward and set her fork down. "Is that true? I mean, you're not just screwing with me?" 

"I would never." 

"What about you?" She said to Tess. 

"Uh- No? No, I'm not." 

"Oh, so you're lovers, is that it? Trying to get me involved in some weird triangle thing?" She waggled her brow suggestively. Though her tone was light, it was clear she was mildly concerned. "I don't think you're an elf, though, Silver Tongue." 

"I'm not." 

Leslie went quiet, listening. When she spoke again her voice was careful, solemn. "So, if you're a cleric, I can ask you something I've always wanted to, right?" She looked more tired than she had a moment ago, too. "What's it like, dying?" 

Keiter didn't miss a beat. "Unpleasant. . ." 

"Does it. . . .Does it stop hurting?" 

"After a while, yes." The kobold gave her his undivided attention. "You think about the things you've seen and your heart doesn't want to go, but your soul knows. Soon your heart understands too, and then it stops hurting." He opened his mouth for a moment. "You've lost someone close to you?" 

"I dunno if I'd say 'close'. He-" she curled her hand around her fork. "No, not close. But I want to know what he went through. . ." 

Tess and Keiter exchanged a brief glance. The kobold shook his head. "It wouldn't be the same, my goddess came to me. She took great pity on me, I think-" 

"Stop. Don't make this about you, I just want a straight answer." 

He sucked in a breath. "Pain. From resisting. The natural thing to do, yes? Yes, so pain and fear and an unwillingness. Not wanting to die but not having a choice leads to more fear until your soul tells you its time. . . .and then for a while, nothing." 

"Just like that?" Leslie scoffed lightly. "Figures." 

"You wanted the truth." 

"Yeah. I did. . . .hardly seems fair, does it? Whether you're a good person or a bad one, it all comes to the same end." The woman tapped her foot a couple times, sighed and set her fork down. "Sorry, I don't mean to be like this. I've just had a crappy day." 

Tess piped in, "We can relate." While she didn't realize it at the time, those three little words would lead to hours of conversation as people came and went through the inn. The three of them shared carefully edited versions of their day and Keiter kept the tone light with some poorly delivered jokes, even Tess eventually found herself relaxing in the company of relative strangers. Never quite drawn into the kobold's 'charms', she could tell that he was using the situation to hide his own feelings- whatever they might have been- about having watched his congregation murdered in his own 'temple'. There was a subtle sense of unease between them and it wasn't just the tainted dragon's gold in their pockets, either. It was a palpable shift in the creature's magic and his feelings. 

Maybe, just maybe, she had been wrong about him in the first place. Maybe, Tessarie mused, she was wrong about Sarah, too. Surely she wouldn't have kept the company of a real monster. Even with the dragon deals she made, she was still a charitable person. 

Leslie interrupted her train of thought with a playful nudge of her foot. "You're awfully quiet." 

"Sorry? Just thinking about things. . ." 

"See, now that's just unfair. If I sat and thought as hard as you did, I'd have wrinkles and grey hair. You get away with it for nothing! Unless you do have grey hair and wrinkles, in which case I'm going to look like an idiot." She popped a piece of tomato in her mouth. "At least I won't be able to see it." 

Despite herself Tessarie smiled a little at that. "You'll be getting them soon enough, but I think they'll look good on you?" 

"Yes!" Keiter quickly added, "You already light up when you smile but how do you make the sun brighter?" 

"Oh gods. . . .you two are too much." She pushed her plate aside. "Let me guess, this routine is something you're working on for a show of some kind, right?" She pointed at Tess. "You're the singer, and Silver Tongue is. . ." 

"I'm a dancer." Tess said quietly. "I really like to dance." 

"Oh? Hmm. . ." 

Keiter looked between them for a moment and slowly, he leaned forward. "May I be honest? I am not what you think I am. . ." He put his hand on the table, palm up, tapping his nails against the wood a couple times so the woman would hear it. "I am Isira's servant, but what body I am in is not something liked by many. I would like to be your friend but you will choose if that happens. . ." 

Leslie sat in silence for a couple of moments, her attention focused vaguely on the sound of his voice. She took a deep breath and reached out, her hand trembling ever so softly as she did so. When her finger touched Keiter's palm she paused, then wrapped her hand around his smaller one. Then she touched his claws. She recoiled with a breathy gasp. Keiter looked down and away. 

But after another moment she glanced back. "You. . . .Come on, let's get out of here." Keiter was already withdrawing into himself when he leaned back in his chair. Leslie looked between them expectantly. "What, you want Cosnu to catch you here?" She got up in a sweeping gesture. "Let's go back to my place." 

Tessarie and Keiter exchanged a look, neither sure what to make of the situation. Keiter was the first to act, getting to his feet and jumping down. "I've learned not to argue with intelligent people." 

Leslie chuckled. "That goes double for the stupid ones."



Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 30



Volume 4: Dereliction of Duty 

Chapter VI: Devotee by Necessity 

There were benefits to a keen long term memory, a fair few of them involved remembering names and faces and, as was the case at the moment, trying to find a particular rock in the cobble lining of an exterior wall. With the village of Laleah built in a series of concentric circles, there was little chance that someone could sneak up on Sarah, but she was still hyper vigilant of the encroaching shadows. 

While the village prepared itself for night, Sarah crept up to the southern side of a home near the third ring of buildings, stealing a quick glance around before she crouched into a thicket of shade. Her fingers delicately traced the conical shaped cement and cobble accent that bound the corner until she found a particularly wide stone. With a little coercion she managed to loosen the rock and pry the key from underneath the compartment inside. 

"Always options," she whispered to herself as she prowled away in search of her second fall-back, the West End Warehouse. Flickering torches burned at the fringes of night still trying to choke out the ambient starlight, giving every shadow a warped appearance. Sarah wasn't sure if they were people moving about, or just shadows from the central ring and she quickly found herself ducking from place to place in hopes she'd get where she needed to be sooner rather than later. 

Sarah crept along a thin rail of darkness that separated a pair of shops from a group of houses clumped together haphazardly. The flickering lights from coaches moving around played across the dirt like fingers waiting to strangle her if she should misstep and for just a moment Sarah considered heading back to the inn- it was suicide, of course, but there were some things that couldn't be left behind. Not now. . . 

She'd get her papers and then she'd decide what way to head next; she'd fostered good relations in Cheawood and with a few coins in the right pockets, she could probably get herself set up in a position of importance. One with several thick walls between her and the outside world. Just for a little while. 

Just for a little while. 

Sarah peeked, ducked back and peeked again. No one was going by so she sprinted for the opposite side. Into the darkness, further and further. In no time at all she was panting, practically heaving air into her overworked body. She was too old for this. Much too old. By the time she eventually did find her old warehouse a sinking feeling punched her right in the stomach. 

It'd been ten years since she'd seen Laleah, a lot had changed in that time and a lot more hadn't. What had changed was the decrepit shell of the building; it was clean plaster and what appeared to be several layers of white wash! The double doors facing the main street were closed and barred with good timber and a new truss held a small overhang that hadn't been there when she bought the building. Coming around the rectangular building she found that the back door had been widened into a double door frame and a chime hung over it. Above that was a small wood sign shaped like a couple of sprockets. 

Curious. 

Curious and irritating. 

Very irritating. 

Sarah took a deep breath and edged around the building to the side 'office'. Her key slotted in smoothy and turned the mechanism. She ducked inside to find the wide building separated into two distinct parts with one side of a divider strewn with piles of scrap wood and metal atop a thin layer of straw dust and chaff. The front of the building held a stone mill with bags of flour packed on pallets ready to be taken out. 

As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she made out several features in the middle of the room, including a rudimentary wood floor and some of the struts that had been re-enforced with metal plating to keep the roof from collapsing. Wise, really; it'd been sagging when Sarah bought the place. What was less wise was the fact that the wood flooring covered her steel box. She stood up slowly, taking in the room with fresh eyes. A few small work benches were pushed up against the side wall, lined with all manner of jewelers tools and tinkering equipment and a scale big enough to weigh bullion. There was even a set of springs hanging from one of the boards that punctuated the wall beside a few woodworking tools. 

Sarah pushed up her glasses to pinch the bridge of her nose. It might not have been so bad but she wasn't going to cut through the floor with a damned scorp. She walked over to one of the benches looking for something she could use. "Come now, what've we here-" 

Something clicked. Nails on wood. Sarah wheeled on the noise, finding a broad shouldered dog staring right at her. Tawny coat, brown muzzle. Jaws as big as her head. Ears perked forward, bushy tail wagging slightly. It had to have been up to her stomach at the shoulders. They stared at one another. Sarah felt her body go numb. 

It snarled. 

Sarah leapt for the bench. She scrambled over the tools, banging her knee painfully into the drill she was looking for seconds ago. The dog barked loudly, sharp thunderous barks that echoed like gunshots through the warehouse. She felt teeth nip at her calf as she climbed higher, bracing her foot on the hanging tools and reaching for the cross member. Then a tugging when she finally grabbed it- the dog grabbed her coat, trying to yank her down. But fear lent her strength and Sarah wrapped her leg around the thick timber. She clung to it tightly, trying to swing her body weight around. 

Again the animal yanked on her coat, pulling at her shoulders painfully. The older half-elf let out a strangled grunt and pulled herself tighter, silently praying that the wood had been replaced. After another attempt, she pushed to the side and rolled her weight around, freeing her coat- and herself- from the dog's grasp. Much to his frustration. 

The dog barked furiously, lowering his body while Sarah rolled herself around to sit in the tiny alcove between the beam and the roof. The dog looked up at her, shoved up off its fore paws and tried to snap at her feet. She jerked her leg up out of reflex but relaxed when she was sure he couldn't get to her. Her heart slammed against her ribs hard enough that she felt dizzy looking down at the animal. She grabbed one of the supporting beams, looking down as she tried to convince her body to relax. 

The dog kept barking, louder and louder. He'd pause for a moment and then start again while Sarah tried to get her senses about her. This was going horribly wrong already, but Sarah clung to her perch for all she was worth, seconds pounding through her veins between strangled sips of air. "You. . . .how very uncouth." Sarah managed around a sigh. She leaned against the beam with closed eyes. Just a moment longer was all she needed. She looked down to see the dog staring up at her, he was hunching down a bit in preparation of another barking fit. 

"Sonofabitch. . ." Sarah clenched herself against the beam, considering her options and finding none available. If she used her ability to entropy the roof, it might've come in on her. If she tried to set something on fire, the dog might've been hurt and gods knew what other kind of undue attention it'd bring to her. No. . . .there really was no easy way out of this. Sarah looked at the dog, frowning. It barked at her. "Yes, yes. This isn't pleasant for me either." 

The two of them sat, such as they could in their respective positions, looking at one another while minutes dissolved into the ether, with Sarah occasionally peeking for spots she could exploit and ways she could get out. She was about to try the roof when the office door clicked loudly. Sarah crunched herself into the shadows as best she could- already knowing it was a lost cause. 

A young man opened the door with a small lantern and what, Sarah was sure, passed for a grimace across his lips. "What is it?" He belted out, faltering when he saw where the dog's attention was focused. He squinted, raising his lantern. "You're not Erbin. Who the hell are you?" 

"The truth is stranger than fiction, I fear!" Of course, truth was the last thing on Sarah's mind. She tried to shout over the barking animal. "I saw your sign out front, I thought this might've been a local shrine to the Great Engineer!" 

"You thought wrong, miss." 

"It's not the first time I've been mistaken on matters of my own faith!" At least that much was true. The man eyed her a moment and slowly made his way across the room. When he was close, the dog acquiesced his control of the situation but never stepped out of sight, tracking his 'catch' like a hawk. With the two looking up at her Sarah flashed a winning smile. "A face as lovely as the voice that accompanies it. Tell me, good man, since this isn't a temple, what is it you do here?" 

"I think I should be asking the questions, don't you? You're trespassing-" 

"For purely benign purposes! It was never my intent to break into a building I'd be unwelcome in, forsooth, I'd sooner have walked in on two people making love than that!" Sarah dampened her lips. "My name is Sarah, dear. Engineer Kettar if you prefer." 

He looked at her skeptically. "You're an Engineer. . ." 

"I am!" 

The man looked around. "Wait here." He turned away and checked the most obvious points of entry for signs of damage, finding none he looked back up at her. "Why don't you come down here and we can talk about it." 

"Gladly! Be so kind as to ensure your friend there doesn't take a chunk from me, would you?" 

"Yeah, get down here. . ." 

Sarah carefully made her way across the beam to the bench and eventually climbed down. The moment her boots touched the floor the dog started growling again and she backed up, reaching for her pendant. "Here we are, dear." She managed a surprisingly calm voice as she held the three interlocking gears aloft for the young man to see. The most recognizable form of the Engineer's power and priesthood, it didn't take long for the boy to relax his suspicions and calm the animal down. 

The awkward silence that lingered in the wake of this was enough to grate on Sarah's nerves. She was no closer to getting her paperwork than she had been an hour ago and now she had to figure out how to keep from being arrested, or worse. . . 

"You've quite the workshop, I must say! I haven't seen many coils this fine outside of the Free States, but I'm curious what you use them for. Nothing here seems geared towards machinery outside of the mill, and even that's a bit simple, isn't it?" 

"Well, ah-" he looked away. "It's a work in progress. . . .I've been trying to- well, my father." He started to pace absently, wearing a thin line in the straw while his dog watched Sarah's every breath. "I uh- well." He cleared his throat. "My father owns the place. I begged him to let me set up shop here, but it's kind of hard to turn a profit when no one has any need of what you make- Oh, Chac, relax. She's a friend." 

The dog looked up at him, then her. Then, to her surprise it started panting as though nothing had happened. 

"Sorry, he's a Mawik breed. I'm Taris, that's Chac. This is my workshop and, uh, it's kind of a wreck. . . Sorry about that." 

"Not at all!" Sarah eased into her usual persona with a confident smile, offering her hand. "Engineer Kettar, originally of Almoor, if you can believe it." 

"I noticed the accent. . . .do you need a moment? I mean, can I get you something to drink? I mean-" 

"It's fine, dear. Really, just a case of mistaken identity. I should probably be going, though, I've already taken up so much of your time! Terribly sorry to have woken you." Sarah stepped around him and headed for the door. As she neared the door, a flicker of light caught her attention through the crack. In the space between a pair of buildings. Men on horses were trotting through the rings of buildings wearing light armor with crossbows on their belt and short blades close at hand. 

At first Sarah was ready to write it off, then she saw the signet embroidery on the cloak; that of the Sorash militia. There was no question, they had to have come for her. She could have dared to hope they'd come for the Ace of Diamonds girl, but the likelihood of that particular venture bearing fruit was next to nil. She was a professional, these men were commoners. 

Sarah turned away from the door, ducking away and easing it closed as the man trotted past. Taris was rearranging his bench. He had no idea what was going on with her and the guard and he didn't need to- but she needed a place to hide out for a while and so long as she had access to the building she might be able to get to her paperwork. . . 

Yes. This was going to be how it'd have to be. 

"So, tell me, young man! Have you any exciting projects in the works?"



Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 31



Volume 4: Dereliction of Duty 

Chapter VII: On The Case 

Felicia crept along one of the outer rings of houses that made up the village, making her second lap through the row of buildings that separated the farm land from the village itself. With no sign of any redheaded elven women or cloak and dagger assassins running about, she eventually worked up the courage to peek into someone's window; it was the only lead she had to go on. 

She knew better than to expect anything out of it, she couldn't have expected that doing something like that to bear fruit. But these were desperate times, Sarah could've been face down in someone's-. . . 

Well- hopefully not a pool of blood. 

No. That was unthinkable, even if it was one of the other million images that flashed through her mind, she could forgive those promiscuous little thoughts. Sarah didn't owe her anything. 

Even if that wasn't the case, she was still a friend and a noble. These kinds of kingdoms and cities needed nobility to function, to influence policy and do whatever they did to ensure people got fed. Sarah was a lot of things, but it was obvious she preferred making people happy rather than miserable. Besides that, she was Felicia's friend. She could forgive a lot for a real friend. 

As Felicia peeked in on a tiny family home she felt that weight crush down on her shoulders all the more. Sure, she shouldn't have been peeking, but Lostariel wasn't going to spare her, no matter what flowered words poured from her beautifully shaped mouth. It made this necessary, Felicia promised herself. She would have to forgive herself this little 'transgression' in order to save a life. 

The little house was much like her own, barely remarkable save the two beds stacked atop one another in the corner and the cold hearth which looked a little lopsided. The chair in front of it was every bit as off kilter and propped up by a piece of scrap wood. Felicia could've bought this place several times over, how could they stand living like this? 

"Eugh. . . " Felicia turned away with a vague sense of shame both for the people and her own judgment. At the very next house she repeated the process, doing her best to remain out of sight. With each successive building she got faster at it, stealing a peek and moving on. Most people were asleep in these outer homes, preparing for an early morning in the field, or the buildings were empty entirely as people finished up their daily chores. Whatever the case and for whatever it was worth, the virtue of the local farmhands was safe from raiding elven women for another day. 

But that didn't explain where the hell Sarah had hidden herself. 

If there was any chance she'd been seducing the locals, there might've been some kind of gossip- maybe that was a trait unique to the city dwellers, though; Sarah's name had been something of a commodity in Sorash from what Felicia could tell. She had a reputation here, too, though, so perhaps there was more to it. . . 

Something Felicia was missing. Something obvious. 

The teenager turned back towards the center of the village, stopping outside the coaster and looking around to get her bearings. Sarah was a noble, a noble interested in mortgaging land- she'd courted dozens of farm owners in Sorash before Felicia had come to her. But what did that mean to her now? 

When nothing came to mind, she turned back to the inn, stopping just shy of entering it. Sarah wouldn't have been welcome here. Despite being as busy as it was, the bartender woman seemed to actually hate the elven woman- maybe all elves- so she wouldn't have been allowed to stay. People weren't allowed to sleep at the coaster, even if they could, and the village didn't seem particularly welcoming to strangers. Who could blame them with the constant flow of people from the caravans. 

But Sarah was a noble. A very silver tongued noble; a very high ranking noble; a marchioness didn't need to subsist in peasant's quarters or even a merchant's burrow. No, Sarah would've gone for the most lavish building in the village. Stirred by this new revelation, Felicia ran to the coaster to ask about merchant families in the village, picking up from a very curt worker that the sheriff didn't allow merchants to set up shops in the village. 

What a bunch of crap. Felicia wandered another loop around the village before she found herself in front of the only two story building in the inner ring of homes; a simple placard outside advertised it as the "Maiors Abode" with a sloppy white Y painted over the engraved I. The interior was aglow with several candles, so Felicia knocked lightly. 

She was rehearsing her apology for disturbing the official when a young woman opened the door. She couldn't have been older than Felicia, but the skepticism and irritation made her seem much older and angrier. "Yes?" Her tone was direct and unfriendly. 

"I'm sorry if I'm keeping you up, miss. My name's Felicia, I ah- I come from Sorash, I was looking for a-" Friend? Lover? Superior? "-Marchioness Kettar. I was lead to-" she paused when the woman's eyes narrowed. "I- I'm sorry, she left some paperwork unfiled with the city, and my farther's farm-" 

"I'll tell you the same thing I told the city's Militia: she is not a friend of this village. She is not welcome here and I don't care what kind of deal you had with her, I'm not fulfilling any obligations-" 

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to, uh, to impose! I was just looking for her. Um. . . .do you know where she may have gotten to?" 

A young man quietly spoke near the door, the woman pulled back to look up at him before leaning in and murmuring something. After a couple more moments of back and forth, she pulled back the door to reveal a tall, handsome man in tired leathers wearing his stubble proudly- every bit a man, but still young enough to look damn handsome and strong. He looked exhausted, but his eyes were warm and kind, if uncertain. 

It took a moment to click, he looked familiar but she didn't remember from where. When the girl retreated back into the house he leaned forward a bit, his gaze briefly wandering down Felicia's chest. Not intentionally or even consciously, just something else she'd gotten used to from men over the years. His voice, however was anything but distracted. 

"I'm sorry, she's just lost her father. . . .do you know anything about Sarah? Or why she might associate herself with an assassin?" 

Felicia's heart stopped for just a moment. "W- What?" 

The tall man stepped into the alcove and closed the door behind him. "She seems to think that Sarah had something to do with her father's murder. I'm trying to figure out how it ties together, and whether or not Sarah had something to do with it." There was obvious doubt in his voice and eyes, but he remained firm in his curiosity. It was the kind of diligence any of her tribal elders would've praised, and for some reason, it kind of turned her on. If not for the murder and idea Sarah might've been involved, anyway. 

Felicia turned away, she could see him reaching for her but she quickly sidestepped. He must have thought she was going to run away. She looked up at him warily, trying to place his features and where she'd met him, trying to get a sense of who he might've actually been. He seemed respectable enough and he wasn't as dirty and sour as most of the guards she'd met, but could she trust him? She'd been taken in by Lostariel's beauty, she wasn't in a hurry to repeat that mistake. "I don't think she intended to." She swallowed. 

"No? Why not?" He looked at her for a moment. He made his mind up about her and added, "Everything I've seen of her says she's crazier than a shit house squirrel." 

The young teen blinked at the vulgarity. "I don't follow? I mean, Sarah's strange, but she's not a killer, is she? She's strange, sure, but she's not dangerous! I- I think-" oh what the hell. "I think maybe the assassin came here looking for her. That'd make sense, wouldn't it?" 

"But why kill the mayor? He didn't have anything to do with her." 

He was lying. Even Felicia could see his posture tighten and shrink a little. She smiled weakly, trying her best to sound casual. "Maybe she did, maybe whatever they were doing was something the uh, killer, didn't want to happen. Or maybe sh- he- the killer- was trying to cut off any escape Sarah was going to make. . ." That sounded right. Felicia was both repulsed and relieved. Was she beginning to think like Lostariel? Would it make it easier to find Sarah? 

"That. . . .yeah, I suppose." The man crossed his arms over his chest, drumming his fingers on his bicep. "Don't suppose you know who 'he' might be?" 

"Uh-" Felicia fidgeted. "Even if I did, would I tell a complete stranger? I mean no disrespect, but maybe there are people out there who think bad stuff can be prevented without bloodshed." 

That earned her a sharp look and a very slow shift in his demeanor as he eyed her. "Maybe those people should know that sometimes that isn't practical. Or possible. Probably better they leave that kind of thing to people who're trained for it. Don't you think?" 

"You mean men?" 

He scoffed loudly. "Most of them think with their-" the man glanced away. "Most people- men or women would do what their conscience demanded, that doesn't make them any more or less heroic than those who stop the killer before they find their target." 

"I suppose not. . . .but- you know-" She changed tracks, meeting his gaze. "Our tribe sings the song of Thunder when a person is lost to this world before their time. See, thunder is the sound of the Ancients weeping in the sky, we know we can't stop the rain from falling, but we can quiet the thunder and calm skies mean rain can't pour down so hard, hm?" 

He was staring at her. 

She shrugged a little. He had to know she wasn't going to give in. 

Finally he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. After a moment he looked at her with fresh eyes. "So how many storms are people expected to weather before the thunder goes quiet?" 

Felicia bit into her lower lip. "Y- Yeah. . . .I guess that depends on how fast we can quiet it, huh?" 

"Yeah." He gave her a pointed look. "That blade of yours just for show?" He nodded to her waist. 

"Uhm- it belongs to- belonged to? It's one of my Elder's blades. I- I don't- No. Yes. I don't know." She admitted in defeat. 

"Then I suggest," He started as he stood up, already heading for the door. "You go back home where you don't have to hear the skies." With that he slipped into the mayor's home and closed the door hard. 

Felicia stared at it with a frown, her left hand fingering the endcap of the weapon. She looked to the gloom of the village, not sure where to check next. One thing was for sure, going home wasn't something she was going to do. 

She'd find Sarah and she'd stop Lostariel. 

Enough thunder had rolled through her life as it was. . . 

# 

In her mind, prowling through the dark was as dangerous to the person doing it as to anyone who'd run across that person. Put to a fine point, she almost ran into the Sorash city militia a couple times as she was checking the inner ring of houses and more than once, she was forced to abandon her search while they dug through every dark corner they could find. 

She was propped up against the wall of the coaster for the third time, watching people come and go while she worked out some form of plan- however loose- in the back of her mind. Where would Sarah have gone, if not to fulfill her tastes and take advantage of her station? 

Sarah was going to be killed, gods only knew how many others, too! "Come on. . ." Why couldn't she think? Felicia paced back and forth a few times, vaguely aware of the growing sense that she'd never find the woman who'd captivated her spirit. It wasn't fair! She'd made her first real friend in a long time and now she was going to lose them because she couldn't think fast enough. 

Because she wasn't smart. 

Sarah was smart. She'd have figured this shit out in no time. Felicia dug her heel into the mud, gnawing at her lower lip. If Lostariel wanted to kill people Sarah knew so she couldn't escape, it would've made sense to kill the mayor, but who else would've helped her get away? 

Yes! That was it, that was a lead she could follow through with. Yes, good. 

Felicia jogged back to the inn- 

She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Lostariel in a corner booth eating some pie, sitting across from a man in chainmail with a rather obvious militia signet on his chest. She was wearing a dress instead of her leathers- probably over them- and a very staged smile that even Felicia could see through. The older woman glanced her way , winked and took another bite of her pie. 

"Dammit. . ." Felicia's knees felt weak, but somehow she managed to make it over to the bar. The bartender didn't seem particularly thrilled to see her so soon, her smile was just as empty. 

"Whatchya need, then, girl? Find your 'friend'?" She smirked. 

"N- No. Uhm. I was wondering-" Felicia leaned in to whisper. "Do you know anyone who was good friends with Sarah? I mean, someone who might try to hide her if things went, uh, south? I mean, if things got dangerous, would she go to a temple or something?" 

"A temple?" The woman tapped the bar a few times. "Nah, no temples 'ere. Not got much use for gods when so many people come and go, yeah?" 

"W- Well, what about some place where people gather? Like, a shrine or whatever you call them-" 

"You might want to ask the Miller's kid. Bright boy, real head on his shoulders, or up 'is ass if you ask his dad." She grinned wryly. 

"Great, where can I find him?!" 

"Well now, that depends. . . .gotta figure, that kind of information has a price, girl." The older woman leaned forward so she was murmuring in Felicia's ear. "My baby's gotta eat and so do I." 

Felicia swallowed. "A gold?" 

"Come on lovely, girl like you aint got no cares in the world," Before Felicia could muster a reply she felt the woman's hand cup her breast. "Betchya these get you all kinds of suitors, yeah? Milk any guy you want from whatever he's got and-" 

Felicia pulled away, blushing deeply. "Fine. Two." 

"Good for me, good for you." She smiled. Her smile only broadened when Felicia set the coin down in front of her. Smug bitch. "His house is just around the corner, it's got the big gears on it and the palettes 'long side the building. Sarah used t'own it before she jumped ship and left it to the mayor." 

"Thanks." The teen started to leave. 

"Oi, girl." 

"Huh?" 

"You come back you need something else, Momma Ci take good care of ya." 

"Uh. . . .right. Thanks." 

Felicia caught Lostariel's glance on her way out the door. 

It was her turn to wink.



Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 32



Volume 4: Dereliction of Duty 

Chapter VIII: What Can't be Seen 

Tessarie and Keiter followed behind the blind woman closer than strictly necessary as she lead them through the tight coils of the village, worming their way out through a path only visible behind Leslie's closed eyes. Her stick tapped left and right rhythmically and once when she nearly tripped over a rock, Keiter was there to help by placing himself in the arc of one of her swings to ensure she stepped over the obstacle. 

Somehow that little gesture made him all the more endearing. Tess recognized what he was doing even if their companion didn't; he was intentionally keeping her from feeling helpless within her capacity and like a good friend, he was stepping in the way. Tess had been wrong about him many times over, but this just put a fine point to it all. 

By the time they got to a small one single level house, Keiter had stopped rubbing his side where the stick had hit him and Leslie's stride had changed a little bit- more comfortable in familiar surroundings, she strolled kind of like Sarah did. When she opened the door into the dark home, she looked back, probably expecting Tess to say something. Instead she smiled. It took her a moment to remember Leslie's condition. 

"Um, sorry. What can I do for you?" 

Leslie shook her head, "just making sure you're still there Copper Tongue." 

Keiter clucked his tongue a couple of times. It was something between a chuckle and a sigh on his lips. "She is a beautiful person, just a little awkward! Not her fault, she's been through much. . . .but maybe she finds similar company?" 

"Very clever, but I'm not taking the bait." Leslie said lightly as she wandered deeper into the gloom, tapping her stick against odd bits of furniture and pieces of broken pottery- a vase of some kind- with a pile of fine ash splayed out around it. In the middle of the room was a large carpet and a couch that looked as though itd been worn through with age, but a pile of scrap cloth sitting beside it was woven into fine multicolored thatch in the shape of a large sack. It wasn't finished, but it was apparent that it was meant to be a slip for the couch. 

"Huh," Tess touched the fabric with a little smile. "This is really nice, your couch is so colorful!" The moment those words left her mouth she felt ashamed. How could she have been so stupid! The woman wouldn't even be able to see the fruits of her labor! 

"Thanks." Leslie said absently as she started an oil lamp burning, her movements deft and practiced. In the warm glow of the wick the rest of the room took on a slightly festive glow- rows of preserved flowers lined tiny shelves on the walls and dozens of outfits in various stages of completion occupied long stretches of the front wall. They were practical but very eye catching, experiments in color and understatement seemed to reflect the person who'd made them. One in particular caught Tess's attention. 

It was about her size with an embroidered blouse made of deceptively heavy material that opened up the further it went down, slit right down the center at waist level, it held braided strands of something she could have sworn was cotton tied around the waist to keep the whole thing together. Tiny draw strings on the sides would have allowed the rest of it to be rolled up to the side to keep it short, but it was obviously meant to be worn long. Tess found herself staring. Who'd have thunk of such a thing? Why a human at that? Hadn't the council always said they were inefficient and rather dim? 

"That enough light?" 

"More than enough," Keiter said lightly. He touched Tess's knee and jerked his head to the side to indicate where their host had gone to sit. "Thank you." 

"Oh, yes!" Tess blushed. "Sorry, thank you for that. Um, may I say you have beautiful taste in dresses?" 

Leslie chuckled wryly as she sunk into the couch a bit and set her stick to the side. Her gaze briefly lingered in the direction of the broken vase but after a moment she looked back to the two and smiled. "I used to be a seamstress, figured once upon a time that I'd make it selling cloth to the caravan monkeys. Have you seen- you've seen the stuff they wear, right?" 

"Uh- Yes!" 

"Come on, Copper Tongue, I invite you into my home for your own good and you're gonna lie to me?" She tisked. There was no anger in her voice, but Tess still felt vaguely ashamed, she had that quality in her voice that made her seem like a mother figure. It was rather comforting, actually. "You two aren't exactly locals, now are you?" 

"No," Tess admitted with downcast eyes. 

"So? Go on!" The woman patted the cushion next to her. "We've got time to kill- your friend will wait for you at the Inn, why not give me a story." Even as Keiter crawled up on the couch, she continued on, "Consider it the price for my hospitality." 

Slowly Tess worked up the courage to take a spot next to her, easing back into the heavy cushion. The seat cushions had a strange feeling about them- a body impression, probably Leslie's. Tess looked around for a bed but realized there wasn't one- the entire home consisted of the main room and simple fireplace and kitchen. How did people live like this? At least the floor was wooden. 

Tess fidgeted a bit. 

Leslie turned to face the young elf, brows raised and expectant. 

It was Keiter who rescued them all from her awkwardness: "My friend's story would take many years to tell, I think. She has seen many things and even among her own kind, she can be expressive when the spirit moves her to do so! Perhaps something more short?" 

The woman chuckled, "All right, hit me." 

Keiter looked at her oddly. 

"Well?" 

"I. . . .no? I am awed by your beauty and poise, how could I possibly hit-" 

"Oh, come on, boy-o. You know that's not what I meant-" She paused, looking between her guests. "Unless you did?" 

"Did it make you smile?" 

"Does it look like I'm smiling?" She lofted a brow. 

"Better question: does it feel like you are? Very important, even if they're usually the same." 

Leslie turned her attention to Tess, smirking. "How do you put up with him?" 

"In doses." 

That earned a hearty laugh. "I bet! Okay, so humor me; lay it on me; tell me a tale, minstrel." 

The little kobold paused for a moment to gather himself before he tucked his feet up under him as if to sit cross legged. When he spoke, his voice was calm and flowing but carried a slight hint of loss to it. It was rather jarring how deep his inflections could reach, a soulful tone tumbled from his lips even though he still looked alien to Tess. "I believe you would call my friend something of a curse disguised as a blessing. Hiding behind kind eyes and flowered words, very intelligent, but also vindictive and angry with the world." 

"Not sure I like this, but go on." Leslie frowned as she listened, shifting her weight to regard him. 

"She loved- still does, I think. She had a family once and lost them to a great injustice. One she won't speak of even to me, but she still carries the scars. Like a blanket, yes?" 

"Why-" 

"I think you and she are alike. If not in blood, in soul." 

The blind woman let the silence linger. "That's a hell of an opener, boy-o. . . .what do you do next, pull an elf out of your hat?" 

"No! I keep her in a trunk!" He winked at Tess. 

Tess picked up on the humor and his intent pretty quickly. "Hey!" She rolled with it. "That was one time, and you promised never again!" 

Leslie chuckled warily. "Lot of people suffer, what makes her special?" 

"What makes any of us special? The soul, I think. She could give up on the world, she could be angry and hateful with everything, but instead she spreads smiles when she can. She doesn't let people suffer if it can be helped, you see?" He paused a beat. "Sounds familiar, doesn't it?" 

"Cute, but you forgot the part where she was angry with the world. Vindictive, right? She has an axe to grind with the world?" 

"Maybe just one creature in it." He cast a glance at the ashes "But she also knows that life goes on and it must be lived- enjoyed! No matter how hard it is and how hard it might be to continue. She took me in when she could have killed me and been justified. Not even I would fault her for that. . ." 

"So, a little charity to hide a multitude of sins." 

Tess furrowed her brow, frowning slightly. "No, see- We're talking about Sarah, right?" Keiter nodded. "She's crazy, but she's also full of heart. She rescued me from-. . . well, from slavery, I guess. She's probably working for my brother, but she's a very good person. Like you, I think. Someone who invites strangers into their home." 

"It's true!" Keiter piped up. "In a world where there are more reasons to fear others than unite with them, the two of you break that circle. Maybe because you feel. . . .left out of it. You change lives without realizing it." 

Leslie went quiet, staring at her two guests with closed eyes. The flickering light danced over her pleasantly rounded features highlighting suspicion and doubt, aging her just slightly in that instant. Keiter leaned forward, easing his way into her spacial awareness by way of Tess's lap, when it was clear she wasn't going to say anything, he continued. 

"It is the suffering we don't address in our own lives that poisons us from within. We don't see the good we do, we don't celebrate the wonders we create, we stop looking for reasons to smile, only to cry when we think no one is looking." 

"That's a lot of 'we' you've got going on there." 

"Thinking minds are only separated by the flesh they wear-" 

"Or scales," Tess said. 

"My point is that she continues to suffer because she refuses to accept it, pretending it doesn't exist. She runs even when the end of the road has been worn under her boots, like ashes not cleaned up. . . .yes?" 

Leslie drew in a breath. "You ever think to turn that observation on yourself? Because while I can't see you, I'm vaguely sure I know you're no better than I am. For one thing, you smell like blood and I'm pretty sure that's mold on your robes." 

"You'd be right." 

Tess stiffened a bit. 

"So what makes you think I want to hear your judgment on how I live?" 

"Nothing! Which is why it's not a judgment. An observation, Sarah is fond of those and allegories- I'm not so good with those, maybe? Like watching a one legged man dancing in a three legged ball." 

"W- What?" Tess blinked. 

"Okay, point made. What do you know about three legged balls, anyway?" Leslie chuckled. "See, here's the thing- those ashes belonged to someone who became something he wasn't. . . .I didn't break it, but I'm not cleaning it up because I can't let go. Be easier to have gotten rid of the damn thing in the first place." 

Keiter casually laid himself out across Tess's lap, his little elbows on the cushion as he propped his head up in his hands. At first she was going to toss him off her but then she caught his appreciative smile and noticed Leslie seemed a little more interested in the exchange. She slumped back, resigning herself to her fate in some small way. 

"I can't decide," Their host added. "If I should be charmed or creeped out by this." 

"I'm leaning towards creeped out." Tess said quickly. 

Keiter clucked his tongue. "I'm not saying these things to upset you, I know you deserve better. At the temple, I have seen many people suffer for all things- disease, poison, sickness. But the ones that break the heart the most are those who's pains aren't visible. Those who hide from their lives or think they deserve-" 

"Do you think for a second I think I deserve this? I was making good money, I enjoyed what I did-" She stopped when he touched her knee. "Level with me, what're you getting at?" 

"I think there is a song in your heart waiting to get out. It wants to, even if you don't hear it yet." 

The woman scoffed. 

"You hold on to your anger, you've nothing to do here but sit and it drives you further down into anger. Why should that be the case when you have such gifts as a smile to give and be given to you? Why should it not be that your clothing is worn by people who would bow to spend a moment in your presence?" 

Leslie pinched the bridge of her nose, leaning back into the cushions all the more. It dawned on Tess as the woman started to open her mouth that this was probably the most engagement Leslie had had in a long time and the first thing that they'd done was question her way of living. That wasn't even remotely fair or right. The poor woman! 

Still, for her quiet anger, Leslie was evidently made of sterner stuff than Tess gave her credit for. She looked to Keiter and gave him an empty smile, her voice more irritated than angry. "It's been a long time since someone was on their knees for me, and even then it wasn't terribly interesting. As for why they should? I never said they should! I don't need fame, I don't care about making people happy. And I don't need some. . ." 

"Kobold." Keiter supplied. "Telling you what you already know." 

"Hmph." 

"But it feels good, doesn't it?" 

"You're high," she shot back. "Ever think that some people don't want to be helped?" 

Tess gnawed her lower lip, wondering if she should say something. The woman had already suffered so much, how come she needed to be put through this crap by strangers in her own home? "Maybe we should leave-" 

"No, I want to hear this. Come on, boy-o. Sell me on it. What makes you think-" 

"Money can't buy happiness-" Keiter piped up. "But wouldn't you like to find out for yourself?" 

Another scoff. "So what, you think my happiness is tied to how many coin are in my purse?" 

To Tess's surprise, he poked her side. "I told you I am terrible at analogies. Isira tells me to bring joy where I can, She consoles me when I question myself and hate the thought of going on. A human might not have these doubts and fears, but I think they do. No one believes in you, no one hears your quiet crying. 

"Or maybe you stand at a cross road wondering which way is right or wrong. You need a compass, a map, and the stomach to make a decision. It's hard! It hurts! It's not pleasant! But no journey worth taking is made alone, yes?" 

Leslie went quiet. For so long that Tess started to feign interest in the dress designs to avoid the awkwardness. She wasn't going to be able to help anything with this, no matter how much she might've wanted to, humans were such strange creatures- even more so than she was. 

"So," the woman said quietly, "You think I need to do what, pray for a-" 

"You know what I mean." 

"Mmm. . ." 

"Life is a choice, it takes a decision to live it and one to avoid it. But the world is made poorer for missing your smile, I think." 

"And what about you two, then?" 

"What about us?" They both said at once. 

"Oh, come on, you two're secret lovers aren't-" 

Tess blanched. "No!" 

Keiter was much more calm. "She is, like you, maybe a bit far above me, I think? I have yet to earn her trust, and my friend has taken favor to her. I think she might be happier that way." 

"So, in other words, you're too shy to try and seduce her." 

"He's a kobold." Tess said flatly. "Uh, no- no offense. Besides, Isira 'favored' him enough I think!" 

"You know about that?" Keiter turned to look up at the elf, a look of genuine surprise on his reptilian features. 

"Sarah told me." 

"She did. . ." 

"Well, it's surprising?" 

"Someone mind letting me in on the joke? Feeling kind of left out here." Leslie adjusted her dress so she could sit with her feet under her. 

"I was blessed by a visit from Isira, I learned many things-" he glanced at Tess, trying to convey some impossible to comprehend meaning. "A great many things not even Sarah taught me about. Her visit was special, something I never expected." 

"Well, she took you as one of her faithful, didn't she? Why-" 

"Because she 'blessed' him, like two people in a bedroom do." Tess interjected. "Or three. . . .um, he's being silly." 

"I. . . .wait. Really? You slept with-" 

Keiter rolled off the couch with his shoulders hunched inward, he paced a few steps one way and the other, tail swishing behind him with every step. Finally he turned to look at the two women with his muzzle turned slightly downward so he was looking up at them. Was he embarrassed? "She accepts me for who and what I am, She is choosy with those who represent Her, like you! Very proud and beautiful, making decisions every moment!" 

"One of them just happened to be knocking boots with-" 

"You speak of pleasure as something lost in your life. Simple joys lost like ash in the wind, perhaps we were meant to meet to help one another." Keiter plodded up to her and laid his hands down on the couch so she was aware of his presence. Strange how quick he'd adapted to it. "Has She shown you, too? You have seen something in your life that made you smile, yes?" 

"Right now all I see it someone sitting on my floor making not a damn lick of sense. Slow it down, boy-o; what're you trying to say?" 

Keiter turned his muzzle down and to the side as if in thought. "Maybe not seen, but felt. You have lost so much in your life, but deep inside your spirit wants to be free. It knows you deserve more, so it pushes you to keep reaching out! For help, to connect! To remember what it was like-" 

"All right, I've heard enough." 

"He- He's not wrong." Tess leaned towards the woman, swallowing hard. "You're worth everything you want in life, but maybe you feel like you aren't? That's frustrating, I. . . I know it is. I hate it when I look at myself in a mirror- I miss who I was and I live in a scary place. I can't go back home, I can't ask for help from any of them." Tess licked her lips. "Sarah helped me." 

"She helped me, too." Keiter reached for Leslie's hand. The woman didn't pull away. "You are stronger than you realize, or you would not be upset. This isn't a life you want or deserve, but it doesn't mean you can't live it." He glanced up at Tess, she imagined to ask for support. 

"Yeah." Tess smiled absently. "You have friends." 

Leslie fixed her attention to a point between her guests, somehow regarding both of them. She took a deep breath and sighed it through her nose. "Friends that'll be gone when morning comes." 

"We're only gone when you stop thinking of us," Tess said lightly. "Friends are forever." 

The older woman chuckled. "That's the cheesiest thing I've heard all night." Even as she said it her cheeks warmed a few degrees, a blush that quickly spread over her features. She glanced away, dampened her lips. "So, uh 'friends', what would you suggest then?" 

The two looked at one another and for a brief instant Tess caught a flicker of something curious in Keiter's eyes; a challenge, maybe? Before she could puzzle it out, he exposed his teeth in an awkward smile and said, "I would suggest consider opening your heart to Isira. To dig out your passions, to see the world through new eyes. 

"Given what you know, who you are, what you want and what you hold in your heart. You know you can have anything you wished! For tonight, let's laugh at our pain. . . .accept it and sing in joy. The future awaits us, moment by moment. We can have better, we deserve better-" he clasped his little hands around hers. "Just for tonight, let's remember what it was like to be happy." 

The room went quiet but for the clopping of hooves outside, an all encompassing sound that was deafening to Tess's oversensitive ears. Leslie's expression had gone a little slack and, for the first time since meeting her, she saw something different in the older human. A tear rolled down the woman's cheek as she looked away. 




Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 32



Then Tess noticed that Leslie's hand was clutching Keiter's own.



Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 33



Volume 4: Dereliction of Duty 

Chapter IX: Fun and Games 

Taris was a surprisingly shy man for someone as physically attractive as he was- or could have been, anyway. There were certain charms to a young man who could appear reserved without being subservient, he stole a glance up at Sarah every now and then as they flipped through his portfolio. The half-page designs he'd sketched out were crude, but the concepts were fairly interesting and probably the only reason his father had allowed him any amount of space in his mill in the first place. 

The boy's massive dog, Chac kept a lazy eye on her from his bed in the corner for any sign she might hurt either one of them as Sarah flipped through the portfolio. She was only half paying attention, really, musing about how she might be able to get her paperwork from under the floorboards without drawing too much attention to herself. There were barely any tools and even fewer resources that weren't scrap from some caravan or building project, hardly anything suitable for real creativity to take place. And yet something itched at the back of her mind; not a Compulsion like she might've expected from her patron, but a knowing that there was something here. Something she wasn't seeing. 

That made it all the more irritating. It gnawed at her. A problem that she could solve for the sheer pleasure of spiting the odds and even her own doubt. But which problem was it? Her lack of travel papers or simply getting to them? 

Sarah stopped at a sketch of a wheel attached to a multi-pronged fan. The wheel attached to the fan by way of wooden peg gearing, down a long shaft to a system of reductions that turned the wheel below. The notes were all over the place about it's length and rate of turn, but underneath it in sloppy block lettering the word 'Solar Mill' had been penned. Sarah glanced at the boy and slipped the paper out of its holder, setting it to the side and continuing on. 

She wasn't going to tell him wind mills had been around for decades, but she could at least point him in the right place- and seeing the spark of warmth and hope in his eyes, affirmation of his ideas. How could she crush that? 

There were a few more unremarkable and uninteresting concepts littering the rest of the book, most of them takeoffs on existing farm implements with only minor improvements, including a strangely angled axe head which seemed to be designed to make splitting wood easier. Boring, but promising. But before she could close it, she came across a strange design indeed. A slanted table with a puck that slid down between wooden pegs hitting little latches along the way to represent a score, by the time it hit the bottom of the table, a port in the bottom opened up allowing the puck to land in what would be the final score. 

"Well now, what's this? Do I detect you've been holding out on me?" She glanced at him with a smile, "Come now, don't look so shy, among a plethora of interesting and potentially quiet viable farming arts, we've a proverbial needle in a haystack- a diamond in a coal mine, if you will! How did you see this one working out?" 

"Uh- well. . . .I think this was going to be a game of some kind for kids? I- the farm things were meant to be for sale from the mill and- well, the game stuff is just a hobby." Taris glanced away. "Just a hobby." 

Sarah flipped the design over a few times in her fingers- it was perfectly viable, maybe a little simplistic, but there was a lot of great things built on simplicity. Entire kingdoms had been established on less. . . "So am I to believe that in all the infinite stars, the one that shines the brightest is the one you deny the most?" She tisked playfully. "Good man, you've a gem here." 

His eyes lit up as he looked to her, a flicker of awe on his teenage features. Sarah couldn't help but smile at that. But just as quickly it came crashing down when Taris looked away and exhaled through his nose. "My father wouldn't approve, though. Part of the condition for letting me use the millhouse is that I work on things that help the village, things he can sell. I can't sell this. . . .who'd want to buy something that only gets used once?" 

After a split second pause, Sarah took the design and ran her finger down it. She simulated the puck hitting the pegs at random before dropping down into the score chute. "So why not add an element of interactivity to it? Move the pegs, allow the puck and score to be reset? For viability. . ." She looked around taking quick stock of the materials they had on hand. "After a prototype, how many do you think you could produce with what you have on hand?" 

Taris stared at the redheaded half-elf, probably trying to figure out whether or not she was serious. With a quick motion of encouragement, Sarah prodded him on. "Uh, m- I don't know? Maybe two?" 

"As much as I enjoy spending time in the company of two of anything at the same time, I don't think that's going to be enough to really populate the village, do you?" 

"W- No." He glanced away. "I can't buy anything else, either, my father controls the coin." 

Sarah leaned forward, clasping her hands together between them. She watched him over the rim of her glasses, considering for a moment how long it might take her to get through the floor with the tools he had on hand. She'd need a little bit, and she'd still need to get rid of him and the dog while she did. "Farming tools are very individual, good man, but this is unique and I'm willing to bet you could see a sizable market for it-" 

"See?! That's what I said! But -. . . .um. My father disagrees. It's all 'mills and crops' with him." Taris plumped his cheek out with his tongue. "But the farmers here aren't rich, it would have to be inexpensive to buy." 

"Quite right! But like anything worth doing, getting it right the first time isn't as important becoming good at it through iteration. Then we can worry about cost." She flashed a winning smile. "Why don't we see what we need for this and work something out?" 

That seemed to catch him by surprise. "R- Right now? But it's high moon." 

This wasn't going to go well. Unless. . . Sarah held his gaze for a moment, pouting her lips just a touch, leaning forward so her blouse revealed a bit more cleavage than strictly necessary. Through her wispy bangs, she looked up at him and purred in a just sultry enough tone. "Right now I don't think there's anywhere else I'd rather be. I'd hate to be there alone with such a good idea and no one to share it with." 

Taris blinked. His gaze wandered down her neckline subconsciously and swallowed. "O- Oh. . . O- okay." 

"Why don't we decide on a size, then we can figure out the measurements." 

# 

The two inventors burned through hour after hour of 'friendly' arguments about the scale and what actually constituted correct measurements. The superior eastern system Sarah had grown up with didn't translate well into the hodgepodge mess of seemingly made up attributions that Taris was familiar with- measuring things by finger width, who thought that a good idea? 

Eventually, however, they settled on using Sarah's mathematics once she'd turned a strip of wood into a measuring stick and showed him how to use it properly. Then came the lessons in how to handle geometric shapes and distances between points around non-flat surfaces. To many it would've been tedious, even with Taris's attention to detail and willingness to learn, but to Sarah it was relaxing. It'd been so long since she'd actually had the opportunity to teach someone her craft and, more importantly than that, actually revel in the company of a mind not too unlike her own. 

It'd been a long time since she'd had reason to really smile, but when they were staring at the finalized plans for their 'puck master' machine tacked to the pegboard, she wasn't shy with it. During that same time, the dog had lost all interest in the pair and gone back to sleep. "Capital," Sarah exclaimed as she looked around. There were still other concerns to deal with, though. "Now, then. Where are your tools?" 

"Uh- Tools?" 

"Yes, surely you have a band saw of some description?" A blank look. "Smoothing planes?" Another confused expression. Of course, she knew these things were nowhere to be found, but it gave her the excuse she needed to send him on his way. Then she could get her papers and be gone. It wasn't a total loss, he got what he needed out of the deal- a friendly nudge and a little bit of training to bring a good idea to fruition- and she got to live for another day. A fair trade by any measure! 

When Taris turned to make an inspection of what he had on hand, Sarah preempted him by picking up a few scraps of wood and cobbling together a loose outline of their design, using a charcoal pencil to mark where the cuts would need to be made. The deck was going to be the easiest part, they- he- could use hand tools to make it work. But molding the baffles and sides would take a little more work. Especially if it was to look presentable. 

Fortunately that wouldn't be her problem. She turned the deck around to show Taris the markings, tracing the curve of the top mark. "See what I mean?" 

"I-. . . .oh, yeah, so we cut it and smooth down the edges." 

"Precisely! A band or coil saw would make this much easier, hm?" She flashed a smile. Just for an hour or two- what about your local carpenter, surely he has such tools?" 

"Uh- Probably? I don't think he'll just let us use them, though-" 

"Worry not!" Sarah fished a few gold from her pocket, set the deck board against the bench and handed them over. "I'll fund this if you're willing to do the talking, hm? Consider me your silent partner." She smiled at his look of confusion and vague awe. "Money isn't an object, so long as the result is something we can both live with." 

"B- But, Engineer-" 

"Sarah. No sense in using fancy titles, dear." The boy took the coin with a new uncertainty. It didn't fade when Sarah curled his hand around them, not even when she cupped his cheek and whispered. "It's going to be okay, we'll get this cut and assembled by daybreak and your father will be none the wiser." 

He nodded slowly. "B- Begging your pardon, Engineer, but I thought priests could bend material to their will." 

"A common misconception!" She lied smoothly. "There are techniques and magic that can make it easier, but what point does that service for someone without access to them, hm?" Without waiting for a reply she sauntered over to the workbench and gathered up a few tools- most importantly the hand drill and a tiny ribbon saw. It'd have never cut through the heavy deck board for the machine, but it would work for the floorboards if she cut with the grain rather than across it. 

"S- so, how much should I offer him? I don't think he makes his much in a tenday-" 

"I'd say give him as little as you can get away with," Sarah turned on the stack of discarded materials, fishing out more scrap lumber she thought might be useful. "But don't be shy in giving him everything! The man is going to be tired and upset at seeing you, so don't think twice about compensating him for his time and inconvenience if it means we can get access to his tools." 

The boy looked like he was going to throw up at the prospect. 

"It will be fine!" She shooed him on with a lighthearted smile. "I've plenty more if that won't do it, just take your time in approaching him and use a firm but inviting tone. You're going to do fine." 

"But-" 

"An invention does not simply spring from thin air, good man. It takes risk and an investment of time and effort! A test of character and endurance- as much as I may enjoy testing people's endurance, however, there is a point when we must make our own choices." She smiled at him, leaning back against the workbench. She made sure her hands were out to her sides holding her coat open, her chest perked forward a bit to accent her curves and her lips pouted ever so slightly. 

It had the intended effect; she caught his glance over her body. He glanced away when she pretended to notice it for the first time. She didn't move, though. Holding her pose for several seconds. 

"The only question you need to ask yourself is whether or not you've the courage to seek out what you want, Taris. Do you want this?" 

He sputtered a timid reply she couldn't hear. 

"So what will hold you back from getting it? A no? An angry voice who's doing nothing with his life aside sleeping it away? Nonsense! Grease the wheels of progress with someone else's coin- which is freely offered, remember- and see your dream come true!" 

He looked at her again, warily this time. To his credit, he managed to hold her gaze. A slow smile crept across his lips. 

"That's it! A smile to light a thousand fires to match a face that has no doubt broken many a hearts- go on, then! Savor this moment and let's create magic!" 

"Right!" Taris grabbed up the deck board and turned towards the door. Sarah smiled warmly as he marched towards the door. "I'll be back soon!" 

For him, the mission was clear, such as it needed to be. He didn't even look back- probably for the best. "Silly git." 

Sarah padded over to the center of the room and crouched down, looking about the place to triangulate where she remembered her cache being. 

A few feet forward and to the right, she decided and slid over. She tapped the board with a light 'thock' and then poked it with her drill. No support beams in the way, this was going to be easy. . . 

Ten minutes later she was still hunched over, using her bundled up coat to pad her knees, panting as she worked the drill faster and faster. Sweat ran between her shoulder blades and her breasts, reminding her just out how of shape she actually was. Two decades misspent, too damn long from when she didn't have to worry about where her next meal would come from. It was ridiculous. 

She huffed when she felt the bit finally punch through the last layer of wood. Where the floorboards were a sturdy softwood, the subflooring had been a pure hell of laminated hardwood meant to resist rot. She sagged forward on her hands and knees, tossing the drill to the side with a meaty clang of metal on wood. 

The dog peeked up, ears forward and attention focused squarely on her. They stared at one another for a second before he licked his chops and gave a quick scan of the area. Satisfied nothing was out of place, he laid his head back down but kept his attention on her. 

Sarah sat back on her knees breathing in deep and slow, wiping sweat from her brow and hoping against hope she'd not have to resort to 'plan B'. Some part of her knew she would even before she slid the little ribbon saw into the hole she'd created and tried to saw at the wood. It didn't give an inch. The tiny teeth on the saw were meant for cutting through soft wood and delicate finishing work, not what she wanted it for. 

"Dammit," she whispered. Using her powers to atrophy the wood likely meant upsetting Chac and gods only knew where that would lead- aside from her becoming a red stain on the floor. Sarah leaned back on her haunches, looking for some kind of tool she could use to wedge the hole out some. 

Chac had other ideas, it seemed; he got to his feet, sniffed the air and turned towards the door. That's when Sarah noticed the sweep of a shadow across the glass. Someone walked by. They stopped. Then knocked. Chac thundered towards the door, gnashing teeth and barking loudly. 

Knowing better than to stick around, Sarah clamored for a hiding place. "Son of a bitch."



Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 34



Volume 4: Dereliction of Duty 

Chapter X: In The Dark 

Felicia followed the shadows around the miller's building, not wanting to stick too far out for fear of catching the eye of Sorash's militia men clopping about on horseback through the village. It wasn't just because of the questions she'd be expected to answer, but there was always that looming possibility of unkind things that happened in the dark between people in power and those without it. . . 

Her mother had made it clear that 'civilized' nations weren't any different than savage animals, they just found different ways to express it. Even so, there was no point in life where caution was not a virtue. Especially not considering what was at stake here. 

She rounded the building to a small door labeled 'office' and carefully rehearsed what she'd say. "Hello, I was looking for a friend of mine- no, that's dumb." Of course it was. A village with this many people coming and going didn't just let people in. "I'm looking for Sarah Kettar, the woman at the bar said I could find her here." That sounded better. Maybe a little direct, but it cut to the chase. Felicia paced by the door, murmuring her lines a few more times until she was satisfied it didn't sound like a demand. 

She gave a knock. 

Fury and noise broke the stillness of the night. Loud barking from the other side of the door. Felicia scrambled away just as the dog reared up to face her, teeth bared. It barked louder. 

"Over here!" A man shouted. 

Her first instinct betrayed her; she ran towards it. Protection just in reach. The teenager rounded the corner right in front of a pair of armored militia men and a third wandering up from the center of the village with a torch in his hand. The four of them exchanged a glance. Felicia opened her mouth to explain that she wasn't trying to do anything illegal. 

"Stop, you!" 

Felicia bolted. Still riding the high of adrenaline and fear, the only thought was to escape. To flee. So that was exactly she did. 

The teenager pumped her arms for greater speed, barely managing to out pace the men. As the haze of raw fear gave way to actual thought, she realized she was only making herself look more guilty. It was too late now, but maybe she could get to a more populated area before they brought her down. She pivoted sharply around a house aiming towards the center of the village. Then she'd explain what'd gone on and everything would be okay. 

Just as she turned towards the center one of the soldiers whistled sharply twice. She cleared the second house. A soldier on a horse trotted out from behind the next one down the alley, brandishing a crossbow. He aimed it directly at her face. 

"Hey!" Felicia shouted, throwing her hands up defensively. "I didn't do anythi-" 

THOCK. 

The sound of the bolt releasing was joined by a bloom of pain from her shoulder. It didn't bite in, but the glancing blow sung agony through her body all the same. She screamed as she turned, looking for somewhere to hide. They were going to kill her. They weren't going to ask any questions. She took off at a dead sprint, her fear made all the fresher when she saw him go for his blade and kick his horse off to give chase. 

To make matters worse a specter followed the corner of her vision; brief glimpses crossed her awareness from the shadows only to meld back into them. The horseman was only a few feet behind. Felicia juked towards the outer ring of houses and doubled back to keep in the horse's turn radius and on the soldier's off handed side. "I didn't do anything!" She shouted to no one in particular. 

The horse's startled neigh was the only reply she got. It also heralded the sign of horrors to come; in the split second Felicia was turning to look up at the creature something exploded from the shadows. A wraith born of pure darkness flowed effortlessly from a pocket of gloom, bending the light around its body as it launched towards the horseman. The horse tried to sidestep but it was far, far too late. 

Just as the other soldiers got to them blood arced through the air from where the horseman's chest had been opened up. A long cut from hip to shoulder opened his armor and organs to the evening but the shadow didn't stop there- even as the man started to fall from his horse it leapt towards the nearest soldier. He was quick to bring his blade to bear but the wraith was so much faster than that; it tumbled to the side giving Felicia a brief glimpse at a humanoid figure before it pushed off with one arm, kicked him in the back of his neck and threw a dagger into the unprotected inner thigh of the farthest man. 

Felicia stared in horrified awe as the scene continued to play out in slow motion. The figure was still behind the three soldiers, two of them were already falling towards the ground and the third hadn't had a chance to face the threat before it was upon him. His eyes went wide as he stared at Felicia, not realizing the danger he was in- But that wasn't it at all. It dawned on her when she saw blood spraying from the quickly growing hole in his throat. The tip of a blade punched through the tender flesh from behind and he jerked upward, grabbing for the wound as if it would do any good. 

It was the meaty thump of the horseman's body slamming into the ground that brought her mind back from the ballet of violence to the realization of what had actually happened. The figure was recovering its dagger when Felicia managed to squeak out some kind of whimper. 

"We need to go." Lostariel's voice cut through the distance. It was Lostariel. It. . . How?! Why? 

A million questions ran through Felicia in the space of a breath but none of them would find her lips as she continued to stare. 

"There will be more soldiers. They're looking for Sarah. You will not want to be here." The figure started to turn away. At Felicia's second whimper it looked back at her- the light warped around it but it quickly gave way to a familiar face when Lostariel took her mask off. "Are you hurt?" 

Was she? Why was that important? With so many dead, how could she have had the right to be hurt? In instant Lostariel was upon her, shaking her. They locked eyes. The girl whimpered again, earning a slap. And another across her other cheek. She jerked away to avoid the third. "Why?!" 

"Because you need to move-" 

"Them! Why did you kill them?!" 

"You would rather I let you die instead? After all my warnings you went looking for vipers and now having found them you know nothing of how to handle them. . ." The killer cupped Felicia's cheek. "Go. Home. Before its too late." With that she turned away and slipped on her mask. 

Felicia eyed the dead for the first time actually seeing them as human beings. Would it have been any different if they'd caught her instead, would they have shown her any mercy? Did they even deserve her sympathy? Weren't they just doing their job? "W- Wait!" She scampered after the wraith-like killer. "Wait, please-" 

"There will be more," Lostariel repeated. 

"I know, but please, listen to me. You don't have to do this-" 

"You've had your chance." 

Felicia grabbed for what she thought was the woman's shoulders. "Give me another!" she whined. "Plea-" Before she could even finish she felt something grab her collar and whirl her around. She slammed into the wall painfully. Her pained scream was stopped by a hand around her mouth and a blade to her throat. 

"Scream and this will be your resting place." The woman hissed in her ear. In the next instant she grabbed the quarrel in her shoulder and yanked it free. Felicia grit her teeth so hard she was sure they'd crack, tears flowed freely down her young features as she raked her fingers against the plaster trying to find something to grab and brace herself with. It was no use. With the cold press of steel to her neck she didn't dare move but everything inside her screamed to run away. 

To hell with Sarah, the farm, Sorash and this assassin. Felicia ground her fingers into the plaster all the harder trying not to cry as the pain ebbed to a hot soreness. She opened her eyes to see Lostariel looking at her with her mask removed. 

"She is not worth your blood and tears. G-" 

Felicia hugged her, crying into her neck. "Please. Please, no more of this. Come on, we can go to the inn and- and we can find another way. Please." The girl bawled weakly. She didn't even feel the pressure of the blade any more but she knew this wasn't the way to solve the problem. Sarah wasn't worthy of this. "Please, Lost-" 

"Shh." A strong arm came around her back, the pressure on her throat eased up. In the next instant it was against her chest. "I know you hurt. I can end it if you wish. . ." 

"I want your pain to end. This isn't you, this isn't-" Two ear piercing whistles killed her voice. Booted feet pounded towards their location at a run. Mail clanked and clattered. 

There was no hesitation as Lostariel drew away and lead the girl through a patch of shadow- she didn't look back, knowing that her life was secure one way or the other. Felicia on the other hand knew she'd have no hope of surviving without the older woman's guidance and so she followed obediently, doing her best to keep up despite the blistering pain in her shoulder. By the time they had cleared three house lengths away from the slaughter Lostariel had taken to walking upright instead of crouching. Another house length and she dared the brighter alley, leading them by a small house that looked abandoned. 

She produced a set of picks and worked the lock open, ushering Felicia inside and to a seat at a rickety chair. There were various small bundles laid out alongside Lostariel's pack on the dining table; she'd been using this place to hide out instead of the inn. 

"Take your blouse off." The woman said coolly as she filled a bowl with water. "Don't give me that look, I'm doing you a favor." 

Felicia shied away when the woman approached, swallowing. "How could you-" 

"I'll clean you up and you can go back to the inn, I-" 

"Please- Don't-" 

She slammed the pitcher down. "I could have let you die back there. I could even have killed you if I chose to. Your life is to do with as I so desire, so I suggest you take advantage of my lapse in judgment. It doesn't happen often. Or perhaps you'd like to be the plaything of soldiers." 

That shut her up. Felicia undid her blouse and pulled it aside. Not satisfied, Lostariel ripped it off her completely and straddled her lap. When the teenager tried to squirm away Lostariel clenched her thighs tightly, holding her gaze and daring her pointedly to move. When it was clear she'd won, the killer reached over her patient's shoulder and picked out a bundle with some cloth and an assortment of supplies Felicia had never seen before. 

Cleaning out the wound was fairly straight forward, but when Lostariel produced a jar of milky yellow substance Felicia bristled and tried to back away. Another clench of those powerful thighs stopped her dead in her tracks. For her part, Lostariel scooped up some of the fluid and packed it into the wound, ignoring Felicia's whining until it was packed full. Afterward she wrapped the girl's shoulder in a clean bandage and licked her fingers clean. 

By the time she was done Felicia's heart had slowed down a bit but she never forgot that it was a powerful killer sitting on her lap, still she found herself sneaking glances at the woman's focused eyes and wondering what was going on behind them. When the treatment was done Lostariel set the jaw behind her patient and, only a few inches away whispered. "That is going to become very fluid in a few hours. Clean it out with water and redress it or you might lose the arm." 

"W- What is it?" She whispered timidly. 

Lostariel kissed her. Deep, passionate, aggressive. She forced herself on the teenager and brought with her a flood of familiar sensations and lurid desires that spun through her head faster than anything she'd ever experienced. As her heart struggled to keep up with the shift in tone Felicia dared open her mouth to the woman's demand and was instantly rewarded with the sweet, savory taste of honey and sugar alongside Lostariel's unnaturally spicy essence. Their kiss lasted longer than Felicia had thought possible given the circumstances and tentatively, oh so dangerously, she started to bring her hands up to Lostariel's hips. 

She had to have been insane. 

She was stupid. 

She still loved the feeling. Felicia was just about to touch her. 

"Honey." Lostariel broke the kiss and sprang up effortlessly, leaving the teen dazed in her chair. "Here." She tossed a shirt over Felicia's head and started packing her equipment away. 

There was a split second where Felicia considered trying to seduce her savior. Just one. She could probably buy Sarah time to escape if she kept the woman interested, which she'd somehow managed to do at the inn. . . But any thoughts of that vanished the moment she closed her eyes and images of the massacre flashed through her like ice water through her veins. 

Weakly, reluctantly, she got the new blouse on- she had to squeeze her chest uncomfortably to make it fit but with a bit of creativity and scraps from her other shirt she made it appear less vulgar at least. Lostariel was smirking at her when she turned to the woman. 

"With my hips and your chest we almost make a complete woman," she said ruefully. 

There was still time to attempt to seduce her. Felicia swallowed, weighing it out. "I happen to like your hips. . ." 

"Many do." 

The girl bit her lower lip, turning her head down slightly and adding in a coy voice. "Is there anything you like about me?" 

She saw right through it. "Clever, but I have things to do. . ." 

"P- Please, don't hurt her." 

Lostariel frowned as she poured herself a glass of water. "You've nothing better? I've given you multiple chances to sway me and-" 

"Maybe- Maybe tell me why she deserves to die. Maybe I can be convinced-" 

"What makes you think I need to convince you? It's the right of the strong to do as they please." She downed her drink. "Like have you on your knees if I so desire it." 

Felicia whimpered. "Okay, but if she knows I'm around she might come to me- I might be able to help you- I might even be willing to." 

"You're embarrassing yourself. . ." Her violet eyes turned to Felicia again, roaming her figure with no thought to tact. Something in her eyes was different. Maybe it was curiosity, maybe it was appreciation. Or maybe it was humor. "If I show you how wrong you are about her, will you drop it?" 

"M- Maybe?" 

After another glass of water and a creeping silence, the killer pulled her mask on and said the words that would change Felicia's life forever. "Allow me to show you how the real world works, then. . . Come with me." 

# 

Lostariel was a panther in the darkness; the short woman prowled through the shadows in such a way that even light feared to touch her. It wasn't just the magic armor she wore, but her subtle movements were so smooth and understated that any living thing could sense her for the predator she really was. 

In the fifteen minutes that had followed the massacre the village had exploded with activity: farmers had been recruited by the militia to check the alleys and lanes between their homes while they organized a more intensive search. But for the two young women the attempts to find them held no real threat- owing strictly to Lostariel's guidance and Felicia's willingness to be led. 

Sure it was dangerous, but if there was a chance Felicia could convince the would-be assassin just how wrong she'd been about Sarah she'd be able to keep anyone from dying and maybe, just maybe, she could find a way to reconcile whatever damage had already been done. Maybe she was being too ambitious to hope she might be able to forge a friendship with a monster, but the only time she'd ever seen Lostariel spill blood was when a life was in danger- her own, no less- it was hard to hold it against her given what she could have done at any time she chose. 

As they worked their way around to the edge of the village Lostariel picked up the pace and lead them to a copse of trees that dotted the stretch of communal farm lands. Taking a sharp right turn they weaved through rows of someone's crops until they came upon a tiny clearing in the field. Once there, Lostariel knelt and picked at some rope that dangled from the end of a pipe which was sticking up through the ground. No one in their right mind would've seen it but the woman didn't seem to have a problem: she pulled the rope until something metallic clicked. 

"Wha-" was as far as she got before Lostariel had a finger to her lips. 

In the next instant a patch of dirt and crops rose just slightly beside them. Lostariel lifted on a corner revealing a trap door which she then opened for Felicia. The plants and dirt held steadfast to the wood, but it was pretty obvious that the door was thick enough to be walked upon. The two women looked at each other. Felicia balked. Did Lostariel really expect her to crawl down in there? 

As if in answer, the pale assassin pivoted and climbed down the ladder. Felicia reluctantly followed. The tunnel it emptied into was big and seemed to wind on out of sight, heading both north and south; towards the center of the village. There was clamoring from the southern tunnel, the sound of a man coughing and some other man shouting indistinctly. The women shared a glance and Lostariel pulled her mask down, pointing to either side of the tunnel. They crept up carefully around the bend until Lostariel motioned to stop. 

Felicia found out why a moment later when a flicker of torchlight sparked across the tunnel wall. Another moment passed with the shuffling of tired feet, clanking chains and a wash of horrible body odor, blood and other bodily fluids. The teenager crouched down and peeked around the corner to see the source. She nearly wish she hadn't. 

There were dozens of people shackled to one another being lead by their collars through a dusty side tunnel that intersected it. A heavily built man strolled by wearing dark leathers and carrying a club, occasionally pushing someone on when they failed to keep up. Felicia stared in horror before she slowly turned back to Lostariel. 

She was gone. 

The teenager looked back towards the way they'd come expecting to see Lostariel's back, but there was nothing there. She was well and truly alone. How the hell? She looked forward as her heart skipped a beat. How could anyone tolerate this, how could they live knowing this kind of thing went on? Further to the point, what was Felicia supposed to do? Had she been wrong about Sarah? This wrong? 

Choosing in life was never easy- she wasn't a trained soldier; she couldn't fight these people and yet. . . She couldn't just do nothing could she? She needed to know if Sarah really was involved with them, she had to be sure and more than that, someone had to put a stop to it. She could tell the guards later- 

A hand touched her shoulder. 

Felicia jumped, whirled already starting off at a run the way she'd come. Lostariel grabbed her wrist and jerked her back before she stabbed a finger to her lips. Once the girl had calmed down, she pointed to the intersecting tunnel and lead them around the corner as carefully as possible. The dirty offshoot lead to an equally dirty chamber about the size of her house with three descending levels which held primitive cages carved into the walls and a bunch of digging tools at the bottom of the pit. Opposite the hall the two women stood in was a wooden shack with a door clinging to it amongst splinters and garbage. 




Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 34



From below came several cries of pain, coughing, weeping and some indistinct shouts. Lostariel seemed to ignore them for the most part, working her way over to the shack where she drew one of her blades, slid it between the door and its frame and turned it just enough to peek in. She motioned Felicia over a second later. 

But the girl's legs refused to move. She stared at the pit with her mouth agape- part of her wanted to be too numb to feel the surge of anger and pain her in soul. For such a simple village it held a lot of dark secrets and people, but this? This was beyond darkness. Sunless steel was born of darkness, but no darkness could have born something so horrific: this was. . . 

This was. . . 

Felicia felt tears of anger roll from her cheeks though she had no will to cry as the stink of sweat and fear really began to sink in. How could anyone have done this to another person? What gave them the right to think they deserved this power? Her heart punched into her throat sending a wave of weakness through her, her eyes turned towards the black clad figure by the hut and her hands clenched. She made her way towards the shack warily, not entirely sure what she'd do once she got there. 

But before anything could be done one way or the other they had to deal with the man sleeping on one of the cots. There were signs that the shack served as a resting place for many people and for a moment Felicia wondered if someone was going to catch them there. They'd need to do whatever it was they planned quickly. 

Lostariel looked to Felicia and motioned to the man. Her expression was unreadable behind the mask but something in her eyes suggested she had her own expectations for what should happen. Did she feel as though he needed to be punished too? Felicia felt the weight of the kukri she'd been given by the elder warrior for the first time, she fingered the handle drawing Lostariel's gaze to it briefly. Eventually the older woman nodded. 

"No!" The girl whispered. "Don't kill him-" 

"Then decide-" 

Movement caught both their attention. The man stirred and fell back into his slumber. Felicia dampened her lips, considering for a moment. She'd come here for information, she could get it without hurting him, couldn't she? Two people with weapons and the advantage of surprise would loosen up his tongue. Yes, there was no need for anyone to be hurt. Carefully the teenager tapped Lostariel's arm and laid out her idea without a word, emphasizing not to kill him. 

The assassin's eyes were keen and attentive. Even kind of humored. Weird. 

Felicia checked for confirmation before she nudged the man with the flat of her blade. "Hey, hey, wake up." 

"Ngh. . ." 

"Hey! Wake up," She persisted. 

Lostariel slapped him. 

That did it. He startled awake and thrashed with a groggy "Huh?" When he saw the two women holding steel to his face he held his hands up defensively though his eyes were still murky with sleep they were clearing quickly. They had very little time before he'd be awake, before he'd be able to construct lies. 

Felicia swallowed. "I'm looking for Sarah Kettar, a red headed elf woman-" 

"Nh. . . I- I can't talk about clients." 

Clients?! Felicia blanched as Lostariel shot her a look. "L- Let's say you didn't have these weapons against your face, do you think you'd recognize someone by that description? Red hair, pointy ears, she wears glasses? A bit pale and very curvy?" 

A brief flit of recognition swept his features. He sucked in a breath. "I can't talk about it-" 

"I just want to know if she deals with. . . .you people. I don't want to hurt you-" 

"She is alone in that," Lostariel added in a glacial voice. 

Felicia picked up on the implication and carefully leaned down as if she and the guard were sharing a private moment. "I don't want to hurt you, but I need your help. If you don't help me, I'm not going to stand in her way. Y- You people take slaves here, right? Did Sarah buy any? Did she help you in some way?" 

"I can't-" was as far as he got before Lostariel pressed the tip of her dagger to his cheek. 

"Remove that word from your vocabulary. Or allow me to do so." 

"Hey, hey. . . No need for that." Felicia swallowed. "Please, help me. If I know what's going on-" 

"You don't get it, they'll kill me if I talk-" 

Lostariel pushed her dagger a little. Blood welled up around the tip. "As will we if you do not. But consider this, you'll be alive and we will make sure no one suspects it was you." 

"N- No, they'll find out. They always do-" 

The two women looked at one another. Felicia put a hand on his chest and held his gaze firmly. "We're already here, right? We've not said anything about who got us in or where, we can keep a secret. But I'm trying very hard to find a reason why we shouldn't just throw you into the pit there. . . .I won't ask again. Please tell me anything you know about Sarah Kettar's involvement in this place. 

"I-" He glanced at Lostariel. She pressed the dagger a little more firmly. "All right, all right. She contracted us for smuggling! Here to Wastow!" 

"How long ago?" Lostariel prompted. 

"S- Six years-" 

"You're lying." 

"Sixteen, seventeen years? It's been a long time! No one thought she'd collect, but she showed up last night and disappeared before she could get her ticket- it's all forfeit now! That's all I know about it- we're supposed to turn her away if she tries again!" The man tried in vain to shift away from Lostariel's blade. The woman closed her eyes, considering. 

When she opened them again Felicia wasn't ready for the resolve in them. Once more she'd become something different, at once powerful and capable but somehow vulnerable, expectant. She wanted someone else to decide what to do. . . Felicia wondered if even she knew who she really was any more. The girl laid her hand on Lostariel's and pulled the knife away. "We're going to let your slaves go-" 

"No!" 

"Yes," Felicia said firmly as she stood up. "Los-" 

The woman in black held up a hand, "Ah, ah, ah." 

"Right, sorry. Uh. . . C- Can you like, tie him up or something? I'll- I'll go take care of the cages." 

"Be careful." Lostariel said without visible conviction before she cut a long strip of canvas from a nearby cot. 

Without knowing what else to say or even how to feel about it, the girl climbed down the dirt ramps to the bottom of the pit as quickly as she could manage. She stopped at one of the cells and banged it with her blade lightly "Hey." 

An older man looked up with sunken, tired eyes guarded by years of mistreatment. He didn't say anything when Felicia pulled at the bars, not even when she jammed her kukri into the lock and wrenched it like a prybar. Eventually the metal gave but the man didn't approach- the plans girl waved him onward quickly but he refused to come and actually huddled himself back into the cage! Was he mad?! 

"Come on! I need a hand! We need to hurry up before the guards return!" 

She didn't know it at the time, but this was to become a recurring pattern for the next ten minutes she spent forcing one lock and another open. No one would leave their cells and any attempt to coax them out- because she wasn't desperate enough to enter a closed in space with someone who was starving and possibly dangerous- was met with refusal time and again. By the time she got to the top most row of cages, she was positively crying. "Please," she whimpered. "Please, come out! We can lead you out of here and get you back to your families!" 

CRASH. The door of the hut exploded open, Lostariel and the man tumbled outward with their hands around one another's throats. The man's face was a mess of blood and open cuts and for just a moment Felicia wondered why. 

Lostariel vaulted off with her inhuman leg strength, kicking him in the stomach before rolling out of reach like a receding tide. She staggered up warily, grabbing the side of her head where blood was oozing down her mask. She reeled and braced her hand against the wall, struggling just to stay upright as the man righted himself and for a moment Felicia was sure he was going to turn on her again, but when she could've easily been taken down the man made the choice to run instead. 

Faced with racing to help her 'friend' and stopping the man, Felicia didn't even think about it; she bolted up the ramp and grabbed the woman who all but collapsed against her. "Gods, are you okay?!" She frantically searched for any punctures in the woman's armor but there were no signs she'd been mortally wounded, just knocked dizzy or something. "Oh gods." What could Felicia do? She wasn't a shaman or a healer, she barely knew how to check for wounds, much less bind them. "W- What do I do?! Hey, don't pass out!" 

The woman's head lolled back heavily against Felicia's shoulder as she struggled to remain conscious, letting out a long sigh. Not knowing what else to do, Felicia fanned Lostariel's face whispering quickly "hey, hey, stay with me-" she went to pull the mask off but Lostariel grabbed her with a sudden crushing strength that actually made her wince. "Hey! It's okay!" 

"We. . . We need to go." Her voice sounded groggy and distant. "He'll inform the others-" 

"But- But, there're people here." 

"So?" 

"So?! C- We can't just leave them-" Felicia whimpered when she was shoved out of the way. Lostariel staggered towards the edge of the pit, looking down. She glanced at the girl, motioned her over. 

"You opened their cages and they won't come?" 

"No. I tried getting them out but-" Once more Felicia fell silent when Lostariel urged her onwards. As they walked- stumbled, more accurately- the woman produced a jar from a hard pouch on her armor and tossed it in the pit. "What was that?" 

The jar shattered with a burst of flame and smoke erupted from there, quickly filling up the pit. Screaming followed a second after that along with the tamping of dozens of people's feet; shouting and cries echoed and a pillar of flame burst through the middle of the smoke sending even more panicked screams through the group. The two women ducked to the side and before Felicia could utter so much as a word she understood what was happening- people came running up the ramps towards the tunnels, scrambling for anything resembling safety and, maybe freedom. 

When she went to run after them, to direct them, Lostariel yanked her by the hair and she whimpered. "No." she said with powerful clarity. "You run after them, we both die. We need to leave." 

"But-" 

"You gave them the best chance they have. You can't save everyone. . ." Felicia opened her mouth to argue but Lostariel slumped into her arms. "We need to go- he's going to bring reinforcements." 

# 

Several minutes later they emerged from the tunnel covered in sweat and dirt but triumphant. The two people Felicia had managed to convince to follow them ran for the fields as soon as they tasted the air, but they'd done it. They didn't help as many people as they could have, but they'd changed someone's life and they'd given others a fighting chance at their freedom that didn't exist before. What was an otherwise solemn march back to Lostariel's hideout was made easier by that knowledge; good had been done. 

When they got inside Felicia eased the woman into the chair and poured her a glass of water. She knelt down beside, holding the glass out to her with a weak smile. "I'm proud of you," the busty teenager whispered. "Thank you for the help." 

Lostariel pulled her mask off revealing a contemplative face that was remarkably free of cuts or bruises, even where she'd previously been bleeding at her temple was clear. She didn't look all that worse for wear as she took the glass. But it was her voice that gave her away: "Now will you drop this business with Sarah?" She wasn't hurt at all. 

It took a full second for Felicia's mind to click everything together: "You're not hurt at all." Had she been deliberately trying to buy time for the man to recover or something? 

The assassin took a sip, downed the rest. "I asked you a question." 

"W-" 

"Think very carefully about what leaves your mouth next, plains walker." Her eyes flashed dangerously. 

Sarah wasn't innocent, she was running from something, but she hadn't been involved with slave trading outside of supporting their business by trying to arrange to have herself trafficked out of the country without drawing attention. . . There was more to this, but Felicia couldn't imagine what it was. She looked to Lostariel warily; for all of her short years on the planet, Felicia had never met someone like her and she couldn't even begin to imagine what the 'right' answer was. Aiming for her best chance at understanding, she decided her curiosity came first. "What's she running from that she'd deal with those people? A- And you knew- how'd you know?!" 

Lostariel rolled her glass between her hands. "She and I live in similar worlds with many of the same people. They're predictable, this makes them easy to manipulate if you know what you're doing." Her eyes turned to Felicia. "If I have not convinced you by now, I never will." 

"She doesn't deserve to die!" 

The woman's shoulders fell slightly. The next think Felicia knew something smashed into her face like a horse's hoof. Distantly she heard her body hit the floor and someone say "I tried to warn you," before she blacked out.



Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 35



Chapter 11: What Shouldn't be Said 

Tessarie wrung her hands warily as she watched the kobold and human's hands. They held their touch for several moments before Keiter finally eased back, clasping both of his little claws around Leslie's hand in a show of friendship. The older woman ran her thumb across the back of that top hand, maybe memorizing the features of it, since she couldn't see she seemed to spend a great deal of time touching things. Tess could only guess at that point but she was fairly sure they'd formed some kind of bond in that moment so she didn't dare interrupt. 

Leslie was fairly plain looking by human standards of beauty- which themselves were hugely out of place compared to reality in Tess's eyes- but she had a certain charm to her that Tess found herself drawn to. She wasn't 'old' but she was definitely mature, easing her way into her forties with little to show of it. The anger and pity in her voice was masked by a snarky wit that'd found a way to tickle Tess's curiosity as to who this person was and who she had been before she lost her sight, but even without it. . . She was alluring in some nonspecific way. Her brown locks framed gracefully aging features and the slight roundness to her cheeks hinted at some kind of eastern heritage that always seemed exotic to Tess, but the way her mouth formed words was by far her most attractive feature to the young elf. 

The woman had a way of forming her 'o's that pouted her lower lip just slightly more than the top one and gave her a vaguely teasing expression most of the time; add those nuanced features to an appreciable bust, feminine tummy and the 'just right' curve of her hips and Tess was left to wonder how she'd not found a husband yet. That was what humans went for, wasn't it? They seemed to fall over themselves with Sarah or that low lands girl, Felicia. . . How was Leslie any different? 

Maybe she didn't want that. Or maybe she was entranced by women instead. The thought sent a shiver through Tess's back- would she be offended if Tess asked? The elf gnawed her lower lip as she watched the two lapse into another awkward silence. "M- Miss?" 

Leslie looked to her with closed eyes, "Hm?" 

"W- Would you um, I mean, can you-" 

"Words are like chocolate sometimes, they're bitter as hell until you sweeten them with some sugar and then you wind up with something you want to gorge yourself with." She lofted a brow and cant her head slightly in a theatrical show of thinking. "Come to think of it, they're like booze too." 

Tess tried to smile, "Except alcohol can lead to morning afters with regrets, right?" 

"Yeah, so like I said; they're very similar!" 

Keiter scoffed lightly, Leslie grinned. 

Tess couldn't help but smile at that. "If I can say, I don't think you're the type who. . . drinks too much." 

"I suppose not. Drinking's kind of boring when there's no one to drink with." Leslie scooted the kobold out of the way gently so she could kick her feet out. She smoothed the pleats of her long skirt by reflex but her demeanor was somehow more casual than it had been earlier. "But what about you, Copper Tongue? You don't seem a stranger to the drink yourself-" 

"Um. That depends, are we talking about alcohol or just talking?" 

"I've never been one to let a metaphor die gracefully; torture that thing until it screams, I say." She flashed a smile that lit up the room. 

Tess fidgeted under the woman's attention and she drew in a breath, a blush warmed her flawless features as she mustered her courage. "Would you like to dance?" 

Keiter and Leslie both looked to her oddly and the elf shrunk away, blushing deeper. Her skin bristled with a touch of defensive magic as she backed away- Keiter was beside her with his hand on her knee and a slightly worried expression. He tried to be reassuring but the elf was too quick: she jumped up and away. 

"S- Sorry, that was a dumb-" 

"Now hold on," Leslie leaned forward. "You're going to make an offer like that and try to back out? Oh no, I might be human but I've heard stories!" She braced her hand on the arm of the couch and started to rise with a soft groan. "I know the secrets of fey dancing, for I am well traveled and not at all a shut in." She launched her hand with a playful grin. "Besides!" She added. "If you two are going to be leaving first thing, I'm sure as hell going to take the opportunity to do something I've always wanted to try." In that moment Tess imagined how she must have looked when she was younger, happier. 

Tess took her hand gingerly, unsure what she'd attempt with the woman. "I- I don't understand-" Before she could even attempt to utter another word Leslie brought her in close, chest to chest and led her through a few slow steps; side to side and around a tiny circle. Tess caught up swiftly and began to sing a soft tune to match the woman's pace and before she realized it she was losing herself in the ease with which Leslie moved- her song came more naturally and even Keiter joined in with a clapping beat. 

Time seemed to blur as she lost herself in the song and in Leslie's movements: they flowed smoothly from one dance to the next once they found their rhythm and Tess only became aware of the change when she found herself adjusting her tone subconsciously to match the new flavor she was being shown. Leslie's range of expression with her body was an endless source of fascination to the little elf. As they wound down the end of a dance Leslie started to pull back but Tess held her close and looked up, whispering so only they could hear. "Maybe you should come with us." 

Leslie balked, "You're too cute, you know that?" A blush warmed her cheeks. "Well, I think so anyway. . . You sound cute, but you could be a bridge troll for all I know." 

"Oh, right." 

"She is cute." Keiter said helpfully. "Very elf. . . ish? Elfin? She has very elf-like features." 

Leslie bit her lower lip, she reached up. "Ah, can I?" Her hands came up to Tess's shoulders and it became clear what she intended to do. 

"Oh, oh- will that help?" Without thinking about it Tess took the woman's hands and cupped them to her cheeks. She was trembling slightly as her hands followed the lines of Tess's sharp cheeks, under her eyes and, without so much as a hint she knew where to aim, Leslie tapped her nose perfectly. 

"Mmm. . . You really are cute." Her blush deepened a little. "C- Can I touch your ears?" 

Tess swallowed, "S- Sure. Just be careful, they're sensitive." 

To say Leslie was gentle would have been an understatement; her fingers barely caressed the skin around her neck, up her throat and then up the back of her ear to the very tip. Once found, she brushed the sensitive spot with her forefinger and thumb, causing the girl to suck in a breath. It wasn't the only reaction, though. . . Tess's body arched to meet the attention and she felt a familiar ache hanging between her legs start to harden. She turned her blue eyes up to Leslie, watching the woman through her own bangs as she continued her exploration. 

Something about it was intentional. 

It didn't occur to the young elf until she felt Leslie's fingertips trace new lines down the backs of her ears and her hands came to cup her cheeks. By that point she was trembling in the older human's hands with a mix of arousal and fear muddying her thoughts. By the gods Leslie was beautiful. . . She almost uttered the words but when her cock caught in the hem of her skirt the elf pulled back suddenly so she didn't scare the human. 

Apparently it had the opposite effect, though. Leslie drew her hands back as if she'd been burnt. "I'm sorry- I- I didn't mean to scare you. I. . ." She blushed a bit deeper. "I've never met a real elf." She glanced at where Keiter had been earlier. "No kobolds either, I'm afraid." 

"N- No, it's okay." Tess said weakly as she tried to adjust her dress, to tuck her fully erect cock under the belt so it wouldn't be obvious. She adjusted herself a few times, turning away from the others in the room. How did men deal with this nonsense? 

"Not many do," Keiter said lightly. "Not those they don't want to kill anyway." After a few moments he leaned forward turning his head up to her. "If you would like, I would not turn away your touch either." 

"My touch, huh? It's how I 'see', kind of. . ." 

"I don't think anyone with a pulse could turn down a touch. Even more those who could see would never not want to gaze upon you. If I may say, you are one of the world's quiet wonders." 

Leslie chortled. "Hoooo boy, try that on many farm hands, do you?" 

Keiter stared at her blankly. After a moment he remembered, "I don't understand." 

"That's the second cheesiest thing I've heard all night." 

Tess swallowed. "That doesn't mean its not true." She licked her lips and took a chance. "If I could paint, I would beg you to let me paint you. . ." 

"One can only wonder what you'd paint me with." Leslie worked her way over to the couch by memory and sat down beside Keiter, though her attention was directed at Tess. "What color is your hair?" 

"U- Um, blonde?" 

"Don't sound so sure. Come on, what color is it really?" 

"A really pale blonde. Like sunshine before a storm. . ." 

"Poetic," She said off handedly as she looked to Keiter. She dampened her lips. "Now, don't freak out if I stab you in the eye or something, it's not on purpose." Despite those words her touch was every bit as careful and curious as she had been with Tess; she caressed his muzzle from the tip to the sides of his skull and then over his head to his neck, exploring every inch of his fine dusty colored scales. She eventually leaned forward into his space, almost nose to muzzle, and sniffed. "You smell like booze," she stated casually. 

"And you like ham, cabbage and water." The kobold retorted. "Even if you appear an angel." 

They stayed like that for a moment longer, neither withdrawing as if they might miss something, but then Keiter surprised her by tapping her nose. She drew back with a chuckle and reclaimed her relaxed spot on the couch, she braced her forearm against it and seemed to take several moments to regard her guests. "I really don't know what to make of you two." 

"Oh, neither do we." Tess said quickly before Keiter could speak. "Humans say elves are crazy, but I'm fairly sane? Sarah- she's half human and elven- though, is crazy." 

"She isn't crazy," Keiter said rather firmly. "But I think she likes people to think it so they don't expect much from her. . . People often underestimate her." 

After a moment Tess worked up the courage to take a spot on the couch, to Leslie she said, "I think you two would get along well- you're really alike." 

"Mmm? How so?" 

"You're both intelligent and beautiful and horribly underestimated-" 

"And blind?" 

Tess frowned at that. 

"In some ways," Keiter said softly. "But unlike you, she is exceptionally silly." He considered something for a moment and then quietly touched her shoulder, then her arm. He eased into her space and wrapped his arms around her as best he could. Leslie returned the gesture after a moment and even if she didn't say anything, Tess could sense the shift in her posture and warmth. It wasn't the desperate cling of someone trying to feel something for the first time- or even for the last- but it was acceptance. The blossoming of a strange friendship with unlikely people and, in Tess's mind, the continuation of Isira's peace message and Keiter's own. 

She smiled to herself at that. 

"Sarah's family was taken from her long before she met me by forces beyond any of us. . . She hides from-" 

"Shh," Leslie put her finger to his lips. "I don't- I get it. I-" her shoulders sagged. "What'd she do?" 

He glanced at Tess briefly. "She tried to kill herself. . . The gods took mercy on her and she was gifted her Second Chance as a cleric. A very tragic story that had a happy ending-" 

"She did?" Tess blinked. "But she's. . . I mean, she's Sarah. Why would she do that?" 

"Giving up is easy when you feel powerless; you can't fight a dragon." He sighed softly. "Any more than you can bring back the dead, yes? But she did something strange!" He looked to Leslie, his voice trilling slightly in some mockery of excitement. "She did something, though. Something maybe you can think about. 

"She was given a Second Chance and she spent time healing, she explored her new faith and took it on herself to change her life. She finished little projects to bring herself back to 'thinking clearly' and then she finished a large one." He nodded resolutely as if it would answer everything. 

Leslie's brow knitted. "So- She killed herself, was brought back to life by her god and then did arts and crafts? No offense, but that's. . . Aren't gods supposed to demand a service or something?" 

"Oh, I've failed in the telling! She rebuilt her confidence and relearned her skills, then used her new tools to confront the dragon head on." 

"Yeah, right." 

"She did!" The kobold looked to Tess. "The coins, do you have one?" 

"Ahm- Sure." Tess fished one out of her purse and handed it over. She waited while Leslie ran her fingers over its engravings; the outer rim was a curling serpentine dragon wrapped around a screaming elven woman in the center. The blind woman's brow furrowed even tighter. 

"What's that feeling? It's like. . . Hot. Kind of?" 

Tess and Keiter looked at one another. They'd both been carrying the coin around so long the extra sensory feeling of the coins inherent magic had become a dull tickle on their senses but to someone who'd only felt it for the first time, the warmth was a definite sign of dangerous, angry magic. But to a mundane person they would just be tacky gold coins. 

"You- can feel that?" They said in unison. 

"You can't?" 

"Yes! But we're both magically active! Maybe you've a connection to magic too," Keiter said lightly. 

"Just hope it isn't like mine." Tess muttered as she shifted her weight to ease the pressure from her still painfully hard erection. She accepted the coin back when Leslie offered it. 

"So go on, what happened next?" 

Keiter smiled a little proudly. "She went to his island- I think- and promised him something, enough to convince him to give her enough gold to buy a kingdom of her own." 

"You're high." 

"Very sober, in fact! But it was her way of fighting back, she spread the coin around- she gave me some to fund a museum and shelter for homeless people in Sorash. It's because of her there is a temple of Isira in the city in the first place." He took her hands gently and clasped them together. "Her methods are flawed, she's not going to live to her potential, but she's chosen that. Just as she chose to pick herself up." 

"I-" She was silenced by a finger to her lips. 

"She didn't have anyone in her life to guide her from the darkness. . . I don't think you do either, but I would like to ask you to open your heart to one. To hear Isira. She would not want to see you suffer and I promise you She would love to meet you." 

Leslie pouted her lips, turning her head slightly to regard Tess. "Sure you two aren't lovers?" 

"Uh- Yeah." 

"So you won't be offended if I tell him he's being obnoxious?" 

"N- Nope." 

"You're being obnoxious, Keiter." 

"You knew this the moment you let us in!" He said lightly. "But even if she is not one of the faithful, I think even Tessarie would agree; friends such as my goddess will help you! She has helped Sarah make better choices through me and in return, asks nothing I am not prepared to give anyway." 

Leslie glanced to the side. "What if I don't have anything to give?" 

"You've given us both smiles. You have smiled. Why should that not be enough? A laugh in a quiet room can make things brighter even when no candles are around, and She has never turned her back on someone- even in our darkest moments She is willing to hear us. There is always time to start a second chance-" 

"And you don't have to kill yourself to get it." Tess said warily. "Please don't." 

Leslie scoffed. "Yeah, suicide isn't in my nature. . . But-" She pinched her tongue between her lips. "I'll- I'll think about it, okay?" 

Keiter wrapped his hands around hers and gently kissed the tops of them. "You honor me more than I deserve." 

The older woman blushed and for just a split second Tess could see something else in her expression, she bit into her lower lip with a sharp breath. Her blush deepened the longer he held his lips to her hand and eventually she cleared her throat. "I'll think about it. . ." she whispered. 

Stillness filled the room as the three of them tried to piece out where things were meant to go from there. In any other situation, Tess was sure they might have had something interesting to say- maybe they'd talk about their lives or something- but it seemed that quiet was going to become a recurring thing. . . 

That was until Tess saw Leslie take Keiter into her arms and hug him again, murmuring a 'thank you' into his ear. The kobold returned the gesture with a smile and a hug of his own, and to Tess's surprise, he kissed her. 

Even more surprising was that Leslie responded. 

The bronze skinned elf stared in awed fascination as the kiss stretched from a peck on the lips to a full throaty indulgence that left Leslie cupping his muzzle, pushing forward into it, taking the lead and commanding his full attention. She pressed her chest to his, drawing the cleric that much closer to her warmth, reveling in the touch so long absent from her life. Leslie wrapped her hands around his lower back as if he might fade away at a moment's notice, sealing her intentions and wishes with a soft sigh. 

It was getting harder and harder to see Keiter as a simple kobold the longer the two explored one another's presence; Tess had seen plenty of humanoid clerics preaching this and that, but something about the way the Keiter carried himself made her wonder. . . .it made her wish they'd been half the priests he was. 

This woman wasn't clinging to him in desperation, she was welcoming someone new into her life and maybe- Tess hoped- she was going to find some peace in whatever she decided to do with that new faith. For the elf, though, there was only a vague sense of shame as she watched, wondering just how much farther they'd take things. Keiter pulled back just slightly but Leslie refused to let him go, she continued their kiss with short breaths swelling her chest like the pattering of Tess's heart. 

It was horribly wrong but gods she couldn't look away. Humans often called older women of their own species 'cougars' and maybe she was coming to understand why; Leslie wasn't aggressive, but she was clearly in control of what she wanted and her willingness to pursue it made her all the more alluring and dangerous. . . Had she been hunting for someone to cuddle with when she sat at their table? 

More to the point, did Tess want to complain about it? 

She didn't, she decided as she watched Keiter take the older woman's jaw and turn his head slightly, opening his mouth a little bit. Leslie took a sharp breath in and a brief flash of surprise swept over her features before she grew more apprehensive, uncertain. All the while the Isiran cleric on her lap continued to stroke her cheek and jaw, running the backs of his clawed fingers to cup her skull. With a tenderness Tess had never known he kissed her deeply and the human blushed even more, panting now until she couldn't take any more and finally broke their oral gymnastics. 

"W- W-" Leslie panted. "Ohhh boy. . ." 

Keiter didn't let go, kissing her forehead lightly. "Too much?" 

"I-" Her blush deepened so much that her entire face and neck was a deep brick red. She looked away but she didn't release her grip on the little cleric. After a second she laid her chin against his shoulder and murmured something meant for them.  




Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 35



Tess shifted uncomfortably, suddenly aware of how much of a fifth wheel she was. This was a moment meant for them- 

Keiter glanced at her and, seeming to sense her unease, motioned her over. When she moved closer Leslie pulled back with a sheepish smile lighting her face. Her expression shifted a little into guilt and shame but something else. . . something more powerful still made her bite into her lower lip. She looked beautiful like that, Tess decided. 

"I-" the woman started. "I'm sorry, I guess maybe this Sarah woman is rubbing off on me." She ran a hand over her face tousling the stray brown locks that'd fallen down the side her face. She brushed them behind her ear and added in a husky sigh, "I never do anything like that. . ." 

"Maybe you should!" Keiter said playfully and hugged her. 

She nibbled her lower lip even more. 

Tess whispered sheepishly, "I wouldn't mind if you did." 

"H- Heh? Gods, what am I doing." 

"May I say? I think you're curious! Isira would bless your curiosity, look! You're smiling!" Keiter took her cheeks gently, supporting even though Tess could see his growing erection pressing against his robes. His cock wasn't even half hard and his robes were shifted up by it. She did nothing to hide her curiosity; she hadn't seen his cock when they were double teaming Sarah in the shrine. . . Tess's face swelled with heat and her sudden lewd curiosity. 

Leslie didn't seem to realize the effect she was having on both of her guests as she shifted her hands up to Keiter's shoulders, clenching and relaxing slightly, gathering her thoughts. "I don't know about that, smiling and trying not to laugh at how pathetic-" 

"You're not, though!" Tess sprung into action and threw her arm around the woman's shoulder. "You're really not! You're strong and pretty and warm and. . . a really good dancer." She licked her lips. "And, you really are beautiful and kind." 

"Very kind." Keiter echoed. "I'm a good judge of character and I'm awed to bear witness to your smiles!" 

Leslie scoffed into a playful giggle that sounded more like a giddy teenager than mature cougar, but it made Tess wonder what else her voice was capable of. "You two are so cheesy." 

Her guests responded at the same time: 

"You're still smiling." 

"It made you smile!" 

The seamstress drew in a breath and rubbed at her chest, sucking on her lower lip and seeming to regard the two in that strange way she did. After a moment she shivered. "Gods abo-" 

Keiter put a finger to her lips. "You deserve to smile and we are made better for them- thank you." 

She furrowed her brow. "So that's Isira's thing, is it? Get me smiling like an idiot doing things I'd never do?" 

"She would ask you to seek out new experiences and live, even when you don't want to. Be comfortable and share that comfort, hope to the hopeless, love to the lost, and a full stomach to the hungry; what more can I do to show you how much your happiness would mean to Her?" 

Leslie turned her head down slightly to rest her forehead against his. Barely audibly, she whispered: "Maybe we can do that again? With. . . .with a little less tongue." 

"Sorry-" 

"Oh, no! No, noooo, don't be sorry. It's just a bit much for me," the cougar pounced; she turned Keiter's muzzle up and kissed him deeply once more. Her chest heaved in quick sips of air causing her bust to swell against the restraint of her dress hypnotically; enticing, begging, demanding she took her prey for all he was worth. 

Tess bit into her lower lip as she watched the human and kobold make out, her bright eyes followed Leslie's neck line as she turned her head to respond to Keiter's invitations. Her mousy hair was worn up for the most part giving the little elf a beautiful view of the most sensual parts of human anatomy she'd ever enjoyed- did she dare act on them? 

Leslie moaned a sensual purr that seemed anything but voluntary. An invitation? 

Gods dammit. Isira could witness this, for all Tess cared. . . She took her shot. Tess kissed the human's throat lightly- she stiffened in surprise a little. But Tess persisted, she nuzzled into the crook of her host's neck, kissed her again and then kissed her shoulder, drawing a deep pull of the brunette's heady scent. It was raw and primal, intoxicating to her young mind. Emboldened, she planted a real kiss on Leslie's neck, suckling at her flesh and touching her tongue to it- savoring the second human she'd ever been close to willingly. 

Tess drew in Leslie's scent in deep pulls that made her slightly dizzy, sighing them out across the flesh she left wet in the wake of her kisses. Leslie reached up and, with trembling fingers, touched Tess's shoulder. Not quite pushing her away but not quite inviting her into the bizarre exchange she'd started with Keiter. 

It was happening fast, not nearly as fast as it had with Felicia, but before Tess knew it she had lowered her head and was suckling on Leslie's earlobe, earning a break in the kiss and a low whimper of a moan. Leslie shivered in the arms of her guests and swallowed. A sudden timidness came over her and she drew back a bit, regarding them. 

"I-" Leslie blushed furiously. "Is this one of those 'things I'll regret tomorrow' moments? Because if it is, I'm gonna need another drink." She seemed to aim that comment at Tess. "At least then I can have an excuse." 

"I- I'm sorry? Sh- I shouldn't have done that, I'm sorry." 

"N- N-" The woman stopped trying to rationalize it when Keiter kissed her temple, her cheek, her neck. Her cleavage. She bit her lower lip but she didn't stop him. She didn't even attempt to. His hands came down to her sides, palms turned up to support her- he kissed her breasts one at a time and palmed them with all the care of a newborn child. Her breasts easily took up his hands and then some but he massaged her nipples through her bodice and kissed her throat, leaving her dangerously off balance and open to a follow up. . . 

Tess leaned in and kissed the opposite side of her neck. "You don't need a drink." 

She sucked air through her teeth. "Gods, you two-" something in her demeanor changed a little as she started to relax into the almost worshipful attentions of her unusual guests, a realization maybe? Her grip slackened and she turned her head down a bit to regard Keiter, timid and uncertain. "I can feel that, you know." 

"I know," came the steady reply. "But I doubt I'm the only person in this room you have that effect on." 

Curious, Tess drew back to see the kobod straddling Leslie's thigh with his knee pushed firmly against her and one breast in either hand. Her nipples were hard as stone but so was Keiter's cock, visible as an outline against his robes- a growing wet spot near his chest gave Tess some idea of how long it was. She gaped openly at him. 

Had Sarah taken all of that into her throat? Well- considering she'd deep throated Tess, maybe that wasn't so surprising, but his disproportionately long cock still seemed out of sorts with what she knew of him. Maybe it'd been a gift from Isira. . . 

Leslie on the other hand seemed rather curious about this new discovery, she felt down his head, his chest- she gasped when she found the head and wrapped her hand around it, tentatively exploring down further until she found the base. "Gods' blood, have you got a license for that thing?" Her voice was a husky mix of uncertainty and excitement. After a moment it dawned on her what he'd said. "What do you mean by-" she looked to Tess. 

Before she could raise objection Tess kissed her. Deeply. Whatever would come next, she wanted to remember that sultry pout of a mouth too finely shaped to be a human. Leslie's response was slower but eventually she started to respond, her growing lust lending her courage fueling her curiosity. She was warm and responsive to every little movement, panting softly even as she tried to explore the little elf with her tongue. As her courage swelled she brought her hand over Tess's and brought it to her crotch. 

Absently it occurred to Tess that Keiter wasn't there any more but she was too excited to give it any thought. With every passing second their kissing became more erratic and labored but Leslie held control of it and she didn't seem to want to let go- she cupped Tess's skull and push-pulled them closer together, maybe so the elf could feel her hammering heart. Proud and strong in her chest but fighting for every moment as her passion really began to take over and leave rational thought a distant memory. Tess fell under the woman's spell without hesitation, mewling a sigh into her mouth while she started massaging the wetness her hand found. 

Even through the fabric of her dress and under garments Leslie was soaking wet, aroused and unapologetic to the last; gods what kind of woman had they stumbled across? Tess whimpered as she figured out what was demanded of her and started to knead the woman's nethers earning a heady moan from the seamstress. 

Mere seconds later Leslie broke the kiss, panting deeply and blushing more furiously than she had before. She gripped Tess's shoulders and moaned. "I've never done this- like this-" 

Tess kissed her forehead but it was Keiter who spoke from his position on the floor in front of the couch. "Isira will smile upon you more than She already does. . . .if you wish Her to." He accented his point by drawing her skirts up to her knee and then, inch by inch, with every chance for her to stop him, he started to push them up. 

Leslie swallowed, burying her head into the crook of Tess's neck. She didn't stop him, though. What did he have planned? 

Caught by the boldness of the kobold, Tess didn't have it in her took look away, she shamefacedly drank in the visage of Leslie's legs, mentally tracing every new curve as it was revealed until Keiter had her skirt up around her waist. The older woman hugged Tess closer, sighing against her ear. "His tongue is so long. . ." 

Then it clicked. 

"Oh-" Tess giggled and enfolded the human in a new hug. "He's right, you know. You're so beautiful, I'm really glad we met you. . ." 

"But what happened when you leave?" She whispered breathily. "What happens to me then?" 

Keiter adjusted her skirts a bit, brought his hands to her flanks and eased her closer a bit- her skirts rolled higher revealing a dusting of brown pubic hair slicked with her natural juices and a swath of goose bumps running down her trembling thighs. No sooner had she shifted into position then he kissed her inner thigh, nuzzling against her sensitive flesh with his smooth muzzle. Leslie drew in a breath she sighed across Tess's ear. 

"I can't believe I'm doing this." 

Neither could Tess but instead of commenting she undid the ribbon holding Leslie's hair up and lost herself in the tumbling locks that cascaded down her face, savoring every new prickle and the promises of what was to come. "Neither can I, but I'd love to hear you-" Tess stopped herself. "Smile?" 

Leslie scoffed lightly but it quickly faded into a sigh as Keiter kissed her nether lips, another and another quickly followed, but after a forth try he finally kissed her the way he wanted to; slightly open mouth with his lips forming a seal around hers. In the next moment Leslie's grip on Tess tightened and her features crunched into a pleasured look of open mouthed surprise. Unconsciously she spread her legs a bit to give the cleric better access. 

"Ohhh boy-" the woman purred in Tess's ear before she kissed it. She chuckled a little, absently mumbling something as her hands started to explore Tess's back. Her breathing was shorter than before but every move she made was quick and intentional, she explored her new curiosity with growing enthusiasm, reveling in the dancing elf's lithe body as much as the tongue that was exploring hers. "Sshhhh," she sighed. "Okay, not what I expect-" 

At once Leslie dug her nails into Tess's back causing the girl to squirm and she moaned the most unashamed and satisfied sound she'd yet made. Slowly and without much thought to her partner's sake she crossed her feet behind Keiter's back and dug her heels in as she rolled her hips into his muzzle. It might have been selfish but no one minded too much; Leslie was, after all, their host. For her part in it, Tess sunk down with Leslie into a slump and pulled at the strings on her bodice clumsily until she managed to free Leslie's breasts from their confinement. 

They were beautiful; more than a handful but still more than manageable for the little elf- Tess didn't think twice about it as she circled one with her tongue and began to suck at her nipple, massaging the other with her palm, kneading flesh she had no right to touch and reveling in that forbidden pleasure. 

What Leslie lacked in Sarah's raw sexuality, she more than made up for in with allure. It was the way her mouth opened to release a sensual moan, the way she ran her fingers through Tess's hair and even more than that, it was her natural scent- it was familiar and warm, inviting and tinted just a shade with magic she'd probably never experience. Oh but by the gods was that magic within her. Strong and powerful like the heart that slammed against her ribs, waiting for a release it would never know. 

Both of her guests let their hands roam freely over the older woman braving new paths into what she'd allow, testing the boundaries of what was supposed to be sane and shattering them completely with every breathy sigh that crossed her lips. Keiter's hands slid to her hips and held her firm enough to leave little indents where his claws dug in but Leslie didn't seem to realize or more likely didn't care as she reached under Tess and grabbed his head with her hand. 

She arched her back bearing her throat with a deep and lurid sigh that echoed through her chest, clutching Tess closer as she started to roll her hips and undulate her body against her worshipers, barely conscious of her own voice as she mumbled 'we shouldn't do this...' 

Actions and words were two very different things, however. Leslie rolled her hips into Keiter's attention all the more, grinding into his muzzle while the kobold priest performed his most sacred of duties. Even if he couldn't see the effect he was having on her, Tess got to watch first hand while the brunette writhed and pressed herself into Tess's mouth all the while trying to breathe- a whimper, a sigh, a name? Her supple lips turned upward into the cattiest of grins before she clutched Tess tighter, bit into her lower lip and clenched her thighs firmly to Keiter's skull. 

In the next moment she was rolling her body against them both while sweat glistened across her neck and chest setting the undertone for a whimpering moan that rattled through her faster than her body wracking shudder. Leslie threw her head back with clenched teeth and that same hazy grin as she spasmed against her guests, pinning them close to her, daring them to leave. But neither of them did- they held to the woman, obediently continuing their attentions while one spasm after another took the woman into the abyss of mindless pleasure. 

Leslie ground hard against Keiter's attentions for what felt like minutes until finally she mewled, shoved against Tess to stop her sucking and grabbed the edge of the couch slumping a bit "N- nomoregodsnomore-" Tess drew back leaving a string of saliva to connect the two women, Keiter was looking up at them both still buried firmly between Leslie's thighs. Her legs dangled from his shoulders weakly and she seemed unable to move so much as just twitch her response to his gentle nuzzling. 

Tess enfolded the panting woman in a hug while she laid there limp and vulnerable in the hands of her new lovers, quivering as her pallor skin glistened in the muted light. When Keiter eased from between her legs she mewled and clutched Tess's arm with an unsteady, distant laugh. "Ohhh gods. You- You two do this often?" Without waiting for a reply she nuzzled into Tess's neck and took a small, tentative taste of the elf's skin. 

Keiter kissed the tops of Leslie's thighs. "If I thought for a moment I could solve more problems like this, I would." 

"What about you?" She whispered in Tess's ear and reached up to stroke her chest. Her movements were clumsy and uneven but when she cupped Tess's breast it was clear that her heart was in it. The human purred a deep, satisfied sigh causing the little elf to shiver. "You like that, do you?" 

Maybe Leslie thought she had a safer bet with Tess, maybe she wanted to experiment with the touch of another woman, but Tess knew how this was going to end if she found out about the extra appendage. Tess shifted away warily when Leslie's exploration trailed a little too far down. "I don't think I could do what he just did..." She whispered uneasily. 

"I-" Leslie stiffened a little. "Is that what you think I want?" 

"Isn't it?" 

"W- Well-" 

"Gods dammit, Tess." The elf mentally kicked herself for ruining the mood. But to her surprise Leslie reached for the waist line of her skirt and undid a button on it, letting the fabric fall loose about her hips. 

She turned her closed eyes to Keiter and Tess and swallowed. "I don't know where we're going to go from here, but I think maybe-" she blushed a little. "Maybe Keiter will teach me something, that is if you don't mind being a little patient with me." Leslie traced a finger down Tess's angular cheek and followed the outline of her form, lower and lower, even when Tess tried to back away. "I've never. . . but I'm willing to learn." 

Tess took her hand, kissed it. "Uh- M- Maybe that's not such a good idea." She looked to Keiter for help but he watched her with his chin resting on Leslie's knee with an expression as unreadable as ever. "I- uhm-" 

Keiter touched Leslie's thigh with a clawed finger. "My friend is suggesting maybe she is more of a giver, yes?" 

"Y- Yes!" Tess lied. 

"S- Sure." The woman licked her lips. "Uhm. . . S- So what next?" 

Keiter emitted a soft purr, "Maybe you should decide." He trailed his fingers down her flanks and thighs, even kissing as he went until he was subjugating himself before her on his knees, kissing the tops of her feet. 

Leslie bit into her lower lip with another nervous chuckle, wiping her hair out of her face as she forced herself another breath. "I must be crazy." 

"Think of it as exploring a new facet of your life! Everything you ever wanted to try is open to you, I will deny you nothing if I can give it. . ." Keiter's voice was soft but firm and resolute. Spelling out in no uncertain terms what he planned. 

Tess followed his lead and kissed the woman's neck. "Neither will I." 

"Oh- O- Okay... No pressure, right?" Leslie chuckled a bit and started relaxing once more, she let out a light sigh while the kobold massaged her feet and kissed her shin up to her knee. "Anything I want-. . . Okay. I've always wanted to- uhm- see what an elf was like." 

Tess blanched. "See what we're like?!" She whimpered. "I mean- uhm. I think I might disappoint you!" 

The beautiful human dampened her lips in a very drawn out movement, in that time a million different emotions flickered across her features but what spilled from her tongue was strong, controlling and curious. "I don't think you could. . ." 

Knowing there was no way to stop the woman's curiosity now that it was piqued, Tess sighed and took Leslie's hand. Her voice wavered as she already knew what was going to come out and it sickened her to even consider the truth- she knew what would happen, it always did, but given what this woman had already shown them there was that faint hope. . . Tess swallowed. "There was an accident a few years ago- uhm, elves are naturally in tune with magic, but sometimes we're born with a natural Talent. It uh, it usually reflects our personality but sometimes they're unpredictable." 




Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 35



Leslie frowned a bit, "So you're saying you're going toooooo what, turn me into a frog?" She chuckled nervously. Before Tess could open her mouth to reply Leslie stopped her with a finger. "Just shh." She turned her gaze down so that her bangs drooped over the right side of her face, whispering in a breathy and seductive sigh. "That whole 'do anything you want just because' thing goes both ways, doesn't it? Isn't that what Isira would want?" 

"I just don't think you'd like what you'd find." Tess whimpered and looked away. 

"Hey, hey, no- none of that. I get to be nervous for bo- all of us. Remember?" the human pawed at Tess's breasts uncertainly. She explored with clumsy strokes that eventually had her trailing Tess's ribs, following lines down her body people seldom explored. . . .to a point the elf knew better than to let her touch. Tess flinched instinctively when Leslie's delicate hand brushed the tip of her unnatural cock. 

What was she going to do, Tess wondered, would she shame the little elf? Tess held her breath as Leslies hand made another pass, this time running the back of her hand over Tess's shaft to the tip, then up her chest. The woman brought her fingers up and turned them over to pad Tess's lips gently, teasing almost. She leaned in, and purred. "You're still as cute as you feel. . ." 

Tess mewled and glanced to the side waiting for the 'but' that usually followed. Instead, Leslie leaned forward into her space and replaced her fingers with her own lips. Her kiss was intense and warm in ways it had no right to be; this was the same woman who's anger was waiting to break free only hours ago. Still, within her beat the heart of someone who hadn't lost themselves, who hadn't completely surrendered to that anger. . . 

Humans. 

Humans were weird. 

Leslie wrapped her hand around Tess's cock, barely managing to get her thumb and forefinger to meet- she breathed a sigh into the elf's mouth pushing against her and stroking down with increasing heat that made Tess whimper all the more. She wasn't going to accept anything less than all of it, she wasn't going to give anything less than everything she had. 

Tess braced her hands against the woman's chest, returning the kiss timidly as Leslie took what she wanted to give, unashamed she drank in the little elf's essence even as she stole her breath, pulling her into the kiss until they were chest to sweaty chest. Tessarie knew better than to pull back but she couldn't fend off the attack any more; she succumbed to it. 

Sensing the shift in power to her favor, Leslie pulled back panting and blushing with arousal. She pulled weakly at Tess's dress and in moments had it sliding over her head, exposing every inch of Tessarie's flawless sunkissed elven skin. Lithe from a lifetime of dance and celebration, she really had no shame to hide except for the massive throbbing erection that ached between her tightly clenched thighs. Leslie's hand was no match for it as she pawed around the elf's lap trying to get a fix on it- when she found it she tried again to wrap her hand around it but faltered. 

"H- Holy shit." She whispered breathily. "Gods, girl. . ." 

"S- Sorry." Tess whimpered pathetically. 

Leslie pushed her back against the couch and kissed her once more. "Shh." She stroked Tess's cock tip to hilt a few times getting a sense for its length- unlike Keiter's, a literal gift from the gods, Tess's was thick and slightly disproportionately large. A human could have worn what she had and be considered 'well hung', but it was almost comical on Tess's wiry frame. Except to Leslie, it seemed. . . natural. 

Tess gripped the couch, uncertain what to do with herself as Leslie explored her body with mouth and hand. Slowly, oh so achingly slowly, the human woman kissed her throat and slunk down her body, kissing all the way down her tummy to her thigh, her knee. She stopped there with her chin on Tess's knee and she on her knees looking up at the elf with a faintly amused expression. Gods, she was so pretty like that, Tess exhaled and brushed Leslie's hair behind her ear. 

Leslie turned into the touch demurely and kisses the elf's palm followed by her wrist. Offering something Tess wasn't sure about- or was she? Experimentally she licked her lips and ran her fingers through the woman's hair to cup the back of her head. She was rewarded by a timid smile and a kiss on her inner thigh that turned into a long slow lick. 

During this time Keiter watched slightly behind Leslie but as things shifted he stepped up behind the woman and undid her bodice carefully. She didn't miss a moment, bringing her arms in so it could come off with his help. Her blouse quickly followed and Keiter stroked his claws gently down her back, murmuring a purr right against her ear. "Take Isira's name for you deserve the smile you wear now-" he brought his little hands to cup her breasts and, Tess noticed, he pressed himself to her back. "-and what will come after." 

Leslie drew in a breath mere inches from Tess's cock. The tingling feeling made her all the harder and the poor elf dug her nails into the cushion, she couldn't take any more teasing- sure, she was weak willed but in the face of such beauty, such a willing beauty, how could she be expected to have restraint? 

Moment by moment Keiter drew his hands down Leslie's gentle curves and the woman eased in to kiss Tess's quivering flesh, but the longer they went on the more expectations were set; Keiter pulled their host to all fours and Leslie kissed the side of Tess's cock, wrapping her pouted lips around it with a seal. No sooner had their human host come to all fours, she seemed to decide on how things would go and she brought her hands up on Tess's thighs spreading her legs and arching her own back so Keiter could continue to please her with his tongue from behind. 

In seconds Leslie moaned a throaty groan as Keiter's tongue found its place. She looked up at Tess with closed eyes and hair slightly askew framing a tiny smile that quickly grew. "Well, guess as far as religious rituals go, this is one of the more pleasant, huh?" 

"Yo- you're the one who deserves rituals- gods, you're so beautiful." Tess mewled. 

"Shut. . . up." She chuckled into a sigh, arching back against Keiter's muzzle as a flash of pleasure rippled over her features. She sighed out deeply against Tess and then, in a surge of lurid confidence, she eased up and took the head of Tess's dick into her mouth- it plumped her lips as she tightened her grip and started to push down trying to find how much she could handle. 

Tess slumped back in the couch whining gently and stroking the woman's hair back for all the good it would do. Leslie knew exactly what she was doing with her mouth and it was only seconds before her powerful tongue was stroking the underside of Tess's foreskin, circling every bit of her head as she sucked on that elven cock and started bobbing up and down on it a little. Tess whimpered and mewled under the cougar's mouth knowing there was nothing she could do to stop her. 

As if she'd want to anyway. 

For his part in it, Keiter was greedily drinking right from the woman's wetness- he clutched her flanks leaving indents with his claws which only drove her to work Tess's cock harder. She rolled her body like a sidewinder prowling the dunes leaning into Keiter's attention, drawing away so she could please Tess more and all the while her slender waist and gently rolling hips never once tried to draw away- she was committed to this. 

She was more than Tess could handle. She was probably more than even Keiter could. 

Yet they still tried. Leslie rocked her body into Keiter's muzzle as she clutched Tess's thighs and sucked her dick as if it held water in an oasis, but it was the attention and gentility that gave her away- she wasn't used to being the center of attention and in this moment she was a goddess to both of them. 

Tess leaned forward stroking her hands down the woman's back to clutch her butt cheeks. She and Keiter locked eyes and for a moment she thought she understood his intentions. . . She bit her lower lip, blue eyes flickering with mischief. She nodded. 

At that moment Leslie's rocking picked up significantly and she moaned around a mouth full of Tess. In seconds she was clenching her thighs together and undulating, digging her fingers into Tess's thighs as her orgasm broke hard and fast. Tess leaned back to give the woman breathing room but she came with that mouth full of elf she wanted so badly, even if she couldn't move pinned between her two guests, the woman kept rolling against Keiter's mouth urging him on for more. 

But she eventually jerked away, trembling and quivering as spasm after spasm rocked her body- she even relented Tess's cock in order to force air into her lungs and slumped forward panting and gigging into the elf's bronzed flesh. After nearly a minute, she turned her gaze up at Tess and smiled a little, "gods you two are something." 

"The same could be said of you." Keiter said as he undid his robe and, looking Tess right in the eye, let it drop. Even for his size he was a fairly impressive specimen- he was lean but confident in his size and his shoulders were squared proudly, not in a threatening manner but that of someone who had nothing to hide from the world. . . .it was rather charming, actually. Maybe it was the fact that his scales were so tight knit they looked more like a dusty red-brown skin than lizard scales, or the open lotus blossom amulet he wore that made his chest seem a little larger, but Tess found herself appreciating him in a new light that went beyond his character. 

Tess dampened her lips as her gaze flicked to the cleric's cock now poised dangerously close to Leslie's rear. "Oh," she breathed, fresh heat blazing across her cheeks. His cock stood a proud flesh color against his brown scales, easily thick enough to have filled Tess's hand and long enough that she would've needed both her hands to properly hold it. More than that, though, was the strange texture that nubbled his cock just slightly from the tip to the thickest part of the center and then more pronounced along the thinner base. 

Sensing a change in the mood Leslie looked over her shoulder, pressing her cheek to Tess's throbbing cock. She cooed softly as Keiter ran his fingers down her wonderfully curved butt and then gently pressed his hand against the small of her back to bring her down to his level. She was trembling as she complied, breathing sharp and quick, tickling Tess's sensitive flesh with her breath every moment that passed. The elf swallowed and stroked her hair back even as Keiter planted several kisses up the woman's spine and eased himself up against her. . . 

Tess slid down off the couch to sit in front of Leslie and pulled her into a half hug- she'd suffered so much, she needed it more than even Tess did but in her arms she'd understand that people cared about her Tess decided. Leslie wrapped her hands around Tess's waist and buried her face in the elf's chest with a mewling sigh. "You two. . ." 

Keiter raked his claw tenderly down Leslie's sweaty back leaving a trail of whitened flesh as he pushed the tip of his cock against her pussy- her mouth fell open allowing a weak moan to escape, but it quickly turned into a much deeper and more sensual sigh as Keiter pushed against her. He closed his eyes but even as he leaned forward Tess could see the smug grin crossing his lips with every inch he gave her. Leslie's face lit up with a new kind of lurid, resigned blush of someone who knew they were tasting forbidden fruit. 

It was a look Tess loved. She stroked the woman's hair back as she let out another whine of a moan and clutched Tess's back, an unapologetic open mouth "Oh gods!" fell from the human's lips when Keiter pushed even more into her. He took Leslie's waist firmly letting out a low sigh of his own and thrust gently into her. 

"Isira welcomes your voice-" he tried to choke out, punctuating his words with a slow thrust that joined their bodies. He leaned over his would-be convert and pumped her again. 

"Holy shit-" Leslie mewled. "G- Give me a minute. . . Godsyourebig-" With a slow, deliberate roll she pushed into Tess's space and then drew back like a receding tide back into Keiter's cock. Another moan parted her lips. "o- oh goodddds boy-o. . ." 

Tess smiled meekly at the pair while she tended Leslie for the moments it took her to become comfortable, cupping her cheek gently as Keiter gave her everything he had. She had a hypnotic roll to her body that invited the cleric to take what he wished and for a moment even Tess started to wonder what she would get from the woman- but before she could even entertain the idea of what might follow Keiter leaned forward taking up a fist full of Leslie's hair. He planted his other hand on the small of her back and pushed up on the balls of his feet, thrusting in a deep rolling motion of his own. 

The reaction was instantaneous: Leslie submitted with a husky moan, arching her back so her beautiful ass was right against Keiter and her chest was pressed to Tess in glorious resignation. He knew what she wanted, she wanted to be treated like a woman and more than that, she wanted someone strong enough to make her feel like one. 

Tess knew that feeling all too well. . . 

Leslie's moan was joined by Keiter letting out a sigh of his own. He thrust into her again. Again. Easing out further each time until he was drawing out to the tip and then sliding back in with one demanding thrust that made the human jelly between her guests. After a few long thrusts he pulled back on her hair and looked Tess in the eye before he shoved his entire length into her. Leslie's fingers dug into Tess's back and the little elf mewled painfully, trying to push her attacker away. 

Keiter leaned further over the woman, drew back and plowed into her. This time his thrusts were more insistent, immediate; he pulled her hair back harder forcing her to jerk her head back as he started plowing into her again, offering Leslie's mouth to Tess in apology and understanding- Tess took the hint and kissed her deeply with both hands cupping her cheeks. 

In that shared breath she found a lifetime of hope and wonder and the warmth she'd seen in so many humans. She found it pushed through her very soul by a kobold's dick and Isira's divinity. It was glorious in what it promised. Leslie grabbed Tess tightly as she was filled again and again by the cleric. 

Leslie struggled to breathe out a whimper as she was pounded again and again, her breasts swaying pendulously while Keiter gave it to her again and again. Harder with each stroke until the steady fap fap fap of her ass being slapped by the kobold's thrusting was the loudest sound in the room. She accepted it. She yearned for it. She rode back against him with every other thrust and pawed at Tess for air too hot to breathe any more. There was no question any more, Leslie belonged to them. 

And they belonged to her. 

Tess was going to fill her. She was going to moan her lover's name in elvish and give the woman everything they all wanted- 

But not before Keiter it seemed. 

Leslie yanked away from her kiss to let out a primal cry- Keiter yanked back on her mane and bored into her with an open mouthed moan of his own. He controlled her, guided her, demanded she give everything to know Isira's promise and when she rolled her hips back against him he snarled and plowed into her all the way. 

The human woman pushed back, Keiter slammed into her. Jerking forward, growling as his orgasm broke into her and he let loose with everything she had earned. He spasmed and jerked but it wasn't just him any more- in the blink of an eye Leslie was coming herself, ass up and back arched like a cat getting ready to pounce; with open mouthed surprise her orgasm tore through her with blistering heat that even Tess could feel the divinity of- as tears rolled from Leslie's clenched eyes she arched her back and whimpered again and again. 

For nearly two minutes the two stayed locked together undulating against one another but never breaking contact. At once they slumped together in an exhausted heap, panting and shivering in the post orgasm bliss that warmed the entire room with a tint of divine magic and raw sexuality. Leslie reached up weakly to hug Tess and lay her head in the elf's lap but it was Keiter's expression of contentment that stirred Tess's curiosity. 

"S- So-" Tess swallowed. "T- That was something." 

Leslie wiped her eyes and groaned. "Godsyouhavenoidea..." After a second it dawned on her. "Oh- oooohhhh, crap. Right." She licked her lips. "Sorry." 

"No worries," Tess smiled warily as Keiter nuzzled against Leslie's back and kissed her spine. After a moment he looked right up at the elf and drew in a long breath, bracing himself up with a wobbly gait and a vaguely frustrated moan from Leslie as he pulled out, spilling an impressive load onto the floor. 

For her part in it, Leslie curled up against Tess still breathlessly trying to orient herself. "Ho-" she sighed in the elf's ear. "I- I'm sorry." 

"Why?" 

Keiter glanced at her as he rifled in his robe's pocket, cock still glistening with mixed fluids. "You have nothing to be sorry for!" 

"N- I-" Leslie pushed her hair behind her own ears and instead of explaining herself she pushed Tess back, kissing her throat and shoulder. She made a vain attempt at fondling the elf's cock as she nuzzled into her but her sloppy movements all she managed to do was pull Tess's foreskin back on an already achingly hard erection. 

Tess took the woman's hand trying to adjust herself and for a moment it looked like Leslie would object, but instead she kissed Tess deeply. Primal hot passion poured from her like a waterfall and the cougar she was meant to be sprung once more from its hiding place- she pounced on her prey, sinking her teeth into the girl's shoulder with a whimper followed by a flurry of kisses along her neck and cheek, to her chin and then her mouth where she lingered, pushing herself on Tess, daring her to let go. Tess didn't of course, she couldn't if she wanted to; Leslie's demand was too intense, the cougar did not allow a moment to breathe. 

"You're going to split me in two-" she purred in Tess's ear. "W- Would you like that?" 

Tess whimpered. How had it all come so fast- what the hell had happened to her? The girl bit into her lower lip, a twitch from her cock reminding her of needs unfulfilled and the cougar that wasn't going to be denied. 

Leslie took her silence for consent. She balled her hand around a hand full of Tess's hair and pulled her head back, kissing her throat and straddling her lap- Tess could feel the viscous kobold spunk dribbling from Leslie's pussy oozing out, coating her elven girlcock from the base to the tip as Leslie rolled her hips up, slathering their mixed essence over the unnatural member. Some part of her wanted to stop the woman but every other part of her was stunned by the intensity of Leslie's demand. 

There was no time for thinking about it, no time for second guessing, the little elf from the north knew in her heart she wanted to feel the comfort she couldn't get from her own race- she knew Isira's faithful didn't see race. . . She knew that Leslie was beautiful- 

"Oh gods!" The two women moaned when Leslie started to ease down onto Tess. She was a velvet vice even after Keiter had had his way with her- the inferno of her core clenched down on Tess, fighting for every inch. But she wouldn't be denied. 

Leslie wrapped her arms around Tess's upper back, pushing chest to chest and kissing her so deeply they fought to share the same breath. Even so, when she started to sink down on Tess's cock she shifted her weight back and forth, taking more and more of the elf into her. Her body fought it, clenched almost painfully tight around Tess's raging hard on- she pushed, though. She pushed and rolled her body every which way to accommodate Tess and through a wispy sigh, she uttered the words that made the little elf's heart skip a beat. "You are so beautiful." 




Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 36



Volume 4: Dereliction of Duty 

Chapter XII: Dereliction of Duty 

Some minutes later Sarah peeked out from around her coat, emboldened by the barking dog's sudden quietness and the fact that her left leg had gone numb from being stuffed in the workbench's cubby. Hardly dignified, but she'd have gone unnoticed, surely. Once she was sure there was no one around she stood painfully, bracing her hand against the workbench and renewing her search for a tool suitable for cutting into the flooring. 

After a moment she gave up and strode over to the hole she'd made, crouching down she eyed the huge mastiff who was still attending the door, prancing left and right in anticipation someone would dare break in. All it would take was a moment to rot the wood enough to get what she was after, but for the dog any excuse would be more than enough to send it off the deep end. 

She bit her lower lip looking between the hole and the dog, then the little trim saw. There was a time for ingenuity and then there was a time to be quick- like ripping off a scab. Gods was- 

Movement stirred in her peripheral vision. She pitched to the side grabbing for her flintlock by instinct but the moment she saw more of the figure she understood the futility. Standing there in the inky gloom was her Cherub. The perfect, porcelain visage of a deity's servant was dressed in an odd three piece suit, mirror polished shoes and black gloves staring at her with white, pupil-less eyes as cold as the master they both served. Sarah exhaled a sigh of relief and irritation. 

Then horror as she realized what was going to happen. 

In the space of an instant Sarah imagined the dog turning on them upon sensing the new presence and- more importantly- the magic she carried with her. He'd turn to defend his master's property and probably attack whomever he saw, and since only Sarah could see her Cherub, she was the most likely target. 

What happened wasn't much different than what she imagined. Chac turned, teeth bared and his ire focused immediately upon where the Cherub was standing. Sarah shuffled back away from the dog as it started to plod toward it. For her part in it, the creature actually raised her brows and edged away calmly. To Sarah the sound of her shoes click clacking against the floorboards was actually kind of reassuring; it was the only time she'd ever seen the 'woman' uneasy about something. 

Not one to waste an opportunity, the redheaded half-elf eased towards her stash. She eyed the Cherub who seemed rather intently focused on the Mawik bred killing machine striding towards her, sniffing the air and trying to pinpoint the 'threat.' 

What little Sarah knew about the Mawik plains, and by extension their people, said that even the land itself seemed to reject the gods- everything had evolved some form of sensitivity to magic and an innate distrust of magic. Even the legendary sunless steel they produced could supposedly damage and even kill divine creatures. It seemed the tales she heard weren't that far off. . . 

"What are you doing?" The Cherub asked rather indignantly as she backed up. She made a vapid shooing motion at the dog who followed her hand's arc with his muzzle. The fear she was showing made Sarah wonder if the dog could actually hurt her- and by extension Sarah- or if she was just uneasy. "Go away." 

There was no sense in waiting around to find out, Sarah decided as the mastiff closed in on his prey. She slid her fingers into the hole and opened the channels in her body to let her 'gift' flow through. In seconds the floorboards began to dry and turn to a dull ashen grey that flaked off under the pressure of her palm. Moments after that the sub flooring gave way to a similar fate. Tendrils of rot crept out from around the hole like the roots of a tree, chewing through the wood easily and already starting to creature new fractures. Once Sarah was sure she had plenty of room to free her treasure she closed herself off and shook feeling back into her hand. 

The Cherub was circling back towards her at a slight angle that would ensure Chac passed by Sarah as they moved. Sarah gave the creature a dirty look as she reached into the hole and dug at the dirt as quickly as she could. Only a few feet away the dog stopped, sniffed the air and settled his gaze on Sarah. 

"Co- come now, don't give me that look." She sputtered a little, digging into the dirt all the faster now with both hands. "Don't do anything I'm going to regret. . ." The hard dirt scraped her sensitive flesh like gravel as she worked it faster. For every step he made towards her she only found an inch of purchase in the soil. There was no way she'd get what she needed fast enough. . . "A little help would be appreciated!" 

"Why would I help someone who's forgotten their basic duty? You were supposed to give that boy a reason to believe in-" 

"Do be realistic!" Sarah already had her lie spun up, plausible and perfectly executed in her mind. "You see what I'm dealing with here, don't you?" The dog stopped, looked between the Cherub and Sarah, confused by the presences. "Maybe you missed that part of my memory when you co-opted me, but Mawik animals despise magic in all its forms!" 

The Cherub took a half step back. Sarah smiled inwardly. Unless she was killed by the dog, she'd live another day. . . As she dug feverishly into the soil her fingers scraped the top of a familiar glass container. She almost exclaimed but before she could even celebrate internally the dog lunged at her. 

With all the grace of a cat tumbling downhill in a barrel the cleric rolled on to her back and brought her pistol up width-wise so the wood caught in his mouth. She barred her feet against his shoulders and shoved both hands against the pistol. The powerful creature barked furiously around the weapon baring down on her, snapping, shoving off against the rotting wood to attack his prey. 

Sarah did the only thing she could do; she whimpered and whined like a bitch and shoved the flat of her gun into the maw of that powerful beast to keep it from finding her throat. She knew better than to look to her Cherub for help but she still tried- unsurprisingly the creature was trying to keep distance from the whole affair. 

Divine servant indeed. 

Chac shoved down on her so hard her elbows slammed into the ground and she almost lost hold of the pistol. He yanked back against the weapon and thrashed his head back and forth, ripping it from her hands and sending it sailing across the room. Sarah watched in horror as the weapon clattered to the ground but she had no time to let it sink in before the dog was aiming for her throat. 

The half-elf pitched her weight to the side by reflex, tiling her head down to protect the vitals as she grabbed his muzzle with both hands. Teeth. Powerful jaws. She could kill him. . . 

Sarah kicked her foot under her flank. Pushed up only to have him shove her back down with his fore paw. How could she have been so stupid? She hadn't survived slavery and twenty years on the run for this, had she? She wanted to live. 

She deserved to live. 

"Kill it!" The Cherub shouted. 

"Ngh!" Sarah whimpered. She pushed up again only to be slammed back down. The dog thrashed again breaking out of Sarah's feeble grip. He dived for her face. 

It was a strange notion, but three decades of rolling around in one bed or another flashed through her mind in an instant and an idea formed between the time it took her to get her leg wrapped around his back and her hands under his throat. She pushed off the leverage she had and used her other leg to pull the dogs' towards his body sending him slightly off balance. Fear punched into her throat when he lashed out at her trying to find something to bite but her adrenaline surged with every passing second she became more aware of herself in relation to him and she wrestled against his leverage. 

Her hand wrapped around his throat and pushing his head back, she pushed his weight to the side with her thighs. They turned and fought more until she had him facing away from her and her weight pinning him down against the floor. Panting heavily and trembling like a leaf she looked to her Cherub and, through sweat stung eyes, she eyed her. "You. . . .are quite bothersome." 

For her part in it, the Cherub crossed her arms over her well tailored suit and just stared at her as the dog thrashed in Sarah's arms. Eventually she deemed her cleric worthy of a vague shrug and a small 'hmph.' 

Sarah tightened her grip on the dog trying for a reassuring coo that came out far more pained than she meant it to. "Normally, I'd love nothing more than to spend quality time wrapped around you, but I really do need to be going." To her Cherub, she said: "Be so kind as to fetch my-" 

"That's not how this works, Sarah." 

"Oh! Well then allow me to let our friend here go and we can pontificate endlessly on division of labor!" Sarah grunted when the dog thrashed again. 

The Cherub, unfazed, stared at her indifferently. "You don't keep your end of our bargain- you don't serve your god. Why should that god now grant you-" 

"Come off it," Sarah cut her off. "I've had quite enough to deal with in the past few days that my patience is quite sincerely at its limit!" 

"You were supposed to show that boy the power of the Engineer, you were supposed to display a miracle for him. . . You were supposed to bring him into prayer." 

"If you've not been paying attention, there is a dog here!" She push back when he tried to free himself again. "A Mawik one at that!" 

"That is not my problem." 

"My death will be! Or have you forgotten?" 

The Cherub stiffened a little. Sarah wasn't supposed to know about that little nuance in their Pact. "I will be remade. You won't." 

"Spare me!" Sarah grumbled as she briefly considered using an actual blessing to disable her would be killer. It had been decades since she'd done anything like it and the notion felt absurd, almost blasphemous to even consider- irony in motion. "Now please be so kind as to-" 

"No." 

Sarah chuffed and in her most heavily accented sphinx said, "You're a bitch, you know that?" 

A dry smile was all she earned in response. 

"Fine, I'll let him go," Sarah lied. The Cherub wouldn't know it was a lie but if she was so damn proud she could guess at Sarah's buff. 

At first the Cherub didn't react but when Sarah started to draw back her weight from the dog she backed up a step and actually started to turn away as if she'd be able to run right through the wall. Maybe it had something to do with how they interacted with the real world- Sarah noted it, secured the dog once more and waited until the Cherub was a few feet distant before she reached for the hole in the floor again. 

She worked her weight back using every muscle in her body to bend back enough to claw deeper into the dirt until she found her jar again. Fighting the dog every inch of the way, Sarah pulled the stopper on the container and grabbed the rolled up documents inside, stuffing them into her coat pocket she looked to where the Cherub was- against the workbench watching both of them. 

There was no way she'd be able to let the dog go and get out in time to avoid being hurt. But that didn't mean she couldn't distract him, did it? Sarah puzzled it over briefly and smiled when an idea hit her. She fished in her coat pocket for one of her gold coins and held it to the dog's snout. He gnashed at the smell, growling and Sarah opened herself up to the hot kiss of entropy directed through her fingers into it- the coin warped slightly and even she became aware of the surge in magical energy within it. When the dog was well and truly about to rip himself from under her she threw it right towards the Cherub and rolled off him, curling into a protective ball under her coat. 

He tore off barking loudly. Nails clattering against the boards. In a second he cleared half the distance. He wasn't going to hurt Sarah. 

Sarah sprung from her cowering and scampered for the door, not looking back. She was out the door before the dog had even gotten to the work bench. 

Once outside Sarah heaved a sigh, drinking in the evening air and slumping against the wall. Her pistol was still inside, but she couldn't go back for it now, there would be no point. The Cherub? Well. . . 

"That was uncalled for," a voice said to her right. Sarah startled. Her Cherub was standing there looking none too pleased. 

Sarah turned away. She was in no mood. 

Five steps later the Cherub touched her shoulder sending a thrill of icy emptiness through Sarah's entire being- a soulless vacuum of unfathomable emptiness rolled out before her and atrophied any sense of self, any hope or relief she might have held. Sarah was numbed to the core causing her to stagger and stop. She looked to her Cherub, eyes narrowed. 

"I am not done with you." 

From somewhere distant Sarah muttered, "I am not His property." 

"But you are. We have a Pact. You failed Him yet again. . ." She edged closer, nose to nose. Her lifeless eyes betrayed nothing. "You had a chance to do something powerful. . . I give you these powers to do His bidding." 

"I showed the boy a better way!" Sarah could feel her natural spirit winding through her, rising. Pride and irritation that someone would dare challenge her work fueled new levels of both. "I taught him a better method, what is best for an inventor if not the refinement of one's craft?" 

The Cherub's right eye twitched a little. Just like Sarah's did when she was stressed. "I decide when you have failed. I decide the standards. You refute them, again and again. . ." 

"The dog-" 

"Has nothing to do with it!" She snapped. Sarah buckled under a sudden wave of steely rage that slammed into her like a hammer, she threw her hands up to protect herself but there was nothing to be done. In the brief flicker of her returned awareness, she understood that there was no sense in lying. 

It was like before when Sarah and her Cherub shared the same mental state, she was an open book to the divine creature and so long as she concentrated on holding that link, Sarah would be the secondary mind in the mix. She mentally tried to withdraw as Isira had taught her to do but the creature held that link tight. Searching. Raking through her mind while she had full access. She was looking for something. 

"There!" Someone shouted. 

The Cherub ripped the link away and in an instant she was gone leaving Sarah dazed and utterly drained as if she'd been Compelled to work for days without rest. Groggily Sarah looked around to see a pair of men approaching her on either side; they looked like common farmers but for their distinctive- and dangerous- walk. 

The four of them approached, penned her in so she had nowhere to run. It took a moment to click and when it did she just about cried. These were men she knew by reputation. These were men you did not want visiting you. . . 

She had hired them decades ago to help her get out of the city should something go wrong, but now they had something else in mind. 

She knew them; these were the kinds of men that made people disappear for good. 

# 

The moment the black bag was ripped from Sarah's head she put on her most charming smile and met the gaze of her captor as if she had no reason to fear anything he might do to her. He was tall and lanky, worn rough by a lifetime of choices he shouldn't have had to make about people's very lives and, Sarah imagined, no shortage of hearing the pleas of victims of his reprehensible actions. 

Sarah had known men like this- few and far between though they were, they had at one time or another held some kind of principles. Unlike the man that had purchased her so many years ago, these were arguably reasonable people by comparison. She bought herself some good will by making it plainly evident she had no intention of running. 

It worked. A little. The guards holding her arms loosened their grip a touch. 

"You keep strange company." The lanky man said in a defeated, accusatory tone. "The day people come looking for you at my door is the day I begin to wonder what kind of people I am dealing with. . . .the last time this happened half the village went missing. Poof! One night and everyone's gone! Finding the right people is always the challenge, you see?" He reached for her and slowly lifted her glasses. "Yes, like you- you need these to see, we all need clarity." He set them down on his desk. 

"Quite-" 

"I'm not finished!" 

"By all means." 

In two long strides her rounded his desk and eased himself into his chair. "Where was I- ah! Clarity! Clarity is important, very important when life is on the line, no? It works both ways, even! You become more clear when people go looking for answers, so in order to stay from being clarified, what must we do?" 

Sarah opened her mouth. 

"We must keep people from asking questions!" 

"Naturally!" The half-elf smiled wryly. "I was never one for asking questions, myself, except insofar that I am quite curious why you think I am worthy of your rather magnanimous splendor? Forsooth, I've kept to my end of our arrangement, even when business has taken me away from being able to call upon the services I've paid for." She gave him an empty smile. "I seem to remember paying quite well for them, in fact." 

He eased back a little, taking in Sarah's voluptuous curves for several seconds before he finally raised a finger. Then, slowly he tapped his cheekbone. Once. Twice. When he saw fit he spoke again, "girls like you are rare, very rare. . . .if not for the elf ears I'd swear you were some kind of Free State Agent looking to expose me!" 

"But-" 

"Your friends! Who are they, hm?" 

Sarah blinked, "Well now-" 

"Keep in mind!" He clapped once. The sound was deafening. "I don't like to ask questions! Only receive answers, yes?" 

It took a moment to run through all the people he could be meaning when he meant 'friends' and for a moment Sarah wondered if he meant Tessarie and Keiter. "The boy that's dealing with the mayor's daughter? I fear I know very little of him except that he is a paladin- lamentable, really- he's an Alaecon follower from what I understand!" When he remained silent, she continued. "He's doing as his god dictates, good man; he's trying to ease whatever the family is going through!" 

"Alaecon. . ." Her captor looked Sarah over dubiously. "Somehow I doubt your god's Dream will spare you here-" 

"Don't be ridiculous! I am an Engineer, I leave the dreaming to people who're more in line with such basic thinking! But, should he have been the one to ruffle your spirits so much, I imagine he was doing what his god bids- and put to a finer point, either the mayor's daughter knew about whatever it is you do or someone let on." 

He drew in a long breath, stood and broke the distance between them. His voice was glacial. "I. Do not. Have. Leaks." 

"Then you'll need to be more specific! The boy is his own guidepost, I picked him up in Sorash to get out of the city with my head in tact, I know as much about him as you do and-" 

"Two women." He said sharply. 

"I always did say that the best things in life usually begin with at least two women-" 

He slapped her hard enough to leave a mark. "Focus, you little nymph. Where are they?" 

Sarah tried her best not to let the sting keep her from smiling. "I quite sincerely have no idea what you're talking about-" He raised his hand again. "That's not to say I can't find out! Maybe if you could tell me a little about them I might be able to fill in the gaps!" 

Without a word he looked to the men holding her. They shared a brief glance and one of them cleared his throat. "He said they had black hair, one had brown hair and looked tan. One was wearing clothes, the other in black leathers that held light." 




Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 36



"Held light?" Sarah looked at the man, trying to put his features together in the slight blur her vision had become. "I don't-" 

"They were dark. Very dark, light wouldn't touch them, he said." 

"Oh- oh dear." Sarah tensed. "T- Then you've serious problems!" She looked to the taller man, voice wavering slightly in the sudden realization that there was no way she could get out of this situation without exposing herself to serious amounts of unnecessary risk on either side. Knowing better than to burn bridges she'd not yet crossed, the cleric relaxed her shoulders and spoke in a somber tone: "she's an assassin. . . .one of the better ones to come from the west, I believe." 

No one spoke. 

"Reach into my left pocket here, you'll find a set of cards. No, in my coat- there." As the guard turned them around Sarah continued, "I personally witnessed her murder several retainers and mercenaries in Sorash to get to a nobleman- all at once, mind you!" 

"Sir-" the guard handed the cards to the lanky man. "This one has Baccus's name on it." 

"And the other my own, may I add." 

As the lanky man studied the cards he motioned Sarah to continue. 

"I can only imagine what reason she would have to come looking for yourself or your companions! She seems to be hunting nobility. I dare say myself more than-" 

"Don't insult my intelligence, elf. Your nobility is about as real as the tears I'm going to shed when I turn you over to a whorehouse—" 

"Now see here!" 

"Five seconds. Spend them wisely." He tossed the cards on the desk beside her glasses. 

There was a split second where Sarah entertained the idea of atrophying her guards and taking her chances at getting back to her friends. Instead, she applied the tool she was much more comfortable with; her tongue. "If she came to you looking for me, she knows where your friends are. She's also been killing very high profile individuals as of late, suggesting she's building a reputation of some sort, I believe!" 

"I don't see how that's going to help you-" 

"Consider what would happen if someone wanting to make a reputation for themselves would do to flush out powerful targets! Surely a man such as yourself is not well known to any but the most secretive of sorts-" 

"Time's up." 

The guards started to pull on her. 

Sarah flailed. "She's not after you but she'll expose you by virtue of her association with the mayor's murder!" She pushed against the men feebly, already knowing it would do no good. "The city militia patrolling the streets and the locals aren't going to give up until they find out who killed their favorite figureheads!" 

The lanky man picked up her glasses as the guards dragged Sarah towards the door. Before the opened it, she gave one final pull, trying to wrench herself free of their grip. 

"She's after me! I'm much more useful as leverage than anything else!" 

"Stop," the older man said. "I was just thinking, a very good idea crossed my mind. Why do I not tie you up in the middle of the square and invite her to play, hm?" 

"Posh! What if instead I was to coax out the goodness in our resident sheriff to rally the militia and Sorash's own! I am sure I can convince them to focus on the real target of their search rather than combing the village and the surroundings, potentially stumbling upon anything they should not!" 

"Mmm. . . .and I suppose you want to go free after that." 

"We've not had any disagreements thus far, have we?" She tried for a smile but there was no heart in it. "I don't dabble in another person's business, least of all when it's not interfering with mine. I suspect you're as professional, so let's not pretend otherwise! Good for the goose and gander and all-" 

He held up a hand. "You westerners talk too much. This is what will happen: do as you've said, bring me her head or have her run out by dawn with the soldiers." 

Sarah started to relax. "I'm sure that's doable, given a couple of days!" Days she'd spend disappearing, of course. 

"By dawn." 

"B- By- are you mad?! She's a-" the guard wrenched her arm painfully in its socket. "Ah, ah, ah, now now, let's not be hasty!" 

"I said dawn." 

Sarah winced. "I dare say that's a fantastically tall order, I've spent a great deal of time learning how to properly spend an evening, but I don't thin-" 

"There's always the whorehouse," he said indifferently. "Take-" 

"Okay! I'll get started immediately!" She licked her lips. "But mayhap you'd be so kind as to return my effects, I'll need those cards to make my case!" 

In a couple strides the man was in front of her once more. He set her glasses on her nose and gently brushed her bangs from her face, trailing an icy finger down her cheek to cup her chin. He smiled thinly. "You're going to make me a lot of money, little Sarah Elenren. . ." he patted her cheek, reveling in her sudden stillness. 

She'd forgotten the sound of her maiden name, but in his mouth it sounded like a death sentence. 

Then again, that was the whole idea. 

There was no more bravado in her, no fight she could dig out or snide joke she could make. Hesitantly she drew in a breath. She had to have been showing her fear, the lanky bastard just held her gaze for nearly a minute. At least she had the good grace not to buckle too much. 

"Dawn." 

Sarah didn't trust herself enough to speak. She nodded. 

Inside she was screaming.



Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 37



Volume 4: Dereliction of Duty 

Chapter XIII: Worth Bleeding For? 

There was no Felicia. There was only a muzzy awareness of pain and a cripplingly slow thought process trying to get itself in order, to form a thought and if it wasn't too much work, to orient the person who'd given it form. . . 

But that was wishful thinking on a good day. Felicia knew who she was in an instant, where she was an instant later and that her head and shoulder hurt like all hell a moment after that. She wanted to crawl back into the blissful abyss of unconsciousness and pretend the world didn't exist. But by the gods was she denied that simple luxury- her shoulder was on fire, throbbing a steady beat of angry pain through her very bones; demanding something be done about it. 

She opened her eyes painfully and almost instantly regretted it as she came to realize the pressure on her right side was due to her laying on her side and her left eye voiced its objection at being opened with a lance of pain all its own. The teenager tried to roll on to her back only to find she'd been tied to the chair she'd been sitting in. . . 

As far as wakeups went, it wasn't the most pleasant way to start the day. 

Felicia tested her limits- her hands had been tied in front of her and her ankles and waist to the chair. A wave of panic ripped through her as she remembered the blade she'd been given. Had it been stolen? Had Lostariel taken a symbol of her peoples' culture? 

No. 

It was still tied to her waist. 

Why the hell hadn't she taken it? Felicia groaned pathetically in the quiet house, looking between the blade and the floor. Her body wanted to rest but the pain in her shoulder made it almost impossible to do anything but whimper, not even the sting of betrayal hurt as much as the ache from where the soldier's quarrel had punched into her flesh. 

Of course, the other side of the problem wasn't that she'd been betrayed- coming from a family of hunters, Felicia knew that even human animals acted within their instinctual desires- no, the real issue, the one that galled her all the more is that Lostariel knew Felicia wasn't a threat such that she'd left the girl the means of her own escape. 

Then again, she'd said it herself- Felicia didn't belong in their world. She was bestowing a mercy not many would have, certainly not Sarah or her father. . . For all her faults, Lostariel wasn't inhuman, at least. . . 

Felicia curled into a ball trying to ease some of the weight from her shoulder and in that quiet house she cried tears no one would see. Lostariel wasn't a friend to her any more than Sarah was, how could she have been so foolish to leave her father and the farm to be shot at by guards, get wrapped up in slaving conspiracies and. . . .everything else?! Spirits of the ancients warned the plains walkers early on how untrustworthy people were, why hadn't she listened? Her mother knew! Her mother. . ." 

A quiet sob wracked the chesty girl and she buried her face to the floor. Her mother wouldn't want to see her acting like this, she wouldn't want tears shed outside of childbirth or tears of joy. Why was it she had to die while her husband and Felicia got to live? Why couldn't she have been the one to keep Felicia safe? 

"Stop that. . ." She whispered to herself. "Stopstopstop." She wasn't doing herself any favors, no one was going to come pull her up, no one was going to undo the rope and no one was responsible for her any more. She was an adult. 

She needed to act like one. 

Felicia drew in a shaky lung full of the musty flooring and took stock of her situation. She could get out of here and then she could head back to the plains- her father, the outsider, was dead to her any way. If the Elders asked she'd tell them the truth. Yes, she just needed to- to get out of here. 

To get out of here and leave this insanity and its people behind. Yes. Yes, this would work. 

Painfully she pushed her weight to her left attempting to roll over. After a few tries and a considerable amount of agony she managed- bent like an A with her butt in the air and the chair hanging over her like her father did sometimes was irritatingly familiar, even with her forehead pressed to the floor he felt more vulnerable than she should have. None the less, she pushed on and jerked her body left and right, forward and back. 

The only thing she managed to do was run herself out of breath. 

This was stupid and it was never going to work. Felicia thrashed against her chair trying to loosen the kukri from it's sheath with wormlike movements- bucking her hips back and up and trying to press her tummy to the floor while her knees and chest did their best to collect every fucking splinter they came across. "Ngh!" 

Another thrash and the girl toppled over on her left side, slamming her weight into the kukri's handle which dug all the more in when it found a soft spot between her pelvis and where it connected to her leg. She bit down on her lower lip to stop the scream as fresh waves of agony crashed against the shores of her mind. She let out a long sigh through pouted lips, sucked in another breath and then- and only then- realized what kind of an idiot she was being. 

With a little effort she turned her body along with the chair and managed to brace the first bit of the elder's kukri against the outside of the back. Then she turned and grabbed the end cap and pulled. It came from its sheath smoothly. . . 

Lostariel had meant that to be the solution all along- she'd deliberately made it easy for Felicia to escape. She was just being an idiot. Felicia felt vaguely ashamed as she leveraged the weapon to free herself, then once free she slumped against the wall clutching her shoulder and her knees to her chest. 

She needed time to think- was this really what she wanted? To go back to Mawik and hide? She had plenty of coin that could have set her off for the rest of her life, it wasn't like she couldn't do just about anything she wanted to do. . . 

The girl scrubbed her face careful to avoid her blackened eye, she sighed. Her father's life was over, he'd seen to it, but Sarah's wasn't. Felicia could still warn her. She was honor bound to; no one abandoned their friends in times of need, even if there had been a falling out. 

Yes. She'd warn Sarah and then she'd make her own fortune in the world. 

Felicia rose painfully, nearly collapsed and after a few more attempts, managed to stay upright for more than a minute at a time. Once she was sure she wasn't going to fall over she made her way through the house, pilfering everything she thought might look useful and non critical- she wasn't about to steal Lostariel's medicine, for example. Once done, she wandered towards the door, wondering just how strong her new convictions really were. Would she really have the heart to just leave Sarah be? 

# 

Almost half an hour later she was standing outside the mayor's house knocking on the door and questioning her own sanity. When the tall western man answered again he looked shocked at her state but at least he had the good grace to pretend nothing had changed- and still absently steal a glance at her chest. 

Felicia was too tired to care. Too tired to be subtle. "How well do you know Sarah? Uh. . . Marchioness Kettar?" 

The man took a moment to reevaluate Felicia before he stepped out of the house and gently closed the door behind him. "Did she do th-" 

"No, no, no. . . She's in great danger and I need to find her-" 

"All right? Tell me everything-" 

"Not until I know-" 

"I'm a paladin, you can-" 

"You're not doing yourself any favors," Felicia surprised herself with the strength in her voice. She didn't break his gaze as she produced the kukri she'd been given. "I come from a place where the gods have no power, your title isn't going to sway me. . . I'm sorry." 

Surprisingly he backed away a little, eyeing the blade and her in turn. "Point made, can you put that away please?" 

"Uh- sure. I need to warn her- someone's coming to kill her, the same person who killed the mayor and we just uncovered a slave ring in the fields and-" 

"Hold on. Are you saying you work for this assassin?" 

"What? No, no I was trying to convince her not to kill Sarah! Then we found this slavery-" 

"And you knew she killed the mayor-" 

"Ngh! Come on! Let me finish, will you! This is why you people never get anything done, she's right! You people talk all day instead of listening!" It clicked a moment too late what she'd said. "Oh shit."Felicia clamped her hand over her mouth. "I mean. . . .there are people who say that! Ye- yeah! You talk too much and do too little. It's time you changed that, but I can't do it alone. . . .so please, if you know Sarah, warn her." 

The man was watching her. "Are you done?" 

"Y- No. Look, there's a group of human slave traders under the village. They have a trap door out in the fields that lead to some tunnels. We ran into a bunch of people down there and we had to leave, but we helped some people! There's still more down there- tell the guard or whatever. . ." 

"Why don't you, miss? You know where they are and-" 

"Because the last time I ran into them they tried to kill me, so no! You 'civilized' people are insane. Just-" Felicia exhaled sharply letting her shoulders slump. "Just. . . Help her. I'll try and find her- the assassin- but I'm not. . ." 

"You're not?" 

"You were right. This is no place for me." She licked her lips. "You people are insane." 

"So you keep saying," the man looked around warily. "Have you told anyone else about these slavers?" 

"Uh- n- no?" 

"Okay. . . See to it you don't, for your safety. I'll see what I can do about it, but please, be careful. Stay out of sight and-" 

Felicia shook her head. "I'm going to get my things and leave, hopefully I can find Sarah before that but I wanted someone else to know in case I missed her. Please help her if you can." 

Even before the teenager had finished he was straightening his posture and looking around for threats. "I will. . ." He said cautiously. 

"Thanks," Felicia muttered as she turned towards the inn. 

The first rays of sunlight were creeping over the horizon painting the sky a dull salmon color on its way into lavender with the threat of the familiar orange tint breaking into the clouds soon thereafter. For every step a little more color seeped into the palette adding to the variety and offering a new promise for the day. 

At one time it'd been beautiful to Felicia, now it just felt like it was marking off another day. One in which she'd somehow failed her friend, her tribe and even herself, she couldn't pretend she hadn't. The elders always told children to stand by their friends because survival meant working together but if she couldn't even find them, what kind of good would she do? 

Without a word in passing, the girl from the plains trudged her way up to her inn room and recovered her gear, making a quick cursory search through the building for any indication Sarah had been present. No one seemed particularly interested in talking to her and those few that did didn't recall seeing a curvy redhead half-elf come or go. . . 

That was it, then. She'd done what she could, anything else was in the hands of the ancient or- she dreaded to think- the gods themselves. As she wandered over to the horse stables she noticed the square was almost completely empty- strange but it was still early yet. 

She made her way to the stall where her horse had been sheltered trying to shake off the sense that something was off, but it wouldn't leave. . . 

Felicia was wrong to just pick up and leave. That wasn't what friends did. She'd settle her gear on her horse and then together they'd go looking for her, maybe she could convince her to come and they could travel together for a while. . . Yes, that was much more preferable to just leaving without a word. 

Leaving was something cowards did. But protectors, real plains walkers, they stood by their friends. Felicia saddling her horse and tied her equipment down, a sudden surge of confidence followed her change in focus. It felt good to be in the right again. 

But like many things young and old, in stories told throughout history in innumerable languages, the universe was always ready to make a mess of the best laid plans of men and gods alike. . . A shout from outside grabbed Felicia's attention. A second and a third followed quickly thereafter and, upon peeking through the slat between the wall boards, she found out why. 

In the middle of the square Sarah stood proudly in an ankle length coat with her arms outstretched as if presenting something, her body was cocked to show off the best of her allure and the smug grin she wore couldn't have been broken by anything short of an iron bar. She was flanked on either side by village militia and opposite her were several guards from Sorash. It almost seemed like the locals were defending her from the city guards. 

But then a form caught the girl's attention at the fringes of the halo of lantern light; a wraith of shadow swooping in from behind the jail. It was Lostariel. She was just feet from Sarah. Just a few feet from her was a small group of other men in dark leathers brandishing clubs like the slavers had used. It seemed like no one had seen them while they made their way towards the figure cloaked in shadows. 

Felicia looked to her horse with a sickening feeling roiling in her stomach. 

You didn't abandon your friends. 

You didn't abandon your friends. 

You. Did not. Abandon them.



Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 38



Volume 4: Dereliction of Duty 

Chapter XVI: A Lotus in Bloom 

Sleep was a thing Tessarie never really understood; going unconscious for several hours only to wake up groggy and barely coherent? What was it really good for and why did everything in the known world seem to do it? What was Tess missing out on, she wondered as she breathed in Leslie's scent. The older woman laid curled up in the elf's arms with Keiter in front of her, splayed out and snoring- content that all was right with the world. 

In their state of oblivion, they didn't worry about the future or question themselves; there was no fear or anger. Maybe it was how creatures dealt with those kinds of things and elves' own ways of just worked for them. Maybe that was what made them so special. . . 

That and magic. 

Like the magic that'd turned her into a freak- one could control it if they knew how and elves were meant to handle it. Tess hadn't learned how to do so; she'd failed and proved to everyone in her family, the entire community! Among special people, she was the most special of all- she was a failure. 

But she wasn't entirely alone, was she? She was a failure who'd found others, friends! Of some of the strangest varieties she could have imagined, she walked with humans and a kobold- of all things- and even an elf-blooded woman! Oh, but the fates had smiled on her. It could have been so much worse. . . 

Tess sighed deeply. Maybe it was the tingle from the cleric and his new disciple but Tess felt surprisingly good for the first time in a long time. She could have hope for the future and more than that, she knew she wasn't alone. People tolerated her; if anything Leslie was an example of that. 

The little elf hugged her close, nuzzling into the nape of the woman's neck. Maybe her uncle had been right that there was purpose to everything and no suffering went without some kind of reward or lesson to be learned. 

What that lesson was exactly, she wasn't sure of just yet but maybe it'd become apparent in time. In the meantime, she snuggled into Leslie's warmth, listening to the slow rhythm of her breathing and occupying her mind with thoughts of the future. When the first slivers of morning light broke the darkness of the room she gently nudged Leslie awake. 

"Ngh. . .?" 

"Hi. . ." 

The woman drew in a deep breath and reached for Tess's hand, cupping it tenderly. "Hey." She pulled Keiter's sleeping form closer against her naked tummy and for a moment the little kobold seemed to nuzzle into her warmth only to go limp once more. 

"He really likes you. . ." Tess pushed up on her forearm to rest her chin on the woman's arm- even knowing Leslie couldn't see, she imagined that she was being watched and so she tried to smile. "I think his goddess does, too." 

"Mmm, well, it's either the sleepiness or the soreness- can't really tell one from the other at the moment- but I think I'm pretty partial to them too." She stroked Tess's blonde hair behind her ear, unerringly guiding it to rest. "It's nice to be wanted." 

"Wanted." Tess kissed her bicep as she drank in the older woman's natural, shameless beauty. Laying there completely naked between an elf and a kobold and she didn't look any more out of place than silk would on a queen's dress. She was a pale, radiant light in a place that needed it most- with the faintest touch of divinity caressing her natural essence, she had it in her to be a force of nature, held back only by her ability to comprehend it. 

They laid in silence for a few seconds before Tess kissed her again. "You- you think Isira is ready for you?" 

"Mmm. It's too early for that kind of talk. If She wants to hear my prayers, she will. . ." She pouted her lips a little, considering. 

"It's not a crime to want that. If it comforts you-" 

"I don't need comfort," without warning she pulled Tess into a deep kiss- so firey was her passion Tess couldn't help but wilt in her warmth. She wrapped her arms around the woman and returned what she was able; a mere flicker of a candle to her inferno. Even her strength somehow surged, daring the little elf to resist, making it clear she was still able to carry herself with pride. 

When Leslie finally let up they were panting into each other's mouthes and- Tess imagined- searching for the words to express themselves. There were none, of course, but still they tried. Through more kissing, more touching and more hugs they explored one another as outcasts sharing common ground. In so many ways they were a family devoid of bloodlines and pressure. The kind of family that existed regardless- maybe even in spite of- the world at large. 

The longer their explorations continued the stronger the woman's divine essence seemed to swell. Power and ageless warmth rippled through her body seeming without end or beginning and the kiss of her natural magic grew with it- she gave off an aura of contentment. Divinely inspire, human grown and for the first time in a long time, completely at peace with herself and the world. 

Tess couldn't help but be drawn in by her aura and before either of them knew it she was cuddling the woman and trying to melt into her. It was right. It was just. It was good. 

Leslie pulled her in just as close, stroking Tess's back with her free hand as she held Keiter close. Neither of them spoke but in their quiet appreciation words felt easy, life felt full of possibility and- for the first time in her short life, Tess was happy. She sighed and giggled into Leslie's neck. 

"Me too, kiddo. Mmm." 

"You feel really good." 

"You're just saying that because you're poking my ass." 

"Uh- oh! Erm- s- sorry." 

Leslie chuckled. "I don't want to ruin anything you might have planned- don't give me that look, I know you're giving me a look- but when were you going to go meet with your friend?" 

"Fri- oh, Sarah."Tess licked her lips. "I- I was going to say we should probably get going soon. It's sunrise, people do things at sunrise, usually, so maybe it's a good time." 

Leslie took a deep breath, leaning back against Tess and sighing it out. "Okay," 

"I'm sorry-" 

"Ah, none of that. I didn't bring you two into my home to hear you apologize-" she grinned slyly. "Well, I hadn't brought you here to do a lot of things but we still did them. So! Now you're going to pay the price for my hospitality." 

"Uhm- O- Okay? What must I do?" 

Leslie mocked indignation with a hand to her chest. "Not even a question? What if I wanted to make you into stew or something, huh? Or, I dunno, hook you up to a milk pump-" 

"I can run really fast. . .?" 

"The proper answer is 'if your mouth is the milk pump, I think I'm okay with this." She booped the elf on the nose with a little grin. Slowly she turned to face Tess full on and traced a finger down the side of her cheek, raising it with the crook of her finger. The touch lingered warm and subtle and if Leslie could have seen the confusion she probably would've understood Tess's hesitation. 

But instead of speaking she took the lotus flower pendant she'd been given and wrapped both of their hands around it. She kissed Tess's hand first and then her own. Murmuring, she whispered. "Thank you." 

"I- I didn't do anything. . ." 

"Sometimes you get lucky and change someone's life without meaning to or knowing what you did. You'll get used to it. But. . . .and don't take this the wrong way, but if you're going to go out crusading with your friend here, you're going to need something that doesn't look like you rolled a beggar for it." 

"I don't- rolled a beggar? I don't understand." 

Leslie hauled herself up to her knees and eventually her feet, stumbling a little as she found her footing. Tess eventually managed to muster the courage to follow and was lead to one of the outfits ringing the walls of the home- the seamstress picked up one of the smaller outfits with the travel coat and comfortable looking pants and she turned to Tess. "Well, no offense but that 'dress' you had was a mess. I'm guessing it was a human one and you just cut it up, so maybe this'll be a little closer to your fit." 

"I- I- I can't accept this." 

"You can't afford not to, either." She pushed the clothing to Tess gently. "Pretty sure it's a sin or against the law not to accept a gift from a naked woman- unless it's her cooking first thing in the morning, because that's bound to go poorly." 

"But-" Leslie silenced her with a finger. 

"No buts. I like you, but I don't like you well enough to let you insult me by saying no. . ." She eased into Tess's space and kissed her chin. "Please, let me do something nice for you too." 

Tess looked away warily, unsure what to do. The last time she'd accepted a gift from someone- no, Leslie wasn't like that. She wouldn't hurt anyone, it was Tess who'd been wrong. She looked to the woman and smiled a coy, weak little grin. "Thank you. . ." 

Leslie eased smoothly into her professional mindset that Tess missed it until she had hands groping down her sides. "Go get dressed and I'll see where it needs to be taken in." 

# 

Half an hour later Keiter awoke while Leslie finished off the hem of Tess's blouse. The clothes flattered her figure but allowed for a wonderful degree of mobility and breathability by way of woven mesh concealed by tie-back flaps and the coat only added to the charm and utility; it was an ensemble fit for royalty and it was hers. 

She giggled at the thought. 

Keiter quietly shuffled into his robe and wandered over as Leslie finished the last stitching, his strange smile was firmly in place but his eyes were as unreadable as ever. After appraising Tess he stroked Leslie's leg. "Your passion shows in your work and your soul." 

"I suppose it shows in the rug, too." She said around the pins clamped between her lips. "And you're going to leave me to clean it up! That's gratitude-" Keiter hugged her leg. "Oh no you don't, you're not going to cuddle your way out of this." 

"But it was cuddling that got me into it." 

Tess gaped, Leslie laughed. Once finished with her stitching the human plucked a set of boots that Tess was a little too small for. She wasn't about to turn them down, though. Once her 'client' was fully dressed, Leslie leaned back on her haunches. "How's she look?" 

"Ready for the world," Keiter said softly. With a glance to the woman, he turned to Tess. "How do you feel?" 

Looking at the two who were eying her expectantly she fidgeted. With a little flourish she turned only to crouch down in front of Leslie and kiss her. "Thank you. Thank you so much." 

"Tit for tat. . ." 

Keiter took her shoulders gently so that she'd know where he was in relation to her, he spent several seconds bringing her hands to Tess's smile. His voice was careful, hallowed and reverent. "This is your gift to the world, the smiles you create exist because of you. . . My friend, this world needs you." 

"B-" 

"Don't think. . . Feel it." His reptilian eyes turned to Tess, searching. "All things you do have power but it's only with intention that that power can manifest, you are more powerful than anything you can see. More powerful than the stars in the sky because you act on the world and those around you." 

Leslie dampened her lips and took in a shaky breath. "What if I'm not who you think I am?" 

"What I think doesn't matter, the day to day comes and goes- it hurts us because we know our experiences in that moment are powerful and live in our body. But pleasure and passion and life and happiness, these can't be broken by our body. Our hearts carry on with them, our souls live it through our intention." 

Tess listened to the kobold lay out his goddess's philosophy, curious and slightly unnerved. He was promising her the world, not because she wanted it but he honestly believed she could have it. . . 

Some part of her elven heart wanted it too. . . 

"Day by day, think of the things you bring to the world and whether or not they are things you believe belong in it. Isira does not act on our behalf because She knows we are capable of so much. But She does listen. She does watch and She does comfort. . ." 

Leslie's shoulders sagged a little- not in surrender but in thought. "So you're saying it's not just sex and hedonism?" 

"That depends on how you want to live it. These things are important to many, but I think you have in you the spark of something deeper. You deserve the happiness you wait for. . . .but how will it manifest?" 

"I think-" Tess paused uncertainly. "I- I think it'd start with a smile." 

"I wouldn't mind that," Keiter offered. 

The blind seamstress laid her hands on her thighs and, surprisingly, chuckled. "You two are crazy- and I'm probably insane for listening. But you made your point, Keiter. . ." she turned and took his shoulders. "I get it. I- I get it." She nodded. "I like the idea or I wouldn't be wearing Her flower, now would I?" 

"There is so much I wish I had time to teach you, but Sarah-" 

"I know," she kissed his forehead. "I'll ask around, there are some bard troupes that come through here every other week." 

"Be careful, not all who claim to serve Her actually do so." 

"That's humanity for you- we could screw up a wet dream." She chuckled ruefully. "Or make one. But come on, I'm not a little girl. I- I'll work on it. I'll pray and- well, maybe I'll take up that gardening hobby I keep saying I'll get around to." 

Tess smiled. "I think you'd have a wonderful garden." 

"You say that because you've seen the bush," Leslie shot back with a grin. "That- yeah, maybe I'll start there, I doubt many gardens have been grown in Isira's name." 

Keiter smiled a distinctly proud, fatherly grin. "I wish I could have shown you the temple. We had many paintings and sculptings! Sculpts? We had a lot of art." 

Tess didn't have it in her to mention the fact that the 'art' looked like someone had threw up on canvas and then died on it, but the smile Leslie wore told her it probably wouldn't have mattered anyway. The woman had found something that had the potential to make her happy- the focus point to see it through and the knowledge that she had friends in the world. 

She couldn't have been put off by anything. 

Tess's heart swelled and she grinned. "There were a lot of them- all kinds of things done in her name, but I didn't see a garden." 

"Then that's what She needs!" Keiter offered. "A grand garden with healthy plants and ripe tomatoes!" 

"Tomatoes? You're kidding me, right? Well, whatever- Just. . . .one question." 

"Anything." 

A sudden wash of timidness messed up her features and she hesitated. She shook her head a second later. "What do you think she thinks of ghosts?" Her attention flickered briefly to the spilled urn and the spray of ashes around it. 

Keiter glanced at it and turned to the woman, taking her hands. "I asked Her once when I became Her voice, for a friend. She surprised me. . ." 

"O- Oh?" 

"She asked me if it was worse to cling to a memory in anger. Or loss. Or love and warmth. Or not to remember it at all. . ." 

Leslie swallowed. "W- Which did your friend answer?" 

"I. . . I've never had the courage to ask her, but I think beneath the masks she wears, she would remember them for eternity rather than forget even a moment." 

"Yeah? Why's that?" 

"Because love comes from working through the worst parts of existence together, not just the good ones. In our memories and hearts that love can still burn strong, even if the object of it isn't at our side." 

Leslie's features roiled with unsaid objections, uneasiness and uncertainty and maybe even anger warred across her face for a flicker of a moment but she refused to voice her thoughts, even when Keiter hugged her and whispered reassurances. Tess followed a few moments later but there was nothing more to be said between the three- even if there were oceans of things they could have talked about. Leslie, as she had been since the start, remained firmly in control of her interaction with them and she decided when it would end. . . 

But she wouldn't let it end without words Tess had never thought she'd hear. "I love you both. . . .and I'll show Her I wasn't a lost cause." 

"There's no such thing as a lost cause that's still fought for." Keiter whispered. "Isira won't let you fail, even if you feel like you are." 

Tess clung to the woman in lieu of saying anything. It was a weak gesture, but it was all she had; in the realm of gods and faith, she was far too poorly equipped. It hadn't been the first time she was outmatched, it wouldn't be the last, but so long as her new friend was happy, that was all that mattered. 

# 

The two of them left Leslie's house with the sun hanging low in the early morning sky, some feet away they passed a staggeringly beautiful woman approaching Leslie's home wearing the most luxurious silk dress Tess had ever seen- she radiated power and wholeness unlike anything Tess had ever felt but something about that power compelled her to turn away and ignore it. A few seconds down the path and she'd forgotten what she was thinking about. 

"I saw you leave that bag on the couch," Tess said quietly. "What was in it?" 

"You can't start a garden without seeds," Keiter settled his hood into place. "Sometimes it takes many seeds to start, so maybe she'll start many gardens." 

"Seed- like, did you-" Tess frowned. "Did you do something in a bag?" 

"It's coin." He said flatly. "Seed money? You've never heard the term?" 

"No, I hadn't." They rounded the corner to the main square, almost running into someone. It took a moment to register that there was a crowd gathered around the lip of the central hub of the village, clustered around to watch something. At first she thought there might have been a play or something, but it quickly became apparent that there wasn't going to be anything jovial going on. 

Sarah was on the other side of the square with her pistol and an unfurled scroll clutched in opposite hands. She was saying something to someone- Tess's heart sank when she saw Sorash's soldiers standing on the other end of her irritated rambling. 

If her heart fell when she saw the guards though, it absolutely vanished when she saw a black clad figure creeping up on Sarah's flank with a dagger in either hand. 

Tess opened her mouth to scream a warning.



Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 39



Volume 4: Dereliction of Duty 

Chapter XV: Better Mouse Traps 

Sarah kept her collar high as she made her way around the outer rim of the village towards the sheriff's home. Along the way she passed a few farmers and the occasional city guard- every time she did her throat pinched, but eventually she managed to get to Cosnu's abode with limb and sanity more or less in check. 

Relatively speaking, of course; Sarah was exhausted. Every part of her ached and her body couldn't drum up the energy to put on even the most basic of masks, all she wanted to do was sleep and pretend dreams didn't exist. In a sane, fair world, she'd have gone to the inn and hired a few caravan guards to keep things safe and secure. Not for long, of course, she just needed a little rest. 

Just a bit. 

Instead what she got was a human trafficker following her in the shadows where he didn't think she'd be able to sense his magic. It was tangy and bold and it made him shine like a spark lamp as he crept along the second circle of houses just within range of a hand crossbow. She couldn't tell the specifics of his magic, but she could guess it had something to do with illusions or molding mental states in some way- she'd only ever encountered that tang once and the bard that was 'gifted' it extracted a fairly tidy sum from those who watched his performances. 

How the lanky man had found a Pact holder willing to help him was anyone's guess, but Sarah wasn't about to take the chance she might not be immune, she was going to follow through to the letter of her agreement- until an opportunity presented itself. 

It was a recurring theme in her life, it wouldn't be hard to find or create one. . . Yes, she just needed her chin up long enough to make it work. So it wasn't surprising that when she showed up to Sheriff Cosnu's door she was exceptionally theatrical about making her cooperation known. "Good sheriff! Spare me but a few moments of your time?" 

Initially there was no response and for a moment Sarah considered how far she could get before she was caught but then the door opened and the portly sheriff eliminated the need to make such a choice. With the added bonus of looking suitably irritated for being roused at such an early hour. At least she wouldn't have to pretend she was in better spirits, too. 

"I have some information that I think you may want to hear," Sarah tucked her hands into her coat pockets and held his gaze. She gave a brief nod towards the house where her shadow was hiding to warn him of the guest- the action was instantly recognized for what it was and he crossed his arms over his chest. "All's well, I assure you," she lied smoothly. 

"That right? You wanna come in and talk about it, then?" 

"Ah, but for love of Grace and keeping a stable household-" 

"She left me six months ago," he said flatly. "So it's just you, me, and the walls." 

"Oh," Sarah at least had the good manner to offer a polite condolence before she changed tact. "The assassin that killed our mutual friend is here." 

Her bluntness surprised him. "Y- What?" He then glanced towards the shadow near the house from the safety of his own home. "Did you bring it here?" 

"Of course not, give me some credit, Cosnu." 

"Then wh-" 

"Now," Sarah drew herself to her full height to meet his gaze with a confidence she didn't feel. "When we're asked what we've done to serve our respective communities, we must ask ourselves what we wish to be known for. . ." 

"I-" 

"Think carefully about this, you've an opportunity to get yourself in good with the noble's council- there will be a formal inquisition and who but the master of Laleah will be able to respond with pride and confidence? I dare say your standing will sail to the skies like a star in reverse. . ." 

"You done?" 

"Only if you're convinced this would be good for all involved." She gave him a dry smile. 

The pudgy man stared at her for a moment as if expecting her to continue on. When she didn't he hefted his bulk in a shrug and braced a hand on the frame. "These're farmers, Sarah. Aint none'f 'em seen a war since the Raiders from Caleah. What do you think they're gonna do if they run into that woman?" 

Sarah blinked in surprise. "You know about her?" 

"Yeah, I. . . .talk to people." He wrinkled his nose. 

Keeping her voice soft, Sarah eased into his space a little, "I told you I'd help you with the dice problem-" 

"It aint like that- Grace. . .sobered me up." He glanced away. "Look, she was involved in some bad shit, I aint making apologies for that but she got me out of it and away from those people. They still talk around people I know- I hear things. She's bad news, Sarah." 

"Preaching to the choir, my good man. I'm keenly aware." She shuddered at the memory of the carriage assault, "I've seen her in action, but I think I may have an advantage we can use. . ." 

Cosnu eyed her dubiously. "Well, guess there's her age. . . She's gotta be gett'n into her golden years by now. She's got a rep in the Free States goin back before you were a twitch in yer daddy's balls." 

Sarah chuffed a derisive laugh. "And how old do you think I am, hm?" 

"Roun' fifty by my estimate." He eyed her a moment. He knew he'd hit her age perfectly but he seemed to want to play it up with that smug grin and broadening of his shoulders. "Like I said, people talk." 

"Well, be that as it may, the question becomes how badly you want to pursue your dreams of courtly splendor- or was it just getting out of here? I've forgotten." 

"That was a long time ago, Sarah. I moved on. . . I aint gonna be no rich fop, I made peace with that." He took a deep breath. "But I aint gonna live in a place where people're afraid either; drunkards and shit can be dealt with but. . . .but what she did to that family aint right. People want vengeance and I don't blame 'em." 

Under normal circumstances Sarah would've had a quip to explain how absolutely droll the very idea of taking vengeance on someone was, but rather than being pedantic about it, she simply took her chance: "Then consider this a chance to improve their safety, your standing and remove two of the world's great evils in one fell swoop. . ." 

"Two?" 

"Quite so; imagine the rumors of corruption and lackluster efficacy soundly put to rest with but a single act. Some say pride is a sin, but I put to you that lack of pride is the real sin. . ." 

Cosnu scoffed. "So what, slap some polish on it and the turd shines?" 

"Your words, not mine." 

He ran a hand over his face and sighed. "You got a plan or something, then? Or you expect me to come up with that too?" 

"Have you ever known me not to have a plan? Come now, don't give me that look- that was one time and we were drunk. . . .and as I recall Grace didn't seem to mind it at the time." Sarah flashed a faint grin. "Cow tipping is not a crime, juvenile as it may be." 

"I'm surprised you remembered. . ." 

"I was cursed with an exceptionally good memory," Sarah withdrew her hands from her pockets. "I believe our next stop should be the mayor's house, hm? My companion is there comforting the family and I suspect they'll want to hear of this, too. . ." 

Cosnu's gaze lingered on the half-elf, uneasy and probably knowing better than to trust her, but intrigued enough that he wouldn't write her off without hearing her out. It wasn't like he had anything to lose by trying, anyway. He glanced back at his home for perhaps the last time. . . "Yeah. Let me get my shield." 

# 

A few minutes later Sarah was knocking on the mayor's door. As expected, his daughter answered and almost kicked her out before she saw Cosnu right behind her. "We need to talk. . . You'll wanna hear this." 

She sat quietly while Sarah and Cosnu laid out a carefully edited version of the truth in a home that would've been considered sacred under the right circumstances. Every niche of the living room displayed iconography of one deity or another- even some Sarah couldn't readily identify. Where there were supposed to be a dozen, some of them surely had to be fabricated, but to the four of them they were silent witnesses of a harrowing tale told with tongue planted firmly in cheek. 

At least Sarah's was- something she was less than apologetic for; she was too damn tired to care. "So this girl killed four nobles that I know of, attempted- and still is, might I add- to kill me. This after she brought your father to an unseemly end and brought tears to eyes too young for them." 

"But we know who she is." Cosnu offered. "A girl named the Ace of Diamonds." Carefully he added, "from what we learned she's a high profile freelance assassin. Someone wanted him dead, and we're afraid they might want you dead, too." 

"B- But why? I'm nothing special-" 

"You're the only person in this village that's fit to run things," the fat sheriff said. "You're the only one people trust around here and you do a good job. Like your father, you've got the skill, and with. . . well, with good help, you can take care of everything you need to. I'm not gonna leave any time soon." 

For her part in it the girl cast a glance at the paladin to her right. He was attentive but seemed unsure of what to make of the situation; not completely dispondent, though, he looked between them. "So have you got some kind of plan? Or are we just going to repeat Sorash. . ." 

"As much as I enjoy a near escape, I'd rather approach this logically." Sarah leaned forward with her hands spread. "It would be more beneficial to all involved if we avoid bloodshed, which is why I would much rather employ the skills and talents of those versed in its application." She feigned a smile. 

Caldion's young gaze wandered over Sarah as though he was stuck trying to make out her exact meaning or maybe he just enjoyed the view- it was surprisingly hard to tell with him with the way in which his features were composed suggested more than casual interest but he had that touch of skepticism that made him not only appear older but fairly angry for no discernible reason. 

Maybe it was angst. Yes, a paladin who couldn't get what he wanted and knew it would probably be offered freely was in an unenviable position indeed! Sarah grinned at him pointedly. 

Rather than continue his visual exploration of her body, though, he surprised her. "So you want to hide behind us while you sneak off into the dark, is that it?" 

"Now let's not be harsh!" 

"I thought so too," the mayor's daughter interjected. "You're going to run off at the first sign of danger aren't you? That's what you elfs do! It-" 

"Elves," Cosnu said. 

"Whatever!" 

"Quite the contrary, I assure you." Sarah pushed her glasses up. "Your father and I had an understanding when I first came to this village, I would help protect it in exchange for a plot of land on which I might build a warehouse- now despite the building never having gained momentum, I still feel a certain sense of loyalty to-" 

Caldion scoffed. "Sarah and loyalty are words that don't belong together." 

"Like Caldion and seemliness?" 

The two shared a wary glance that suggested neither of them was in any mood to deal with the other, and in true fashion neither of them broke gazes until the Sheriff stepped between them. He knelt beside the mayor's daughter, voice tired but focused. "I know your father didn't like her, but she's offered to stand in as bait- now the way I see it, that's something he would've appreciated. We can at least respect that, can't we?" 

Another dubious look from the young paladin had Sarah fuming; she was much too tired to put on her own civility. She gave him a smug know-it-all grin. 

Even as the boy leaned back, however, she felt his irritation subside a little and the faintest glimmer of curiosity- dare say, respect?- sparked in his eyes. A foolish notion, but it kept the peace for a moment longer. 

"The problem will come with Sorash's militia, I believe they mean to do me harm for some indiscernible reason!" 

"That happens when you go around breakin cherry baskets," Cosnu said lightly. "Sooner or later you find a virgin who's father had plans for that-" 

"Must you be so crude? The very concept that someone is 'owned' like property is more than vulgar and speaks quite poorly to your view of the world! I think of it as a liberating act, and I'm quite well regarded in so doing, may I add." 

Caldion pinched the bridge of his nose. "So what's the plan?" 

"Quite simple! We politely let slip to Sorash's militia that the 'notorious' assassin is roaming the village and we set an ambush to trap the little tart. Then she can be turned over to the proper authorities!" 

Caldion's wasn't the only puzzled look. "You say it like it'll be that easy." 

"Indeed it shall. . ." Sarah eyed the two men thoughtfully, wondering just how far she could get between herself and the assassin before she'd get a blade in Sarah's back. Would they take it for her? Should they have had to? The half-elven cleric dampened her lips, mulling over what she knew of the girl. "She thinks herself powerful, and she's most certainly brazen-" 

Cosnu started, "Sounds like someone I know-" 

"Please, spare me your scathing observations! That your mother didn't raise you better is hardly my fault, but neither am I obliged to acquiesce to such belligerence." Sarah paced a few steps. "She attacked a noble right in front of his guards and made it look easy, she's not to be trifled with, but she knows she outclasses her adversaries. . ." 

"I told you taking her on was a mistake," Caldion leaned forward, his voice deadpan. "She radiates emptiness. She's tainted-" 

"Yes, yes. . . But perhaps it would surprise you that compassion isn't a uniquely human trait." Sarah wrinkled her nose. "I would not be able to live with myself had I not at least attempted to offer assistance- she was dying, stop looking at me like that. . ." 

"Hmph." 

"You helped her?" 

"Before I knew her to be an assassin hell bent on killing me!" 

The mayor's daughter groaned loudly and facepalmed, "You fucking idiot. . ." 

"What's done is done," Caldion rose. "So she thinks she's superior, what if we use that against her?" 

"I'm open to ideas!" 

"Among other things." 

Sarah gave Cosnu a dirty look, earning a smirk in return. 

"If she's after you, she'll want to get you isolated-" 

"I don't think that's necessarily the case, she's had plenty of opportunities to isolate me- I think. . . I think she relishes the challenge." Sarah frowned at that notion. "Oh dear," she turned to see Caldion watching her. "If it's something as droll as sport. . . .money I can supply, it would not be the first time I've bought out a contract on my life, but elsewise is much harder to dissuade, hm?" 

"The price of being the center of attention," Caldion gave her a smirk that didn't touch his eyes. It might've been endearing if not for the way he was studying her. "So why don't we make it hard for her to get to you. . ." 

"Precisely! You'll excuse my concern in turning over my safety to the locals or Sorash's militia- or even you, good paladin, but I think we may be able to bring certain elements to a head." She flashed a smile. He didn't need to know about the human traffickers just yet, but he'd understand it when she mentioned: "Other parties seem to be involved, very dangerous parties, that likewise want her removed. . ." 

"So we bring them together. . ." 

"We do!" 

"What have you got in mind?" 

She never claimed to be pure, but she had one thing going for her. She was a survivor. She'd survive this, too. Sarah grinned as she opened her mouth to lie.



Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 40



Hello there! 

I come bearing gifts (finally), after some computer issues forced me to reformat and I accidentally nuked my backups too. . . So I had to re-write the ending from scratch, delaying it severely. But on the plus side, I have the interludes ready to go so you can expect those to line up with the rest of the month and the entire volume to be released. I've also started planning the fifth volume and I have some /really awesome/ stuff to get on the page. Can't wait! 

Thank you so much for reading, commenting and faving. 

And just a fun little knowledge bit: This volume closed out (with the Interludes) at 77 thousand words, 160 pages O_O 

***** 

Chapter XVI: Everything as Planned 

Satisfying. 

Utterly, apologetically, euphorically satisfying. Sarah drew deep from her cherry flavored cigar, welcoming that particular burn of the blended leaves and diluted narcotic as it smoothed over the rough spots and muffled the thrum of argument raging only a few feet away. The euphoria would pass as it inevitably did, but for that precious moment she was in another plane of existence entirely. 

The young paladin was bickering about something with Cosnu and occasionally the mayor's daughter would chip in with some inane comment she thought particularly biting or witty. All the while Sarah watched the ceiling over her glasses, propped up in her favorite rocking chair with her feet kicked up on the table her friend had used to shine his boots. 

What a man he had been- even when they didn't get along, he always carried himself with the refinement of a gentleman and the sense of humor of a sailor. It was no surprise the village had made him mayor, but what was surprising was that he had the gall to befriend her and the wherewithal to maintain it. . . .if only she'd kept her end of the bargain. 

"Gods dammit." 

Sarah's high came crashing into the dirt only to be lofted again tenuously by another pull on her cigar. And another. Just for good measure. 

She sat there with images of what could have been swirling between her pointed ears like a flurry of bees and wondering, not for the first time, what she'd do with herself next. Sorash had been meant as a new start, a clean slate far enough away from the Free States and- she'd thought, erroneously- the reach of the dragon's agents but that was up in smoke now. She puffed. 

There were cards to play, of course. Sarah had been meticulously careful about that and not only had she stacked the deck, she'd built the bloody table the game was played upon. She had plans. Contingencies upon those plans and then alternate plans for when those primary ones blew up. 

But what was the fucking point? 

The dragon had found her. Just like the Free States, just like the elven border lands, just like every other time. It'd taken him longer this time, nearly two decades, but he still found her- and she'd become comfortable. Maybe this was a sample of the games immortals played with one another. It was a game she was sorely ill equipped to play. She didn't have the long term scope of a true immortal being; she had seen freedom when she was in chains, she'd believed in it under the kiss of the whip and when she had engineered her own opportunity to taste it she had acted, but the space of a decade was nothing to the eternity of true immortals. . . 

Sarah let her cigar hang between lips for a moment, sensing someone was watching her she looked to the group. They were all staring at her. 

"Terribly sorry, I wasn't paying attention. What did you need?" 

Caldion groaned, looking to Cosnu he snorted. "Told you." 

The portly man grunted, "too busy gettin high to hear us, huh? Seems like some things never change-" 

"I-" Sarah sprang from her chair and thrust her hands out in a universal 'tada' pose. "Am perfectly sober, some might say against my better judgment! But be that as it may, I was waiting for the bickering to die down so we might progress smoothly. . ." 

Caldion opened his mouth. 

"You especially should be ashamed of yourself! We as representatives of our respective deities have a duty- a compulsion!- to spread the good of our patrons! Don't we, paladin?" Even as the words left her mouth she could feel her cherub at the fringes of her consciousness, probing her drug addled mind for a way in. This was only matched by the paladin's skeptical glance. She blocked both out. "If you're done?" 

Cosnu made a theatrical gesture to continue. "By all means, m'lady. Maybe you'd like some tea and sweets while you explain?" 

"Such generosity! I'd be delighted!" She gave him a dry smile. "The city guard is looking for our friend, patrolling this very village in an uncouth and mildly impotent display of force. They've not seen her in action and while I have no doubt they don't think she's capable, I assure you she is. . ." 

"The point, Sarah." Caldion said mildly. 

"Getting there! Were we to combine our forces, we might stand a chance of bringing her in relatively unharmed where she can stand trial for her crimes!" In the back of her mind the tingle of magic reminded her of the 'other' problem they had to deal with. She didn't think twice about selling them out- she'd need all the chaos she could get if she was to enact her own plans. "Now, we've a small wrinkle in all this as well. . ." 

"Let me guess, an angry father?" 

"Don't be absurd, I've never left one angry! Weak in the knees, if anything. But to the matter at hand; we've the oversight of a particularly unscrupulous group of individuals who trade in misery and suffering." At the uneasy looks she smiled, sliding into the lie she was constructing on the fly. This was going to be an easy sell. "This group has seen fit to attempt to implicate me in dealings with this Diamond woman- they've even somehow come to the idea that I may have killed some of their members. It's disgusting, and an affront to good sensibilities. 

"Let's not kid ourselves into thinking these are people who'll let such things go by without comment- they want her dead." Sarah glanced around, vaguely bothered that no one seemed to have an issue with that. Typical. "So what I would propose is that we let the city guard handle them as well. I doubt they much like the idea of slave traders working so close to the city. It's terribly bad for the labor market for one thing." 

"Mmm. . ." Caldion was studying her with that skeptical look she'd come to associate with his trying to figure out if she was being honest or not. 

"I needn't tell you how absolutely vulgar the very idea of slavery is to the gods, surely." 

He ran a hand over his face. "You're good." 

"Hm?" 

"I've met some jackals, but you've gotta be the only one I've ever met who laughs the entire time." His deep eyes focused on her sharply. "You're going to play them to a point." 

"Well, yes, that was the idea." 

Cosnu shifted his weight. "Sarah, that's. . . .these aren't people you screw around with-" 

"Think of it this way, they'll be so busy chasing one another that you and yours can apprehend this miscreant killer, my company and I can make an egress and you can be hailed as a hero." She smiled brightly- if a little glassy eyed. "Everyone's a winner." 

A solemness permeated the air while the four of them traded quiet glances and the empty assurances that they'd constructed inside their own heads. To Sarah, there was no question of whether or not they'd succeed. They didn't have a choice. 

"So when you say 'egress'," Caldion said tentatively. "What do you have in mind?" 

"We need only create circumstances by which the city guard can catch sight of the girl, they'll run afoul of the slavers of course, and if Cosnu's militia can keep them busy long enough that we can get away once she's out there, then all parties involved can turn on her and we'll be given leeway to escape- her capture is assured and the minimal amount of life is lost. . ." She dampened her lips. "Ideally. . ." 

The fat sheriff's hesitation was palpable. Even the mayor's daughter was dubious. At once they started with variations on 'why would we do that?' to which Sarah already had a ready answer. 

"If you plan to bring out the slavers in force to protect what they hold, you'll need to make it appear they stand a real chance of losing what they have- something I would relish, personally." She gave Cosnu a pointed glance. "The guard wants this girl for what she did, but the nobility place a high bounty of live slavers, they'll be a target of opportunity!" 

"You're playing with a lot of fire here, Sarah. . ." 

"Keenly aware, my dear," the buxom half-elf pushed her glasses up. "But I suppose in the interest of full disclosure, I should mention I have it on good authority that failing to capture this girl would be bad for all involved; she is a menace to a great many people and I would rather she be captured than this village put into a state of martial law and you and your entire militia locked up." 

"That-" 

"Would not be the first time! Remember the race riots?" 

He grunted. 

"Quite, so!" She clapped her hands. "Let's get to work, shall we? Be so kind as to make contact with the city guard and appraise them of the situation, that you and yours have narrowed down a target she's after and that a group of people dressed as peasants will be working with her- slavers, naturally and-" 

"Sarah," Caldion folded his arms as he studied her. "Why should we believe you? You're a liar and a cheat-" 

"And a million other things, dear boy. Including too tired to feel the compulsion I explain myself in detail! Suffice it to say that like minds work in concert, plucking the strings of lute and lyre to produce melodies fit for the heart and soul of all who hear. More than that is just noise!" 

"I-" 

"Am beginning to test the patience of someone genuinely trying to do the right thing? I quite agree! Come now, the sooner we get this woman out of our hair, the sooner we can return Tessarie to her proper place and never have to speak to one another again." 

The young man, surprised by her bluntness seemed to relax a little- maybe it was the shared understanding they now had. He glanced at the mayor's daughter and then Cosnu. He tugged on his gloves. "Right. . ." 

# 

Sarah and Caldion crept along an outer ring of houses that still held the line of shadows between the breaking dawn and remnants of early morning. Sarah kept her shawl tight knowing full well how ridiculous she looked in her coat, but vaguely thankful for whatever cover it might have given her. 

They crept around to the opposite side of the village where early morning farmers were getting up to start their day, tucked themselves between a cart and a crate of tools and waited. And waited. Sarah was starting to fall asleep when the city guard trotted by their hide out. Caldion nudged her. 

The two glanced at one another- a count of three. Two. One. 

Sarah jumped from her hiding spot only to catch the heel of her boot on the toecap of her other and tumble, face first, into the dirt. The guard wheeled on her and Caldion was beside her in a moment. He held up an arm in defense, shouting. "We saw the killer! The woman you're after!" 

The two men looked at one another as Sarah recovered herself. Then it all went pear shaped when the one recognized her. In an instant they had their weapons out and Sarah reached for hers- too slow. Way too slow. 

"Hold on!" Caldion got between them, hands out. "We've got a common enemy here and-" 

"Get the hell down, boy or you'll regret it when Sir Drass hears about this. She's a wanted criminal and-" 

"You're belaboring the issue, my good man! We've a common threat we all face here-" Sarah recoiled when the guard grabbed Caldion's arm. He started to close in and knee the paladin in the groin but Caldion was no fool, he saw the move coming and countered with both hands, throwing the mail clad man to the ground. The other guard started to respond to the 'threat' but Sarah was on him in a second, pistol leveled at his face. 

It was only powder, but he didn't need to know that. Still, she kept her finger off the trigger. 

"Kindly lay down your arms, yes? We've bigger issues and I suspect your good knight will want to know about this, too. . . .we've a human trafficking ring going on in the village! One that, if memory serves is quite illegal! Yes?" Sarah glanced at the other man as Caldion backed up. "Fetch your lord, I'm not leaving. We'll be at the mayor's house." 

The guard blinked. 

"Quickly, now!" Sarah made a show of sliding her finger in the trigger guard, pressing it firmly against the front of it. From the front it would look far more menacing than it really was. "Before I lose my patience. "Or my head," she added mentally. 

The guard looked at his companion, at Caldion then at Sarah. He flexed his grip on his blade, but at Sarah's waggle of her pistol he relented and turned. "Y'be there or we'll find you, elf." 

"Don't be so droll." Sarah muttered as she watched them leave. A shaky breath parted her lips and her shoulders slumped when they rounded the building and disappeared from sight. When she looked at Caldion he glanced away from watching her. 

"Good job. . ." 

"Do I detect a hint of respect? Egads, an angel has received their wings." 

"Don't get carried away now," he scoffed as they trotted back towards the mayor's house. "You know, for an elf, you're not very nimble." 

"It was a ploy to offer you as much time as you needed to make your move!" 

"Obviously," the young man shot back. "So that dirt on your knees is just for my sake." 

"I suspect many women have dirtied their knees for your benefit, you should be used to it." 

He gave her an odd look. Then something clicked and he blushed faintly. "Not so much, no." 

"Ah, another great tragedy who's resolution is nowhere in sight. How disheartening, that a fine young man would not know the kiss of-" 

"Sarah," Caldion slowed his jog to match her pace. "Stop." 

"Why, whatever do you mean?" 

"You know exactly what I mean. . ." 

Sarah gave him a smirk, "I'm not one to pry, dear, but I suspect you've had more than your fair share of-" 

"No." 

"Hmph! Maybe we can fix that when-" 

"No thanks. You're not my type-" 

"You assume I was going to throw myself at your feet? Psheh! What kind of woman do you take me for, dear boy?" As they approached the front of the house Cosnu emerged to greet them. Caldion seemed to relax, taking the opportunity to avoid answering her question. 

"Is everyone in place?" Caldion prompted. 

"Yeah. . ." The older man drew a shaky breath. "Yeah, we've got it." 

Sarah pulled the shawl from her head and dusted herself down quickly before she readjusted her coat to look as flattering as it could. The tingle of the slave trading magic user's particular essence was weaker now, but there was no doubt that he had some inkling that she planned to betray them. Even an idiot could see that. 

But then, the very idea of 'betrayal' had always been a liquid concept to Sarah. These people were to be respected only so far as their ability to kill or steal another person's freedom was concerned. Unfortunately that sort of respect could go a long way if leveraged correctly. . . 

Something the three of them were keenly aware of, judging by the glances they shared. But then, there were ways to shift the fulcrum too. Sarah straightened out her coat with a confident grin she didn't believe for a second. "Now, then!" 

"You there!" A man called from their side. Sarah wheeled on him with a growing sense of dread, staring up at a man in full plate armor flanked by a pair of guards in city colors and chainmail. "The elf blood! You're under arrest, by decree of his Majesty's civil guard-" 

Cosnu didn't hesitate, though there was a touch of fear in the way he stepped up beside Sarah. "The ambassador is assisting in a diplomatic matter regarding slave traders at the moment. . ." 

"Ambassador?" Caldion and the knight started at the same time. Sarah was already unfurling her diplomatic papers as Cosnu's men- dressed as farmers and caravan workers started filling in the space between some of the houses. 

This, in turn, brought curious onlookers from the village out to see what was going on. Sarah was sure the human traffickers were among them, but there wasn't anything that could be done about it. All she could do was hope the swelling crowd would buy her enough time to draw out the real target. 

Sarah licked her lips, eying the armored knight as he approached. "That's right, good man. I came here seeking out a group of traffickers in flesh and lo, I should stumble upon a plight rocking the very fabric of your social structure!" 

The man wasn't impressed. She made her pistol visible, holding his gaze- he had the good sense to stop at least. "You've been impersonating a noble, girl, what makes you think-" 

"Let's pretend for a moment I was pretending," Sarah drew herself up to full height. "The exact nature of such a duplicity allows one to enter strata beyond the ken of mere civilians, and fortuitously the access that comes with it allows a considerable amount of flexibility!" The knight took another step. Sarah backpedaled. "To point, my good knight, the murder of five of the city's elite socialites has surely not gone missed! 

"No, I should think not! But were I to tell you that through particularly delicate maneuvering, I've narrowed her down to this very village?!" She cast a quick glance towards Caldion. "Ask the dear paladin here, why don't you?" 

"She's not lying about that much, at least." He shrugged one shoulder. "I can't speak to the rest of it, but the fact that she's willing to put herself in danger to draw this assassin out- along with the slavers." He glanced towards the crowd surreptitiously. "She's-" 

"Enough!" The knight bellowed. 

A tingling. 

Something empty. Hollow. A void in the fabric of reality. It prickled her extra senses like a biting absence of anything natural. It was the assassin. 

Sarah swallowed. It was show time. 

# 

Sarah looked towards Cosnu, plumped out her cheek with her tongue. The agreed upon signal that made her look nervous to onlookers but conveyed meaning between the two of them. He tensed. She urged him on silently. "Now would be good, old man." 

Any moment now. . . 

He faltered. Paused. Then raised his hand as if trying to shade his eyes. His men didn't hesitate; a pair of them strode up shouting in that incoherent dirt language of the eastern peasantry about scared daughters. "Oi! Ya fuck'n pricks almost raped my daughter!" 

The knight regarded them obliquely but never let Sarah out of his sight. Soon enough there were more people approaching with similar stories. Some threw rocks. A few threw bottles. 

To his credit, the knight didn't flinch at all. "Arrest the elf." 

His men moved in. Cosnu stepped in front of them. "Now hold on, it seems like we got a problem here-" 

Shouting followed, so loud that the voices became a steady thrum of confusion and anger as more people joined in decrying their city-state guardians. Cosnu's men were well trained insofar that they came from the same dark places he did and knew when to push. It was part of why he and Sarah got along so well. 

She wasn't about to waste such an opportunity, she nudged Caldion to follow her. The peripheral sense of where her would-be assassin gave her a rough direction, but Sarah took the extra step of keeping the crowd between herself and the knight as best she could. A little caution never hurt. 

Cosnu's more obvious village security made an appearance shortly thereafter, just as the knight was shouting to find her. They drowned out his demand with bungling attempts to separate the 'farmers' from the armored men. All in all, it was going quite well. 




Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 40



Just a few more feet and they could make for the inn, collect Keiter and Tessarie and. . . 

Then walk right into the man who's mental probing she could only now recognize for what it was. The slaver went to grab her collar and she batted him away, aiming her pistol in his face. She brandished her diplomatic paperwork like a shield. "I brought you your assassin, she's following me- now be so kind as to get out of my way, I have business to tend to!" 

"That's not how this works, girl." 

"Oh, but it is! You see, if you don't move right now-" Someone shouted a warning. Instinctively, Sarah dived for cover. Caldion shoved the man to the side and before she even knew what was happening he hefted her up by her collar and shoved her forward into Tess's arms as fighting erupted around them. 

It seemed as though more soldiers had come to see what the kerfuffle was about and the village's militia- and likely some of the traffickers as well- were angling for their own prey in the crowd. Blades were drawn, shouts and curses were traded and before Sarah could gather her wits they were surrounded by fighting men beating on one another or wrestling around in the dirt. 

She had just enough time to take stock of the village square brawl before the man with the magic was near her again. She hid behind her pistol, shoving her companions back in the vague direction of the carriage. They scuttled back. Someone would close in on them and they'd turn, the press of human body odor and dirt was suffocating but it was nothing compared to the hands grabbing for her. 

People launched to grab her. Swords clattered dangerously close to her supple flesh and she was jostled this way and that by the ebb and flow of the law men trying to get what they wanted. Sarah was pulled at several angles at once. Grabbing hands. Angry shouts. 

This was it. She was going to die here. 

Between the soldiers a flicker of a shadow moved. It appeared. Vanished. It popped up next to her between a pair of men arguing over what to do with her. A faceless humanoid mask as black as coal punctuating the sweaty men with only the promise of oblivion. Sarah brandished her pistol, shouted something indistinct to warn her companions and surged back almost to a sprint. 

There was nowhere to go. They couldn't move more than a few paces any one way. Every turn brought her glimpses of the wraith shadow moving about the throng of fighters. Sarah wheeled around. Leveled her gun. Again. Again. 

The woman was everywhere. 

Hands grabbed her wrist and she jerked her arm, accidentally catching the trigger in the process. The hammer fell with a clack. A second later the flint struck the frizzen sparking to life. The gun roared to life with a gout of flame from the slow burning powder. The soldiers and militia scattered for cover giving the woman in black a wide opening to go for her prey. 

Sarah caught sight of her just in time to see her bound between a pair of soldiers running right for Sarah. Her knives flashed with that particular kiss of ancient magic permanently enchanted into the steel. They were works of art as were the hands coiled around the polished grips. 

In an instant the assassin, the Ace of Diamonds, was feet away from her with her blades coming up to end Sarah's life and in the next, the half-elven cleric was being shoved out of the way with enough force to wrench her neck painfully. She pivoted to see Caldion taking up the spot she'd occupied only a moment before. He was in his element- he moved with such grace and purpose that a machine could scarcely have matched. 

Caldion grabbed the woman's wrist to deflect her angle of attack and smashed his elbow into her masked face. The jarring crunch of bone on bone should've sent her reeling, but she kicked him in the thigh and used that to push off into a backflip that sent her tumbling back into the circle of men like a shadow. 

Keiter and Tess helped her up as best they could allowing Sarah time to reload, once more omitting the ball in favor of extra cloth and together they made a concerted effort to push their way out of the growing melee. Cosnu's men had done what they needed to do, now she only needed to do what she was meant to do. . . Escape. 

As if to challenge her convictions, the Diamonds girl appeared a few feet away. Sarah aimed directly at her and shouted. "I'd rather we be civil about this! Whatever you're being paid, I can double it!" 

"That's not the point, Sarah," She responded cooly. She turned one of her blades over into a throwing stance. Sarah backed up like a true coward and racked the hammer back. "There is no hole deep enough you can hide in." 

"I'll take my chances, dear!" Sarah shoved on Caldion's back to get him moving. One of the city's soldiers emerged from the brawl and dived at the girl from the side. She was so fixated on Sarah she missed the moment and in a split second the soldier had his hands around her throat. Sarah winced as Caldion grabbed her sleeve and yanked her into a run. 

An opening presented itself and the four of them ran for it, plunging between a man in leathers and one of Cosnu's men. They took a wide arc around the fighting, ducking away whenever the assassin would appear and keeping just far enough ahead of her to say they were giving her a perfect shot at their backs. 

Keiter turned on her once and threw his hands out at a wide angle and tendrils of white and blue energy burst from the ground outstretched and grabbing for the assassin's feet. She tucked into a ball and landed easily free of the restraining power tentacles. Those that did manage to touch her didn't find purchase and she continued on undaunted. 

Sarah covered his retreat with another vague threat that went unheeded. Tess followed it up with a surge of energy that prickled Sarah's senses- she directed it at the pursuer but it only fizzled and died between them, absorbed into whatever unholy armor she was wearing. The very nature of it bent reality and seemed to invite magic to lose itself in it. 

It seemed she'd come well prepared. 

"Shit!" Keiter hissed out in a chuff as they finally managed to round the bulk of the fight- their carriage was in sight, but what could would it do when they'd still have to fight off the woman to hope to get out? 

But wasn't that just it? This woman didn't play games of chance with her quarry, she lead them into traps and compromising situations. Gods only knew what she'd done to the carriage while they'd been away from it. 

Thinking quickly, Sarah grabbed the nearest militiaman and soldier. "Gentlemen! Your enemy is behind us! Look!" The men did. They reacted about like one would expect; they gave chase, calling for re-enforcements. 

Unfortunately for Sarah, they started chasing after her. 

So began a brief but intense chase with Caldion and Tess leading Sarah and Keiter followed by a pair of soldiers and a couple of Consnu's militia and finally the assassin. 

Sarah was heaving and panting, already her lungs were burning through her mouth and the air inside her wasn't doing any good any more. She'd never be able to keep this up. "Okay, okay- I surrender!" She panted and wheezed. "Just- just let-" she huffed. "Them go!" A split second later she threw up her hand. "Look out! Behind you!" 

The militia didn't stand a chance. They went down even as Sarah aimed at the black clad threat. She was using the soldiers as a body shield, no doubt, but surely trained men of the military would stand a chance. Surely she had some time to escape. 

As she stood there panting she watched in horror as the assassin threw a blade at the one soldier to distract him, he pivoted and she closed in and slit his throat before he realized the danger. She darted for the other soldier as Caldion pushed forward, scooping up the fallen man's blade and joining the soldier for what would surely be a last stand. 

White loops of magic coiled around the killer's body only to shatter off her like ice hurled at a brick wall. The woman back flipped gracefully and for just a split second Sarah was about to run and leave the paladin and soldier to take their chances. 

Then she saw the militiamen and soldiers running for the assassin. They'd banded together and now realized the real danger. Help was on the way. She was saved! 

Sarah allowed herself a shaky smile. "Young lady, the gods give all of us a talent! Sometimes it's best we exercise them to continue our existence!" She punctuated her warning by pointing over the girl's shoulder. 

Apparently she wasn't interested. She closed in on them. Somewhere along the line she'd picked up a larger blade which she wielded with evident skill. She tossed her own dagger up to grab the mens' attention, giving them multiple threats to worry about. 

Neither of them fell for it, though. They surged forward at oblique angles to take her down and for just a moment Sarah felt pity for the girl- for the loss of yet another life. But it passed. 

It passed as it had to. 

She didn't want this for anyone. . . 

Movement caught Sarah's attention from beyond the fighting men. Beyond the woman. Beyond the approaching throng of soldiers and militiamen. 

An ugly pale grey horse with a rider backlit by the rising sun raced towards them at full gallop with white smoke trailing and a cursed cry of 'Not her life!' sworn by a young- decidedly female- voice. There was something else, too. Something twirling in the rider's hand. 

The assassin launched herself off, tossing the larger blade to the side. Bold faced, straight for the fore like she had a death wish. One step- two steps. Sarah started to turn- to run. 

Her would be killer slammed into the dirt with her shoulder, tumbling smoothly forward. The soldier moved to intercept but the rider and horse took up the distance and crunched forward until they were nose to snout- 

Felicia. 

It was Felicia. 

Sarah balked openly at the girl as she put herself and her horse between the men and the downed killer. 

"The fuck are you doing?!" The soldier demanded as Felicia adjusted this way and that to keep the horse between them. 

"Get up!" She shouted at the assassin. She shot Sarah a brief look, Caldion and the soldier in turn. She wasn't about to justify herself; the girl was set. "You're not killing her!" 

Soldier and assassin alike tried to close in on her and she jerked her horse to the side bowling the killer off her feet and the soldier to the side with the horse's bulk; the girl even reached for the assassin. "Come on!" 

This was a farce. Sarah raised her voice, "Felicia, dear! Not that it's not pleasant to see you-" 

"Go! Run!" 

"Good enough!" Sarah pulled Keiter into her arms, the mob was already pressing in on them. They didn't have far to go, but they had precious little time to effect an escape- 

With the little distraction Felicia was giving them, it might've been enough. Sarah bolted for the carriage. "Come along, children!" 

She packed Tess and Keiter into the carriage as quickly as she could and climbed aboard- 

Wait. 

Sarah checked the wheels to make sure they were sound, the leafsprings in check, and the axles. Caldion spared no such caution as he climbed aboard and took up the reigns. 

In moments he oriented the carriage to the northbound road that would take them to Pastow. Sarah climbed aboard and they rode out of Laleah much as they had come in; tired, hungry and no closer to safety from the blade at their backs. 

She looked out the window to see a couple of the lanky man's employees looking after her. Patient. Stoic. Sarah showed them the most rude gesture she could think of.



Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 41



Interlude I 

Mistakes 

"Office: Department for the Management of Extra regional Resources, Camor 

To: General Markou, Estan High Command (or Current Equivalent) 

Subject: No More Troops. 

To Whom it May Concern, 

They say the plains people of the south are the fiercest warriors in the entire world, not because they're tactical geniuses or they have superior weapons- though the near mythical status of sunless steel is well earned- it's not even that they're superior horsemen- also a reputation well earned. The strength of the plains walkers comes in their teamwork and their ability to adapt to changing situations like water flowing down an embankment. 

When you ask a soldier what it's like to serve in the Forgotten Lands, he will tell you there are no words to describe it. Having served here for almost a year and having skirmished with the locals more than a few times I'll do my best to express my impressions: Insanity. 

If you could only see this place, you would understand why; fissures open the ground with little warning, magic lightning storms erase entire portions of land- and everything on it- at once and creatures roam that would make even dragons seem quaint by comparison. 

No amount of swords, powered armor or cannon will subdue this roiling tumult and there will be no rampart tall or thick enough to make keeping a piece of territory worth the resources to be gained from doing so. Quite simply, the land won't be tamed and neither will its people. 

It is time your department rethinks its goals. This is untenable." 

Sincerely, 

Colonel Docia Crane 

5/390th Rock Crusher Infantry Regiment 

Felicia 

The village square was chaos. 

Soldiers were fighting with men in plain clothes who themselves were chasing after Sarah and Lostariel. The soldiers and what Felicia could only assume were village militiamen were arguing and chasing one party or the other in hopes of being the first to get them- Sarah and her group were running about or making vague threatening motions to would-be attackers and more than once the half-elf leveled her pistol at Lostariel. 

There were no right choices in such a grand melee. There was no person that could be singled out and spared and no one would prove beyond damnation when it was all said and done. Felicia knotted the twine braid that held her horse's reigns to the hitching post in the caravan's stall. She was insane for thinking she could stop this. 

CRACK. 

Sarah's pistol roared to life. Men scattered. Lostariel slipped between a pair of soldiers running at the half elf. No acrobatics, no flair or theatrics. She went straight for the jugular. A young handsome man dived in the way shoving Sarah out of the way and smashed his elbow into Lostariel's masked face. She tumbled backwards with it into the widening circle around the four and for a moment Felicia lost track of her. 

Sarah and her companions scooted backwards themselves trying to get away from the press of fighting men, all the while she crammed some kind of rod down the barrel of her gun and when Lostariel made another appearance a few feet away the redhead was ready for it. She hefted her weapon and the two stared- they might have shared words for all Felicia knew. 

One of the soldiers tried to catch Lostariel at her blindside. He grabbed her by the throat and she hammered his knee with her heel. In the next moment she was wheeling away with his sword. Some men went to recover their comrade and members of the militia tried to arrest them. The handsome man yanked Sarah back and scooped the elf that was with them into a jog away from the fighting. He had the best possible combat sense given the situation. 

Sarah would be okay, Felicia promised herself. Still she wound the twine tight around her knuckles in worry. Lostariel was a murderer, but she was still a human being- she was still someone who'd survived the hardships of the north and didn't deserve to die to men like this. 

Felicia glanced at her horse. There was no going back. . . .even the elder she'd met in the inn would have said the same thing. She dared touch the hilt of the kukri he'd given her. He'd given it to her with the intent it be buried like a warrior's weapon deserved, but it was needed now. . . 

Not for the first time in her short life, Felicia wondered what the ancestors would think. But like so many times before, she put it out of her mind and got to work cutting the twine from the hitch so it was twice as long as her arm. She then used the remainder to tie a third length so it formed a trident shape, a quick search through the stable netted her a horse bit without a bridle and a suitably sized rock. As far as weights went they weren't ideal, but they would do. 

The bit was heavy and in the ugly northern style that relied on thick rings of some kind of dense metal joined by a length of thin chain. Felicia took it back to the stall and broke it by leveraging the soon to be bola and the hook for her horse's feed pail. Once done she tied the rings to the longer lengths of rope and the rock to the center length. A quick tug assured her it was tight enough to work- even if it was probably going to be off balance. 

There was no time to wonder about her own sanity any more, she was ready to accept her own diagnosis if it meant not losing one- or both- of the people she cared about. Naive. Stupid. Hopelessly lost in a 'civilized' world. . . 

But she was a child of the plains, dammit. Her father couldn't take that away from her any more than these soldiers could have. Yes, this was the right thing to do; no one had to understand her choices so long as she could live with them. Knowingly putting her own life in her hands, she took the reigns of her horse and trotted out of the stable. She did a quick check to ensure her bags were securely fastened to his back and climbed up favoring her wounded arm. 

It burned like hell all the way up. 

This could only end well. 

Felicia nudged her horse at a slow pace and took to the outside of the closest ring of houses so she could creep along without being spotted. Painfully she lowered herself against the horse and kept an ear out for any shifts in the fighting. There were shouts, cries and demands to stop but the tussling only continued. 

She edged up around the first house and peeked, then trotted to the next one and the next. By the third house she got a bead on Sarah making her way from the fight with a couple of soldiers and local militia following- scuffling with one another more than actually chasing her. Lostariel wasn't far behind. 

A fat man and a soldier from the city had some civilian man pinned down, both of them shouting at the other that it was their right to take the man in. The soldier had no patience for the bickering and punched the fat man before slitting the throat of the civilian prisoner. Felicia gaped at the behavior- how could he have done that?! Why?! A couple of other civilian men closed in on them to repay the death in kind but something stopped them. 

The fat man was about to launch his own retaliation when he seemed to catch what the civilians did. He shouted at the soldier and his own men. "Her! Right there! The Diamond bitch!" 

It took Felicia exactly two seconds to realize what he was talking about. Lostariel sprang into action. The militia men chasing after the soldiers went down without a word. She tumbled to the side. Sarah aimed her pistol. The soldiers turned to face the new threat, one only to catch sight of Lostariel throwing a blade his way. He pivoted to dodge. 

A fatal mistake. Lostariel was in his space quicker than Felicia could blink. His blood arced through the air as he fell back. Lostariel was already wheeling on the remaining soldier and Sarah's companions had joined in to stop her. Sarah herself shouted something at her would be assassin. Voluminous strings of white magic sparked into existence around Lostariel but quickly broke when the woman pivoted her weight back. 

She was impossibly graceful and even faster on her feet, yet the soldiers and militiamen who'd been scrabbling now recognized the real threat they faced. They gave chase. Felicia had only a second to make her choice. 

As if there was one to make. 

Felicia squeezed against the horse to start him off at a canter- lazy but time demanded it- they plowed ahead into a gallop, furiously racing against the seconds burning away. Around the melee that was becoming an organized chase. After Lostariel. 

An elf woman and a short man in a hooded robe beside Sarah both seemed to be directing some kind of magic at Lostariel. Spells flickered into existence and splashed off her leathers with no visible effect. Sarah shouted a command for her to stop. The handsome man had his blade in a ready guard. 

She was short but the way she prowled towards them made her a wraith in broad daylight. Something to be feared, even with the height difference. The soldier and the handsome man took to one another's side as Lostariel tossed the sword she'd picked up like it was a toothpick. She drew her shorter blade, twirled it. Tossed it up and launched off. 

Neither of the men were distracted. Neither bought her ruse. They took to different angles to pin her into the center of a cross. There was only a moment to react and Felicia took the chance the best and only way she could: she spun her bola over her head with her good arm and urged her horse onward. 

Lostariel was already surging forward- she'd never stop in time. 

They all knew it, too. Even Sarah's eyes went wide. Was that regret? 

Felicia wound her hand, took aim and loosed the familiar hunting tool. Her shoulder screamed as she drew the elder's kukri and shouted: "Not her life!" 

The younger man glanced up, pausing that precious second for the bola to helicopter through the air- he seemed taken aback but in the next instant the weights were wrapping around Lostariel's calves. One step. She realized something was wrong. Another step and she was plummeting to the ground. She landed with a graceful roll and the soldier tried to meet her. 

Felicia rode right up to him. The horse jerked back in fear at the clash of steel and curse from the man- she held tight to the reign. "Get back!" She screamed as she brandished the kukri. The horse started to rear back, trying to run away. "Easy, easy-" 

"The fuck are you doing?!" The soldier shouted. He looked between the horse and Felicia trying to gauge his chances. The handsome man had the good sense to back away as Felicia carefully nudged her horse between Sarah's group and the downed assassin. 

"Get up!" The girl shouted to Lostariel. The woman was already rolling over her hand, launching to a stand after she'd cut the bola free. She didn't try to join Felicia immediately- Not even after seeing the large group of men now closing in on them. "You're not killing her!" 

That earned a chuff of irritation. The soldier and Lostariel both tried to close in and bring her down. She jerked her horse to the side just a bit to spook him. It was enough that he shook his snout one way and the other, batting into the man as his flank slammed Lostariel nearly off her feet. He almost stepped on her but she managed to scramble out of the way in time. 

Sarah chose that moment to interject; "Felicia, dear! Not that it's not pleasant to see you-" 

"Go! RUN!" 

"Good enough!" Without waiting for another invitation she scooped up the short robed man and scurried off with her companions. The handsome man stared daggers at her but, seeming to sense the change in attitude of the mob, decided it was best to leave. 

Felicia thrust out her arm to Lostariel, still brandishing the kukri with her off hand and doing no one any safe favors by letting her horse jostle her one way and the other. It was insanely dangerous to everyone around but she wasn't going to leave her friend to the mob. 

No one was going to die today. 

As if challenging her new found resolve a crossbow thocked sharply and a bolt slammed into her pack. The horse pivoted sharply from the pressure of the impact and only by an act of extremely careful maneuvering on Felicia's part did he miss crushing the soldier when he tried to bolt. Girl and horse shrunk low before he launched off at a gallop. Just when Felicia was about to clutch the reigns Lostariel grabbed her bicep and hauled herself up. 

This scared the horse even more. 

Felicia shoved the blade into its scabbard, took the reigns and lowered herself. All she could do was suggest their direction. The horse weaved around the men who tried to attack. They threw rocks, weapons, shot crossbows at them. To them Felicia was an enemy. An aid to killers and she needed to be put down like one. But Lostariel was counting on her. She knew that they were in this together now, when the woman grabbed Felicia's waist her heart surged. They could tackle it together. 

They could survive. 

Leaving a yellow trail of dust in their wake, the horse charged at a full gallop through the space between a pair of houses. Felicia carefully influenced him the direction they needed to go to minimize running into anyone- in seconds they crossed into the main caravan road leading out of town. All the while Felicia tried her best to calm the horse. Whispering didn't do much, a firm hand didn't either. 

Men clamored after them shouting curses to little effect but when she peeked back Felicia could see that some of the civilian combatants had disappeared. The two women rode on until the poor horse was practically heaving with effort which didn't take long. He wasn't a plains horse, he had limits. 

But at the very least it wore out his energy and his will to run away, allowing Felicia some measure of control again. Around them were swaths of farmland with modest wheat crops ill suited for hiding, but Felicia kept looking as her mind raced. Lostariel was quiet all the while, simply holding on to her waist until finally the girl looked back at her. 

"You expect gratitude," she said flatly. 

"W- We need to find a place to hide. Then we can talk about what I expect. . ." 

"Up there, then. Down the road, there's a path between some hedges. . ." 

Felicia followed the trail at a reasonable clip despite her horse's panting. She found the narrow dirt path and followed it until it wound down over a rolling hill to a valley basin which then swelled up to a plateau after some time. When they got to the top Felicia was vaguely startled by the graveyard laid out around them. It centered on a lavish stone crypt with rows of common markers poking out like spokes on a wheel. Outside of the crypt, a simple stone altar punctuated the decidedly religious theme of the place. 

"I- Is this safe?" 

"As safe as is right to expect." Lostariel jumped down smoothly and took off her faceless mask. Her hair was thick with sweat and clinging to her scalp but her eyes were sharp, intensely focused on Felicia. She looked equal parts ready to hug the girl and stab her to death and bury her with the others. She turned away in a sharp motion and pinched the bridge of her nose. 

Felicia climbed down with considerable difficulty on to legs that weren't even remotely ready to hold her up. She slumped to the ground some feet away, clutching her knees to her ample, sweating chest. That was too much for anyone to have endured. The roads weren't going to be safe to travel in the coming days and if she was caught. . . 

Gods only knew what'd happen to her then. Still. She had done what was demanded of her, there was no question of right and wrong or being damned by the consequences. There was only retaining your pride and self-respect or compromising it. She'd done what she knew had to be done. 

At that thought she allowed herself a smile. 

"I don't see what you think is funny." 

"You don't have to," Felicia said softly. She looked up at the woman as though it was the first and last time, finally she said. "I won't let you kill her. . ." 

Lostariel's left eye twitched. Just once. She exhaled through her nose in a sharp derisive sigh. "You speak as though I'm going to give you a choice. That won't happen every time." 

Felicia considered for just a moment- maybe it was the adrenaline still surging through her body, or maybe it was the weight of the elder's kukri, maybe it was the self confidence of her success that brought forth the mouth full of stupid: "I just saved your life, I could have let the mob tear you apart but I didn't. . . .maybe I can't stop you next time but I want to try." 

That earned her a flat, uninspired look that told Felicia she was sliding back into the 'kill and bury' mentality. 

"I want you to teach me to stop you! I'm a quick learner and I don't complain, you know we're friends by now and-" 

"Teach you-" she clenched her hands into fists. That calm demeanor cracked a little and her normally pale cheeks took on a shade of red. "You just cost me-" 

"I saved your life." 

"You don't. . . .you-" Lostariel turned away again with another exhale. She alternated looking at the ground and sky for several long moments before she finally looked over her shoulder. Her voice was an icy whisper fitting her northern heritage. "The Ace of Diamonds has never failed a job, not once in all her years. . . .now you're going to stain that name. For what, so you can feel superior?" 

"I- no! No! I was trying to protect you both!" 

Lostariel crouched down several feet away, taking her blade between her fingers with the kind of stoicism that wouldn't have looked out of place on a statue. "Go on. . ." Her fingers slid up the blade so she was holding it with the tip to her palm. All the while she watched the little Mawik girl. 

"S- She's not perfect, okay. Fine. But neither are you- but you're both my friends. I can't let my friends kill each other! Those men knew who you were and they were going after you and. . ." Felicia leaned forward with trembling knees. She clutched two hand fulls of grass between them. "I haven't seen grass like this, Lostariel. Where I come from grass is purple and blue; they say it's because we don't stain it with our own blood like the northerners do. Isn't that a good enough reason?" 

A flick of the wrist. A sliver of reflected light. The blade bit into the dirt between her hands only an inch away from her thumb. Felicia didn't dare move as the assassin held her gaze with unfeeling purple eyes, waiting for the woman to once more pass judgment on her and her right to life. Finally, and with such deliberate slowness that Felicia almost missed her movements, Lostariel slid into the girl's space. Her voice was calm, detached, inhuman: 

"I am not going to train my replacement, I am young enough to do this job and I am not prepared to die for you. . ." 

"I- I don't want to replace you. I want to stop you. . ." Felicia swallowed. "Please?" 

Lostariel let out a chuff of irritation like a cat dismissing a piece of food. "The courage you have won't keep you safe any more than any skill I can teach you. You've ruined the reputation I've kept and then you ask me for my help? You should be begging me for your life by right." 

"S- So wh-" Felicia stopped herself. "W- What if. . ." She licked her lips. "What if I help you find Sarah? But you give me the chance to stop- Hrk!" Lostariel grabbed her throat, wrenched her painfully to her feet and then further up so she was standing on her tip toes. Felicia grabbed the woman's arm and tried to pull herself free but for all her best efforts Lostariel held her firmly, ensuring she had the girl's undivided attention. 




Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 41



"Look around you." 

"Hck! L-" 

"Look! You stand before a god's bounty! Everywhere around you lies unspent potential, dreams and hopes that never came to be." She pivoted and slammed Felicia to her knees, bracing her hands against either side of her neck from behind, she took a fist of hair and jerked the girl's head back even as she fought for air. "Is this where you want to end? Do you want to die?" 

Felicia coughed. What was she trying to say? In a desperate attempt to get her wits about her she pushed back against the assassin and groaned, "Let me go!" 

"Listen!" Lostariel pulled her tighter. "Do you not hear the dying wind of time passing you by? If you walk this road, you will chase your death and inevitably you will find it." 

"I don't care! I can't lose you both!" She added in a whisper, "you're the only friends I have. . ." 

Another irritated chuff. Lostariel got to her feet and batted Felicia's ponytail as she rounded the girl. Looming, the short woman braced her knee to Felicia's wounded shoulder- high enough that it dug in and burned like hell. Felicia grabbed the woman's hips and tried in vain to push her away. As she squirmed, Lostariel pushed her head back so they were watching one another. 

"When you're laying in a ditch bleeding out alone, looking to a sky that won't mourn your passing and you're surrounded by the dreams and talents you could have developed had you not come this way, will you still say this is what you want? When the faces of people you could have touched are looking down at you, angry and as lost as you are- when they tell you that what they could have been is going to die with you, will that be when you're happy?" 

"Nghh!" 

"You've ruined my work, the least you can do is answer me!" 

"Ngh- No!" Felicia punched the woman's inner thigh forcing her to wobble just a tiny bit, and in the process she bought herself enough time to draw back and protect her shoulder. "I'm not going to be like you, dammit! I want to stop people from dying for nothing, and you're not going to change that! Just show me how- teach me how to fight!" 

Lostariel went quiet at that, staring down at the chesty teenager from the lowest of the low lands. Her purple gaze lingered with a dangerous edge to it, searching the girl over as if she could read her very soul. Some part of Felicia believed it was possible. 

"I-" 

"You wish to lead a dangerous life, is that it? You think you'll find your own meaning, is that it?" She balled her hands into fists once more. "Do you believe you're worth it?" 

"Do you think you are?" Felicia shot back in petty defiance. She'd already shown the world she was prepared to do what needed to be done, she didn't owe Lostariel anything. . . 

Lostariel's right hand trembled in anger and frustration, her glove groaned in protest when she tightened her fist and for just a moment she looked about ready to strike Felicia but instead she dotted the girl's forehead with her finger and pushed her head back to a nearly painful angle. "They're going to be searching the roads for you and I. . ." 

"Y- Yes, I know." 

"We don't have much time. . ." 

"N- No we don't. Will you stop that?" 

Almost reluctantly she did but the reprieve was short lived as she crouched down in front of Felicia again. "You're not going to slow me down, you won't stand in my way-" 

"And you won't kill anyone in the meantime," Felicia said firmly as she held Lostariel's gaze. "Nobody." 

"This isn't a discussion-" 

"Then you're not going anywhere. My horse is terrified of you and those soldiers have horses of their own." She didn't blink. "You can't outrun them." 

Lostariel blinked. She looked at Felicia as though the girl had lost her mind. 

"My horse can get us out of here and you won't find another rider like me. . ." She swallowed. "We need each other right now." 

Another eye twitch. "You stand in my way and yours will be the only body they find- remember that." 

She knew better than argue or push her luck, but she wasn't about ready to give up just like that. She plucked the assassin's blade from the dirt and turned it over to its owner pommel first. The two women looked at one another, and when Lostariel plucked the blade it was as though some covenant had been made. They ran for the horse at the same time. 

They had a lot of ground to cover if they were going to make it out of the region, and Felicia had serious doubts about how far they'd manage before their head start became a dead end.



Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 42



Interlude II 

The Bloodstained Blonde 

"What resplendence, what beauty! Poetry in motion is to die and walk among the star flowers for a mere glimpse at divinity, to toil in a god's name for years to hear the voice of your patron? The things we do in the name of connecting to our gods are nearly limitless and in the end we can only but glimpse at the power of the divine pillars that hold up our world. 

Even so, to those who take this path, life has a unique and powerful meaning- it isn't the first thought of the common man to question why his disease suddenly breaks any more than he would the first or last breath in his lungs. The common man never questions the source of miracles, nor how they are paid for." 

-Unknown 

Letters From the Gods Volume 114 

The Cherub 

The world could be thought of as a sea of specific and occasionally non-specific places, wrapped tightly in the threads of mundane existence were the means to access them if properly trained. Yamma was too 'young' to really understand the ins and outs of how such things worked, and realistically she shouldn't have been allowed to access this travel at all- the Collective had assigned her to a charge; she was meant to be with Amaranth, not wandering the world. 

But the goddess Isira had pulled her aside for a moment after Amaranth touched her and consigned their agreement. That moment was a specific moment in the world of non-specific ones that mortals existed within. It wouldn't hurt Amaranth, but still- it had been a show of defiance, a failure of duty. Yamma would surely be punished if the Collective found out. Or, dare she think it, the Holy Elisandra Herself. 

Yet, for all her concern for her charge and herself, she couldn't help but be fascinated by Isira's presence. Even outside of this dingy little plaster and wood home, She lit up the area around Her like a beacon. Amaranth by comparison cast off a candle's glow in her mind. Yamma still hadn't composed herself into a physical body yet- no sense in scaring the locals, but she was getting ready to when Isira knocked on the door to the house. Strange. Why would She? 

The answer came a moment later when an attractive looking older woman opened the door with a walking stick in one hand and a basket of gardening tools in the other. Her brown hair was bound loosely behind her head and long strands hung down either side of her age-rounded features, almost concealing the spots where her eyes should have been. Yamma could tell instantly that her eyelids concealed no bulge like most of the humanoids she'd encountered. Even so, the woman's eyes remained closed as if she was going out of her way not to scare people but she was too proud to wear a mask. 

The way she wore her field dress and blouse marked her as a worker of some sort, but she still carried herself as if she was the best worker. . . .person she could be. Maybe it was Amaranth's abiding respect for inner strength or her own growing awareness of her own tastes, but Yamma liked her instantly. 

Even as the brown haired woman opened the door she was starting into some rehearsed speech with a gentle lilt. "Don't get many visitors unless their looking for alms or trying to make me 'see the light,' so lemmie warn you up front, I'm broke and the last thing I saw got me so hot and bothered I never wanted to see again, so the bar is set pretty high if you're trying to surprise me." 

Isira actually stalled for a second before she chuckled. "In more polite circles that might be considered rude to rebuff a visitor, Leslie." 

Yamma tuned out their conversation to her peripheral senses. Something was off here. This Leslie woman radiated an aura, not quite divine in nature but there was a faint touch of natural magic to her. It glowed vines up her spinal column and in the back of her brain, a soft purple radiance that the cherub felt a certain pull from. Like a long lost connection to a world that had long since ceased to exist. In the world of mortals, this woman, this farmer? She was a specific place. How was that possible? 

Isira was mid-sentence when Yamma turned her attention to the two again. "-I am willing to imagine things for you and you're ready to throw them away already?" She tutted. "Hardly fair." 

"I have a great imagination," Leslie said casually. "Like right now I imagine you meandering down the road to the Kettle and getting drunk before you go around pretending to be a goddess. At least then people will write you off as being sloshed instead of insane. Won't that be fun?" The woman turned back into her house. "And tell your friend that leering over your shoulder isn't doing your case any good." 

Yamma startled for the first time in her comparably short existence. 

The door slammed. 

Isira looked at the door for a moment and then spared Yamma a glance. Her angular features turned a little sour, mildly irritated and somehow proud. She spoke with a faint bemusement. "Little Keiter, what have you brought me this time, hm?" 

"She's different." Yamma dared express. "She can see me. . ." 

"Indeed she can, and somehow not me." 

"Maybe you should demonstrate to her? I- forgive me, goddess, I ha-" 

"We've talked about this, dear. Call me Isira if you must call me anything." The goddess eyed the woman's home thoughtfully, smiling a touch as She did so. "I like her, she's going to be fun. Do you know how long its been since I had fun with someone?" 

For some reason that stung and Yamma couldn't figure out why. "I should get back to my charge-" 

"Before you go," no sooner did the words leave Her finely sculpted lips than both She and Yamma were in the mortal's home. A tired looking place coated in a thin layer of dust and decorated by clothing hanging on the walls- and a jar of ashes spilled on the floor. The ashes had a human tint to them. . . Odd. 

Leslie stiffened and wheeled on the new visitors with her walking stick raised in a pathetic show of defense. Her posture was sloppy and loose, she was about as threatening as a blade of grass but Isira stayed out of her swing range all the same. "I am not easily offended, you know. Every once in a while I find someone that can push that boundary, though-" 

"How'd you-" 

"I'm not going to hurt you, Leslie, you can relax." 

The mortal 'watched' the two intruders warily, somehow tracking Yamma as she shifted her presence side to side. A very strange mortal indeed. "Your friend looks kindda jumpy- let's keep things friendly, huh?" 

"Yes, cherubs always have been a little disconnected and curious. If not, they'd not be able to fulfill their function! But rather than bore you with the details, I'd like to talk to you about that necklace you're wearing. . ." 

Leslie clutched her staff a little tighter. "This is where I say something like I don't know what you're talking about, or how about 'get the hell out of my home'? That sounds pretty appropriate, too." 

Isira shifted Her presence towards Yamma. In a stage voice She murmured. "I think she fears I'll do her harm, what say you, little one, would I-" 

"Not helping your case! Listen, you had a joke at the blind woman's expense, har har now for your sanity and my sake, kindly piss off, yeah?" 

"Tch," Isira tutted. "Let's try this again; Keiter brought you to me- quite agreeably- and I'm here to make a proposition. . ." 

That stopped Leslie momentarily, eventually she settled her attention on Isira and pouted her lips. "I. . . .don't tell me. This was all some kind of con game, right? Boo hoo, I'm a helpless little elf in a big human world who-" 

"Keiter is anything but an elf! For one, no pointy ears and a rather substantial endowment- some of my better work, I must say." When Leslie opened her mouth to retort Isira cut her off with a playful chuckle. "But then you'd know that better than most, hm?" 

The woman blushed. 

Not only did she blush, she went completely red. 

Isira rocked back on Her sandal clad feet with a smug grin. "Yes, he can be rather persuasive when he wants to be. It's a shame I never could convince the woman who trained him to join me, but Sarah was always a bit. . . .damaged." She paused for effect. "So then, can we be friends?" 

"I- I'm warming to it. . . .but if someone claiming to be a goddess showed up at your door, you'd be a little suspicious too." 

The goddess chuckled ruefully. "I would be very, very suspicious indeed, but let's dispense with the pleasantries! I'm going to approach you slowly, and then you'll see what I'm trying to show you. Sound good?" 

Leslie stiffened a little, easing her weight back. "I reserve the right to smack you in the shin if you try to hurt me." 

"You would not be the first to do so, sadly!" In two feline strides She eased into Leslie's space and took the mortal's cheeks gingerly. Her presence swelled to encompass the room in warmth and that subtle kind of power She exuded. Isira let the room fill with Her presence until Leslie finally let go of the 'weapon'. 

It clattered to the ground. 

Yamma angled herself to a better position to watch. Leslie grabbed Isira's hands, opening eyes the purest silver grey the world had ever known. The little mortal stared up at Isira's face utterly lost in Her magnificence. In this slice of non-specific time the two women lost one another and became one spirit, Yamma could feel the shift of the woman from passive observer to active and willing participant in the exchange. The power they shared was just that- shared- with neither taking more than was freely offered and Isira, for Her part in it ensured the older woman had all she could handle. 

It wasn't just a transfer of energies but a bonding of acceptance and new connections. They were having some private conversation that would never be spoken of in any language or by any tongue but within that conversation they shared a lifetime of stories, ideals, hopes and dreams. 

But like anything, it too came to an end. Isira's presence shrunk to her physical being and She held the mortal. "I need a paladin. I like your application, so here I am! What do you say, hm? Up for the job?" 

Leslie gaped, moments later she began to weep. . . 

Yamma didn't understand why but Isira seemed to. She enfolded the woman in a hug as they sunk to the ground together. Awkwardness was a new sensation to the young Cherub, but she immediately disliked it; watching someone cry- itself an irksome, abstract concept to her- and not understanding why wasn't fair to anyone involved. 

Not knowing how else she could handle the situation, she resorted to her first impulse: checking up on Amaranth. If Isira wanted help raising a paladin, She knew where to find Yamma. . . 

Strangely, and not for the first time, the little cherub hoped She knew that, too. 

# 

Back within the specific world of mortal places- and at the specific place where Amaranth was expiring, Yamma reached through, manifesting her physical form with a soft crunch of gravel and muck being the only announcement of her presence. No fanfare, no grand statements of divinity. . . Just the quiet, woefully mundane grinding of rocks and bloody dirt. 

It was almost sacrilegious in some non-specific way: she was the herald of a new cleric, an agent of the Holy Elisandra and not a single horn was blown for her. 

"Hmph." 

A pull at her divine senses dragged her attention to a prone, broken form splattered with blood and muck from the road-side ditch that served as its grave. The familiar, the candle that she'd been assigned, languishing like a dancer with broken limbs. Forgotten. Alone. 

That thought bothered Yamma. She'd died alone, doing her duty to her lord and to her goddess. That much Amaranth had been prepared for, but the thought that she'd lost her unborn child to that duty- that an innocent, the life she had a hand in bringing up- 

No. 

Yamma stopped the swirling mass of thoughts exuded by the shell of Amaranth. The anguish and pain she could comprehend, but the complex torrent roiling around her from the dead woman was too much to handle. The cherub forced herself to center as she'd been trained to- she had a job to do and her time to do it was running out. 

Dame Amaranth, the half-elven knight that couldn't have the one thing she wanted the most. Not yet, anyway. Judging by the gaping hole in her stomach- the one that had welled up and filled with coagulating blood even now, there wasn't much Yamma would need to reconstruct. Just enough to seal her up and get her body going again. The cherub communicated it to her Collective, receiving a light admonishment for being so tardy. She didn't dare explain why, even as they asked in unison. 

Instead, Yamma touched the only muck-free spot she found on the dead woman's face. Her black glove flared briefly with blue energy that rippled through her entire core- the Collective's combined energies, each taken from their respective charge- flickered and swelled. Some of the Collective reported that their charge died but with so many clerics, the transfer was easy. 

The bonding, however was anything but. 

Amaranth's natural inclination, even now, was to protect. Her duke and lover, her child, her other lover. . . .all of these things she'd failed, all she wanted to do was protect herself now. As her body was forcefully restarted, as wounds mended with the collections of a hundred thousand other clerics and cherubs and as her final memories burned themselves into Yamma's own mind, the woman began screaming. 

Yamma panicked. This wasn't supposed to happen. Mortals weren't supposed to be able to control themselves until the bonding was complete! Gods, was Yamma destroying her? Already?! Her first charge and she was going to destroy it already- 

She almost stopped. She almost let the woman drop back down to the dirt. But Isira was beside her. The goddess touched her hand and without a word, held it to Amaranth's forehead as the Collective's power surged through the conduit within her. The screaming stopped a few moments after and an incredibly cold sensation blasted Yamma's hair back. 

The cold was refreshing, it cooled her sweaty skin and froze the tingling in her extremities. The drain on her physical form was incredible but with this new sensation she felt as though she could go forever- she felt better than good. She felt safe. Was this what the Collective had meant when they'd spoke of a cleric's 'channel?' 

It was common for Cherubs to be the first to experience a new cleric's ability to channel their divine gifts, sometimes it was pleasant- most often, it was horrifying. There were tales of cherub's physical bodies being reduced to a pile of sludge and still being forced to maintain contact to finalize the transfer. 

It seemed Yamma had gotten off easy. Days burned themselves one after another in the forest- creatures came to claim pieces of the dead soldiers rotting on the path, giving Yamma and Isira plenty of breadth, when the flow of energy finally subsided and Yamma's white blouse was stained with sweat, Isira let her pull away. 

The moment she was released she dissolved her clothing and replaced it with something clean, her hair and skin following suit quickly thereafter. Amaranth's traits were already asserting themselves and Yamma did not want to make a bad first impression on her first charge. 

But then she looked at the broken half-elf laying there, looking up at the sky with unblinking eyes. The horror of her last moments replayed endlessly in her mind but there was something off, something wrong. Yamma didn't understand the significance of the child swirling about Amaranth's mind. Protecting the duke, protecting the other man she slept with? Understandable. The child. . . 

That was probably irrelevant. She'd failed her duty in her mind, but that didn't make any sense. "I don't understand. . ." 

"Hm?" Isira cooed as combed the dead woman's hair back. Even with the mud and viscera, She stroked Amaranth's hair back like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

"A child was involved. She held a child close to her body, above failing the men she loved, she feels she failed her the most." Yamma eyed the goddess warily. "The thing you spoke of through me when I met her. Her daughter." 

Isira sighed, "She would have been such a wonderful mother." After a moment She added. "She had dreams of becoming a member of the elven council, to build relations between the races- fitting, really." 

"I don't understand what a child has to do with that. She's meant to guide and educate," Yamma paused momentarily. "It was her daughter who was going to become the council member, wasn't it?" 

"Who knows?" Isira stood with a flippant smile. "Even I can't see the future- but don't tell anyone that." 

"It's unnecessary, then." Yamma approached her charge, reaching for the woman's forehead. 

"No." 

"No?" 

"No." Isira said firmly. "Don't rob her of her memories- don't compel to be silent about this. . ." 

"But-" 

"I know your collective will say it's necessary, but there are benefits to leaving her as pure as she can be- the girl's spirit is strong, if you give her a purpose worth fighting for, she will give you everything she can and then find more." For a goddess of pleasure, Isira's straightforwardness surprised Yamma a fair bit. But She wasn't done. She strolled to the little cherub and cupped her cheeks. 

"I'm going to let you in on a little secret. . . No one will punish you if you break the rules a little. You need to experiment and try new things if either of you are going to be satisfied." The goddess glanced up briefly, a sly smile crossing her pouted lips. She leaned in, purring in Yamma's ear. "I'll show you something you can only have if you leave her soul as it is." 

"W- I don't-" 

"One day. . . One day when you're both comfortable, you will experience passion through her skin. You'll know what it's really like, and you will cry my name with her voice." 

"A- Are you- are you trying to bribe me?" 

"Mmm, food for thought." She pulled back, winked, and then vanished. 

Yamma frowned in the chill left by the absence of Her presence. Not because she was upset by the 'offer' but rather because she was tempted by it. 

# 

Experiment. . . 

Experiment? 

Why not? 

Yamma stood over her charge calmly. Her pupilless white eyes scanned over the bloodied knight while she rifled through the woman's thoughts in kind, trying to understand the choices she'd made in her life, the triumphs and the regrets. Most of it was irrelevant garbage to her ordered mind; snippets of time loosely organized in some deference to the world around her. After all, she was only an elf-blooded woman. She couldn't possibly effect change except by leading by example. Both human and elves would come to respect someone that didn't beg for or demand equality- 

Yamma quickly got bored of the diatribe. The opinions of mortal races were anything but relevant to the goings on of the larger world- obviously, or Amaranth would have been able to talk down the dragon's agent instead of dying at the monster's hands. 

No, this was going to have to change. But before that, there was something else that nagged at Yamma as it had Amaranth in life. The unruly mane of red hair splayed around her head like a halo of blood. It was an affront to a well ordered life and it was- had been- so damn unmanageable. It couldn't even be braided properly! 

Experimentation, then, would start there; with something that bugged them both. So long as no one saw what happened. . . Yamma cut her link to the collective, citing 'training purposes' and crouched over the woman. 

She was careful not to muddy her boots or her suit, lifting a strand of hair experimentally. She drew from Amaranth's natural energy to shape it into all manner of different things, tugging one way and another trying different styles. Once infused, it melded smoothly as wet noodle while conserving as much of the woman's soul as possible. Yamma turned it black, brown, white, gold- then started cycling through every color Amaranth had ever encountered. In the space of a moment she settled upon a flaxen color that framed the side of the woman's face in a gentle light. 




Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 42



It looked good on her. . . A little straightening, shortening to her chin. Yes. Manageable and clean. Yamma crunched her gloves in irritation, she was going to have to get her hands dirty. Reluctantly, she plowed her hands through the rest of the woman's hair- straightening it first and then infusing it's new color. Maybe something lighter was in order, though. Something to contrast her sharp features. Something tawny? No, a shade of hay blonde. Yes, she liked the memories of blonde Amaranth had. 

Yamma was just about to change the stripe of brownish hair when Amaranth came back to life. Wide eyed and full of terror, she threw her hands out to shove Yamma away and scrambled back with a scattered gurgle of syllables choked off by the blood in her throat. 

The cherub straightened out her jacket, dusted the already crusting hand print on her lapel and waited- oh, did she wait- for Amaranth to collect herself. The bloodied woman looked left and right in her would be death pit, clawing at her battered plate armor, at her throat. She opened her mouth wide and convulsed- 

What the hell was she doing? 

Yamma started to feel faint. A tightness in her chest. In her throat. Something was deeply wrong here. Amaranth scrabbled against her armor some more- 

She was trying to breathe- oh! Yamma had forgot that part. 

Oops. 

So as not to appear panicked, Yamma shifted herself behind her charge and touched the woman's side. The divine spark of life swelled within and exploded into the mix of air and other substances mortals needed- Amaranth celebrated by doubling over and vomiting up the contents of her throat before she gagged down a load of rancid meat smelling air. 

That forced Yamma to experience the stink of rotting meat and blood. She tried not to let it show as she shifted her presence back in front of the woman and clasped her hands behind her back lightly. "I have good news!" 

Amaranth looked up with blank, glazed eyes. Did she even understand what she was being told? Had Yamma forgotten those parts too, somehow? No, surely not- she'd gotten there soon enough to preserve her mental functions. 

"Good news, yes. Do you know what I am?" 

The woman looked side to side shakily. 

"You were dead, but the Holy Elisandra has seen to restore you to life for your years of dedica-" Amaranth vomited again. "-yes. It's exciting, I know. Ah- Are- are you all right?" 

"Nguh-huh. . ." 

That nagging sensation that Yamma forgot some vital piece cropped up again. "Yes, I know this is a trying moment, but allow me to be the first to welcome you to an eternity of service. My name is Yamma, I will be your direct connection to the Holy Elisandra and your advocate and guide in the application of your new gifts. 

"We have a lot of ground to cover, but we'll start with the essentials." Yamma pointedly ignored the woman's bloodshot, exhausted stare. "You've agreed to serve your goddess, in return She's granted you all the tools you'll need to carry out that mission. You've also-" 

"Ric- Rich- Richard," She coughed out. 

In all this, she was still worried about her charge. . . She really was one of Elisandra's children. "I'm afraid he's dead-" 

"N- No!" 

"I did warn you," Yamma eased away as the woman clawed herself out of the gutter. In the blink of an eye she shifted herself to the crest of the hill. Amaranth was crawling to the form of a dead man who's skull cap had been cut off. She laid her head on his body and cried. 

This was not going the way Yamma had imagined it would. 

Flustered, the cherub paced while the new cleric emptied her heart into the man's back. Amaranth clutched the empty shell of a person that had been her lover, Markus, she whimpered entreaties in a tongue Yamma didn't understand and, more than anything, she burned daylight. 

"We really should be going," Yamma started. "There are many things you have to learn before the first day-" 

"Why?!" 

Yamma was surprised when the woman wheeled on her, eyes narrowed and fists clenched. "Why what?" 

"Why did you let them die?! If I couldn't protect them-" 

"You did your best-" 

"They still died! You said- You-" The woman scanned the ground left and right. Searching her memories. Yamma realized her own mistake the moment the half-elf opened her mouth. "You said I could save him! You said Richard was alive!" 

"But-" 

"You said he was alive! That- That I could help!" The woman wept over the corpse, her eyes were hollow and faded with a million pains beyond expression. 

Yamma deliberately kept her link closed off from the woman; she was supposed to be abject compared to the divinity Yamma represented, but some part of the cherub wasn't ready to cast her that low- she felt the passion Isira had spoken of. Still, Yamma had to put the new cleric in her place. "I- I don't need to explain myself to you. You were chosen by your goddess because She needs you. Your service has been acknowledged! This should be the happiest day of your miserable life!" 

Amaranth clutched the dead man protectively and wept into what was left of his cheek. 

This cycle continued for several hours until the sunset finally washed away the evening and brought a veil of gloom over the forest. With it came the purr of crystalline structures in the clouds, moving so subtly no humanoid would see them and yet they brought a surge of energy that made the short hair on Yamma's physical body prickle. She shuddered unconsciously as she shifted towards her charge. 

"Are you done?" 

The look she got was venomous. Angry. A brief glimpse at their link spoke of nothing but hatred. Yamma ignored it. They had bigger problems. "I have given you as much time as I can, the time to make a choice is at hand; you're being charged by your patron to help Her in the eternal struggle against ignorance. She needs you to guide-" 

"Why. . ." 

Yamma looked at her flatly. "This is not going to help you-" 

"Why did you lie to me? You said I could help them-" 

"And you can. You will." Yamma lied. "There was no time to let you debate whether or not you would serve. We are only allowed to come to mortals when they're drawing their last breath- securing consent is a very time sensitive thing." She crouched down, careful not to wrinkle her suit. "You were bleeding to death, nothing I could have done would have prevented that or prolonged the inevitable. . . 

"We serve the Holy Elisandra, Amaranth. We know the conditions that come with that, you knew She would call on you if She thought you were worthy. Even if the timing was inopportune. You should be happy, you-" 

"Leave me. . ." The woman croaked. "Leave." 

Yamma rose. "I can do that." She started to turn away but, feeling her charge's eyes upon her, she looked back. "You should know that if you snub Her invitation, I'll take back what was given to you- your second chance will go to someone who wants it and you will lay here with your men. . . Mostly." 

Amaranth clutched Markus tighter. "W- What do you mean?" 

She was careful. She danced around the topic using only the words she was allowed to by the collective and the terms of her service. "I'll be required to take back the spark that gives you life and since you and I are bound, that will mean I'll have to decouple myself in order to do so, so I can find another who wants this opportunity. . . That means your soul will be left to drift, lost to your body and unable to transcend to the gods' realm. Is that what you want?" 

"Y- You tricked me. . ." Her voice came out as a haggard growl. Then she wept some more. 

This was getting tiresome. "The gods chose their servants, Amaranth. Ammy." That got her attention. "But they are not without a sense of fairness to mortals. I'm authorized to give you a favor upon Her behalf for your service. . ." They watched one another for a moment. Yamma peeked into her mind; there was a burning image at the forefront. "Yes, her. The dragon's daughter. If you feel it would bring you peace, we can hunt her down." 

For the moment Amaranth pacified herself with thoughts of revenge and how she'd enact it. It was trite, maybe, but it gave Yamma time to wrap up the other business. "You've been granted powers fitting your abilities and mentality, the Holy Elisandra has given you these gifts to carry out Her will, you'll never age from this moment forward and you'll never need to worry about getting sick. That's the good news. . ." 

The half-elf stared at her, waiting for the other shoe to drop. At least she was amiable about it. 

"Mortal wounds can still kill you- in fact, if you're doing what you're meant to, you'll die much like you did right here rather than of old age." Yamma briefly considered letting her know about the laws of conservation, but decided they had other things to deal with at the moment. They needed to get some kind of shelter set up. "There is also the matter of channeling Her power. . . .something you should be familiar with by now; drawing clerics from paladins tends to be smoother. That ability will work differently now, but you can use it effectively forever if you so chose. 

"From what I've gathered, your ability to channel protects! Quite useful and fitting, don't you think?" Yamma forced a smile she didn't feel as the woman looked at her hand. She seemed to remember how it'd been bent at a sideways angle before she died and so she looked away before sparing Yamma a glance. 

"You still lied to me. . ." 

"Would you rather I let you die? You're too valuable to us- to your goddess and to the world at large. I am not your friend, Amaranth, I am your guide. . . I was chosen specifically to bring you into the fold." 

"What- what does She want of me?" 

Yamma hesitated. She thought about what the Collective had told her; to turn her into a guardian of one of Elisandra's temples. And then she considered Isira's proposal. . . 

She broke one of what would become a series of rules when she lied to her charge: "She wants you to raise an army, Amaranth. . . .a holy army." 

It felt surprisingly good.



Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 43



Volume 5: What Was Left Behind 

Chapter 1 - The Unrequited 

"For the wandering soul, there is a certain longing for the idea of a home life. It's at once inviting and tender, teasing us with the promises we know better than to believe; seductively luring us into the arms of comfort ever beyond our grasp. This time will be different, we promise ourselves. This time, you will finally fit in. 

You will be accepted. 

You will be welcomed. 

You will be cared for. 

The heart can be lied to but the soul knows what it wants, and denying its simple demand is the kind of suicide that the sharpest blade or longest drop cannot hope to compete with; it is the insidiously quiet spiral into a crushing oblivion. 

The greatest irony is that this spiral's path open with three little words: 

I love you." 

Sarah Kettar 

Diary Entry 5528 

Vestrin 

The shovel bit deep into the packed dirt. It kicked up rocks that grazed his knees like blades. Sweat rolled down his battered flesh only to frost over in the early morning air. And still he dug. A six foot by three foot rectangle in the middle of a dead district, in a park. A park was fitting. 

People had spent time here. Mingling, they called it. Different races met to talk about whatever shit they talked about to make themselves sound important. There wasn't any talking going on here any more, though. The husks of the estate grounds laid all around him- around them- reaching ashen and soot stained fingers into a dead sky. Prayers to a god that was, and never had been listening. 

The Salter's district. An entire district owned by some rich snob who thought he could make polite 'race mixing' normal. They had their balls, their open debates. They helped the poor to curry favor with the masses- Vestrin himself had eaten his fill from their larder when it was offered. But in the end, like everything else, it was ripped away. 

Like the earth he broke under the dented blade of the shovel. Everything eventually gave way. Everything except his tears. He was empty. Too empty to even feel anger at the cowards of the Guild for refusing to pay for Rebecca's burial. 

There were no tears. Not even for the small grave filled beside hers. What fucking good was a man who couldn't cry for his own son? For his friend? He slumped against the side wall trying to bring the tears, trying to taste the heat. And nothing came. 

So he dug. 

There was no guild. There were no friends. He was alone. Not a single copper to his name to even mark these places, and only salty tears to feed the soil. Briefly he considered opening his wrists over them, a thought that raced through his mind as he finished padding out Rebecca's final resting place. 

They both deserved better. But on his hands and knees, naked but for his tattered boots, he sculpted a pillow from the dirt and lined his friend's bed with rocks and the flowers he had found roaming the overgrown gardens. Maybe it would have been best if he joined her, maybe that should have been the price, the penance as clerics called it. Maybe that would have made this right. 

He didn't have it in him to think of the red headed elf beyond her escaping as his son bled from that fucking plague. The open sores- oozing into sheets blackened with dried blood- wailing for him to be near. Holding him as he went quiet. 

The bitch who had contracted to the Guild was nowhere to be found. Smarmy cunt had probably disappeared when she found out some freelance assassin got involved. The Ace of Diamonds. . . .world class talent who happened to be chasing after the same bounty. Was it any surprise he failed? It didn't take away the hurt but it felt reasonable. Sane. Healthy. Rationalizing. . . 

It hadn't been his fault he hadn't been able to catch her. No, of course not! It was that fucking bitch who'd handed him the contract in the first place! She was hedging her bets! His son's health hadn't meant anything to her- 

"Stop it." He growled, punching the dirt. "Stop." 

He couldn't change the past. No one could. 

Warily he hauled himself up and grabbed Rebecca by the coat. It was the only thing he had left to give his life long friend, the one thing they'd argued over for years when he'd found it on some stiff on the lower east side. He laid her down gently, smoothing out the wrinkles in her leathers and pulling the coat tight and respectable like. 

It looked good on her. With her hair arranged to hide the finger sized hole in her forehead, she almost looked like she' was on her way to a merchant's meeting. At any moment she'd spring to life and secure the future they'd always talked about! Yeah. Spring right the fuck up and wake them all from this nightmare. 

Except she didn't. 

He was still asleep. 

He always would be, too. 

Vestrin clutched the oily lapel of the coat. To no one in particular, he whispered. "I was supposed to get the pocket watch. . . .cheating bitch." 

There was no air to laugh even sardonically. Just a hollow chuff of something that sounded like a sob. That rich fop from the Estan Free States had told them about retirement watches given out to important people. He'd begged them not to steal it, crying that it belonged to his father, and how he'd give them whatever paper bonds they wanted if they just let him keep it. All bullshit. But she'd fallen in love with that watch. . . .they didn't eat for three weeks so she could keep that shiny piece of ticking metal. 

It fucking figured. 

Vestrin barely had the strength to climb out and, like his son before her, had no words that would come when he tried to fill the minutes it took to catch his breath. As he shuffled the dirt back in the hole, there was only the metallic clack-shuff of the shovel biting into the dirt, depositing it into the pit. 

When he was finally done he grabbed his trousers and with considerable effort managed to get them on. Parched and numb, he sat there on his knees between the graves. Minutes passed in silence with only the dull purr of wind rolling over the hill to wash away the stink of blood and disease. 

A sound to his right. Grass crunching. He yolked to the left grabbing for the dagger he'd stupidly left beside his gear. By the time he had the magic blade in his hand he could have been dead several times over. But he wasn't. Standing in his old spot was a tall eastern looking woman with a distinctly orange-yellow pair of eyes and wavy brown hair. She was dressed in clothes that cost more than even the land under them was worth. It was the bitch who'd contracted the Guild. 

When she poke, her voice was a soft rumble like a cat preparing to strike. "It has been too long, Vestrin." 

Tired and weak he was in no mood for anyone's shit. "You aint wanna be alone here at night. Dangerous place." 

"Only if I was in yourrr shoes." She said flatly. Her gaze swept the freshly dug plots, lips turning downward, she pouted her lips out a touch. "I expected only one." 

"Fuck you! Don't you-" 

"Behave," she said in a sharp tone that carried up and down the hill. "You've lost enough for one day, and now I hear that your friends and compatriots have all turned their backs on you. Very dire indeed, for the golden boy. . . .you have even failed my father, which he is not fond of." 

"I-" 

"But I am not here to place blame, Vestrin." She eyed him though she didn't tear her attention from the graves. "Only to find out what you plan to do next." As an afterthought she threw in: "The blade, regrettably will be coming with me in any case. That was for your work. Kindly hand it over." 

Vestrin clutched the blade all the tighter, staring at the woman. He tried to process his options but the days had left him too battered, too worn to even muster a reply. She seemed to recognize it, too. They stewed in the silence for several moments before she produced a single blue rose and laid it upon his son's grave. 

He opened his mouth to scream. Did she dare defile his memory by touching his resting place- but again the words wouldn't come. His hand trembled and he balled his hands into fists slamming against either side of his scarred face. It was a sign of respect, she was just paying respects. Monster. Dragon. The words raced through his mind only to slam into the blockage in his throat like a runaway bull. "Fuck." He croaked. 

Something metal thumped in front of him. It was a flask. Shakily he grabbed it up and sipped- water- he guzzled it to the last drop. When he was finished he wiped his mouth and looked up at the woman who'd not moved from her spot. 

"I want something from you," she said softly. "What happened is your failure, but not your fault. The Kettar woman. . . .where has she gotten to?" 

Vestrin stared blankly at her. "H-" After another attempt it finally came. "How the fuck am I supposed ta know?" 

Not the answer she wanted. Vestin ignored her pointed look. Her eyes flashed an eerie orange, gone in the next instant. "Werrrre I to offer you a second chance-" 

He snarled. "My son is dead! YOU CAN'T OFFER ME-" 

She closed in on him. He lashed out at the monster. 

She was beside him out of the arc of the blade. Hand touching his chin. She wrenched his head around to meet her with no effort. "Don't. Do that again." She waited a full beat for it to sink in. "My father wants me to kill you. . . .I want to spare your life." Her finely manicured finger touched his lips. "Do I have your attention?" 

Vestrin balled his hands into fists, briefly considered trying his luck again and decided against it. He let out a sharp, short sob. "Fuck you." 

Her finger stayed on his lips longer than necessary, indenting the soft flesh to the teeth. All the while her eyes bored into him with unearthly fire. Her voice was, as ever, smooth as diamond and every bit as hard. "There was a time. But for now, I want you to listen and listen well. To disobey my father is death, even after the centuries I have served, but I have never been wrong. I will not change that streak. . . .what I offer will not be offered again." 

She waited a moment for him to open his eyes. 

"Your son, that woman, you. You three were robbed of your dignity by- how did you put it? A 'knife eared cunt?'" The word sounded completely alien to her lips. Too high pitched, too sharp. "The Guild has felt my father's displeasure at their failure to get what I asked for. You may think of it as my gift to you for your efforts." Without warning she pulled a silk handkerchief from her vest pocket, opening it to show a set of solid gold teeth. 

Vestin swallowed hard, backed away from the display. "M- Y- You killed Magson? You- You don't do that-" 

"There is very little I don't do when I feel it's necessary, Vestrin." She tossed the mess of blood and gold to the side. Crouching down to his level, she continued. "There was another freelancer in the city, a girl. She calls herself the Ace of Diamonds. I believe she went after Sarah, but there was trouble in a village north of here, she's been put on the run. . . .this is an opportune time for you to prove yourself." She purred gently, tracing her finger along a scar on his chin. Her eyes followed that finger before slowly, agonizingly slowly, meeting his gaze once more. "Sarah stole your son's future, Vestrin. Does she deserve to steal yours, too?" 

"D- Don't you speak of him-" he trembled in her hand even as she ran her thumb over his lips. "Killin' her aint gonna change anything-" 

"No. It won't- or will it?" She lifted his chin gently. "You've not lived a particularly glamorous life up to now. . . .I can change that. Now and forever. I can make you comfortable, you need never wonder where your next meal will come from. Orrrr. . . .I can make it that you never need worry about eating again." Her hand touched his cheek. Power vibrated from her palm so hot and ready that even Vestrin could feel it preparing to release. 

He grabbed her hand. It didn't move. He yanked and yanked but still she was unyielding. "S- Stop!" 

"Choose." She cooed. "Either way, it will be quick. I will give you that favor." 

"Let me g-" 

"I want her. Alive if possible. Dead if necessary. . ." 

Vestrin groaned as pressure started to build in his skull. The right side of his face was going numb, voice blurry and indistinct. "Fuck you!" 

"This isn't helping you. She stole your life, Vestrin. She killed your friend. Your son. He isn't coming back, but you don't need to suffer for it. I can see to it you disappear, see you off to a new country with a new name and a future you can be proud of." The woman rose slowly to tower over him. Somewhere along the line she'd relieved him of his blade, and now turned it over in her hand. Spun it around her thumb. "I can make you powerful. Feared. Respected. . . .loved." She stopped with the blade, twirled it to a slashing grip. "I want more for you than this. You deserve more than this." 

"It- it won't bring him back." He staggered to his feet. "Nothing's going to bring them back! You think I wanted to get involved with you fucking people?! I didn't have a choice! You said you could cure 'im! I believed you! I-" 

"You've every right to be upset. But she got away. You didn't keep your end of the bargain." 

"Nngghh!" He almost threw a punch. But suddenly it occurred to him that he didn't need to hurt her- even if he could- he just needed time to outsmart her. He didn't want to die, but he couldn't live with himself just blindly accepting her offer. Word had it she worked for a dragon, not surprising considering what he'd seen of her. He held his tongue, avoided showing off too much of his anger. "S- So what do you want me to do?" 

"The mission hasn't changed." 

"I don't have money. I couldn't even afford to-" 

"Bury your dead." She nodded once. "I will arrange for an expense account in every city along the caravan routes. You will use a new identity, the documents are already set to go." 

At his flash of irritation she smiled. Vestin inhaled deeply. "What if I take your money and run, what then?" 

In a single prowling stride she was in front of him, head tilted slightly, and large peach colored eyes sizing him up. She leaned in, purring a roiling sigh in the back of her throat. "She left Laleah this morning, heading due west along the caravan route. . . You'll catch her quickly if you leave now." Punctuating her words touched his chest, tracing a line down his torso. "There is a courier at the west gate with all the documents you need. Get a bath at the guard house, you won't have another chance for several days." 

Vestrin tensed under the woman's touch. A little too warm, a little too powerful. Too demanding. She was going to get what she wanted one way or another, there were a million idiots in the city who'd believe this bitch. He'd made a life of not believing what people said, making his own way and, when necessary, doing what had to be done. He'd get through this, too. 

He just needed to buy some time. 

Time to figure out what the hell he was going to do. . . 

"All right." He whispered. 

"Good," She cooed. "I'll meet you in Lewood in twenty days." With a brief touch, cheek to cheek, she let him go. Turning without thought or concern to her own safety. Vestrin considered it. Just once. And let it die in the depths of his mind. 

Vestrin looked at the graves once more, perhaps for the last time. This time he didn't fight what few tears were still hiding in him. He was too tired to fight. Too numb to win.



Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 44



Volume 5: What Was Left Behind 

Chapter 2 - Echos 

"From the ground came trees and man. From the tree we took shelter and warmth and glue, a place to play and the means to make tools and weapons which we selfishly used against our fellow humanoids. The humble tree even remembers when we used its life to steal others' and it continues to give of itself. 

Trees helped us free up the time we spent hunting and gathering, allowed us to dream and with proper engineering, sail upon the winds. But I ask you, what did we give it in return?" 

-Captain J. A. Lace 

Logbook of the Crystal Lotus (Reg. Freestates of Estan) 

Sarah 

Never one to get seasick, the trundling and bobbing of the noble's carriage they- she- had stolen from Sorash had Sarah hanging half out the window with eyes closed and deep gulps of air pushing their way through her throat by sheer force of their speed. 

The road was treacherous and rocky, packed down by decades of caravans that never seemed to quell the subtle forces by which the dirt managed to push up rocks and other debris. Every clash of horse hoof or steel rimmed wheel saw the carriage victorious but Sarah's stomach rolling. She'd vomited once, but no one noticed. Not like there was time to slow down, anyway. 

Caldion mushed the horses on harder, though he sounded regretful about it every time. There was no slowing down this night, though; the city's guards and soldiers would have gained their footing not long after the chaos of the previous morning died. Consu's men had slowed them down, they'd given her and her companions time to escape, but there was nothing that would come of it if they wasted that momentary advantage. 

Her stomach was an acceptable casualty. 

Vaguely Sarah heard Keiter and Tessarie arguing over something- probably their lack of food- but when Sarah drew herself in to the cabin, content she wasn't going to expel anything else, the air was thick with doubt moreso than hunger. The little kobold across from her was sitting cross legged with a length of rope tied around the doorframe, he clutched it like as safety harness but was no less jostled with every bounce the suspension couldn't compensate for. 

Tess hugged a bundle of clothing she'd picked up in their last visit to her chest rocking feebly in the uncomfortable bench seat. She was much too young, even for an elf, to be dumped into this mess, but there was nothing that could be done about it now. Even if Sarah had the words to comfort her, they would've sounded rightfully hollow and meaningless coming from the lips of the person that had dragged her into the problem in the first place. 

In lieu of having to articulate a lie neither of them would have believed, Sarah fished the bundle of papers from her coat pocket and slid them into the diminutive elf's hand. She laid her hand on the girl's shoulder and tried for her best smile- weak and pale as she must have looked, it seemed to have the desired effect; Tess relaxed visibly. 

Then she started to read. Her eyes widened, disbelief and awe changed her expression from one of fear to one of resolute warmth and understanding. She was going home, Sarah was going to bring her there. As an ambassador of the diplomatic council on elven relations, Sarah looked all the world like the one half-blood who could help her. 

But to Sarah, they were the best forgeries money could buy. They'd saved her life more than a few times and would likely do so in the future. But that didn't mean she couldn't bring the girl home en route to her next hiding place. It was only right, after all. 

"This is not going to work forever," Keiter said in his typically dry tone. His muzzle was pointed directly at Sarah. It was something that they'd both recognized long ago. New circumstances hadn't changed that; horses got tired and caravan trails were frequently traversed lanes. The guards, possibly the knights, would catch up with them soon enough. If not on the road, when they rested. 

"I know," Sarah mouthed in return. She didn't trust her voice. 

The guards of Sorash weren't a particularly tenacious lot when it came to simple things like taxes and dues, but the way in which Sarah and company had left the city there was no doubt that they'd find the motivation- by whip or by coin- to go out of their way to bring her in. No doubt they'd try her for the murder of at least one noble before she was summarily executed, possibly with the others. That wouldn't do at all. It was all very uncouth. She was responsible for the death of one person. Exactly one. In all her life and she would deal with that in the fullness of time. . . 

But under no circumstances would she hang for someone else's blood letting. She'd come too far to be someone's martyr or victim. Unless the dragon had engineered it that the Ace of Diamonds was going to make her look responsible for the death she'd left in her wake. It'd be suiting. Horribly ironic, but suiting. Now she was a tenacious one. 

Elevating the concept of violence to an art form, the Ace of Diamonds was an assassin of world class repute from what Sarah had gathered. From what she'd seen with her own eyes, that was a terribly apt description. For all her flexibility and hard muscles she wasn't just a knife in the dark, she had the endurance to last and the power to destroy anything that stood in the way of her objective. She would be the real danger. 

A very succulent, wonderful danger. But a danger all the same. 

Sarah banged her head on the wall of the carriage when it bounced and let out a cruse in sphinx. She turned to voice her displeasure through the open window when she saw a farm down the hill. A snaking dirt trail lead to the low house and looked, for the most part, untouched by shear or sickle. The moonlight danced across its wood shingles like a halo, spraying patterns of blue across them through the trees. "Caldion!" She poked her head out of the cabin. "Caldion!" 

When he didn't respond she pounded on the wall of the carriage. Nothing. She whistled sharply. He whipped his head around to look behind them, eventually he saw Sarah pointing. He gave her a quizzical, then dirty look. 

It seemed the rumors about her proclivities for farm girls had spread wider than she'd first imagined. She threw her hand up and motioned to slow down. When he did- enough to be heard, anyway- she raised her voice. "Despite what you may have heard, I'm quite capable of restraint! More to the point, my dear boy, we'll need to let the horses rest again! Let's make sure they're comfortable and we're not on the road!" 

He looked at the farm and, in typical paladin fashion, kept right on going. Sarah balked. She couldn't blame him, but she was tired of his antics. A paladin defining her actions? Especially one at least half her age? Surely not. If only for spite Sarah retreated inside and looked over her bench looking for the bolts on her bench. 

"What're you doing?" Tess fidgeted when Sarah shooed her to the opposite side. 

"What I do best, dear." 

Keiter didn't even hesitate to pipe in, "Planning your next conquest?" 

"I should be insulted." Sarah tore the fabric from the bench revealing the slats of wood that composed her seat. Once she found the nails keeping it she touched the head of one and opened herself to her god's blessing- the nail started to rust immediately and with a little tug the head snapped off the shaft. A couple more careful applications of her power and she had the strap of wood free, a hardy dense wood under thick layers of paint might not have been the best brake in the world but there was a lot to be said for its potential. 

Without thinking about it she braced her foot on the end, closed her eyes and dug her fingers into it- instead of letting her naturally inclined power seep into it, this time she consciously manipulated the energy her deity had granted her. It took thought and focus. Neither of which were as developed as they should have been in order to do what she wanted to. 

She managed, barely, to draw a picture in her mind of the wood sculpted with a slight bow to it and an inset of a fingernail's depth with a back end shaped like a wedge. The more Sarah pushed on that image, the more she 'saw' the wood taking shape the more it bent and melded in her hands. Soon it came to the specifics of the material, exact measurements and then rebonding the wood's tight, dense structure. It took what felt like years to get everything as it should have been in her mind's eye. 

Then she opened her eyes and ran her hand down the slab of wood- consciously imposing her will upon the material as her finger traced down the center. It bowed like solid liquid in her fingers under the Great Engineer's influence and her guidance and by the time she reached the end of the plank it was a very slight crescent shape with a pocket the entire length for the wheel to fit in. By the end of the material Sarah was every bit as drained and hollowed out as the wood she'd refitted. She clutched the plank weakly and wiped sweat from her brow while Keiter and Tess watched her warily. 

She tried her best smile but it didn't reach her eyes. 

"In the interest of time, I suggest you grab on to something. This may go horribly wrong!" Sarah lied as she got up. Sometimes it was better that people felt they were doing something meaningful rather than wondering or believing they were placing their fate in the hands of the unknown. To Sarah things were a known quantity- generate enough friction on the wheel to slow the carriage- but to her companions they'd just watched a cleric casting a spell for some unknown reason. 

Sarah grabbed the doorframe and popped the latch, booting the door open she wrapped her arm around the sill and hinge, hoping her jacket would keep her skin from being pinched between the door and carriage. She stole a glance up at the young paladin who was still focused on the road ahead. 

As far as the politics of subtlety went, this was going to be anything but. Sarah grabbed the bench plank, braced it against steps and then situated it so it was cupping against the spinning wheel. Using the steps as a fulcrum she made sure the groove in her brake and the wheel were lined up. Then she pushed it over on to the wheel. Instantly the wheel cranked it down between the steps, the wedge shape of the back of the wood made sure it wasn't going anywhere and so the grinding began. 

The horses strained to maintain speed but the friction was too much. The sharp hiss of the paint being worn in by the wheels gave way to a duller sound of wood being scraped by the metal banded wheel. The stairs, mercifully, held. They lost more speed and more after that until Caldion seemed to snap out of whatever fugue he was in and look around. He looked back. 

When Sarah and he locked gazes, Sarah's grin was smug and much too confident for her own good. But gods dammit, she had places to be. Like anywhere but in a noose. 

"What the hell are you doing?" The paladin snapped. 

"Temper temper! Let's cool down at the farm!" 

To his credit the boy didn't curse though he certainly looked ready to. 

Sarah touched her brake smiling all the while. "This is only going to make it harder for our equine friends, let's not be rude!" 

"Youuuu. . ." He sighed. "Why? What's so good about the farm?" They rolled to a stop some feet after that and Sarah got out. She dusted herself down, smug in her Pyrrhic victory. "We need to get away from the village before they come hunting us all down." 

"Keenly aware, young man. But it's harder to track down a target when you can't find it." 

"And what if they don't want visitors?" 

"Gold has a way of making anyone hospitable! If you've not learned, I tend to get what I want as do those around me, so let's not dawdle over petty differences. I saw a barn that could easily house this thing and our horses." At his dour look Sarah spread her hands. "Come now, you said it yourself! These horses aren't meant for this kind of activity." As an afterthought she threw in, "if we're not welcome, we'll leave having lost only a few moments of our time." 

The shallow light of understanding graced his youthful features as he looked back and drew in a long breath. Reluctantly he scoffed. "Fine, whatever. Get in." 

"I'm so glad we're in agreement!" 

Sarah liberated her brake with some effort and checked the metal on the wheel for damage. When she didn't find any she tossed the brake back in the carriage- because it never hurt to have an insurance policy- and climbed aboard. Her fingers tingled with the magic she'd expelled, an obnoxiously poignant reminder of the years she'd probably burned off her life to deal with a bloody paladin's insecurities. "Hmph." 

"You never change," Keiter said softly. "Your powers are a blessing-" 

"When I need a lecture, I will let you know." Sarah said coolly than necessary. His goddess actively backed his powers, hers were drawn from her own soul and life energies. Those resources were very finite compared to what he was given. Still, he didn't know. . . .how could he? It wasn't like she could tell anyone. 

Sarah dampened her lips. "I apologize. That was unduly harsh and out of turn. Let us say I prefer solving my problems with my own faculties. For as much as I appreciate the Gift I've been given, I enjoy exercising my strongest muscle." 

"I thought that was your mouth." He quipped. 

Tess burst into a giggle, coughed and blushed and looked away. 

"I dare say I've never heard any complaints." Sarah gave Tess a brief glance and a smile. 

She had the good grace to look suitably admonished while Caldion wheeled the carriage around. They traveled along in relative silence for a few minutes before they came to the road that would lead them to the farmhouse proper. Caldion sat there for a moment likely mulling over some existential crisis of faith or morality and slowly, as if the entire place was sacred, lead the animals down the trail. 

"Gods above that boy is going to drive me to drink," Sarah mused as she tousled her own hair. She immediately went about straightening out her blouse and trying to do her best to seem presentable under all the sweat clinging to her skin. 

"He saved your life," Keiter reminded her politely. "That's worth something, surely." 

"Of course it is." Sarah cuffed her blouse up her forearms a bit and undid the top button to show off some of her generous cleavage which she daubed clean with some spit and a piece of cloth she found. Farms usually had wells, she'd sort that business out later, she promised herself. "Make no mistake, I'm not belittling the man. Just his actions!" 

Tess fidgeted as she handed Sarah her paperwork. "I think he's nice. He's a good person, Sarah, maybe you shouldn't be so hard on him." 

"If I had it within me to extract everything I wanted, dear, I would be extremely hard on him. Sadly, he seems quite intent on making things hard for me." 

"Not hard in you?" Keiter teased while the carriage rolled to a stop. 

"Quite! Very lamentable, really." With a quick check of her attire, the older half-elf laid everything in place and unpacked her flintlock from its holster, tucking it into her belt at her lower back. Sarah burst from the carriage with a smile that was practiced and polished enough to make a political figure jealous. She strode up to the house calling out to whoever might be living there. "Good evening! I don't wish to alarm anyone, we're not vagrants or thieves! We were just looking to rent a little space in your barn!" 

No response. 

Sarah ran through every language she knew as she peeked in the windows, flitting from one to another and growing increasingly less certain anyone actually lived there. There were places set for two people to eat at the table but no obvious food- something she'd have to fix- and a thin layer of dust clinging to everything glittering in the otherwise empty home. Undeterred, Sarah rounded the back of the building. 

The back yard was a mess of chopped down trees, wood shavings and random scraps of wood planking surrounding a cheap table full of wood working tools and chisels but no obvious projects in sight. Curious, she crept up to the back door and tried to jostle the lock. It didn't give. 

Rather than terrifying someone she didn't even know, Sarah opted for the large barn connected to the home. It was longer by half than any barn she'd ever seen, and surprisingly, unlocked. Not one to waste an opportunity, she worked the latch and peeked in. 

"Oh." 

Sarah's breath caught in her throat when she saw the bracing along the right side. Instead of housing horses and cattle, this barn had been built to house a very special project indeed- up on a scaffolding sat a miniaturized schooner vessel a couple dozen feet long without masts, and instead a very particular hole ringed in metal with a shaped duct running along the axis of the entire craft. It would never float, of course. 

But in one of the most land locked regions on the continent, this ship was never meant to see the water. This ship was meant for the skies. This was Sarah's design. This ship was meant to fly.



Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 45



Chapter 3 - The New Trade 

"The Ace of Diamonds is one of those little whispers you hope never crosses your ears and pray to each god individually never crosses your lips. Some of those in less scrupulous circles have developed their connections and bladecraft because of her. Others? We develop our hospitality. 

Starting with words like 'The myth, the legend, as I live and breathe! Come in, come in! May I get you something to drink' seems like the most sensible way to begin any such conversations with those who can end your life as they make their morning meal; many people sincerely underestimate the value of groveling. 

But then it didn't help my father any, so maybe you shouldn't be listening to me." 

Baharah Molsen 

'Killers and Saints of The End of the World' 

Felicia 

Splash! 

Cold wet daggers ripped Felicia from the embrace of a fitful, shallow sleep. She started awake with her fight-or-flight response tearing at her and a mind so muddled with exhaustion she couldn't even remember where she'd gone to rest. Soaking wet and miserable she clawed at her sleeping bag, orienting herself to the ground and only eventually becoming aware of a presence standing near her. 

"Guh!" Felicia spat a bunch of water and wiped at her face eagerly to clear her eyes. There was gloom all around which meant early morning. Maybe? Remembering the presence she felt, she looked up to it and blinked a few times. "Why'd you do that?!" 

The teenager didn't even have time to react before that presence was upon her pushing her into the damp earth with a heavy hand right between her breasts. "Why," it- she- whispered in a low purr. "What is your reason for waking up today?" 

Panic shot through her like a cold spike. The predatory rumble of the northern hunter atop her made the question a statement, a test to pass or fail. Felicia blinked a bit more water from her eyes and squinted against the dark. She could barely make out Lostariel's features, pale and angular though they were, she was a wraith extruded from shadow more than she was a human being. Her eyes were intense, focused. Boring straight through Felicia's soul. 

"I won't ask again," the would-be murderer said. 

"Uh-" Thinking quickly, Felicia blurted out the first thing that came to mind; the truth. "To learn how to stop you from killing my friend." 

"That's a long term goal," Lostariel said flatly. "What is your goal for today." 

Felicia puzzled on it for a moment. "To put more distance between us and the guards-" 

"We have several leagues lead. We are going to need to get on a caravan route before much longer. Try again." 

Try again? What the hell was she supposed to say? "Gee, I don't know. Maybe I'll get my boots shined and-" 

Lostariel slapped her. Hard. It stung so hard that Felicia almost cried before the northerner's arm had finished its powerful arc. She covered her mouth. Bit into her palm. A lifetime on the southern plains had taught her you didn't scream at night. You bore the pain. 

And what a pain it was. When Felicia went to articulate it she tasted blood. 

The two women stared at one another. Friends- at least in Felicia's eyes- and adversaries at once. But there was something to it. Felicia had begged to be taught what she needed to know. She'd willingly become a student to someone her elder. Getting snide or combative wasn't going to help anything if she wanted a chance to learn what she needed to. 

Reluctantly, and with a quickly numbing mouth she mumbled a vague apology. 

Lostariel closed the final bit of distance, burying her knee right between Felicia's thighs. She was quick, sharp and demanding with her hand grabbing Felicia's uninjured shoulder and pulling her in so there was no doubt who was going to be in charge- as if there ever had been- of their interactions going forward. "Face the day with a goal in mind," she said icily. "One that serves your plan and can be accomplished before you sleep. Repeat this day in and day out. This is your first lesson. . . .now what is it you are going to do today?" 

Felicia licked her lips, swallowed her own blood. She didn't raise her eyes but she made damn sure her voice was strong enough to carry her words; "I'm going to pay attention to your next lesson and when that's done, I'm going to get you to dry off my sleeping bag. . ." 

The woman actually chuckled. She laughed! Of all the things in the world she could have done, she laughed right in Felicia's face. Then she produced one of her blades and waved it in front of Felicia's face. "Cut up your bag. You won't need it any longer." 

"W- What? No! No, that's- No!" 

The blade touched Felicia's cheek. She went still. "You convinced me to train you. You have your victory, now you refuse the spoils that come with it? You want this, you accept what comes along with it. . . .today you will learn how to live like a survivor. This bag will make you complacent and weak when you need to be aware." 

"Nghhh... But I spent good money on it- c- come on, can't we keep it for a couple days?" 

"No." Lostariel said simply. She then got up, staking her blade beside the girl before she trotted off to the tree where they'd tied the horse up. He snorted his disapproval at her presence but she ignored him and went for Felicia's pack. With a little fishing around she found some dry clothes and tossed them to the still groggy Felicia. "Get up. We're going for a jog." 

Thus began her first day as an assassin trainee- not with some incredible feat of heroism or flashy maneuver but with a goal accomplished; she'd gotten her trainer to dry her sleeping bag. . . .by having her destroy it. 

Felicia made a mental note not to ask for anything henceforth. 

# 

The run was murder. 

Panting and heaving, holding her heavy chest as they jogged through a creek, Felicia just about collapsed. She'd gone too many days without food, her body wasn't ready for this kind of activity. Putting one foot in front of the other was itself an act of will, one that was becoming harder and harder to attempt. She thought about quitting- a lot- but every few moments Lostariel would glance her way. 

A subtle dare. A little challenge. Give up. You'll only fail Sarah. You'll fail me, too. You can't stop this. 

Felicia tried to push her body. To push through the burning agony in her calves and the uncomfortable jostling of her generous chest and, more than anything, to push through that voice telling her she was going to watch one friend die at the hands of another friend. She wasn't going to give in. 

She wouldn't let that happen. The Mawik Plains had bred stronger men and women, stronger than anything the world had seen. She couldn't fail- 

Not until she tripped and faceplanted in the dirt, anyway. Lostariel was beside her in an instant, rolling her over out of the mud and wiping her face down. The killer's expression was impassive, eyes hard and unforgiving. "You need to do better than that." 

"T- Trying," Felicia wheezed. 

"Good." Lostariel didn't offer to help her up, neither did she give her the chance to rest. She started off down the path leaving Felicia to recover herself on her own time. Eventually she did just that and got herself sorted out, eventually she got moving again and dug herself out of the pit of whining about how much her body hurt and eventually she got jogging again. 

Eventually. 

Lostariel kept a slow enough pace that it wasn't hard to catch up, even though she knew it was partly out of pity. This woman had no idea what it was like living on the plains and she had the nerve to treat Felicia like an invalid! Sure she was dangerous, incredibly so, but that didn't give her any reason to just ignore what Felicia could do. . . 

So Felicia pushed herself. Harder and harder with every step. She panted and wheezed and held her unruly chest down flat against her body until it hurt so much she wanted to cry. She fought to take up and then keep the pace they'd set early on and every time she tripped and almost fell, every time she almost gave up she glanced at Lostariel. She reminded herself what was at stake and then she pushed herself. 

Right up to the point where her body betrayed her; she crashed down on all fours and threw up while Lostariel held her hair back. Then came the tears and the whining. She wasn't going to make it. She wasn't fit for this life. She'd run away from home for the wrong reasons and now she was going to get herself killed trying to stop something that was probably destined to happen anyway! What an idiot she had been! What an idiot she was! 

"That's enough for now. . ." Lostariel plonked a flask down beside her. "Wash your mouth out and drink." 

"N- Nuh-" Felicia spit. "I- I can- I can go." 

"No. You can't." 

Felicia grabbed for the woman's arm already prepared to tell her- beg if necessary- she wasn't giving up. But to her surprise Lostariel met her gaze with a calming expression and a flicker of warmth in her sharp purple eyes. 

"I wanted to see how far you'd go. I wasn't going to stop until you couldn't continue," She ran her gloved fingers through Felicia's muddy hair to brush it from her face. "You made it farther than I had thought you capable of. Consider me impressed," She drew back just as easily while Felicia rolled over to sit. "Rest for a few minutes, you've earned it." 

"A- A test?" Felicia shakily brought the flask to her lips and drank from it. Cool water never tasted sweeter. "It was a test?" 

"Everything in life is a test. The answer isn't always obvious, neither is the result of your answer at the time." Lostariel pulled her gloves off and crouched down in front of the younger woman. Her thick, powerful thighs were coiled tight, tense and ready to release at a moment's notice. It was a fighting stance even in this moment of calm. It occurred to Felicia that she never really let her guard down. She was hardly sweating, even! Gods, who was this woman? 

For her part in it, Felicia sipped more water and handed the flask back. "At the time, huh? So you're saying that the results of your choices have landed you here. In a creekbed with me, watching me look a mess." 

"You'll be more a mess before the day is through," She replied casually and downed the rest of the water. "Have you considered that when we find Sarah, your real test begins? Do you think you can hope to stand a chance when that time comes?" 

Felicia knew better than to reply, instead feigning an interest in cleaning her hair. As the moments dragged on she tried to muster the stomach to break the silence. Lostariel was content in silence, though, she didn't seem to have the same hang ups or fears the younger girl did. Knowing better than to risk pissing her off, Felicia did the only thing she could do; she looked the woman in the eye and smiled. A tired, empty smile. 

Lostariel smiled in return. 

It was anything but kind. 

# 

On the heels of the run came the next round of morning training: strength training. Lostariel's idea of a joke was to have Felicia move an entire rockbed from one side of the stream to the other. One rock at a time- even the small ones- and then move it back ensuring every rock was in exactly the same place as it had been. 

"Leave everything as you found it and no one will see the effort you put in," She said from her perch on a log. The sun was just beginning to creep over the horizon and the day's heat was already swelling in the valley. The longer the monotony went on the more bored, hot and irritated she became. Knowing, just knowing, that Lostariel was watching and judging her every movement made her all the more self conscious and irritable. It was the same way her uncle had taught her to ride a horse, and it drove her up the proverbial wall with how silently damming it was. 

Finally sick of it, Felicia wheeled on Lostariel, "Say something!" 

But she didn't. Her purple eyes turned up to Felicia and she simply neutralized her expression in a mask of absolute indifference. 

"I- what am I doing it wrong?! Right?! Do you want this one over there or-" 

"Continue." Lostariel said tonelessly. 

"But-" 

This time her voice took the tiniest edge. "Continue." 

Felicia stood here for a moment gauging her chances of showing this woman she was more than capable of whatever she had in mind for them. Sure, maybe she hadn't run as far as Lostariel would have liked, maybe she wasn't a soldier and maybe she wasn't prepared to actually kill someone but she could do this. Experimentally she tossed a rock up in her hand. Once. Twice. She then tossed it to the other hand trying to make a circle in the air. "Think I could do a magic trick with this? Maybe I could make it disappear or something." 

Lostariel was not amused. 

Before the girl had even realized what was going on she tossed the stone up once more. She caught sight of a blur of motion from Lostariel and in the next instant the rock in the air emitted a sharp crack as it was stuck by another one. Shards of hot stone lanced across her tender flesh and she flinched away grabbing her face and cursing in every language she knew. 

Lostariel's voice was irritatingly calm as she spoke, completely ignoring the vile mutterings pouring from the teen's lips. "Effort that gets spent without recognition is the way you will act from now on if you hope to have an impact. The world sees what you wish it to see; no more; no less. The moment you let your concentration slip you invite weaknesses into your public facing persona—" 

"Gods dammit why did you-" 

"People, your enemies especially, will pick on your weaknesses and find ways to bring you down to their level where they are more comfortable. Your responsibility is first to your own safety, that safety begins with your mindset. If you do not want to take this seriously, then neither will I. . ." 

Felicia started to protest but Lostariel held up a hand. 

"I won't tell you again. If you wish to waste my time, you've only yourself to blame when I leave you some night when you're asleep. My time is more valuable to me than that." 

"So you'd just leave me, even after I saved your life?" 

She scoffed. Openly. Felicia knew she had something; the woman was proud, almost arrogant. Like many 'civilized' folks she thought her reputation defined her. It was something Felicia could use, if rarely. Lostariel hopped off her log and strode over until she was a few feet away. "Would you rather I bleed you dry instead? I told you, I tolerate you, that does not make us friends. If I didn't see potential in you, I wouldn't be here right now. . ." 

"Then why don't you do it?" Carefully- and hoping to hell she'd see it coming if she was wrong- Felicia raised her chin a bit to bear her throat. "You want to be a slave to your namesake, then you'd best get off killing Sarah." 

Lostariel actually flinched. Her right eye twitched and her gloves creaked a loud protest to her tightening her hands into fists. A flicker of angry, deadly fire sparked in her eyes and for just a split second she looked about to act on the invitation. But she didn't. She stood there for a moment looking the mud splattered teenager over and let out a soft derisive chuff of air. 

That stung more than it should have. Not that Felicia was under any illusion she'd be able to actually fight, but to be disregarded so easily bothered her considerably. Something of her irritation must have shown because Lostariel closed the distance and smirked at her. A smug grin if there ever was. 

"We'll start with sweat. Then we progress to blood. Then bones. The more sweat you pour out, the less of the other two you'll lose." She thrust her hand out beside Felicia's face. So fast she didn't see it coming. The girl startled. With a flourish Lostariel balled up a handful of Felicia's hair and pulled just hard enough that it was felt. "And in the future. You don't tempt fate you're afraid of. . . You become stronger until you can face it. Do you understand me?" 

Felicia swallowed and said in a tiny voice. "I do. . ." 

"Good." In a display obviously meant to accent her point, Lostariel tightened her grip and released it, wandering back to her log. "Finish your work." 

# 

An hour later Felicia was setting the last rock down- not tossing it as she had before. Lostariel looked over the breadth of work she'd undertaken and then hopped off her log. She didn't say anything or even acknowledge the work as she lead Felicia back down the path to their camp. As usual it was the younger woman who broke the awkward silence between them. "Are we going to eat, too?" 

"Tonight." 

Felicia groaned. "It's been days-" 

"You will get used to it. A wolf will go days without eating and consume large portions of an animal in one sitting." Lostariel glanced back. "Hunger motivates all animals to their peak performance. A contented wolf pack will not hunt as well as one that understands its very survival is contingent on a successful hunt." 

"I uh, you. . . .you realize how insane that sounds, don't you? We're human beings, we can forage and hunt- my entire family are hunters. We didn't starve ourselves to get better at it!" 

"Then you will hunt for our dinner." 

"You're killing me." 

"That's a possibility, not a guarantee." 

Felicia sighed. "Do you ever, I don't know, lighten up? This whole severe routine is getting kind of old-" 

"Tell me something," Lostariel stopped in front of her. "Why is it you want me to teach you how to stop me?" 

"Because if I can convince you Sarah's life is worth sparing, and maybe we can find a better way for both of you to continue living." The older woman gave her a thoughtful nod. Strange considering her normally economic movement. 

"Would you die to convince me?" 

"Should I have to?" Felicia shot back. 

That earned her a slight smile. Then it was back to the trail in that heavy silence that followed Lostariel around like a cloud. Surprisingly it didn't last long. "The identity of the Ace of Diamonds has been a generational nickname, a legend carried by a hand full of women for over ninety years. Two of them were killed trying to fulfill contracts beyond their skill, three were killed by their successors before they themselves took the name. It's how it's always worked with this name." She glanced back briefly. "We have bled and died for an identity, a concept." 

"You mean something to belong to. . ." 

Lostariel didn't respond, she held some branches aside for Felicia to stagger through. Eventually they emerged at the edge of their little camp and she lifted a canteen from her bag, refilling her flask and handing it off to Felicia. "I was five when I was taken in by the woman who wore the title before me. I was purchased," she sipped her water. "From an orphanage. Myself and eight other children, I was the only one who took to the training and expressed enough initiative to survive the trials she had laid out for us. . . .I killed her when I was fifteen-" 

Felicia blanched. "D- Do I need to hear this?" 

She held her hands out in casual indifference. "With my bare hands wrapped around her throat, her pinned under me just as she had taught me to do. I nearly bled out from her knife in my thigh- it's remarkable I can walk at all, actually. 

"I tell you this so you will understand me with perfect clarity; I am exactly what I am meant to be. I have climbed to my position and I have staked my life on the skills I have trained over years. You came along and put a dent in my identity- in the Diamonds persona itself because you want to feel superior. . ." 

"That's not it-" 





Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 45



"Shh," Lostariel put her finger to her lips and held her gaze for a moment. "If you were anyone else I would have killed you without a thought. But. . . .I find myself enjoying the challenge." 

"What are you saying?" 

The woman smiled wolfishly. "I want you to convince me she needs to be spared. Prove your point. Or die in the attempt." 

Felicia stared at the woman who was still her friend, wondering just where she should start. But then it occurred to her that the 'challenge' she'd been given wasn't just a verbal one. She needed to earn her mentor's respect. Which meant a hell of a lot of things, but first and foremost it meant she was going to be moving a hell of a lot more rocks. Even knowing that, the little plainswalker met the assassin's gaze and said in the most resolute voice she could. "Then make me sweat and let's talk about it. . ."



Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 46



Chapter 4 - The Trail 

"Life is the only disaster no one's figured out how to get out of alive." 

-Anonymous 

Vestrin 

The woman's contacts were good. He was given exactly what he needed; a bath, several silver rounds and a backpack full of provisions with no questions asked. Not even one as to why he was entering a guard barracks when he clearly didn't belong. He'd stewed with his thoughts and the filth on his skin in the copper tub but no new ideas came, no instincts, no nothing. 

He was empty. Even the asshole looking back at him in the mirror had nothing new for him. Just the same criss crossing scars, tired eyes and a few day's stubble wearing him rather than the other way around. He considered, for a moment, shaving but his heart just wasn't in it and the dangerous thoughts that crossed his mind when he picked up the straight razor made him all the more uncertain. 

On his way out the door from the barracks he was met by a boy with a horse in tow. He handed Vestrin the reigns along with a leather billfold with a map and series of papers tucked inside. Oh yeah, her contacts were very good. The boy refused the tip Vestrin tried to give him with a polite 'already covered, m'lord' and scampered off leaving Vestrin once more to his empty headed bullshit. 

There was a time where even the idea of moping around made him want to punch something- or someone- but what the hell alternatives were there? He busied himself reading through the papers at a snail's pace, carefully sounding out each word and re-reading it in his mind's eye until it made sense. It wasn't a skill he got to use often but the engagement of those old muscles helped him focus and, for the moment, distract him from the shit boiling just underneath the surface. 

A travel pass was the first item. A legitimate travel pass meant for some kind of envoy- whatever the hell that was- to a noble out of the Estan Free States. The other documents were more of the same telling him about some kind of big construction project he was meant to be buying supplies for. Along the reverse side of the map was a list of places to visit along the caravan route with supplies his identity was meant to be going there for. Some of the other documents laid out the details of the construction project, how it all went together and what it all did. 

"The fuck is this, an Engineer's sermon or what?" He scoffed and tossed it in his new bag but kept his travel documents in easy reach and stood there in the middle of a street just starting to flow with the mass of commoners starting their day, wondering. Wondering about his past and future, about what had happened to his son's soul after he died. Rachel was guaranteed a spot with the Lord of Dreams but neither Vestrin or his son had given much thought to the gods- 

Was it too late? Could he still ask on his son's behalf? What would happen if he did? 

"Move it!" Some idiot shouted at him. 

Vestrin whirled. He didn't even think. He punched the old man right in the face. As the man crumpled he drew back with clenched teeth. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Pay attention, you fucking idiot! Vestrin crouched to pull him up, ignoring the looks from gawkers. "Sorry," Vestrin muttered- he laid the man over his cart full of hay and quietly slunk off with his entire body trembling with a sudden boiling rage that hit him so hard and fast he didn't recognize it until it had him tearing at the seams of the cheap leather jerkin he'd been given. There was no target. No reason to be angry. Just a burbling hatred of everything and anything. 

Everywhere he looked something stupid was going on- people laughed at stupid fucking jokes, they acted high and mighty behind their armored guards, they slogged their way to meaningless jobs. They lived. They got on with the business of living, they had friends. Family. Living. All of them. 

All of them. Living. Oblivious to how short life really was- 

His new horse nudged him his his- or her- snout. It batted him hard enough to be felt and didn't pull away. Vestrin pulled the reigns back away from his face but the horse kept trying to push against him. It took Vestrin a second to really grasp that this thing, this animal, was actually there. With this simple acknowledgment the 'retired' thief pushed his anger down and focused himself a little. "What the fuck do you want?" 

Focus might have been a strong word, but it was something to start with. 

The horse snorted, tried to bat him again and bared its teeth at him. Was it hungry or something? Of course he'd been given a starving horse, maybe her contacts weren't as top notch as he'd thought. Though that was a good thing; it made her human. She could screw things up too. Served her right, the smug bitch. 

Vestrin took a few breaths while the horse struggled against the resigns. It bobbed its head a little left and right, not exactly putting a lot of effort into 'escaping' but enough that they somehow developed a slight tug of war all the way up to the south gate. 

The guard took his pass, checked it over once. "Where y'headed?" 

"What? Oh. Laleah." 

A skeptical glance. "Says here you're goin t'Leweood." 

A flash of panic ripped through him like a knife. If he was arrested there was no telling what'd happen, but it'd involve him getting cut up into pieces no doubt. Thinking fast he produced some of the documents he'd been given and turned over the one marked for Laleah. "Getting, uh, stone tools here then going to Laleah to get woodworking ones. Yeah, nothin but the best." 

"Oh? M'pa's a carpenter. Work'n on the new temple of Isira. Good work, that. You a carpenter there mister Hoes?" 

Vestrin eyed the man for the briefest of seconds and filled in the spots in his story as he went hoping for the best. "It's 'ho-ehs.' Buncha millers in my family, I just envoy things. Jobs that need doin and products that need movin aroun'. I get tah travel a bunch and it aint so bad. But I got a schedule t'make, so if I can go? My employer aint one to keep waiting." 

The guard checked the paperwork one more time and picked up a wood stamp, slapped it on the paper and handed it back. "Don't take this the wrong way, don't mean no offense by it, but at least you don't talk like one'f them Estanians. They talk all day and say a lotta nothin." 

"Aint it the truth," Vestrin said as he accepted his paperwork back, relieved just to be able to walk out freely. The horse had stopped yanking on the reigns and even it seemed to be cooperating for the moment. 

Vestrin had never hated calm silence more in his life. 

# 

Clop. Clop. Clop. Went the horse's hooves down the packed earth road. Away from everything he knew, everything that made sense and was sane. Every step carried him further and further from what had once been his home, with no clear future laid out in front of him- no plan other than 'follow the dragon bitch', 'find Sarah' and 'don't get killed'. He was lost. 

He'd heard some sailor call it being adrift. Yeah, that was a good word. Adrift. A drift. Smart word, that. Not that he'd ever found sounding smart to be an advantage, most of the people he knew instantly lost respect for someone that sounded too high and mighty, but still. It gave him something to do to occupy his mind. 

He stayed to the caravan lanes as much as possible, following the map as best he could- easy, really; the path was practically a paved road. Along the way he saw a fair few tired caravan runners bitching about one thing or another in Laleah. One thing they all had in common was complaints about a bunch of soldiers making life difficult for them. 

More than once he was tempted to ask about what happened, but he could never bring himself to speak for the entire sun down to sun up journey. When he was entering the outskirts of the village he realized that was probably not the smartest choice he'd ever made. Waiting for him at the gate was a group of Sorash's militia. They wore better armor than the patrol guards and it looked the same- this was issued stuff, not the 'bring your own' crap the guards wore. 

Vestrin paused for a moment wondering if the men would recognize him. He'd grown up with a lot of the men who'd seen serving in the militia as their only escape from poverty and while they'd run off and got their shiny armor- and indentured service contracts- he'd taken a different road. One that was going to get him killed one day, but it beat sucking at the tip of a noble's- 

"You there!" One of the guards shouted, waving him forward. 

"Yeah?" Vestin produced his documents and began to dismount as he'd seen the other people waiting in line do. 

The guard was no one he recognized, but he couldn't pat himself on the back and thank the gods of luck, he still needed to make sure he wasn't going to get arrested just because he looked like a troublemaker. He offered the guard his documents. The man took them without much concern. 

"Have anything to declare?" It wasn't hard to spot the boredom in his voice, the he spat were worn in his mouth as the wagon tracks in the dirt. "Contraband such as magical weapons, gold or purple crystal shards?" 

"Uh. No." 

"It says here you're from Estan, what part?" 

Vestrin was almost positive he was blowing the pronunciation but he was willing to bet the guard had never heard the name either, "Geewick." Giwic on the map, it sounded close enough to him. 

"And you're buying parts?" 

"Tools." 

"Tools, right. Right, so last question; seen any redhead elf blooded women running around in the last few days?" 

He didn't want to show any emotion. He didn't want to give himself away so easily, there was no way he'd be able to keep his cover if he let his feelings get away from him. He had to be calm. Calm. Deep breath, in and out. He shook his head. "Can't really tell the difference. 'Tween their men and women anyway." He almost attempted a smile to cap it off, but it died on his lips. 

The guard didn't have any such problem. He laughed lightly, handed Vestrin his documents and waved him on by. "Just keep your wits and your eyes open. Big reward if she's caught; she wears glasses and talks like a westerner." 

"I'll keep a look out," Vestrin lied. 

There were all kinds of questions roiling through his mind about what he'd do when and if he caught Sarah, not the least of which was whether he really blamed her for what happened. He wasn't stupid enough to think she was the sole reason. That dragon woman offered him what he needed- just like Sarah had said- and when it came to it, she was nowhere to be found. Now she was threatening his life if he didn't bring the elf bitch to her. He sighed. 

He was a lot of things. A lot of things but the idea of being that didn't sit with him. . . .not after everything he'd seen. The more time he spent with his thoughts the more he didn't want to see her in the hands of the dragon bitch. 

She still had to pay for Rebecca's murder. But she didn't have to suffer for it, did she? 

Vestrin wandered around for a bit before he found an inn in the center of the village. A little two story place with a kettle on the placard, packed with a bunch of caravan jockies who were crowding around some kind of game on the bar. They shouted at a ball as it bounced from one nail to the next, back and forth across the board before dropping into a chute on the deck of the machine that was labled with some numbers. The bar maid would then pluck the ball out and start it again, collecting bets the entire while. A younger woman was taking orders wandering from one table to the next. Vestrin stopped her. 

"Looking for whoever's in charge." 

"That'd be her," she nodded to the older woman. 

"The village. In charge of the village." 

"Oh. . ." The girl fidgeted, glanced away. "S- Sheriff Cosnu's in lockup. The knights got him under lock and key-" 

"So he's not in charge then, is he?" 

"Ah. . ." She glanced around, eying the crowd. She spoke in a whisper fit only for them. "Kindda not, no. But the town militia don't take kindly to the city boys, they still listen to him, though. Got the soldiers all in a fuss, but it's better that way for my money." 

It took Vestrin a moment to figure out what the hell she was babbling about, imagining it was probably less important than she made it seem. "So where can I find this lock up?" 

"Uh," The girl fidgeted again. Vestrin considered throwing her a coin to loosen her lips but she swallowed and nodded toward the door. "Y'go out there, it'll be across the square by the mayor's old house. It's all stone walls, though, so don't go gettin caught trying to act a fool. Soldiers aint too bright, but they hold their weapons like they know what they're doin with 'em." 

"Thanks, kid." He didn't wait for her to reply, he was beyond caring about what people had to say except for their usefulness to him. It had to be this way, he told himself. He just had to be functional enough that he could get where he needed to go and, by then, hopefully have some kind of plan worked out or even fully in motion. Yeah, it'd be like the old days again where he was bargaining for time with his skills. 

It was like putting on an old shirt that'd shrunk several sizes- even if it'd only been a couple of weeks since he'd actually had to use those skills, they were still there even if they weren't fully developed any more. He could do this. . . 

Vestrin found the building easily enough, a young guard was leaning against the wall beside the door. He looked up tiredly to regard Vestrin on approach. He started to open his mouth, probably to ramble off some crap about how it was a restricted area or some such. 

There wasn't going to be any of that. Vestrin sucker punched him in the gut, lifted the key off his belt and dragged him inside the makeshift jail where he scooped him into a choke hold until the kid passed out. He dumped the boy in the corner, pilfered his pockets and then, when he was sure everything was quiet he tied the kid up to the bars of the cell closest to him. 

A half dozen men were packed into that cell trying to sleep on the earthen floor and another one by himself in the second one was crashed out on a wood cot. Once Vestrin finished with the soldier he stood tall and put on the unfamiliar mask of someone who was still complete. Still whole. "Which one of you is Cosnu," he grumbled and banged the bars. "Cosnu, wake up!" 

Grumbles and yawns rang through the prison but so did a low mutter. 

"Last chance before I walk out of here and you fuckers rot. Where's Cosnu." 

"Eh! 'ere, 'ere. What's the problem?" It was the fat man. Vestrin approached the door, turning the key over in his hand in such a way that the man would see it for what it was. 

His chance at freedom. 

"You're the Sheriff," He said dismissively. 

"And who're you, the keymaster?" He scoffed. 

Vestrin turned the key over a couple more times, holding the man's gaze. Then he tucked it into his own pocket. Unsurprisingly the Sheriff's attention wandered to where it'd gone. He wanted out as much as anyone would. Vestrin took the bars. "Look, you aint got much time and neither do I. They're buildin' a gallows outside," he lied. "You want out? You'll have a lot better chance now than an hour from now- or when the kid wakes up." He nodded to the downed soldier. 

Cosnu peeked and saw the boy, then he started to look at Vestrin with more serious eyes. Vestrin had won a minor victory. "Who do you work for-" 

"Aint a matter you need to worry 'bout. Answer my questions and I leave this key and forget we ever met, fair trade?" 

The fat man licked his lips warily. "Y- Yeah. Yeah, all right." 

Vestrin didn't even flinch, "A woman came through here. Two of them. Knife eared one with red hair and-" 

"And an assassin?" 

"Yeah. Her." 

Cosnu backed up slightly, eying Vestrin like he was mad. Maybe not far from the truth. He shook his head warily, scrubbing his tired features. "You either got a death wish or someone didn't tell you-" 

"I know who the Ace is," Vestrin slotted his hands in his pockets. Something in the way this fat bastard was looking at him gave him pause; he was considering lying to Vestrin. But who was he protecting? Who did he think he was going to help by lying? 

They stood there for a moment sizing each other up, both men letting the silence grow to fill the space between them until it became thick enough to cut. Cosnu seemed to be going back and forth in his mind about who to trust and who to believe in, but the temptation of his freedom so close at hand made it an actual problem for him. Vestrin decided he'd tip the scales a little, he set the key down against the bar and held the fat man's gaze. 

"Scratch my back, I'll scratch yours." 

"What do you get out of it?" 

"Suppose you could say I'm a friend of Sarah's-" 

"That right?" 

"Sure is." Vestrin said cooly. He was beginning to loose his patience. 

"What's her kid's name, then." 

That actually stopped Vestrin cold. His hesitation showed and Cosnu didn't hesitate to pounce on it. He made a grab for the key but Vestrin snatched it away and grabbed his hand jamming it down against the cross bar, slamming the fat man's face right into the bar. "She never told me about her kid," He said calmly. As Cosnu struggled in vain, Vestrin continued in that same cold voice. "She told me about a world class assassin trying to put her in an urn before her time and that if I didn't find her gods damned soon she was going to have to go north to the elf lands. . ." 

"Nghh-" Cosnu struggled all the more. Vestrin pulled his arm down. It wouldn't be much farther before it was dislocated. 

"So I'll ask again. Did she go north?" 

"Ngh- Y- Yes!" 

"Don't lie to me," Vestrin twisted the man's arm. "You wanna walk outta 'ere or explain why the guard's passed out in your cell? They're gonna hang you. Help me and I'll help you." 

"She went south!" One of the men in the other cage said. "She's on the caravan route!" 

Cosnu shouted at the man. "No, you fucking idiot!" 

Vestrin held Cosnu's arm tight, his brown eyes flitting towards the man who'd spoken. He was wearing the remains of a militia uniform probably belonging to the village- "And the Diamonds girl?" 

"She went West. I think. Her partner took her and ran the opposite way. Like towards Pastow!" Someone nudged him, muttering to shut up but he kept on going. "He's got kids, man, let him go. She left a few days ago when the soldiers locked us down, she's probably goin' to the Free States." 

Watching the militia member Vestrin released the Sheriff's arm. "Well, aint that some shit. You sure the assassin girl wasn't chasing after her? Who else was with her?" 

"I don't think so-" 

"Don't tell him shit!" 

"Keep going," he said calmly and turned the key over in his hand once more. "Keep going and I'll forget I was here." 

"S- She was with a few people- another blade ear, some young guy and a kid." 

"A kid?" 

"Yeah! He was in a little robe and-" 

"Aint no kid I saw," said another guard. He held out his hand to Vestrin for the key. "It's a little monster, one'f them tiny dragons-" 

"Nah, nah, it was a tosser! Like onna those people you paint up at the fair and toss at a board!" 

A bunch of rambling broke out over what the other person was but Vestrin quickly shut it out, turning to Cosnu. "You wanna get out of here right now, I'll let you out." 

He looked surprised. Even started to thank him, even if he hated the idea. 

"But," Vestrin bobbed the key just out of reach. "I wanna know her kid's name." 

Cosnu's eyes followed the key. Once. Twice. Three times. His shoulders sagged. 




Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 46



"Time's runnin out, so's my patience. What's the kid's-" 

"Lostariel." 

"Lost-ariel." Vestrin rolled it around on his tongue. "Hmph. Now why didn't she tell me about a pretty little name like that, I gotta wonder." 

Cosnu folded his arms trying to look superior. He looked every bit an asshole. "Maybe you aren't as good friends as you thought you were." 

"Maybe not." Vestrin started to hand the key over. Just shy of the bars he stopped. "Don't suppose you know where I can find this girl- she might be in danger, and all." 

At that the fat man scoffed. "Yeah, I got an idea. Just get yourself a ship and head for the Gods' Realm, her body'll probably still be on the rocks along with her father. Happy? Now gimmie the fuckin' key or I start callin' for help." 

Vestrin digested what he'd been told as he toyed with the key some more waiting until Cosnu was a foot away from it. He dropped it in arm's reach outside of the cell, forcing the fat man to get on his hands and knees to recover it. He made gods damned sure he was gone before the Sheriff had the key and crept his way out of the village in the quickest manner possible after that. 

Fifty feet past the security check point he was on his horse running down the caravan trail towards Lewood. With any luck he'd catch up with Sarah and her group before they got too far. Four people made travel slow as they had to stop for food and rest, it probably meant they hadn't gotten rid of the carriage either. 

He didn't smile at the idea, but he did acknowledge it for what it was- a possibility. A good one. But he couldn't help but wonder. 

What the hell kind of name was Lostariel?