The Shadow Games: The Chronicles of Arianthem VI Page 8

  Lorifal watched Feyden anxiously, hoping that Elyara’s enchantments would hold.

  Feyden assessed himself with the same anxiety. But other than the physical pain of the bite, he felt nothing.

  “I’m fine,” Feyden said, and punctuated the remark with a slice of his sword that severed the arm of a nearby attacker.

  “The Divine bless Elyara,” Lorifal said, “but don’t let it happen again.”

  Feyden took Lorifal’s mock warning seriously. The enchantment held with a single bite, but who knew what would happen with multiple wounds? And as he glanced down at the Tavinter, that thought became worrisome indeed, for the vampyres had managed to roust them from their fortified position at the door and now had them surrounded in the middle of the room.

  Raine was grateful to see the torch tumbling end-over-end into the pit. When it landed, she could see the spiraling staircase that hugged the walls of the circular descent, the one that neither she nor the vampyr had bothered to use in their free-fall. Any thoughts of rushing to the stairs disappeared as the vampyr came out of the darkness and tackled her, taking her to the ground. Raine struggled as the vampyr straddled her and sought to pin her, still stabbing at her with a single dagger. The dagger finally landed, slicing Raine across the throat in a superficial blow.

  The vampyr stopped instantly, her grip on Raine unrelenting but her attention now fixated on the wound that seeped blood. The sensations the smell of the blood aroused in her were so overpowering, if she thought she could successfully rape the woman beneath her, then feed upon her, or perhaps accomplish both at the same time, she would do so without hesitation. She gazed at the creature below her with growing suspicion.

  “You did that on purpose.”

  “Yes,” Raine said calmly, “I did.”

  With enormous strength, Raine flipped the vampyr onto her back and their positions were reversed. She used the length of her body to restrain the vampyr while she pinned her arms to the stone floor. The dominant position merely seemed to amuse the vampyr, as if she were enjoying it.

  “We seem to be at an impasse.”

  It was a true statement, and a troublesome one. Although she had the upper hand here below, Raine did not think the same thing was true for her comrades up above.

  It was not. One of the Tavinter had already fallen, too wounded to continue. He was protected by his Tavinter brethren who had formed a shrinking circle around him. Up above, Feyden and Lorifal were pressed tightly together, back-to-back, still pushing against the encroaching horde. When they lost the protective support of the Tavinter arrows, their battle had turned for the worst.

  Torsten looked about him solemnly, thinking that all was lost and wondering how even Raine could survive this onslaught. He barely blocked an incoming blow, and was forced to crouch when another wave of freezing cold magical energy came toward them.

  And then the frigid air was met with a blast of fire. Torsten was thankful that both he and his companions had ducked because the flame was so fierce it incinerated everything in its path, causing many of the young vampyres to disappear into ash and the older to fall to the ground writhing in pain. A mammoth sword, one bone-white, as long as a man was tall and as wide as man’s shoulders, sliced through the throng like butter, cleaving vampyres in two in its great arc. The sword came back around with a second great arc, taking out any so foolish as to be standing in range. And then it was raised overhead and came slamming down with such force that all staggered and most fell to their knees, and Torsten was afraid the stone walls might begin tumbling down around their heads.

  Down in the pit below, Raine smiled. “I believe that’s the solution to our impasse.”

  Torsten stared at a most stunning and welcome sight. A gorgeous woman, silver-haired and amber-eyed, clothed in form-fitting fiery red scaled armor, stood in the entryway, and it was she who wielded the enormous sword.

  “Oh thank the gods,” Lorifal exclaimed, and immediately took advantage of the shock of the woman’s arrival and swung his great axe.

  The Tavinter also rallied, for they now had an ally without equal. The great sword thrust forward and impaled four vampyres on its extent, and as it withdrew, the jagged edges causing as much damage on exit as entry, the four vanished into a cloud of black dust. In very short order, the woman demolished the vampyres remaining on the lower level, then casually moved up the stairs to where she destroyed a dozen more. Lorifal roared his approval and smashed the skull of a fallen vampyr while Feyden more quietly took the lives of two others. Finally, the last of the monstrosities vanished into a black cloud of ash, and the dark dust slowly settled onto the floor, inches deep.

  Feyden was winded and took a deep breath, composing himself. “Your Majesty,” he said, bowing deeply.

  “Feyden,” Talan said with stately grace, not winded at all.

  Lorifal was less formal, his eyes glued to the magnificent sword.

  “By the gods that is a piece of weaponry!”

  Talan changed hands on the sword and placed it tip down, extending the hilt of it to Lorifal. The sword was so sharp the tip dug into the stone and so large that in its vertical state, Lorifal had to reach up to grasp the hilt. He staggered at the weight and could barely prop it up.

  “I don’t think I could even lift this,” he said with admiration, “let alone wield it.”

  “It was made from the bones of my son’s father,” Talan said, removing the burden from the dwarf and carelessly slinging it back over her shoulder. “And where is my love?”

  Feyden started. He had forgotten all about Raine with Talan’s dramatic entrance. “She is down in that pit!”

  “I’m sure she is fine,” Talan said, starting back down the stairs at an unhurried pace. She trod through black ash down the hall toward the pit, followed by the others. Feyden grasped another torch, as did Torsten.

  Talan was only halfway down the stairs when the sight of her lover straddling and pinning a beautiful vampyr came into view.

  “Is there something going on down here?” she said drily.

  “You know that there is not,” Raine said, her eyes still on her captive who gazed at her with malice.

  “I thought you were going to wait for me,” Talan said, slightly scolding.

  “That was the plan, then things got out of hand.”

  “You seem to have them well in hand at the moment.”

  Raine sighed. “You’re not going to like what I’m about to do.”

  Talan stopped on the stairs, assured that her young lover was indeed fine, then shifted her great sword to her other shoulder. “Then I will leave you to your business,” she said, starting back of the stairs, “it will serve no purpose if I kill her from jealousy.”

  Raine stared down at the woman she held, the muscles in her arms corded with the tension of restraining her. The vampyr made a rude noise.

  “You might as well kill me. I have failed and failure is not an option.”

  “You have not failed.”

  The vampyr was sarcastic. “You seem to be still alive.”

  “Yes, and that’s not likely to change anytime soon. But sometimes an objective must change when new information comes to light.”

  “There is nothing you can tell me that will save my life. The Assassin’s Guild is not forgiving.”

  “You are not a member of the Assassin’s Guild,” Raine said. “You are a member of the Shadow Guild.”

  The vampyr was stunned, not only that Raine knew of the Shadow Guild, but that she dare speak the name.

  “If you think your knowledge will save you…”

  “I know that my knowledge does nothing but endanger my life. But I need to send a message to your leader. And you are going to deliver it for me. And she will spare your life for delivering it.”

  The audacity of this one was dumbfounding and momentarily silenced the vampyr. “I do
n’t even know who the Head of the Shadow Guild is,” she said at last, “and I can’t think of any message she would receive from you or that would save my life.”

  “I can think of one,” Raine said, and leaned closer to her captive. “You’re going to bite me.”

  The vampyr looked on her with frustrated desire, desire that had been building the entire time this woman had held her pinned. It was a hunger both sexual and physical, a craving that she desperately wanted to satisfy.

  “I will not,” she said through gritted teeth, and her fangs were beginning to show.

  Raine leaned down very close to her, eye-to-eye, their lips nearly touching. “I think you will,” she whispered.

  And then the vampyr was staring into the most gorgeous violet eyes she had ever seen. The lust in her went from flame to firestorm, instantly ignited by that inescapable Arlanian allure, the inadvertent desirability that had annihilated the tragically beautiful people. She tried to resist but succeeded only a few seconds more. Raine lowered her head and the vampyr latched upon her neck and Raine tensed, which only increased the vampyr’s lust, for the hardness of that body on hers was thrilling.

  And the blood was marvelous, an elixir, an intoxicant, an ambrosia unlike any other. It filled her veins and made her head swim. And the vampyr could not get enough, her hips moving against the woman who restrained her.

  And then the source of her pleasure was removed.

  Raine pulled her head back, now holding the woman with only her weight because she was no longer resisting. Raine’s eyes were still a dark purple, the substance of legends and impassioned dreams.

  “You tell the Head of the Shadow Guild that I want to meet her,” Raine whispered. “And soon.”

  Raine pushed herself upright in a lithe movement and brushed the black ash from her armor. She turned away and without another word, started up the stairs, unconcerned about exposing her back to her enemy.

  The vampyr simply lie there, staring straight up into the darkness.

  Raine stepped over the remains of the shattered door into the courtyard. She was relieved to see her comrades largely unscathed. One of the Tavinter was wounded, but Torsten’s expression told her that it was not yet life-threatening. Raine stopped at Feyden’s side.

  “You must get the Tavinter to Elyara. She will tend to him. I,” she said, nodding to the figure silhouetted by the sun on the outer wall, “must go deal with that.”

  Lorifal glanced up at the tall, elegant woman who stood gazing out at nothing. “Is that sword really made from the bones of her son’s father?”

  “They have a complicated family dynamic,” Raine said, trying to explain, and failing. “Well, you’ve met Idonea.”

  “Ah,” Lorifal said, “say no more.”

  Raine picked her way through the courtyard then up onto the outer wall. She approached Talan who turned as she neared. She gazed at the wound on Raine’s neck with glowing amber eyes. Then, without a word, she snatched the girl to her and kissed her passionately, almost violent with need. And Raine returned the kiss with just as much fervor, her craving for her dragon lover like something alive within her.

  “They don’t waste anytime fighting, do they?” Feyden observed from afar.

  “No,” Lorifal said, also watching the ardent embrace, “and I don’t think we’ll see Raine for a few days.”

  As if on cue, a brilliant flash of yellow light blinded those in the courtyard, and an enormous red dragon stood balancing on the wall as if it were a perch. Without hesitation, the young woman next to her leaped up onto the dragon, wrapping both her arms and legs about the creature’s sinewy neck. And then, with a great leap skyward, the dragon thrust her wings downward and moved powerfully upward, and the dragon and her lover disappeared into the sun.

  Raine was in agony. She thought Weynild, Talan’s less formal name, was intent on killing her. The rhythmic beating of her wings coupled with the movement of that sinuous neck between her legs invariably brought her pleasure. And she had been apart from her lover so long that she was already desperate with need.

  “I thought we were only going a short distance,” Raine said through gritted teeth.

  “Is there a problem back there?” Weynild said, her deep throaty voice filled with amusement.

  “You know that there is,” Raine said, suppressing a moan. “You are torturing me.”

  “Hmm,” Weynild said, “like that vampyr you were seducing?”

  Raine knew Weynild was teasing her, but she truly was on the brink of losing control.

  “I warn you, if you do not land quickly, I’m going to come right on top of you.”

  “No, no,” Weynild said, dipping a wing and circling her intended landing. “You know I like it better when you’re on the bottom.”

  This playful innuendo was nearly too much for Raine and the dragon landed lightly upon the flattened peak of a mountain. A flash of yellow light, a chaos of tossed clothing, and Raine was on her back on something that looked like an altar. Weynild was on top, pressing against her, driving into her, the firm breasts so tantalizingly close but just out of reach. And Weynild kissed her everywhere, her lips, her eyes, her throat, and when she moved to the throat, she bit her on the side that was untouched by the vampyr, not enough to break the skin but enough to send Raine into a frenzy of desire that was expressed in the movement of her hips. Weynild matched the movement of those hips with a skill that was maddening, pushing her young lover to the point where Raine felt the mental swoon that comes with perfect sex, the blending of the mind, body and soul that culminates in extraordinary physical release. And Raine did release, again and again as wave after wave of pleasure shook her, and her lover did not stop, her own climax driving her on until both collapsed, Raine releasing the legs she had locked about her lover’s waist and Weynild collapsing on top of the beautifully muscled body beneath her.

  “The only good thing about being apart is that our reunions are so epic,” Raine murmured into Weynild’s hair.

  “Hmmph,” the dragon said. “We are like that if we are apart for a quarter of an hour.”

  Raine chuckled. “Agreed.”

  Weynild raised herself up slightly so she could look upon her Arlanian. The purple eyes were fully displayed, the ones which Raine hid but would be revealed with deep emotion, and they were always revealed for her. It never ceased to amaze her how this small creature could satisfy her. It was almost impossible to sate a dragon, let alone exhaust one in the act.

  Raine looked at Weynild with great love, then, for the first time since they had landed, she glanced around. She was indeed lying on an altar, with four pillars at the edges of the stone platform, all carved with depictions of dragons. It was open to the sky and it felt deliciously erotic to lie out in the open, naked except for her Scinterian markings, pinned by the gorgeous woman who lie between her legs with full breasts pressed to her chest.

  “Let me guess,” Raine said, “this is a shrine dedicated to you.”

  “It is,” Weynild said, “although every other sacrifice has paled in comparison to that.”

  Raine glanced around. “It—“

  Raine paused and Weynild followed her gaze to the far edge of the platform. Two wood elves stood at the top of the long staircase that led up the mountainside. They were stunned, openly gaping, and their expressions indicated they had been standing there for quite some time.

  “Well, by the Divine,” Weynild muttered, and Raine burst out laughing.

  The two wood elves came to their senses and prostrated themselves. Neither Weynild nor Raine moved to cover their bodies, for shame was foreign to both and there was no vulnerability in their nakedness. If anything, Weynild was mildly annoyed and Raine found the situation hilarious.

  “Just go,” Weynild commanded them. The two elves scrambled to their feet and started to leave, and Weynild noticed they were carrying a nice sized g
oat. “And leave your sacrifice.”

  “Yes, your Majesty,” they exclaimed, then fled back down the stairs.

  “At least we’ll have something to eat later on,” Weynild said, eliciting another burst of laughter from Raine. Really, the whole circumstance was beyond comical and Raine could only imagine the stories that would spread after this encounter.

  “Well,” she said, rolling over on top of Weynild and at last able to claim the breasts that had been so out of reach. “If this is your shrine, then perhaps I should worship you.”

  Weynild caught her breath as Raine took the nipple in her mouth and the other hardened in paired consequence. She watched with golden eyes as those perfect lips toyed with her, then moved lower. She leaned back to gaze at the sky as her lover went to her knees and that head moved between her legs to worship her in a way that the wood elves could only dream of.

  Many hours later, the two lie intertwined beneath the stars. Some worshiper had left an ornately embroidered tapestry that was now wrapped about them as a blanket, and their backs and heads were comfortably cushioned by a pile of fleece left by some supplicant. Small fires flickered in the vessels surrounding the altar, providing both warmth and the sweet smell of incense. Despite the fact that they were completely exposed, it felt cozy.

  “I’ve always thought these gifts worthless,” Weynild murmured. “I stand corrected.”

  “I might have to add this to my list of favorite locations,” Raine said.

  “You really are an exhibitionist.”

  Raine just grinned and it grew quiet as both retreated to their thoughts.

  “Were you able to gain the help of the dragons?”

  “I was,” Weynild replied, “my ally from the Great War, Kylan, has pledged her support. And she has confirmed that Volva and Jörmung, my enemies from that war, are in league to bring back the Hyr’rok’kin.”

  “Does she think they are working with the Shadow Guild?”

  “She does. She believes they are behind the contract for the assassination, but that it is one plot of many.”