The insidious poison strikes the party, weakening them while the assassin prepares for his next attack.
The Rogue's Harem
Book Two: Rogue's Wicked Harem
Part Eleven: Insidious Poison
By mypenname3000
Copyright 2018
Chapter Thirty-One: The Naga's Domain
Zizthithana – Kozzithni, The Shahdom of Shizhuth
My serpentine, lower half wrapped about the slave's torso. My violet scales, marked with bright diamonds of bronze, entwined about his brawny chest. I felt his muscles beneath him, the Zeutchian trembling as I squeezed him. He sucked in a sharp breath, his torso swelling against my strong grip.
I could crush him.
I could constrict the breath out of him.
My pussy, peeking out through a slit in my scales, rubbed hot against his skin. I loved the pale shade of his flesh, so different from the swarthy hue of the humans native to Shizhuth. He groaned, a tinge of his fear on the air. My tongue tasted it as it flicked out of my body. I shuddered, my nipples aching as I entwined tighter and tighter about him.
I found his cock with my hand, thrusting from a thatch of blond hair. I stroked his girth, my pussy aching to be filled by him. Humans could be so weak, but they had something so delicious, something my naga body craved.
Cocks.
Hard, thick, long cocks.
“Mistress,” he groaned as I rubbed the tip of his dick against my scales, sliding it up and down my flesh.
He shuddered as I massaged the tip against me. My breasts jiggled. My left hand slid up from my violet scales to my dusky skin of my belly. I rose up to my large breasts, today a gold chain connecting my pierced nipples. I seized it, tugging on it, stretching out my nipples.
I moaned in delight, pleasure shooting down to my dripping pussy. My tongue flicked from my mouth as my pussy grew hotter and hotter. My coiled body squeezed tighter about his torso, his ribs creaking. He sucked in shallower breath, straining to take deep breaths. I felt his heart pounding beneath his chest, his life fluttering in my embrace.
I owned him. I possessed him.
“Mistress,” he groaned again, his voice tighter. His cock throbbed in my hand, pulsing with his passion for me.
It made me so wet.
My bed creaked, my muslin canopy forming a haze of purple around me, an island of passion cut off from the rest of my castle. My bed creaked as I shifted, the satin sheets cool against my scales as I moved. I slid his cock along my scales until it nudged at my hot flesh.
I hissed in delight, tugging so hard on my nipple chain. My breasts stretched and my nipples distorted. My dusky-pink nubs flared in wondrous pain. It shuddered through me, filling me with such trembling delight. I rubbed his dick against my pussy with the other.
“Is this what you want, slave?” I moaned, my voice so sibilant with my desire. My cunt dripped with passion. “To slide into my pussy? Do you want to be in me?”
“Yes!” he groaned, his heart beating faster. His ardor seasoned the fear I tasted in the air, two delightful flavors, one sour and the other spice. “I wish to be in you, Mistress.”
“And you will give me such pleasure?” I groaned, my hand squeezing about his dick, feeling the pulse of his life throbbing up it. The tip nuzzled into the folds of my pussy, stimulating me. He brushed my clit, a wave of pleasure washing through my body. “Will you satiate my lusts with this cock?”
“I will, Mistress!” he promised, his body twitching in my coiled in embrace. I stared down his thick legs, muscles flicking and spasming in aching need, his toes curling. “I will give you such pleasure, Mistress. My cock will make you explode.”
“It better,” I groaned, my coils tightening hard about his chest. Air exploded out of his lungs. His heart palpitated fast. Then I relaxed.
“I will... satiate you... Mistress...” he panted between deep breaths, his dick throbbing so hard in my tight grip.
He understood. My pussy clenched as I tugged on my chain so hard. My hand twisted, entwining the thin, gold links about me, pulling my tits towards each other, my nipples distended even more. It hovered right on the transition from agony to rapture, making my pussy burn with need. His cock nuzzled at the entrance, poised to give me all the rapture I needed.
I impaled my cunt down his cock.
“Mistress!” he screamed out as I hissed in delight.
His thick cock slid into the hot depths of my cunt. He stretched my snatch open. I groaned as he reached so deep into me. He felt so amazing, his thickness stimulating me. I pulled so hard on my chain, pain flaring in my nubs, shooting down to my cunt.
I boiled around him.
My scales rasped against his skin as I whimpered. My violet hair spilled about my face as a hot shudder ran through me. My breasts jiggled and shook as waves of delight washed out of my cunt, filling me with ecstatic heat.
“Yeessssss!” I hissed as I took every inch of his girth. I clamped my snatch down on his dick, loving him in me.
My body moved. My coiled tail clenched and relaxed on his body, squeezing air out of him in wondrous gasps. I worked my cunt up and down his body as he shuddered on my bed. He groaned, moaning out the pleasure he experienced in my pussy.
“Mistress!” he groaned.
My hand massaged his heavy balls, full of his salty seed. My pussy clenched and relaxed on him, squeezing, tightening, increasing the silky friction as I fucked my snatch up and down his girth. Pleasure trembled through me, washing in hot waves over and over through my body. My nipples throbbed every time I took him to the hilt.
I hissed in delight, pumping my hips faster and faster up and down his body. My bed creaked as I enjoyed him, the satin feeling so delicious on my scales. My purple hair spilled about my face as my head tossed from side-to-side.
“Yes, yes, yeesssss!” My tongue flicked out faster and faster. His dick reached so deep into me. “Do you feel my passion?”
“So hot and silky about me, Mistress,” he groaned. “So honored... to feel your passion... Mistress.”
I loved his broken speech as I squeezed his body, choking off his words. His heart pounded so fast as his dick throbbed in my cunt. I fucked my pussy faster and faster up and down his dick, the pleasure building and building inside of me.
He stimulated me.
I pulled over and over on my chain. My nipples ached and throbbed, distorting, shooting such wondrous pain down to my pussy. The sensations rippled through my body. My cunt clenched on his dick. The silky friction spilled such rapture through me.
I worked my body, driven towards my orgasm. I used his cock, my hand massaging his balls. I loved the feel of them. I hissed out so loud as I slammed my snatch down his cock, taking him to the hilt. I squeezed his nuts.
He grunted in pain.
Pleasure exploded through me.
My orgasm spasmed through my cunt. He gasped as he felt my flesh massaging about him. He ground through clenched teeth as my body tightened about him. The pleasure spilled through my body. Stars burst across my vision as the rapture burned through my thoughts.
Ecstasy burned through my mind. I hissed louder and louder, tightening and relaxing my coiled body about him, loving him. My cunt convulsed about his dick, sucking at him. His balls tightened in my massaging grip.
“Mistress!” he groaned, his voice so thick with need.
I denied him my permission to erupt.
I worked my spasming cunt up and down his dick. He gasped and groaned, his need so thick in his voice. He wanted to spill his cum through my body. I savored his struggle. I loved the feel of him fighting his urge to spill his seed into my cunt.
I slammed my cunt up and down his dick, my pleasure spilling over and over through my body. I tugged on my nipple chain as my orgasm spasmed through my body. I loved it. My tits heaved as my serpentine form convulsed about him.
Delicious rapture burned through me. My thoughts burned with the bliss of this moment. It was such wondrous pleasure. It spilled through me. It made me shiver in wicked delight. I sucked in such deep breaths. I loved this. I never wanted this delight to end.
“Yes, yes, yes, stay hard for your mistress!” I hissed. “Keep giving her pleasure with that erect cock.”
“Yes, Mistress,” he groaned, his arms twitching in my coiled embrace. My scales rasped on his skin as he twitched. “Your pussy... It feels amazing, Mistress.”
“Of course!” I moaned, pumping my body as fast as I could. Orgasm after orgasm spilled through my body. Waves after waves of pleasure shot through me. How long would he last? Would he surrender early? “You love my cunt!”
“It's the best! Mistress! The best!”
“You want to spill in me?” I hissed.
“I live to worship you, Mistress! Let me! Let me show you my devotion!”
I shuddered, my cunt aching to feel his seed spill in me. I hissed out in rapture, slamming down his cock, taking every inch of his dick into my flesh. He reached so deep into me. His balls ached, so swollen with his seed.
“You are not worthy to cum in me!” I moaned, squeezing his nuts hard.
He grunted in pain as my pussy spasmed about his dick, sucking at it, aching to be filled by his cum. He shuddered, his body spasming as he fought against his natural urge. He wanted to give me this rapture. He wanted to fulfill his need.
And didn't. He restrained himself.
A pity. Then I could squeeze and squeeze and squeeze, punishing him for his—
The door to my bedchambers opened. I shuddered, letting my orgasm die as I tasted my lamia slave's presence. My eyes fluttered as the ecstasy buzzed through my veins. I savored the post-coital euphoria.
“You are intruding, Shilia,” I hissed, squeezing so hard about the slave. His breath grunted out of him.
“My apologies, dread Mistress,” she said, lurking just outside my canopy. “But the Paragon... She demands an audience with you.”
“When?” I asked, my body buzzing with delight. Such wondrous orgasms. The slave struggled to breathe. I relaxed my coils. He gave me pleasure. Why kill him when I could enjoy him again?
“Mis... tress!” he panted as I showed him mercy.
“Dread Mistress, she's here right now,” my lamia slave said.
My heart squeezed. The pleasure wreathing my thoughts fell away. My tongue flicked out hard. “What?”
“She's here, Mistress! She's demanding to see you!”
“Las's transforming cum!” I hissed and released the slave's body, drawing my pussy off his still-hard cock.
I ignored his pants and groans as I slithered across my bed and thrust my human torso through my canopy. I stared down at Shilia, the lamia prostrate on the floor. Her fear thickened the air with that delicious, sour flavor. Her gray-black tail twitched back and forth.
“S-she awaits you in your audience room, dread Mistress.”
Irritation gripped me. I had hoped to put the Paragon off longer. Keythivak hadn't sent a message since he tracked the thieves to a faerie ring. If the thief never returned from Faerie... I needed the Paragon's support to make my bid to seize the Shahdom of Shizhuth. I would rule it and then conquer the other naga countries. I would form an empire, ruling everything east of the Despeir mountains.
After, I would turn west towards my “ally,” Prince Meinard. I would wrest his lands from him, put the Zeutchian and the other humans who dwelt beyond the mountains beneath my power. I would rule the world, conquering more land than the weak High King Peter ever had.
But not without the Paragon's support!
The monstrous servants she promised me if I recovered the amulet would give me such an advantage over armies made of humans. I needed to stall her. I needed to buy my servant more time to recover my amulet.
I drew in a deep breath as I slithered off my bed. My scales rasped on the cool floor as I gathered my thoughts. My breasts swayed before me, my chain swaying back and forth. My tongue flickered out of my mouth as I moved through my palace, my lamia slave scampering at my side. I had to be calm, cold. I couldn't show any fear. I was Zizthithana, istandar of the province of Hizzithya. I would be the future shahbanu, what humans would call a queen, of Shizhuth.
I felt it. I believed it. I was it.
With a regal bearing, I entered my audience room, the walls covered in banners of bright purple. My eyes flicked to the Paragon, hiding my revulsion at the sight of Biomancer Vebrin's ultimate creation, a creature of such loathsome sight. She churned even my strong stomach.
The Paragon was a hunched and deformed creature. She was an amalgamation of various races all melted together into a bubble of flesh. Masculine and feminine features, swirled together about her mongrel face. She had the broad shoulders that rippled with her inhuman strength, her limbs twisted with ropy strands of muscles. She had both breasts, swollen and overripe, and a cock thrusting huge from her crotch. Her skin was a riot of colors, merging from hues of all sorts, the various beiges and browns of humans, the metallic flesh of a halfling, the swarthy red of orcs, the swallow hue of an ogre, and more, giving her a molted look. Delicate ears, like an elf, twitched through her tangle of hair, every strand looking to be a different hue and texture. All the strengths of the races distilled into one horrid abomination.
“The amulet is proving elusive to achieve,” I told her, “but my assassin has the trail of the thief.”
The Paragon straightened her malformed body. She stood with twice the height of a human, her eyes boring down at me. Muscular arms folded before those breasts. Her fingers flexed against her skin while a rumble rose in her throat. “You promised it would be simple. That you had an agreement with this Prince Meinard that would allow you to move with impunity through his lands.”
“It wasn't his guards who impeded the recovery of the amulet,” I answered, my tongue flicking out. She tasted wrong. Too many different flavors all mixed together, scents piled on scents piled on scents. I wanted to gag. “I made you a promise that I would recover it. I will live up to my word. After all, it was my information that located what you've searched for all these years. You've searched for centuries. You can—”
“I have no patience left, snake,” she growled, her voice speaking with the cadence of a female, almost a sultry purr, but her size pitched it into a low rumble, almost a deep base. “I do not care about your alliance with this Prince Meinard. If you do not produce the amulet, I will unleash nightmares upon his land. All the support I promised you, will descended upon his people. I will harrow them until I have my father back.”
My cheek twitched. “We have an agreement, Paragon. Remember.”
“Do we?” She looked around. “Do I have my father's soul back? You promised you knew where it was and would have it two weeks ago.”
“No plan is—”
“I will have it.”
“And I will get it for you.”
“How?” She stepped closer to me. I looked up at her looming to her full height. Such power. “How will you get it when you sit her upon your throne while my father's soul is out there?”
“My servant will—”
“Your servant isn't YOU!” Her words thundered through the room. She snorted like a bull, her misshapen face twisting. “You promised me his phylactery. You agreed to give it to me, and yet you slink through your little castle, fucking your little servants.”
My tail twitched. My heart fluttered.
“Why am I helping you with my father's children when you do not care about him?”
“What help are you even giving me?” I hissed in frustration. “I am doing all the work here. I have lost servants already.”
A smile twisted the Paragon's thick lips, parting to reveal thick, yellowed teeth. “So this is beyond you. I suspected as much.”
“It's not!” I hissed.
“Prove it.” The Paragon reached into a pouch she wore about her waist, tied there by a strip of cloth. “You want help, retrieve the amulet yourself. Slither out of your den and claim the phylactery. If you don't, I will unleash all his children. I will sweep through Zeutch. I will destroy the kingdom and seize my father's phylactery myself.
“And then I will come for you.”
I hissed, “You dare threaten me in my own own castle?” Shadows writhed and shifted around me. I seized them. “Do not test my power.”
The Paragon snorted. “You made a deal. If you cannot uphold it, then I will rip your body apart. I will feast on your entrails, little snake. You gave me your word, and I will see you keep it or regret ever spouting your lies.”
My scales rasped together and my heart beat with tight pain in my chest as the monstrosity lumbered out of my audience room, ducking through the double doors. Then she was gone, only the echo of her footsteps fading.
“Dread Mistress?” my lamia slave asked, her voice cracking with trepidation.
“Summon Atrevia!” I hissed. “I have a journey to plan.”
Fear rolled off my slave as she scampered from the room. Worse, my own fear seasoned the air. My fingers clenched and closed. When I found the thief, I would crush him. I would squeeze the life out of his body.
I would watch him die.
Chapter Thirty-Two: The Fairy's Art
Kora Falk – The Forest of Lhes, Princedom of Kivoneth, The Strifelands of Zeutch
I led my horse through the woods while trudging beside Ealaín. Exhaustion leaden my limbs, but I kept forging ahead. I felt so rundown even after falling asleep early during yesterday's celebratory orgy. I must have slept for nearly a day, rising after dawn with the others. And I still felt like I needed more sleep.
I needed a real bed.
I needed a week of not traveling.
Az would be perfect for that. We could search for the clues on how to destroy the amulet weighing about my neck and recover from the last two weeks of hard travel and stress. I fought back a yawn, heartened by that as we kept heading southeast, marching through the forest to reach its southern edge and meet up with Princess Ava.
Ealaín marched with a stoic indifference that I envied. The horse the aoi si led was stolen by Aingeal and her trickery. The faerie flitted through the woods with such joy, reveling in the restoration of her wings. I kept catching glimpses of her as she darted through the canopies, a growing pile of sticks and twigs clutched to her breasts while her mirth sang out through the woods.
“What do you want, Radiant?” Ealaín asked.
I blinked at the abruptness of her question. “What?”
“What do you want?” she asked again. “With your life?”
I gave my muse a furrowed look, struggling to think through the leaden exhaustion pressing down on my thoughts. “Well, to kill Prince Meinard, and to get rid of this Las cursed amulet.” I felt the ruby between my breasts. I had grown used to it hanging there, but sometimes I remembered what was in it and my skin crawled. “And to get to a bed.”
A smile cracked Ealaín's thick lips. “A bed would be a wondrous thing. But that's not what you want.”
I blinked weary eyes. “A bed?”
“Killing Prince Meinard. That's what your brother wants.”
I glanced up to Sven leading his mount with Zanyia scampering at his heels and Nathalie striding beside him like she was out on a berry picking trip to the woods, her blonde pigtails swaying about her head as she giggled at something he said.
I furrowed my brow. I wanted to kill prince Meinard. He murdered my parents and my little sister. He set our house on fire to kill Sven, only my brother and I were not home and escaped the flames. The fire burned in my dreams, lighting up Prince Meinard's soldiers standing outside.
“If you were free, what would you do?” Ealaín asked.
Irritation flared through me, fed by my weariness. “Well, I'm not free. He killed my sister! My parents! And I have this dumb amulet, too.” I glared at her. “That's why you're here, right? To help me destroy this amulet? Why are you asking these questions?”
“I'm not here to help you destroy the amulet. I'm here to help you find yourself.”
I frowned at that. What did that mean?
“What do you truly wish you were doing? What is your true goal?”
“I...” The fingers of my left hand, not holding my horse's bridle, clenched. They itched. “I... I haven't truly painted in so long. Not with a real brush.” My tongue moistened my lips as I thought, the exhaustion spilling off mind, letting me think. “Illusions aren't the same. They're...” I searched for the right word. “They're too real. Does that makes sense?”
Ealaín nodded, her pure-white hair sliding about her ebony features. “They lack any style.”
“Yes!” I said, enthusiasm rising me. “There's no subjectivity. I can't paint my expression in them. Not when I have to mimic the real world. I don't get to pour any of my truths into them. Instead, I have to paint other's truths. Reality's boring truths. I miss it so much. It was nice dancing before the faerie, and I do get to create such wondrous art while making love to my brother and his women, but... but... I truly find joy in painting. It's been over a year since I held a brush, Ealaín.
“A year!”
“Yes, it's hard to pursue your passion when you're following your brother around on his adventure.”
“It won't be forever,” I said, my frustration dying down. “We're getting closer to being done.”
“Will it be over, though?” Her citrine eyes bored into me. “Won't there always be another adventure for Sven to throw himself into? Another dangerous task? Another perilous quest?”
I blinked and looked ahead at my brother. The exhaustion settled on my thoughts again as her words stirred through my brain. My brother did enjoy excitement. He always sought out danger in Az. He would perform stunts. Once, he climbed to the pinnacle of the Bardic Tower and stood atop it. He would sneak into maidens beds and claim their virginities without their fathers learning of his presence. He would fight duels. He would brawl in taverns. And...
He enjoyed playing the rogue—disrupting Prince Meinard's plans, regaling busty barmaids with his exploits, narrowly escaping capture—for the last year. But I always assumed when this was over, he'd marry Princess Ava and settle down as her consort. He'd rule her father's princedom with her, bringing peace to the Strifelands.
Could he endure that? Could my brother settle down?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Aingeal
I plopped down by the fire, spreading out all the materials I had collected during the day. I hadn't planned on making a new feyhound to replace Cú Mheá. I missed my construct, but that wasn't why I was building a new one. A concern itched in my mind when I woke up this morning, showing me the necessity of having a new feyhound.
I set to work weaving his body out of the wicker-like twigs, the spirits which abandoned through the world responding to me. They shaped the wood, polishing it up for me as I stroked it. Purple light flared around me as my wings twitched. I hummed to myself while Nathalie and Zanyia made a meal of the rabbits Sven had killed with throwing knives while they walked through the woods. (I flew). They planned on making a delicious stew. Kora dozed on the other side of the fire, her head resting on Sven's lap. He watched me across the flames as I worked, a naughty glint in his eyes.
The pervert had enjoyed watching feyhounds fuck his women back in Faerie.
I winked at him as I wove and threaded the twigs while the spirits imbued the body. Slowly, it would awaken into something almost like life. A construct animated by the spirits which inhabited everything in the world, the universal forces that bound together reality. Cernere's gifted her faerie children the ability to cheat at the world's game, to manipulate it in ways that violated the rules laid down in its very foundation.
Ealaín sat down beside me, her body naked and lush. She'd stripped out of her armor when we made camp. She took her ease, her bright-yellow eyes falling on what I was doing. Interest kindled in her depths.
“I'm imbuing strength into the limbs,” I told her, my fingers entwining the twigs together to make the feyhound's legs. “So he'll be able to fight.”
“Fight?” Ealaín asked.
“The next time the assassin attacks, when he recovers from his wounds, we'll have one more weapon to use against him,” I explained. “It occurred to me that we could use another advantage. I wish my first feyhound was with us, but...” I missed Cú Mheá. Pushing down the pang in my heart, I continued, “When his body is fully fashioned, all the enchantments laid in it will give it intelligence, cunning, strength, and lust—”
“Lust?” Ealaín asked.
I winked at her, my hand grabbing a large piece of hard oak. I guided the transformation spirits, shaping it into a hound-like phallus, my pussy clenching in eager delight. “There is something so wicked about being ravished by a feyhound.”
“That does sound like a... unique way to make art,” the aoi si said.
“Oh, yes, it is,” Sven said, stroking one of Kora's braids as she softly snored. I just heard it over the crackle of the fire.
“It is,” Zanyia yowled. “Right, slut?”
“Right,” Nathalie nodded, the girl beaming at me, such a naughty twinkle in her eye. Sven had corrupted her so fast. Only a few days ago, she'd been an innocent maid. And then the rogue wandered into her life.
I couldn't wait to see what adventures I would have with Sven. Prince Meinard would fall. We'd find a way to destroy the amulet. Then what would we do? What new experiences would Sven seek out? With my spirits, I could prolong his youth. Keep him young and strong. We would have so much fun together.
My wings fluttered in delight.
“The enchantment spirits are settling into the feyhound's body,” I said, weaving faster and faster, the twigs with just the right amount of suppleness, thanks to transformation spirits, to bend into place. “They will bring him to life when I'm done.”
“Does he have a name?”
“Yes,” I said, a smile playing on my lips. “I think I'll call him Scáthnamhaid.”
“Scáthnamhaid...” Ealaín nodded her head. “It has a nice sound to it.”
“What does it mean?” Sven asked.
“Shadowbane, my husband,” I answered. My eyes flicked up to the trees. An owl's hoot drifted down from the darkness.
Sven nodded in approval.
I grabbed the thick, broad maple leaf, trimming away the two side parts leaving only the central green tuft. I inserted that into his mouth, the transformation spirits joining it to the body. Then I wove his tail, thick and short.
I stood him up, his body rigid. The smell of stew filled the air. Kora stirred, blinking sleepily across the fire as she took a bowl from Nathalie. I ignored my own hungry stomach and studied Scáthnamhaid. He had the look of a hunting dog, sleek and dangerous. I fashioned claws out of hard oak, made of the same strong material with which I fashioned his cock, currently hidden in a sheath in his body. I ran my hands across the smooth wicker torso, loving the feel of him.
Then I sent my will into him. The purple enchantment spirits flooded through the air. Bright orange evocation spirits joined them, swirling together into the feyhound's heart. I shuddered, the energy pouring out of me. The enhancement spirits, balls of green light, shot through me, gathering my own life essence, and transferring it to my feyhound, joining the chaotic dance in its chest.
The spirits worked their magic and—
Scáthnamhaid barked with happy joy.
His tail wagged stiffly behind him. His body creaked as he lifted his head towards me. I smiled as he lapped at me cheek with his leafy tongue. Then he flicked across my lips as he barked again with all the energetic enthusiasm of a puppy.
“Yes, you are going to be our surprise against that assassin,” I said while petting his body.
Ealaín reached out, smiling as she stroked his flank down to his tail. “What amazing art you have wrought, Aingeal.”
“I never thought of making a feyhound as art,” I said. I shook my head, a wave of lethargy rolling over me. I felt so rundown. Making a feyhound could be draining, but this? I suddenly just wanted to sleep.
Sven sat down on the other side of me, handing me a bowl. I took it, the smell of rabbit stew savory. He scratched Scáthnamhaid's head. The feyhound barked and turned his attention to my husband, licking his fingers.
“Hey, boy,” he said. “Eager to rip apart an assassin, huh?”
Scáthnamhaid barked loudly.
“I enhanced his eyes,” I said, glancing at the acorns Scáthnamhaid used to see with. “One of us won't be blind.”
Sven nodded, still scratching the dog, mirth in his blue eyes. “Good.”
I took a bite of my stew, fighting off my exhaustion. Why was I so tired? Kora was already stumbling towards the tent to sleep. I wanted to join her, but my stomach rumbled. I forced myself to eat the stew while Sven petted Scáthnamhaid. But it grew so hard to keep my eyes open. My entire body ached with exhaustion.
Finally, I crawled into the tent after Kora, cuddled up against her, and let tiredness pull me down into sleep. Right before my dreams claimed me, I realized I didn't even get to enjoy the best part of making a new feyhound: fucking him.
Chapter Thirty-Three: Insidious Poison
Sven Falk
Scáthnamhaid barked as he burst out of the brush and into the cleared field along the south side of the Forest of Lhes, disturbing an owl into hooting. All day, the new feyhound had ranged ahead of us, sniffing even though he didn't have a nose, his tail wagging. He flushed out more than enough rabbits to provide a hearty meal for tonight's dinner. Twilight approached.
I was glad it was almost sunset, almost time to camp, because I was dead tired. Two days trudging through the forest did not agree with me. It didn't agree with anyone. My sister yawned, looking almost dead as she stumbled out of the forest leading her horse. She looked even more tired than I felt. I glanced to the west, towards Az.
Unease rippled through my stomach. I didn't want to return to Az. I had so many happy memories of our parents, of poor Katriana. Did they tear down the burned ruins of our house? Had something new been built there in the last year? Had they erased any trace that the Falk family once lived in the scholarly city?
How much would it hurt seeing all those places that once brought me joy before Prince Meinard perverted them with his lust for his daughter?
Despite that dread gripping my guts, an eagerness also seized me. Az meant comfort. A proper bed for Kora to sleep in. A chance to rest and recover from the long weeks of travel we'd had since leaving to track down the faerie. Three more days traveling on the road, staying in village inns, and we'd arrive.
It would be nice.
“I don't see Ava, Master,” Zanyia said.
I blinked. How could I forget about the princess? “She should be around here somewhere.”
The last two days I'd been in constant contact with Ava through her alabaster statue. I looked around and spotted a hill that overlooked the highway which ran along the southern edge of the forest. It connected Echur with Az. She should be somewhere along it. Hopefully, if Aingeal led us true through the woods, Ava wasn't far away.
I mounted my horse. I hadn't bothered to name the farm nag. He lacked the majesty of Night. I wonder what ever happened to my stallion. Did he still wander the Forest of Lhes? Had a farmer found him and yoked him to a plow? Or had Prince Meinard's soldiers found him and claimed him for their own?
None of those options pleased me.
“I'll be back,” I said. “Hopefully, with the princess.”
“Okay,” my sister said, her shoulders sagging. She yawned.
Nathalie and Zanyia joined her.
“Perhaps we should set up camp,” Ealaín said. “I think we could all use a rest. I did not realize trudging through a forest could be so wearying.”
I didn't either. I didn't feel exhaustion this badly before we went to Faerie. But fatigue could build and build in a person. I shook it off and galloped my horse to the rise. He, at least, seemed in good spirits. Probably glad to stretch his legs and really move instead of creeping through the uneven ground and dense foliage of the woods.
I gained the top of the hill and pulled out her statue after dismounting. I stroked up and down the figures naked body, feeling the breasts. It came to life, shuddering and shivering. She looked around as I sat her on the hill.
“You're out!” she said in delight as she grew. “That's wonderful, Sven.”
“Now we just have to see if you're anywhere near here,” I said as she grew taller and taller, her alabaster form swelling. Aingeal's enchantment worked as promised. Though I still missed Ava's rose quartz proxy. The way that figure's crystals caught the light was so stirring.
But the alabaster was nice. I smiled at my betrothed's petite body, her breasts firm mounds that shuddered as she reached her full height. She let out a groan as she stretched, her pure-white flesh painted in orange highlights by the setting sun.
“Let's see,” she said, turning around and gazing at the road “I think we're close to you.” Her statue went still for a moment. Then it animated again. “We should be around that bend, I hope.” She pointed up the road. “Looks like we're ahead of you.”
I stared in that direction. The road bowed out to the south then turned back north to go around a thrusting bulge of the green forest. I trembled in excitement. Ava took my hand, her grip smooth and yet though made of stone, felt like real flesh, warm and soft. She rose on her tiptoes, trembling and...
“There I am!” she gasped as two figures rode around the road's bend, one slumped over her mare, strawberry-blonde hair spilling down over the shoulders of her blue riding cloak. The other figure held the reins, a blonde, Zeutchian lass.
“Oh, my, your bedmaid is quite the buxom girl,” I said as the pair rode forward.
“I thought you'd appreciate her assets,” Ava said. “Let's go say hi to me.” Then she giggled before her body shrunk again.
I picked her up, put her proxy away, and rode down the hill as the real Ava straightened in her saddle, now inhabiting her real body. She spurred her mount forward, pulling away from the bedmaid, her strawberry-blonde hair flying behind her.
“Ava!” Kora shouted.
“Wow,” I head Zanyia yowl. “She looks so pretty in the flesh. I didn't know her hair was such an exciting color.”
I rode past my family, racing toward my betrothed. Though I had just talked to her, I felt like I hadn't seen her, well, in a year. She had such a beaming smile on her face that lead me on. We reined up our horses before we collided.
I vaulted out of the saddle and raced to her as she shifted in her saddle. I grabbed her waist, her hands seizing my shoulder, and lifted her light body off the saddle. I breathed in that smell of her, something her proxy's lacked. It was that familiar, sweet musk I had missed so much over the last year.
“Sven,” she breathed, staring up at me, her eyes trembling, tears breeding in their blue depths. Then her arms snaked around my neck. She clung to me so tight. “It's really you, Sven. I've missed you.”
“My princess,” I groaned, my arms tightening about her waist. I lifted her up and kissed her hard on the mouth. I tasted the freshness of her lips. I reveled in the wet feel of them, their silky texture.
I cradled her to me, spinning her about as we kissed. I had missed her so much. Touching her through a proxy wasn't the same as in the flesh. There was always this remoteness. This barrier that truly separated us. Now it was gone. It had evaporated.
There was only us. Together.
Her tongue darted into my mouth. My cock swelled and ached. I throbbed to take her. To fuck her so hard. The weariness fell away from me as my ardor grew and grew. My hands slid down to cup her rump through her riding cloak and dress, feeling her.
I broke the kiss, prepared to—
“Kora!” shrieked Nathalie.
“Mistress Kora!” yowled Zanyia.
The fear in both their voices snapped my head around. My sweet Kora lay on the ground. Her entire body bucked and convulsed. Zanyia whimpered beside her, her head swaying from side-to-side. Her ears twitched as she rolled my sister over.
“No!” I roared, setting Ava down.
“Oh, Gods, Kora,” gasped Ava as I raced towards my sister.
I flew down the path, running with all my speed. My heart pounded ice through my body. Fear whipped at me, driving me to get to her side as fast as I could. I reached her, falling to my knees around my other women. Ealaín had her war ax and hammer out, scanning the trees.
“No,” I groaned at the sight of the foam flecking Kora's lips and mouth. The same poison as before. “That Las-damned assassin!”
I leaped to my feet and drew my short sword, facing the trees. “Where are you, you Illth-poxed bastard! Cowering in the trees?”
“It wasn't the assassin,” Zanyia said. “Nothing struck her. She just got dizzy and collapsed, Master.”
“What?” I demanded, whipping my head around. “That's the same poison. It has to be him.”
“It is the same poison,” the lamia yowled. “I think I know what it is. It can't be cured with magic. We never fully healed her.”
The world spun around me.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Zanyia
“What?” Master snarled at me.
Purple light surged from Aingeal, directing her healing spirits into Kora.
“It's this poison called styrchnos,” I answered. “I heard about it before Therek took me on his raid across the mountains and you saved me. It came from a new source. A new ally of Zizthithana. I think it's from the Paragon.”
Master cursed, his face pale, terror filling his scent. He could fight the assassin, even wreathed in shadows, but he couldn't battle a toxin coursing through his sister's body. I squeezed Kora's hand. Her spasming slowed and she no longer foamed from the mouth.
“Look, she's healing,” Sven said. “Aingeal's magic fixing her.”
“But she won't be able to get rid of the poison,” I yowled, my ears twitching. “It stays inside the body. It persists. All she's doing is healing the damage it causes, but it will keep doing harm to her.”
“I... I think she's right,” Aingeal said. “There's no puncture wound from a dart. And it's the same poison. No wonder she's been tired if her body's been dealing with this since the fight.”
“Yeah,” Nathalie said, her face wan.
She looked as tired as I felt. All day, an exhaustion had been pulling at me. I almost never grew tired. I always had kittenish levels of energy coursing through me, but it was so hard to scamper beside Master as the day wore on.
“Shilia told me this new poison can also spread.” I swallowed. “Does everyone else feel tired?”
“Yeah,” Master growled. “And? We've been traveling all day.”
“My... fatigue does feel greater than I expected,” Ealaín said.
“I just want to fall over,” Nathalie confessed.
“It's in us all,” I said. “It's slowly killing us.” My ears dropped. “Master... We're all going to die. Slowly. It'll weaken us more and more.”
“And he's waiting for that,” Sven growled. “The assassin! He's waiting for us to drop.”
“There has to be a cure,” Aingeal protested.
“Az!” Princess Ava exclaimed. She hovered on the edge, clutching her hands to her chest. “The University of Az has the largest collection of scholars in the world. The priests who reside their know more about the healing arts than any. They'll have a way to cure this there.”
“Av's three days away,” Sven said, his expression dark.
I shuddered. Would we make it?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Keythivak
I stroked Hithina's dyed-black hair as I watched Sven and his women realize the depths of their plight. In a day or two, they would all be as sick as the priestess. Two more days for my wounds to heal, two more days for them to weaken.
When I attacked, they would be as frail as newborn kittens.
Hithina snuggled tighter against me, her tail twitching back and forth. I felt the pleasure bleeding off of her. She knew we were close to recovering the amulet. Zizthithana would reward me for bringing her this prize.