Seeds of Retribution (closed for PieTaster)

[TheQueenofCups]

Zora touched the moist tendrils of his hair.

“You are still so cold in your skin. Come. Lay down here. I will attend you.” The earthen floor was buffeted slightly with a few cloaks to make the floor a bit more comfortable. She stepped into a shadowed spot in the round room and gathered one last item. A shallow stone vessel, black in color, filled with kindling, shavings of a whitish wood and a few dry ash branches.

She put the lit torch to the brazier until the wood within caught alight, fire crackling through the fragrant wood. The flame flared for a moment, and a gentle and sweet-smelling smoke began to rise up towards the gap in the ceiling. Returning the torch to the wall, she carried the bowl of fire with her and set it within arm’s reach. Then, she knelt down next to his outstretched body, placed her palm on his chest and closed her eyes as if sensing all of him, every pain, through just this touch.

She pulled the tie at her throat so that her cloak fell down her shoulders, a bundle of red at her hip. Her breasts nearly spilled from the top of the dress, the binding at the waist doing little to support their fullness. With no hesitation, she brought her braid over her shoulder and pulled the fabric down so each could swing freely.

The cool night and the firelight showed a few blueish veins now tracing the sides of her swollen tits all the way to each overt and hardening nipple. She sighed almost sweetly, but stayed kneeling, turning back the other things she had brought this evening.
“You hurt. Some say that Reyja gave the gift of healing skill to women’s hands, but it was Vaestred, her daughter, who let it also be found in our cunts. This is the true house of healing.”

From a pouch, she pulled three flat, dark gray stones and set each gently into the open brazier until they were enveloped by heat and glowed slightly, not unlike the shard of her necklace had so many nights before.

Her voice was quiet, but seemed utterly devoid of fear or shyness of being overheard. “You may have no need of my gratitude, but I have none to offer for Foersa’s life. She and her venomous little spider might have caused us much harm. Still might...but it was not right. I am grateful to have seen a man act for his people, to be so brave...”

Leaning down to him, Zora stroked the angles of his cheeks with the sides of her thumbs. Tenderly.

“My gratitude is for what you have given me. Our efforts weren’t for naught. Does it please you to imagine it? What I carry within me? Your healer would not risk a lie, but in truth, he only told me what the Goddess has already made clear. I’ve taken your seed and made power and life with it. So you have done what was meant for the Lord of Amenja. ”
Zora leaned down further to kiss him, moaning, and kissing longer still. With a breathless break, she then reached for a small clay-colored ceramic vial. She offered it, matter-of-factly.

“Drink. Of a stronger sort. For the pain in your leg. It should do nothing for your cock, but as I said...” She reached down with her other hand and brought it below the cloud of her skirts, clearly between her own thighs. She bit her lip with the wanting her touch brought, “a woman knows many a secret medicine.”

 

[PieTaster]

"You are still so cold in your skin. Come. Lay down here. I will attend you."

Falke did not know the depths of his fatigue until it began to seep from him the moment that her fingertips drew it forth from his hair. She urged him forth to where she had laid out some skins and he mused that it would be considerably more relaxing station than the rough stone upon which he had taken her behind the falls. Easing himself down, he laid out and while Zora stepped to make preparations, he wondered if that moment in the swirling streams under the falls had indeed been the one that his seed had taken her.

With a torch, she lit whatever concoction that she had and soon there was a sweet aroma as she knelt next to him, and finding a spot of his bare chest between the loose lacing of his tunic, she pressed her palm.

"Unhh," Falke sighed and closed his eyes as the aching stress began to siphon from his body. Upon reopening them, Zora's chest swayed free and noticeably heavier than he had recalled, the bulk of their contents now elongating their shape. Even in the shadowy torch light, her areolas were clearly darker than the rest of her complexion.

"You hurt. Some say that Reyja gave the gift of healing skill to women's hands, but it was Vaestred, her daughter, who let it also be found in our cunts. This is the true house of healing."

With that, Zora turned her attention to her elements, placing select stones into her smudge with delicate purpose. Merely watching her work was soothing. After a moment she returned, breasts swinging and gently knocking.

"You may have no need of my gratitude, but I have none to offer for Foersa's life. She and her venomous little spider might have caused us much harm. Still might ... but it was not right. I am grateful to have seen a man act for his people, to be so brave."

"Foersa," he repeated, being reminded of her treachery.

"My gratitude is for what you have given me. Our efforts weren't for naught. Does it please you to imagine it? What I carry within me? Your healer would not risk a lie, but in truth, he only told me what the Goddess has already made clear. I've taken your seed and made power and life with it. So you have done what was meant for the Lord of Amenja."

She would have his child, the veins that now fed her nipples proved that. He carefully cupped one, gauguing its weight as it collected and bulged in his palm. and recalling the fate of poor Lenna, wasn't sure how to answer. Zora kissed him, leaning over him, he had to let go of her breast and it fell to wobble as the other dragged and accumulated upon him. he kissed back, slowly, gently with what little energy he had. When their mouths parted, she fetched a small bottle.

"Drink. Of a stronger sort. For the pain in your leg. It should do nothing for your cock, but as I said ... a woman knows many a secret medicine."

He didn't have to answer, the moment had passed, she had ushered it on, yet he was compelled to speak, to continue the train of thought that had been interrupted.

"A child to save you from the hands of your husband, yet he himself may not last," he said as his hand returned to ber dangling breast to slowly and gently grope. The irony of Gorun soon meeting his end would be a much easier way out of her plight than the dangers of the birth of another man's seed. "I just pray that you birth a healthy child with no trouble," he said. Then he propped himself up on his elbow and sniffed the contents of the vial, fermented yet seasoned. He sipped.

 

[TheQueenofCups]

Zora's eyelids fluttered slightly. The feeling of stinging and tenderness in her breasts was sharp for a moment but then faded under Falke's touch. Her body was fighting her to just to take over and requite itself as the fire crackled beside them. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she considered his words, all of his words.

“You worry. I know. I did hear. That viper told me before she fed the tale to all the hungry mouths and ears amongst the servants...I am...sorry...truly sorry about your woman. The loss.” Her voice trailed off, her fingertips stroking at his neck lightly as she moved even closer on her knees to him. “This is why our people built this place so that...all that is good is kept safe.”

“In this, there is nothing to fear. I will be here. With Reyja and Vaestred and Aesima to guide it into this land of air and blood. They will be born as the child is born. And with your healer and all the women in Amenja to crowd about, if I must endure it. And you shall be here to see it. All of these things I will to be so.”

She seemed and felt and spoke firmly though there was no possible doubt of this, the light moving across her eyes not just bright and firelit, but almost wild. She sat up on her ankles to pull the rest of the red garment away from her hips. Completely undressed, she lay down next to him on the furs, facing him, rocking and pressing the heat of her body against his, against the light flush that the potion left behind as it brought waves of warmth to every ache and pain.

“My husband will not last. You are clever, darkly clever...but...you must tell me what you mean by this.” She brought her smiling lips to the spot on Falke's neck where she had been so gently stroking and licked and kissed him there.

 

[PieTaster]

Falke knew that emotions were threaded throughout everything in life. Fools were those men who believed that they were immune, that emotions were a weakness, that men were steel to them and that women were not, which left them weak and unable to lead as men did. The truth was that men were inherently better at suppressing emotion when necessary for moments of clear judgment, even if emotions should never be ignored outright. It was a strength of women to keep emotions at the fore, even if that muddled things. What was the point of life after all if not to seek comfort and joy, which were nothing but emotions? In that moment his own emotions swirled about him, assaulting him from every flank and facet. Zora had brought them all to the fore in a heavy ambush, and a tension grew inside him as he failed to keep up his defenses. There was Gorun and his growing lunacy. There was the upcoming battle with a foe largely unknown. There was the magician himself who had upheaved Falke's beliefs and even had the power to make him a fool if he did not reveal himself and his looking glass lake in the days to come. Then surviving that, there was treacherous Foersa and her wild daughter. Perhaps that was threat that he had just countered, yet he couldn't help but think that his own standing may have been improved if he had let the scheming woman drown. On top of it all, he was tired, both physically and mentally.

Zora had known about Lenna. That was the biggest dagger. She commanded the attack, yet at the same time, she offered the remedy. Falke had barely the strength to fight any of it, but Zora stripped away even his will to do so. She faced her fate boldly, fearlessly it seemed, and he wondered how that somehow caught him off guard.

"This is why our people built this place so that ... all that is good is kept safe. In this, there is nothing to fear. I will be here. With Reyja and Vaestred and Aesima to guide it into this land of air and blood. They will be born as the child is born. And with your healer and all the women in Amenja to crowd about, if I must endure it. And you shall be here to see it. All of these things I will to be so."

She took a moment to undress herself and then lay her body sweetly against him. She was in control and all that he had to do was surrender. It made no sense, yet it did. He was forced to make an emotional decision. Zora would be better at that. He would have to trust her guidance. He gave in to her tender touch.

"My husband will not last. You are clever, darkly clever ... but, you must tell me what you mean by this."

Falke heaved a sigh, breathing in a whiff of the smudge.

"He is mad," he began to speak quietly. "He always has been, but now his madness has overtaken his sense." His bones eased as the tension seeped from him, conducted away by her caress, her soft flesh pressing to him even through his clothing. He exhaled again, his eyes closed to the subtle shadows of soot snaking across the ceiling to the opening. "He knows not this magician. He charges blind," he reasoned in calm patience. "If not by the hand of Naescius, then by one of his own. He rules with force and his force is weighed by spoils. No one dares defy his force so long as the spoils persist," he explained. "Yet the spoils cannot sustain. He's raped everything. For more, he has to stretch far out into the plains to smite a much stronger enemy which will have none of his crude hostilities. Without the spoils, his people will grow tired of his force and end him. And if not overthrown, then those Imperial Armies of the plains will be waiting for his next raid to do him in. That will be the worst outcome, as he will take all of us down with him."

There was an ease in him as he unburdened his troubles to her ear. Although he did know that others, such as Rogalo and Eitrin shared his sentiments, it was only his intuition that told him, as none on the council dared to speak their thoughts when the punishment for any such rumors finding the King would be a swift beheading. The mood in Amenja was changing. He could feel it. Perhaps Gorun sensed it as well and that was the impetus for his new level of irrationality.

Without the energy to remove his arm from beneath her bosom, he reached across to fondle her breast once more, fingertips pressing into their soft heft and stroking to converge at the puffy point. Everything mattered less and less. Zora next to him mattered more and more. He mattered to her. He would defer to her care, her soothing hands, her loving breasts and her healing cunt.

 

[TheQueenofCups]

She listened to him, slowing her writhing, but never stopping it entirely. It was strange to hear the truth from someone, anyone. The madness of Gorun could not stand for Amenja and her people to survive. His blood hunger would bring destruction here and with none to use the defenses, none to protect those that remained under his banner, they may may as well be slaughtered in a field. She had been trained too long and given too much to just let the madman drag them all down with them as Falke said.

And one man could help her to restore that life, her people, the way it used to be. Blot out all of this. Was capable of more than just trying to keep Gorun placated. She felt an odd tug at the notion as if the goddess was pulling on her ear to draw her attention. Zora looked into his eyes as if making a final, total consideration. Her memories of Mayefin, her father, her care for her people...they dimmed in comparison to this feeling Falke gave her. This certainty, this supremacy of desire. She thought once she could give up his touch. That she could serve her goddess and accept the awkward, ill-fitting place she survived - Gorun's vessel. No.

As Falke kneaded her tit, she brought her lips to his. Gently, sweetly, but within a moment her tongue was sliding feverishly over his as she kissed him with a passion as heated as the light stones in the flame. It didn't matter now if she went too far. It couldn't.

Zora's breath was caught up in her words. “You see it clearly. You see it as do I. You see that now there is no turning back for us.”

Her eyes bright, almost feral, her smile slight as she began to coil her leg over his hip, pressing and rubbing her soaking wet center against him. “Then you must say the words we have never dared to say. You have taken what is owed to the Lord of Amenja and rooted a babe in the belly of its Queen. Why not claim all of it as yours? There is no councillor...no man...better suited. None who are brave enough. You can put an end to it. You must. This is what he will understand. Power.”

A ferocious vision began to settle in her mind where only blurred notions and fearful fantasies had been allowed to draw breath. “You might wait in the secret tunnels beneath the chambers. I will pour him full of such potions as I have never brewed before. He will stay still as a stone in his seat. Then, on his bed, we can take it from him, make him watch as you take me from him. As you...” Her gentle fingers pushed along his shoulder blade, down his arm and grabbed Falke's hand at the wrist, bringing his hand to her hot, dripping slit. “claim it.”

She whispered, “He would prefer death to having such weakness known. And you could give it to him.” She wrapped herself tightly against him and moaned from deep in her chest.

 

[PieTaster]

Her attention was on him fully, not only her ear upon his words but her flesh moving against him, a gentle flourish of comforting warmth in her enticing undulations. She kissed him and he kissed back, slowly growing in intensity, easily arousing him fully, the heat of his prick burning the skin of his own belly. Then curiously, she stopped.

"You see it clearly. You see it as do I. You see that now there is no turning back for us," she said, her whispers carried on gusts of impassioned heavy breath. She crawled half upon him, her leg carelessly grinding his cock into his gut. He could have just taken her but she continued to speak. "Then you must say the words we have never dared to say. You have taken what is owed to the Lord of Amenja and rooted a babe in the belly of its Queen. Why not claim all of it as yours? There is no councillor - no man - better suited. None who are brave enough. You can put an end to it. You must. This is what he will understand. Power."

He eyed his lover warily. Some sort of madness, or at least some sense of wicked desperation was taking her over. She spelled out her hasty and awful plan, almost certainly hatched in pure and reckless emotion. How much Zora wished to rid herself of her wretched husband! Yet it was not so easy or she could have carried it all out herself.

Her mound had quickly dampened a spot on his breeches even before she took his hand to place there to urge him as she spewed forth the flawed reasoning that Gorun might even welcome his own murder so - as if perhaps there would be some sort of honor in it. Falke shifted his arm beneath her and grasped her by the braid, tugging to angle her face as he rolled onto his side. The smooth stone blue of her eyes exposed clear to him with nowhere to focus but on his own.

"How dare you play me for your goon?" he said lowly, expression cold and stern. He held her braid fast for several silent moments until the point seemed to have sunk in. Then easing the tension, he continued. "What would the others think if Amenja were taken by such treachery?" he posed, even lecturing. "Jealousy? Mistrust? Who else would the murderer have to kill to keep the knives from his own back? It's not so simple." Only then he released his grip on her hair.

"Gorun does not understand power, he understands force," he continued. "These are entirely different notions. Force is used in the absence of power. Power is the ability to move things with as little force as possible," he explained. Then catching her unawares, Falke quickly rolled atop her, spreading her arms up out with his own and pinned her beneath his weight and grasp. He gazed down into her eyes, her hot breath venting upon his lips. "One could say that this is force," he told her, "but the power that I have is that you will not resist." Then he shifted his weight, chest to her chest as he let go of her wrists to push down his breeches. His prick prodded at her mound until his fists seized her forearms once more, and then with a shift of his hips, his tip followed the warm slickness straight to her slit and parted it. Falke shoved in with a subtle grunt.

 

[TheQueenofCups]

Zora hissed, cursed, with the feeling of being so suddenly full of his shaft. Sensation, she considered, as she felt herself held still, that shocked her, stretched her to take his shape, but it did not make her swallow the stinging hurt of taking him inside for the sake of pride. As ever, she felt an alignment with her goddess as his flesh met hers, an overwhelming and heady desire to fuck. Every instinct in her was drawn to welcome him in. But his words. Her throat.

She did not regret what she said. Nor did she think Falke was wrong. However, Gorun did have a power. He had a power beyond force if the fear of him alone meant even in her shrine, she was not free to hate him, to want what he had brought to her world brought low and humiliated. Not free to speak her own mind, as though she were only a dim beast intended for breeding.

For her, it was stark and simple. Treachery was in the very taking of Amenja, cruelty in every day that the Cizenecs ruled here. She had seen it and learned this well. Despite all of her own power, she needed Falke's support. She could cause the mad warlord's death in any number of gruesome ways. But with no standing, no prophecy to protect her, no King to keep her, no council to back her, her people so few in number, she would lose all of it without question. The fortress itself. Everything but the babe in her belly, and only if she could keep it safely on the road. The general's word would be listened to...if only he was willing to speak. To protect her. She...believed in him. Stupidly, naively, she believed in him.

Perhaps as much as she felt he wanted her, as much wanting as poured from her at a glance from him, she was as much Falke's fool as...he put it, as she'd made him a goon and it all meant as much to him as just another hazy dance around the fire.

“I do not resist. Could not. I want you. Use this against me as you will.” She did not writhe to coil closer to him or struggle against his grip. Her voice was quiet, expression eerily grave in its sincerity. She felt her tits trying to bounce below her throat as she felt the firmness of the ground beneath her push back at her shoulder blades, her tailbone under his weight. She opened her legs as wide as she could, pliant, willing and not shifting otherwise. Only breaking his gaze as she took his thrusts.

She still did not try to pull her arms out of his grip. No tears spilled from her eyes, no wheedling, childish tone of voice. Yet her voice, soft against his neck, was nearly, insofar as Zora was capable of it, begging. “I cannot go back to him. Please do not make me go back to him. Do you not desire me? Do I feel no different than any other woman who has shared your bed?”

 

[PieTaster]

Her emotions were definitely getting the better of her as she pleaded for him to make the most foolish of choices. Zora widened her legs as if tempting him further, such was her desperation. Falke would dismiss all that if he could not push it out of her mind altogether. Burying his face in her neck, his grunting breath rushed in her ear as his arm hooked around her willing thigh. The force of his hips increased, smacking the flesh of her thighs, their bodies piled together inching across the furs with each passionate bang, the back of her head crossing their bunched edge to grate on the stone floor.

The more that she pleaded, begged even, the less that Falke wanted to discuss the matter. With his free hand, he covered her mouth. His cock continued to plunge into her sopping slit, each impact pushing the breath from her lungs, wisping past his fingers. His buttocks rose and dropped, gravity hastening the fall of his strokes as he hammered at her mound, her fluids coating the front of his sac as it slapped against her.

Feeling the tightening in his loins, Falke slowed, taking care not to cum. His thrusts became long slow and indulgent. He let go of her leg to take her by the wrists again, pinning them down at either side of her face, her right still on the fur and her left on the cold stone, then shifted himself to gaze down upon her, the hot flush in her cheeks and golden locks strewn about wildly. With grit and determination, quiet grunts seeped through his tight lips and he rocked over her body, resuming fucking her with force, his shaft squidging audibly in her wet crevice.

 

[TheQueenofCups]

Zora quieted beneath his palm. Her eyes narrowed, a thousand thoughts moving through her mind, as birds picking at a dead fawn, then gone to the sky when a wolf appeared.

Pain, of a sort, distraction, of another, and the desire fevering in her form made those narrowed eyes begin to roll back. The thoughts and the weight of the plans that hung heavy on them were jostled, if not out of her entirely, to a still place where she would find them again These were the games a woman was made to play. To have anything, she would have to endure it falling through her fingers and only what she could clutch could be hers, and only for a moment.

This...this was the sort of thinking that made a woman like Foersa what she was. Thrown in the fucking river like so much filthy bedlinen. Was any of it any different than anything else?

Furious, exhausted in her muscles as she was held down, she met Falke's gaze and let her body go where her mind could not. Opened, filled, she tightened her cunt around his cock, pulling from within each time he pulled from her. The Queen arched her back up, moving in slight, subtle ways to exert what control she could as sensation, that fullness, that wanting overwhelmed her.

 

[PieTaster]

Silenced, Zora surrendered to his taking, yet her capitulance was was with prejudice. He could sense it. His hot cock wedged into her slick cunt, tighter and tighter with each undulation, slowing him to a deep grind. Grunting with the last few strokes, his balls welled up and spewed forth to fill between each fold of her swollen channel, his sperm deployed fully unaware of the futility of their quest, to seed a womb already seeded.

Falke huffed to catch his breath as he slumped atop her. The heat lifting from his skin as his perspiration cooled him. The storm between them had calmed. His grasp of her wrists loosened. They lay there in the serene silence, bodies recovering from the strains of lust, yet the mood was not right between them. The strains of emotions still lingered. After some moments Falke spoke.

"You deserve better than this," he said calmly and gave his thoughts another moment to sort themselves. His comment was vague and needed refining, to be shaped to what he really meant, the bigger picture. "We all do," he elaborated. The warmth of her body remained beneath him, the heave of her breast struggling with his weight as she breathed. Still, he did not move. "Have patience, my dear Queen," he continued. "Cold murder will not get us anywhere right now. A better option will present itself. It always does." Then he lifted himself and lay aside her, his limp cock leaving a short gooey trail as it dragged across her thigh. His ankle entwined with hers and his arm lay across her belly as his breath continued to recover, slowly deeply. "Have patience," he repeated to her ear. "Have patience," he assured.

 

[TheQueenofCups]

Zora looked up at the ceiling of the cave, the curvature that mimicked the heavens, her eyes moved across it as if some understanding might be written there, just waiting to be found. But overhead there was nothing, not even a swirl of decoration.

Her body coiled about inside, letting the pleasure she'd barely begun to register slowly twitch and ache its way through her, pleased as a dog at its supper, a wolf howling over its hunt, with the gore and mess a victory. Some part of her was furious that it was so easy, that it was simple for them to bring their parts together and suddenly, her body and most of her mind were entirely lost to any thought beyond the need he put in her.

She did not know what sort of better could exist that did not involve Gorun meeting his end, and that end had not arrived in war or any other peril. It was possible that it would happen without outside recourse. Falke had given her this gift, but he was still a Cizenec. Still loyal to a world, to a man she would never understand, never not hate.

She could be patient, but patient until she bore the child, take them both to the sea villages. Then everyone might be happy, free of duty and destiny and ever again. She might be happy.

Happy. The word danced for a moment in her mind as she felt her orgasm take hold, almost dragging her in the dirt behind it.

She gasped for the pleasure, but also...the ceiling...there was something there, in that circle of open sky, she saw an image of a man in dark robes moving through trees. And his face, appeared through the hood so that she could see a bright blue eye studded somewhere amongst a cloud of skin. There was no expression, no sadness, no longing, an equanimity she might have once possessed. And then, as Falke left her and lay beside her, the face, for a moment grew lurid. Smug, a smile that unnerved her as it seemed for the first time to see her in her nakedness. He licked at his lips. Then the whole of the hooded man's body collapsed in on itself and what moved now was a black wolf. She could see only the same pale blue eye for a moment before it disappeared fully into the image of trees behind it.

The goddesses had given her visions before, but always alone and near sleep, never with her waking eyes, never one like this...intrusive, watchful, wanting. If it was a sign, it came from something else. The Magician.

She sat up, blinking as though she might see something further, but the images were gone. Zora ran her hand over the crown of her head, shaking it. “I may be patient, but the world may not wait.”

 

[PieTaster]

"I may be patient, but the world may not wait."

She was sitting up. Falke unwound his leg from hers and lay on his back, only the edge of the fur beneath his shoulder and buttock, the rest of him against the cold and grit of the stone floor. The cool draft floated down to chill his limp wet prick.

"Gorun will not wait," he said. "He will rush to his end." He drew in a breath and then placed his palm upon her back. It was time to tell her.

"I have met the magician Naescius," he began. "I have seen some of his power." Falke urged his body to sit up next to Zora and her warmth. "He watches you. We watched you from afar," he explained, then paused to let that sink in. Zora seemed distant, distracted. "Who knows all that he knows?" He took her by the chin and turned her to face him, to focus her on what she needed to know. "He wants you," Falke told her as his other hand palmed her back and straightened the ends of her golden hair. "You" he repeated, his tone quiet yet insistent. "He will avenge your people but the payment which he demands is you." He glared imploringly into her eyes to make sure that she understood.

 

[TheQueenofCups]

"Naescius? You?...I..."

A hundred brief moments of the red haired man who had come from afar to guide and aid her father, come with nothing more than circumstance to recommend him and a clever tongue, ran through her mind. He had been so obliging to her father, so gracious with the court...for a time. Until he seemed to all a fixture. His guidance and his powers purposed for the good of all or so he appeared, saving a vivid expression of his admiration of her, for her ear when only she could hear it. It never seemed harmless, but her mind had been on other things, on Mayefin, and it seemed the magician would do nothing to unsettle a hair on her father's head.

But in the days ahead of the invasion, when she'd had little reason to worry of days to come, Naescius had lingered in her presence. His hand pulling on her wrist, but she had pulled away.

Now, unleashed, enraged, after what he had done to the scout, she could only imagine his plans for her, queen of his enemies. A shiver went through her as she thought of the worst of it.

She cocked her head, believing, but frightened of all that what she believed meant. "You watched me? What does that mean...he has ...a far sight? You should have told me...we must...we must...what shall we do? Has he harmed you? does he watch us even now?"

"However, this has come to be, his interference, I...how can we be patient? The child..." Her words swiftly leaving her, she felt tears in her eyes. Turning towards him, she put her arms over his shoulders, seeking comfort where she so often found desire. "What shall we do?"

 

[PieTaster]

"You watched me?"

The hurdle overcome, he had her attention. It was understandable that the news had upset her. Falke tried to calm her with a reach across to grip her shoulder and a palm to her back. He reset himself, hoping that it might settle her jittery fright as well.

"We watched you," he confirmed with a solemn nod. He had to come clean. "He has a means. A lake that is not there. You were in your chambers. Your servant entered. You spoke of Vera ... and of a temple." Falke let the information sink in for a moment. "I know not just how much he has seen, nor who all he watches. Yes, perhaps he yet watches us now," he admitted without guilt, "but I can't be certain."

"What shall we do?"

Falke could not help but take some comfort in Zora's acceptance of 'we'. They were in this together. Slipping an arm beneath her thighs, he pulled her across his lap, then inched back to lean against the wall. The torches flickered in the silence. He had revealed his secrets. Now it was her turn to talk.

"First it would help us if you would tell me all about this temple," he said. "And what is your Yana doing there?"

 

[TheQueenofCups]

Zora shook her head, disoriented by the notion of both of them peering in on her. That such a thing was possible. She looked almost involuntarily up at the stone above, imagining Naescius' hideous cackle as they were spied upon. It left her blood cold.

"I will tell you as much as I dare. You spoke of Yana, so you must know that I must keep her safe."

"The temple is willed by my goddess, a place for her to recover, for my people...to find her again. Like...a new Amenja, one that could be defended or forgotten until we had our strength. It was never intended for this purpose. When Cizenecs, when Gorun and you arrived, they were only beginning to build it. Only a few that remained away and stayed away once they'd learned of our destruction. I'd had no idea. My father never spoke of the site. And then, it seemed lost. Better to please that monster, distract him, give him what he wanted. But as you know, that was not the course of things and only recently have I learned there's a small few there, working to build it. There's no place to live there, only altars, a few tents and the beginnings of walls, only some day..."

She placed the palm of her hand on his chest, eyes sincere, noble in their gaze.

"I tell you this, on the life of this child, because I will not leave you blind to what you must know, but if they come to harm because I spoke this aloud, be it to you, to some hateful spy, I could not bear it."

Her eyes softened as she looked down to Falke's chest, her fingertips lightly moving there.

Almost at a whisper, she spoke to him. "Yana is clever, she is helping there, serving the Maiden. She believes as few I have ever known. She wants me to go there, she believes...well, it matters not what she believes, I will be with you...so long as I am able. If the Magician comes for me...if I can protect what little remains to me...I..." She shook her head, sighing deeply.

 

[PieTaster]

"I will tell you as much as I dare," she began as her eyes scanned the ceiling nervously for eavesdroppers. Falke tightened his embrace about her with caring encouragement. "You spoke of Yana, so you must know that I must keep her safe. The temple is willed by my Goddess, a place for her to recover, for my people ... to find her again."

When she finished explaining the new temple's construction, Zora turned to him and shifted, not out of deceit but out of priority.

"I tell you this, on the life of this child, because I will not leave you blind to what you must know, but if they come to harm because I spoke this aloud, be it to you, to some hateful spy, I could not bear it."

Then she cowered into his breast. He held her there assuredly.

"Yana is clever, she is helping there, serving the Maiden. She believes as few I have ever known."

"I think not that Naescius wants harm to anyone but Gorun," said Falke. "Or those at his side." He gave her another assuring squeeze. "The only danger that I believe I am in is that I may be in his way to you." Then he stroked her hair, slowly, soothingly. "Tell me then," he asked. "What can Yana and this temple do for us?"

 

[TheQueenofCups]

Time had passed since their fraught conversation broken up not long after she told Falke of Yana's connection to a small, but growing resistance. The temple was a message, as much as anything to the believers of their faith, many of whom were only touched by Amenja via trade, but bound nonetheless, and scattered under the attacks of the war bands.

It was a terrible risk to gather them - half-trained warriors, naive young men, sons of farmers impatient for a retribution they were still terrified of swinging a blade to achieve. Yana had to be sure there would be enough to be of any resistance, but Yana believed this was a calling of her gods and the temple would begin to help others find them. She had asked once if Zora would be the priestess there long ago, long before any goddess whispered in her ear to touch Falke's thigh. It was a thought she held, to escape there, to leave together even before she had borne the child, but Falke had asked her to wait and so...she had.

Gorun was making plans in hushed whispers, but surely he was making them. He walked around as might a man whose dream had been finally fulfilled. She was no longer a reminder of the failures of his manhood, but it was the story, the news that she was with child that pleased him, rather than her. And the rumors...Zora would face the wrath of the servants were she to shame them for their gossiping, to demand they stop, and it was the only way she might hear any from outside the fortress. So she kept silent on most matters, silenter still than before.

The Queen's own dreams had been invasive and threatening some nights, gentle and comforting in equal measure, as if gods and monsters tugged at each arm, pulling her back and forth as she slept. As grateful as she was for the reassuring voice of the Maiden, the dark dreams were the only ones she could clearly recall. Naescius's eyes and hands upon a swollen belly that must have been, what seemed like her breasts, newly leering, chiding, wagging his finger as if he disapproved, chuckling, muttering in tongues she did not understand. All the while, a wolf moved in the shadows of the dreams behind him, ignored. Was it real? Was it just her mind foolishly believing that dawn would never break?

She could feel herself so slowly changing to accommodate that life within. So strangely calming that in this, she needed no plan at all and no servant's opinion to achieve it, it simply was happening. Its own sort of grace. Even if she could rarely visit her rooms below Amenja, as a flock of a flurry of awkwardly obsequious women fanned about her, massaging her hands, assuring her she was growing as they had, that she ought eat the herbs they had, nodding with self-satisfaction at one another as if they held the greatest part of it.

And despite so many hands upon her, those she wanted were not safe. Not for now. In the absence of news, in the absence of Falke's touch, she felt the pressure growing, each night a prayer to simply not go mad.

 

[PieTaster]

The war party did not leave on the morn as planned. Indeed it had not been planned, but a mere whim of Gorun's aggrandisement. The men complained that they were not prepared. The weapons and armaments were fine as they had just been out and had not fought, but the archers wanted to fletch and the swordsmen wanted to hone and everyone wanted to gather bread and drink even if these were just excuses to spend time with lovers before heading back out. Dax suggested more time for preparations and Gorun somewhat surprisingly granted two days.

Falke's boots had become a landmark of sorts. They stood on the rock in the middle of the river where he had discarded them during Foersa's rescue, next to each other and pointing upstream, the left holding its shape and standing while the right had flopped over at the ankle. Hardly worth retrieving from their perilous placement, it had become the new joke to hail them from the banks. "Good morning, Falke's Boots! How swift the current today?"

Two days hence, the party did get underway. They marched the same march but it was colder now. The rains were not heavy but steady and carried a chill. The skies were dull. When it wasn't raining the wind was there. It was no longer the same fluffy buffets of waning summer. Each harsh gust struck with a stinging edge upon the skin. Despite the relative inclemency, the men were in good spirits. They were off for what was considered an easy victory and the trek was not nearly so far as the journey to raid the settlements of the plains. They'd certainly endured worse conditions - snows waist-deep in the pass near Taulos, pest infested marshes of Yarr Fenn Lowlands - and the notion of a wizard caused few trembles. Magic was not something generally feared but merely regarded as superstition. The greatest concern was how much loot this magician could possibly have. One man in the woods with perhaps a rabble of local followers did not seem formidable in the slightest, but also neither the richest.

Gorun, on the other hand, was dangerously quiet and subdued. He kept his jaw fixed and eyes focused on an unseen target whenever not issuing routine orders. Falke could sense the madness churning deep within his gut, the pressure of rage building towards his surface. His pace was steady but eager, often marching up near the front of the party for most of the day, unlike his normal custom of remaining towards the back.

During the entire trip, the closer that they had encroached upon the destination, the more anxious that Falke became. Gorun wanted to face this wizard, yet Falke didn't really know how to actually meet him. He had to trust that Naescius would show himself before Gorun would demand answers that Falke could not provide. He could not explain how a wolf would come in the night and lead them to a lake that did not exist. The chances that the mad king would accept such a tale were slim and none, so every day that Gorun asked him of no further details was an added weight to the burden as much as it was a relief. Falke took hope in meeting up with Karrack and the party left behind, and was eager for any news that he may have had in regards to the hidden temple.

The men still carried rather good disposition, if they were not a bit bored and were certainly damp from the rains, when they came upon the beaches of the fishing villagers. The encampments were gone. All that remained were a few tent sticks, old fire pits and fish bones. The people had moved up into the trees for the season, although their fresh footprints were still in the sand where they had recently come down to fish. Falke, guiding the party, advised that they push onward to the valley, meet up with Karrack's camp and then come back to fish as they pleased.

There was fresh downy snow along the ridge at the top of the trail. Bare branches poked out here and there amongst the autumn foliage in the valley below. The sky was bright, clear and cold and the two peaks in the distance were much whiter than before. In the clearing along the stony creek was Karrack's and Urz' encampment with two thin plumes of smoke rising from its pits. Falke sent Dax and Venser to lead the party and was relieved when Gorun forthrightly marched along with them, yet even as he was keen to speak with Karrack, Falke remained. There was something to see from the ridgeline. There had to be. Naescius had to show some sort of presence even if it were just his wolf. Then there was Yana. Just as she had vanished before, she could reappear. His eyes scanned the valley across the tree tops and along the narrow gap cut by the unseen creek. Then he turned to view the way that they had come, down the slope to the incoming surf, searching for a sign of a temple or of Yana herself.

"He is not here."

Falke turned back to the valley in surprise to see the old fisherman standing there. He was wrapped in animal skins for the season this time but his face was the same. Falke inhaled and quietly vented his displeasure with the news.

"And what do I tell my King?"

"For that I fear that I have no answer," said the fisherman. "Please do believe that I envy not your predicament."

"How do you come to know these things? How do you know this magician?"

"I am the shaman of my people. It may be said that the magician and I share a kinship of wisdom," the fisherman answered, his whitish hair crossing his face in the gentle breeze.

"And why does he send you and not come himself?"

"Because I am here, and he is there," he gestured vaguely out to sea towards the west.

"Amenja," Falke confirmed as the realization became clear that he'd been had. The shaman conceded a forlorn nod.

"So you pity the fate that has befallen me, a fate in which you are complicit?"

"No," said the shaman. "The wizard acts alone."

"He is not of your people," Falke noted.

"No," the fisherman answered. "He is ... a neighbor. He's been good to us, respectful, but he has anger in his heart. An anger that we do not share."

"So he is indeed alone."

"There are no other men, aye," he nodded.

"No other men," Falke pressed.

"He is indeed alone, just a man, as you or I, but he has certain command of the elements which may accompany him," answered the shaman. "And he can manipulate illusion. You have seen his lake." Falke perked up.

"What all can he see?"

"It is powered by the moon. As it wanes, so does the lake," the fisherman explained. "And the seer must know who to look for." Falke eased somewhat hearing the notion that it wasn't so all-seeing as it may have been. He also took note that the moon was in its first new sliver and had been in its last quarter on the last night that he was with Zora.

"Why do you seek me to tell me these things?"

"Because it is of no trouble to me."

"It's all about the woman," Falke surmised.

"Aye, your Queen," the old man nodded again. "It always has been."

"And you never mentioned this before."

"The wizard only asked me to guide you to him and you only sought to find him," the shaman explained.

"Yet you tell me now."

"He no longer cares and now you seek to know."

"So he uses me to lead innocent men to their death and then discards me?"

"No," said the fisherman resolutely. "He asked you to lead Gorun to him and you complied of your own free will. It seems you do not think much of your King." Falke hardened as if bracing from a blow. The fisherman spoke the truth. He had lost all faith in Gorun - had been slowly losing it for some time. He had to admit that he had never been fully behind his ways, but not to the fisherman shaman.

"Then perhaps you could tell me some things," said Falke.

"What more do you think you need to know?"

"Much," said Falke. "As I deserve to know. I am not someone's pawn." Fixing his brow he stood square to him. "I have led these men here," Falke said. "I have a responsibility."

"Did you lead them?" the fisherman posed. "Or did they just follow you? Or did they follow your King?" Falke's beard had been growing in and he rubbed it gruffly as he thought it over. "It matters not. Each man chooses," the shaman concluded. Then he turned to leave.

"Wait," Falke stopped him. "There is a temple."

"Aye," the fisherman nodded. "It is not of my people. It is of yours," he explained. "Your fortress on the hill," he referred to Amenja, "was built by those of us who broke from us. Only the mountains and the sea do not go away, and even they will change over time. The people have to adapt to the changes. Some feel that they do not have to, that they can withstand the everchanging elements. They build fortresses and farms - and temples." The fisherman shifted to his other foot, settling in for more of his wisdom. "And now they have returned here to build it because their unchangeable fortress needs to change," he almost smirked, "but they have not learned their lesson. They will construct their shrine and gather their treasures and then someone will come along to take it from them, just as they have lost their fortress."

 

[PieTaster]

"Where is it?" Falke asked point blank.

"You have seen it but you haven't," said the fisherman. "It's in the stone. The question is, does one believe what he sees or see what he believes?" Then with a nod almost fond, he turned and left Falke to contemplate that.

Falke descended from the snows. The camp now filled the clearing and even stretched into the trees as everyone had settled in. The sun was setting and the firepits glowed orange in the shadows. The mood of the men had changed. They'd reached a destination and wanted answers. Eyes followed Falke wherever he walked, looking for a clue to those answers. Sooner or later he would have to tell them something. He stepped aside with the other leaders.

"How much farther," asked Venser.

"Yeah, where is this guy?" pressed Dax.

"He shows himself," Falke answered. Dax's smirk told that his confidence was slipping. "He is a magician," Falke added.

"He's gotta be around here somewhere," posed Brannar.

"You can search about the woods if you like, but he shows himself," Falke repeated. "That's how I found him. He found me."

A wolf howled in the distance. Everyone perked up.

It was dark. Falke went to Karrack's tent and bid him inside.

"How have things been?" Falke asked.

"Quiet," said Karrack. "A couple of the men have relations with the fishing women, but no troubles."

"And the magician?"

"Nothing."

"Have you seen any sign of a temple?" Falke changed tack.

"No," Karrack shook his head.

"Have you spoken with the locals?"

"Yes, but difficult to breach the subject and not have it come back to the men," Karrack explained.

"Have you seen an elder?"

"The old shaman? Yes, but he has nothing to say."

Dax leaned into the tent.

"Falke," he summoned. "Gorun calls." The smirk on his face told much.

Gorun paced before his tent, hunched forward intensely and with hands clasped behind his back, his face shades of orange from the firepit. Falke approached and the men gathered in a loose circling.

"M'Lord?" Falke greeted him knowing not much else to say.

"Where is this magician?" Gorun asked gruffly.

"He will show himself."

"Bah, he is not showing!"

"We can search if that is your will, but he is a needle in a stack of straw," Falke gestured about the trees.

"You've brought me all this way!" Gorun growled menacingly. Falke began to brace himself as the King stepped towards him, slowly, threateningly.

"Try calling him, m'Lord," Falke suggested.

"I should call him?"

"What harm could it do, m'Lord?" Falke suggested. A quiet snickering went around the circle.

"I shall not play such a fool," Gorun smoldered. "Falke if you have led me to nothing I will have your head," he began to rage.

"What have I done wrong, m'Lord?"

"What have you done at all?" Gorun spat back and stomped. "There is no magician! Why are we out here?"

"My King," Falke began. "You commanded me to go forth and find the magician Naescius who had sent the grim message. I did so. Upon return I delivered the magician's next message, summoning you. It was your choice to heed the summon, which you then commanded me to bring you back here. I have done so. No man can force another to appear."

"Fie!" Gorun shouted. "I heed no summon! How dare you suggest!" The bandit king unsheathed his falchion. "Seize him!" he called to the circle. Falke drew his own blade and held up his arm. It had come to that. His adrenaline rushed.

"Seize me at your own peril!" he enunciated as his eyes darted about the circle, jaw set in determination. Several of the men halted their tentative steps. Karrick looked on imploringly and Dax sneered his contempt.

"A virgin cunt to the first to put Falke's neck on the ground for me to slice!" Gorun called out. Voices rumbled and blades unsheathed. Falke thought if even one stand at his side. He knew that several would if it not meant that they too would see the blade. At least they would stand back, but it would only take one or two. Mighty Urz stepped forward.

"You'll regret thinking you could take me, Urz," Falke warned him. Of course Urz had the advantage. He was a large brute of a man and not without skill, but Falke would employ any posturing that he could. He stood at the ready, cautious on his back foot as Urz lumbered forth gripping his axe with both hands.

A gust of wind whipped through the circle, fanning the fires into a frenzy. Falke winced and by reflex Urz shielded his eyes from the sudden dust. The men shuffled about as the gust was followed by a heavy gale, galloping through the camp like a wild stampede. Tents ripped and the men struggled to keep their footing. The treetops bent and swayed as they were whipped about like horse tails. A tent canvas struck big Urz and wrapped around him. Falke took the opportunity to run past him, to the edge of the circle where most of the men were running for cover and the rest wer crouching to brace themselves. Even Falke had to shield his face with his arm to aprry the twigs and stones hurled upon him.

"Bahh!" Gorun called out. "It's just wind! Bring me that dog Falke!"

Falke shouldered into the crosswind, hurried across the clearing to the trees and kept going. Checking over his shoulder, he seemed to be out of sight, yet kept going. He ascended the slope, parallel to the path, through the brush that slashed at his shins. The higher that he climbed, the wind weakened until it was quite manageable. When he emerged from the trees and stepped into the snow, the breeze was only slight. Falke looked down to the encampment below, engulfed in turmoil, the men running about after their gear and supplies.

"I did not abandon you."

Falke turned to see the old shaman.

"I am grateful," said Falke.

"Go to your temple," said the shaman. "It is where you saw it. The stone is not what it seems. You just need to believe."

"There is someone there to help me?"

"It is your temple, I have not been inside it, but yes some of your people are there."

"Yana."

"And I suggest that you go quickly," said the shaman with a nod beyond Falke's shoulder where Dax led Urz and Karrack and another half-dozen men up the valleyside in pursuit.

"What about you?"

"I'm not in peril," he said, "so long as I not linger."

"Aye."

"Until next we meet," said the shaman and he turned to leave.

Dax and his party were still a ways down the hill, struggling against the wind. Dax spotted him and pointed with his sword.

Falke descended the trail on the other side and after some time had made his way to the beach. He knew that sticking to the trail would make him easy to spot from the pass, but it was the only way that he knew to retrace his steps to the wall of stone in the mountainside where he and Karrick had lost Yana. Indeed, once at the bottom, he looked back to the pass and saw the party beginning the descent. He checked the trees lining the beach, looking for any reminiscent landmark. They were just trees. Falke jogged out to the wet sand for a better survey. He could only approximate positions. The sand had shifted many times since their last visit. Still he saw the remnants of the locals' tent sticks and from there he estimated where their camp would have been. Moving to that spot, he scanned the tree line for where he thought he had seen Yana and moved in that general direction. There was no time to be fussy.

Picking an overgrown trailhead, he waded into the brush, resisting the urge to cut with his blade and leave an obvious path for his pursuers to track. He made his way up the slope until it became steep. He was ascending the mountainside. He could not be very far off.

Falke reached a clearing, but did not recognize it. It was too grassy and the rock that rose before him was low and sloped. It was not the natural wall of stone that he had remembered. He was getting thirsty. Falke took a bearing and moved on, choosing the left and hoped that he was correct. Picking his way through the brush, the slope leveled out somewhat, making him think that he may have erred in his choice, but over a couple of tree roots, his feet found granite again and was soon on the edge of another clearing.

Hearing voices, he crouched low. Peering out from behind a tree trunk, he saw them standing waist deep in ferns and looking about. Suddenly, Karrick's eyes locked upon his. Falke had been spotted. Karrick looked away.

"This way here," the expert tracker said to Dax as he pointed to a nearby ridge perpendicular to Falke's position. "And avoid that poison nettle," he said. "From there we can get a better look." Falke sighed a breath of relief, knowing who was on his side.

Once the group turned their backs to him, Falke slipped away and into the clearing. He knew where he was. A wall of granite stood up before him. The stone was not what it seemed, so long as he believed, and Falke had all the reason to believe. He found some moss to wipe his boots on before trodding across the bare rock to the wall. He placed his hands upon it. It felt like stone. He moved along pressing his hands, feeling for something other than granite. Still it was stone. Falke continued moving, searching the surface, not sure of what he should be feeling for, a softness, a giving, perhaps some unearthly warmth or charge. Perhaps Yana or someone else would show. He looked about but saw no sign of anyone. He heard voices. A few yards into the trees, Karrick and Dax and Urz were there somewhere. Falke hurried along the granite slab, searching for a way in. There was rustling in the bush and a shout. Falke wasn't sure if he had been spotted. There was a fissure in the stone, a deep crack running up through the middle. Falke ducked in to hide.

"I saw him!" someone shouted. It sounded like Dax. Falke pressed his back into the stone and fell through, tumbling onto his ass in a crude torch lit cave. He'd found the temple.