The current lord of Cielcroix stood in the doorway of Ismeneís bedroom and watched her sleep. The young elf lay on her back, one arm thrown over her head while the other rested on her stomach. Her blonde hair lay fanned across her pillow, shining in the moonlight that entered the room through an open window. She was covered only by a thin sheet in deference to the unusually warm spring night in Cielcroix. How many times had he stood in the doorway and watched her sleep, each time feeling naked lust welling up within him, each time wrenching himself away from the room and slaking his thirsts with one of the servant girls. But no more. Tonight, he would have her and propriety be damned.

Lord Volchim crept into the room, silently closing and locking the door behind him. He knelt by the elfís bed, inhaling the sweet smell of her hair as he remembered the day when she had arrived.

He had sent for a tutor for his two children, not expecting an elf to arrive. She was one of the few elves who were recently seeking lives outside their forest kingdom and working in Krisephyr. He had lost his wife many years back and had occupied himself with other things since then. His wife, he had missed her so much, had- But the elf had changed all that. Her beauty had entranced him from the moment she had arrived, her slight figure with her slender legs and waist, her shining hair and the exotically beautiful face it framed. And her eyes, those entrancing blue eyes. He shuddered as he remembered seeing the outline of her body through her dress as the sun set behind her.

As he knelt by Ismeneís bed, he knew what he was about to do could destroy him. The elves were protective of their own and the king would share their sentiments. All this he knew and he did not care one whit. He reached out with a beating heart and stroked her hair. It was far softer even than it looked, making silk seem like coarse, unspun wool by comparison. She sighed softly and smiled as he ran his finger down the curve of her cheek. Looking one last time around the room, he bent over the sleeping elf and kissed her.

She awoke almost immediately, her sleepy inquiry muffled by his mouth. Her eyes widened as she grew aware of the situation and what was being done to her. Lord Volchim caught her hands as she pushed at his chest and pinned them to the bed. He pulled his mouth from hers and kissed down the line of her jaw and then up to her ear. He ran his lips over the point of her ear, nipping gently at the tip.

"Lord Volchim!" she whispered urgently, a confused smile crossing her face before he released one of her wrists and covered her mouth.

"Say nothing," he whispered harshly, using every bit of command and threat he had learned from twenty years of campaigning. His heart beat faster at the sight of her startled eyes and he let his hand slip from her mouth to cup to head. Her lips trembled as he drew her up and kissed her again. He heard her whimper softly, from fear or pleasure he could not tell, and did not care.

Her eyes stared at him as he pulled back and let her head fall to the pillow. He let her other wrist fall above her head where she did not move it. The elf woman began to tremble as he drew back the sheet from her body, revealing her body, clad in only a thin silk nightgown.

"What-" she began to whisper, only to be cut off by a fierce look from Lord Volchim. She moaned quietly as he began to unlace the bodice of her gown, his fingers deftly undoing the tapes until he could pull it open.

Lord Volchim grinned ferally as he pulled her gown open, seeing the small, perfectly formed breasts that he had so long imagined. He placed her other hand above her head, smiling as the motion caused her breasts to rise. Unable to control himself any longer, he pulled the gown from her body and cast it to the floor. His eyes raked over her supine form as he pulled his clothes off, his cock springing free from his breeches, already at its full hardness.

Ismene gasped at the sight of it. Her heart began to thud in her chest as the human slid onto the bed beside her, his cock hard and hot against her hip. She whimpered again as he took her wrists in one hand and held them to the bed abover her head, his other kneading her breasts. She let out a startled gasp as his hand descended between her thighs and roughly began to stroke her.

Lord Volchim smiled at her startled face as he inserted a finger into her. She moaned and tried to squirm away from his invading digit but was prevented by his iron grip. He bent his head and began to suck on her breast while pushing his finger deeper into her, hearing her panting loud in his ears. He grunted as he felt her becoming moist, her body reacting in spite of herself. He marveled at how tight her was, tighter even than his virgin wife on their wedding night. Ismene gasped as he pulled his finger free and pushed her legs apart with his hand. She froze as he moved between her legs, his cock bumping against her thigh as he guided it towards her.

"Oh no, please, we shouldnít-" she whispered, her hands clenching as she felt him at her entrance.

The human covered her mouth with his, muffling her cry as he pushed into her. He grunted in effort and pushed harder, managing to drive himself another inch deeper into her. He could feel her legs thrashing on the bed as he drew back slightly and lunged forward. He let go of her wrists and gripped her waist, forcing her onto his cock as he thrust into her. With a last grunt, he felt himself hilted inside her, and heard her gasp sharply. She wasnít a virgin, he thought as he raised himself above her and looked into her face.

Ismene had spread her legs as wide as she could to ease Lord Volchimís entry into her. She could feel sweat beading on her brow as he stopped, his cock buried deep within her. A confused swirl of feelings flew through her. She could not deny the pleasure that she felt from his cock filling her to the limit, nor deny that she found the nobleman attractive, but she knew that they shouldnít be doing this, that they were doing something wrong, horribly wrong. Her breath caught in her throat as she realized the enormity they were doing and she began to weep softly.

A surge of guilt swept through Lord Volchim as tears began to run down the elfís face and he drew out of her. For a moment he almost decided to leave her be, but then a dark tide of lust flooded him and he thrust into her again. She began to cry out, high gasping sounds as she tossed her head from side to side.

Volchim kissed her face, tasting the salt of her tears as he raised himself above her. Her hands went to his shoulders and grabbed him for support as his thrusts became harder, jerking her across the bed. He groaned in pleasure as he pounded into her, feeling the moist warmth of her, knowing that she was responding despite his roughness.

Ismene sobbed, turning her face from the bestial look of triumph on Lord Volchimís face. The gentle man who loved his children had disappeared, replaced by this ravening animal. She moaned desperately as he bent his head and began to suck at her neck, his teeth scraping against her skin. One hand moved from his shoulder to clutch at his back as he roughly mauled her breasts with his free hand. She gasped through clenched teeth as he pinched her nipple, rolling it between his fingers. Her eyes widened, showing white all around, as he pushed his hand between their undulating bodies and began to rub her clit.

"No," she gasped, trying in vain to pull his hand away from her as she felt an orgasm approaching with all the inevitability of a summer storm.

"Yes," Lord Volchim rasped, his lips drawn back from his teeth in a snarl. He rubbed her steadily and gently, using years of skills from the conjugal bed to further a despicable goal. He laughed in pleasure as he felt her come, feeling her clench around him, her inner muscles fluttering as she turned herself and screamed into the pillow. He growled, a sound from deep in his throat as he thrust faster into her, already near climax from herís. Not caring if anyone heard, he yelled as he came in her, jerking her across the bed as her hands clutched wildly at him. He bent his head to her breasts, biting at her flesh while he thrust madly into her. Finally, spent, he collapsed onto the gasping elf, his face buried in her hair while her hands pushed weakly against his chest.

The rising sunís rays woke Lord Volchim as they shone on his face. He sat up, groggy and confused. He glanced around the bedroom, recognizing that it was not his own.

"Where-?" he muttered, one hand going to his aching head. He had had a dream, he had dreamed that he had, he shook his head in disgust, raped Ismene. He did find the elf beautiful and couldnít deny that heíd had urges since she arrived. But, dreaming of raping her- He swore softly and stretched. His head snapped around when he heard a low whimper from his left. Ismene was crouched against the headboard, as far away from him as she could be and still remain on the bed. She had the sheets clutched to her breast, her eyes wide at the sight of him.

"Why did you do that?" she whispered, her eyes confused and sad.

Lord Volchim felt a wave of horror sweep through him. He hadnít dreamed it, heíd actually done it. He leapt from the bed, bile rising in his throat, and swept up his clothes, pulling on his breeches as he ran from the room. Behind him, Ismene crept over to the door and locked it behind him, leaning against it as she let out a trembling sigh.

   ****

Solyma van Dolceis stared at the door. It was made from a dark wood, richly stained and polished. The handle was tarnished brass, stained by the sweat of those who passed through the door. She rubbed her sweaty palms against her skirt, feeling her heart thudding in her chest. She wished she had a sword, even a dagger would be better than nothing, a stick, anything. She reached out to the door handle with a shaking hand, feeling a cold sweat trickling down her back. She could imagine what lay beyond, the horrid staring faces with their dead eyes, the groans and sighs of the damned, and, she shuddered, the shrieks.

"Gods, I know I donít pray to you, not nearly as much as I should, but I need your help," she said quietly, her head bowed. "Kersvan, Adramas, Lashia," she prayed, naming the triumvirate of the Aldersian gods. She continued, naming every god, goddess, or demigod that she could remember from Alderest or Kathaln. "Help me out with this and-"

"Solyma," she heard from behind her.

"Yes, Bradley?" she said, still staring at the door.

"Youíre supposed to be teaching the class, not standing outside it," the other mage said, moving to stand by her in front of the door.

Solyma turned to him and smiled coquettishly. "Bradley?" she said softly, "Why donít we head back to your office? We can...grade some papers."

"Sorry, Solyma."

She scowled. Bradley was normally quite handsome in a boyish way. Now his quick smile and lightly tousled brown hair, not at all suitable for a mage, just irritated her. "Youíre a sadist." She sighed and turned back to the classroom door.

"Come on, youíll be fine," Bradley said as he pushed the door open. He winked, "I mean, itís not like theyíll be paying any attention," he said, giving Solyma a shove to get her through the door.

Solyma stumbled into the classroom and froze. Long desks were arrayed in a quarter circle around the room and filled with students. The desks were set on steps, each desk higher than the one in front of it and ensuring that every student had a clear view of the main floor. The main floor had a standard podium and demonstration table with a circle of containment set on the floor. Solyma began to sweat again as she felt the eyes of the students on her. She stiffly walked over to the podium and took her place behind it, watching as Bradley slipped into the room and leaned against the wall.

"Um," she coughed and spotted the pitcher of water and glass set on a shelf under the podium. She filled the glass with shaking hands and looked up through her eyelashes the students. They all seemed to be paying attention to her, ink pots and quill pens at the ready to take notes. "This, this is Fundamentals of Elementary Magic?" she asked nervously.

"Yes it is!" Solyma heard a young woman yell. Solyma squinted up at the rows of desks and saw a familiar blond haired elf sitting towards the middle of the room. Penelope waved cheerfully and smiled.

"Ah, oh, hello Penelope, err," Solyma coughed again, feeling her face redden. "I mean, hello Miss Taladron." A sea of faces stared at her. She tapped her fingers on the podium and jerked, startled at the loudness of the echo. "Well. Magic." Solyma fervently wished that she was somewhere else, fighting undead, running from Corthronos, anywhere.

She turned to the chalkboard mounted behind her and picked up a piece of chalk. She stood staring at it for a minute before she began to write the name of the class on the board. Her hand was shaking so badly that the chalk skipped and jumped over the surface, screeching horribly. Solyma winced and let the chalk fall, the course name only half completed. She turned back to the watching students and smiled brittlely.

"Hereís some magic," she said, starting to weave a cloak of invisibility around her. A murmur of surprise swept through the room as she disappeared followed by a sound of footsteps hurrying towards the door which opened and slammed.

"Does this mean class is dismissed?" a student asked.

"Hector!" Solyma shouted from under her desk, "Whereís that bottle of wine I had here?"

Hector floated into her office from the outside reception area. "In your bottom right hand drawer," he said. "Didnít you have a class to teach?"

Solyma slumped in her desk chair and reached down to pull open the drawer. She shouted in triumph as she pulled out a bottle of Willowsrun. "I did," she grunted as she pulled the cork with her teeth. She spat the cork onto the deskís blotter and took a long swig of the wine. "Thatís better. How many of these things do I have to teach?"

Hector floated back into the waiting room and returned with a notebook. "In addition to Fundamentals of Elementary Magic, you have Advanced Illusion, Elementary Illusion, and, ah, Sexuality and Magic. Fundamentals of Elementary Magic only lasts a half season, the others are longer and will start in the autumn."

"What was that last one?"

"Sexuality and Magic."

"Really. Why donít I remember agreeing to teach it? Why donít I remember agreeing to teach any of them?"

"You were drunk at the time. It was at the welcome back party for you and Tancred."

Solyma sighed and slumped deeper into her chair. She swiveled the chair to look out the window behind her. At least the view was nice. She was on the third floor and had a view looking out over the city towards the harbor and bay. "I have to teach these classes?" she asked plaintively.

"You are a member of the faculty here."

Solyma kicked her chair around to face Hector. "Why am I doing this?"

"You are doing this because you are still paying off the payment on your townhouse."

"Oh gods, this is insane! Iíve never taught a class! I donít know where to start! I canít even speak in front of the students!" She looked around at the office and its furnishings. "How much do you think this stuff is worth?"

Hector started to answer but was interrupted by a timid knock on the reception areaís door. Solyma gestured for Hector to answer it. Solyma could hear him open the door and the voice of a student asking to see Professor van Dolceis. She looked around frantically for an exit, the only way out was through the door unless-. She jumped to her feet and began trying to open the window, losing precious time before she realized that it was still locked. She was halfway out it and onto the ledge when she heard a voice behind her.

"Hello? Professor van Dolceis?" someone asked. It was a male voice, young and nervous.

Solyma froze and did her best to get back into the room gracefully. She turned to the student and gave a slight smile.

"Ah, no," she said, "Professor van Dolceis is out right now."

The student gulped nervously and shifted the notebooks and and texts in his arms. "But the, uh, receptionist said-"

"The receptionist is a little stupid," Solyma said loudly, "Professor van Dolceis is out and unable to see any students."

"But you look just- Oh, never mind, could you answer a question for me then? I was wondering what we should be studying-"

"Let me see your book," Solyma said, reaching to take the book from the students arms. She flipped through the text, already feeling her eyes starting to water from the many diagrams of simple spells and the dense instructions on how to weave them. "I, uh, read," she held the book up sideways to judge its thickness, "all of it. Yes, read all of it, and, uh-" she thought frantically, "write a paper on it."

"But, what on?"

"If you need to ask that, perhaps you arenít a suitable student for the College," Solyma said coldly and began to shoo the student out of her office. She ignored the students bewildered questions and protests and locked the receptions areaís door behind him. "Gods, what a nightmare. No more students, do you hear me? No more!" Solyma was sure Hector was laughing at her as she stomped back into her office and drained the wine bottle.

Solyma had her head on the desk when someone knocked at the outer door. "Iím not seeing any students," she yelled wearily, her stomach churning from too much wine on an empty stomach.

"Iím sorry Miss Taladron, Professor-" Hector began, only to be stopped by a crash and the sound of Solyma bursting into the reception area.

"Penelope!" Solyma said, a wide smile on her face. "How are you doing?" She gave Hector a shove to the side and reached to embrace the elf.

"Hello, Solyma. Iím doing well-" Penelope began.

"Why donít you come into my office? Would you like something to eat or drink? Hector can run over to the kitchens and get something."

"Oh, no thank you, I just wanted to see how you were doing. You disappeared so suddenly."

"That was...a test. Yes, a test."

"Really? I saw you start to weave something-"

"Yes! That was the test, you passed! Congratulations!" They had entered Solymaís office. She gestured for Penelope to take a seat as she leaned against the desk.

"I passed? Just for seeing you start the weave?"

"Yes."

"But that was so easy, I think anyone could have seen you."

"Err, well, itís an elementary class, so I couldnít make the test too hard, could I?"

"I suppose not." Penelope still looked uneasy. Solyma placed her hand on Penelopeís shoulder and gave her a comforting squeeze.

"Are you doing anything for dinner? I thought Iíd celebrate teaching my first class by going out to eat."

Penelope smiled brightly but then her face fell. "Iím sorry, Solyma, but I said that Iíd go to dinner with someone else."

Solyma felt as if someone had reached into her chest and pulled out her heart. Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the edge of the desk. "Who-" she coughed. "Who?"

Penelope smiled shyly. "A boy, his name is Mathieu. Heís the son of a duke. Heís very handsome."

"A boy, handsome too? Iím very happy for you." Solyma stood up and walked over to the window. A dirty, grey rain began to splatter on the window, matching her mood. She stared at her reflection in the window. Emerald green eyes. Lovely coppery red hair with just enough waviness to give it some bounce. A pretty, no, beautiful face, good cheekbones and full lips that she knew could captivate men when she wasnít pursing them together. Like she was now. So why couldnít she get a second look from Penelope? "The son of a duke? Do you know which one?" She tried to keep a smile on her face.

"I think Duke Quiton. Iím not sure, he just came up to me after class."

"Duke Quiton? Adelard Quiton?"

"That sounds right."

Solyma grimaced inside. If the son of Lord Quiton was anything like his sire, Penelope would be lucky make it through dinner with her clothes on. "Have you ever been out to dinner with a boy?" she asked.

"Um, no, I havenít."

"Do you mind if I give you some advice?"

"Oh, Iíd love it! Youíve always seemed to be so at ease around them, I donít know how you do it."

"Experience. It also helps to think of them as animals."

Penelopeís eyes widened. "Animals? Why would you say such a thing?"

"They are, theyíre lustful, bestial creatures who just want to get your clothes off and have their way with you."

"Lustful?"

"Yes, lustful. Iím sure Mathieu will appear," she stressed the word, "to be well behaved and as mannerly as any elf. But all heíll be doing will be trying to trick you into taking off your clothes."

"He will?"

"Yes, he will."

Solyma felt a brief twinge of guilt at Penelopeís horrified expression. She almost told Penelope not to worry and to have fun. Almost. "I think itís best if you have Laros follow you when youíre with Mathieu. If he tries anything, Laros will break his neck."

"Maybe I shouldnít go."

"But you already said yes?"

"Well, I did..."

"Then you should go. Just be careful."

Penelope nodded and rose to leave. "Thank you for the advice, Solyma."

"Youíre welcome. Oh, do you mind if I ask you one last question?"

Penelope stopped by the door. "Of course not, what is it?"

"Have you ever found yourself attracted, even a little bit, to another woman?"

The elf blinked in confusion. "Another woman?"

"Yes. Even a very little bit. A very, very little bit?"

Penelope cocked her head to one side and then burst our laughing. She moved over to Solyma and hugged her tightly. "Oh, Solyma. Thank you, youíre so funny. I feel better for laughing." Still giggling, the elf walked out of the room.

Solyma stared after her longingly and kicked the door viciously. "Hector?"

"Yes?"

"Iím going out. Donít worry about making dinner."

"I hope youíre not going to do something rash. Solyma?" She was already gone out the door.

Kerrith Archotos stepped to the side to avoid the burly man being thrown out the tavernís doors. The man skidded across the rain slick street to rest in the opposite gutter. He raised his head, thought better of it, and collapsed. From inside, loud singing could be heard, led by a familiar voice.

The knight pulled open the tavern door and stepped into the beery warmth, his ears assaulted by the sound of dozens of drunk patrons singing. His eyes scanned the room and came to rest on the woman standing on the bar leading the singing. Solyma was waving a beer stein above her head in time to the music.

"And there was a fine lass down Kilasat wayyy," she sung, urging the other patrons to sing with her. Those capable did so, joining her enthusiastically. "With hair down to there and a bosom out to there," she continued, making the appropriate hand gestures. "But she wouldnít go down there, so I had to move onnn-"

Kerrith turned when he felt a gust of cool blow in from the door. The Chancellor of the College stood in the doorway, along with Bradley, Tancred, and Hector.

"You find her, Kerrith?" the Chancellor asked. He stopped and squinted at the singing woman on the bar. "Guess you did, this is no place for a lecturer. Damned disgrace, how sheís acting. Wouldnít you say so, Bradley? Eh, Bradley. Bradley!"

Bradley looked over from where he was chatting up a barmaid. He grinned nervously and reluctantly left her. "Yes, Chancellor, er, an absolute disgrace to find a lecturer in here," he said.

"Exactly, hold on, thereís Everett from the summoning department and Alice from healing!" The Chancellor stomped over to the unfortunate lecturers, yelling at them loudly. At the sound of the Chancellorís voice, most of the bar quickly left from the back entrance, stumbling over robes and leaving more than a few staves and wands behind. Bradley winced as the Chancellor chewed out the two mages to the extent of even swatting at their ankles with his staff. "Damned lazy lot, those tenured professors," the Chancellor grumbled. "Now, van Dolceis! Get down off that bar right now!"

Solyma swayed and looked around the bar. Excepting for one man passed out in the corner and a small group playing cards by the fire, all the patrons had left. "Wher, whereíd they all go?" she slurred, letting the stein drop to the floor and shatter. The bouncer grunted and went to fetch a broom and dustpan from behind the bar while the barkeep carefully moved the other glasses away from her. "Whooo! Youíre sooo strong," she said as Kerrith took her waist and helped her down from the bar. "Why do you stay with Selene? Iím sure I could make you feel so much better than that little prude."

Kerrith narrowed his eyes and roughly let her drop in a chair. Solyma reached up and snagged his arm as he moved away from her. "Iím sorry, Kerrith! Youíre too serious, smile!" she said, trying to tickle him. Kerrith shook her off and went to stand by the fireplace. "What?" she asked, looking around at the faces of the others.

"This is disgraceful, van Dolceis! The faculty of the College do not act in this way!" the Chancellor said loudly, his face reddening with anger. "I took Adelardís word that you were a suitable candidate for the faculty, perhaps I was wrong."

Solyma stared at him for a second and then blinked rapidly. "Iím sorry!" she suddenly burst out, sobbing loudly. She let her head collapse to the table, cradled in her arms. Her whole body began to shake with the violence of her weeping.

The Chancellor stepped back in amazement. "I, lecturer, please, this is no way-" Solyma let out a loud, wailing sob. The Chancellor moved next to her and reached out, trying to figure out how to comfort her. "Iím sorry, van Dolceis, no need to cry-" Solyma was still crying unconsollably. The Chancellor looked around the bar helplessly.

"Iíll take care of her," Tancred said wearily, setting down his beer. "Could you leave us alone?" The vampire watched as the Chancellor and the rest of the people in the bar left. He waited a minute and sat down across from Solyma. He picked up a stray glass and sniffed its contents then recoiled in disgust. He snorted as he set the glass back down. "Are you done yet?" he asked, setting his feet on the table. Solyma stopped crying abruptly and looked up. Her eyes were red although she had a wicked smile on her face.

"Think it worked?" she asked.

"The crying routine is pathetic. Donít you have any dignity?"

Solyma shrugged. "How long do you think I should wait?" she asked casually.

Tancred ignored her question. "Arenít you wondering why we all came to find you?"

"Sure, why?"

"King Everett has a small job for us."

"Whoís us?"

"You, me, Kerrith and Bradley."

Solyma sighed. "What does he want us to do?"

"Rogue dragon."

"Errg. Where?"

"Down in Cielcroix. Weíve lost contact with the lord, only found out after a fisherman sailed all the way up."

"There arenít any mages who could send a message?"

Tancred shrugged. "Maybe, but we canít contact them. The scryers canít see into the area around Lord Volchimís estate and Merglise. Something's blocking them."

"The dragon?"

"Most likely."

"Why me? Iíve got classes to teach."

Tancred chuckled. "I heard from Bradley how well you taught your first class. Apparently Kerrith remembered how well you handled the Corthronos and thought youíd handle a dragon well."

Solyma groaned and picked up a half-full bottle of whisky from the next table. "Gods above, why?"

"Tradition. Two stout warriors and two mages per dragon."

Solyma took a long swig from the bottle. She shuddered as the whisky burned down her throat. "Unng, when do we leave?"

"Tomorrow morning."

Solyma took another swig and wiped her mouth on her sleeve. "Bloody hells."

Tancred and Hector staggered up the steps to Solymaís townhouse, her limp body supported between them as her heels thumped along the ground.

"Whereís the key?" Tancred asked Hector. The floating helmet removed a key from Solymaís belt pouch and opened the door. Tancred bumped it open with his shoulder and heaved Solyma over his shoulder. "Iíve got her," he said as he walked into the dark hallway, banging his shin painfully on a small table leg.

Tancred grunted as he carried Solyma up the stairs and into her bedroom. He dumped her on the bed and pried an empty wine bottle from her hand before sitting on the bed to rest. Beside him, Solyma stirred slowly and opened her eyes.

"Oh, Tancred," she slurred. "Mmm, are you here to take advantage of me?"

"No. As much as Iíd like to, I have to go home and pack for the trip," Tancred said as he began to stand.

"Donít go!" she said, clutching at his shirt.

She really was drunk, Tancred thought as he struggled with her.

"Iím lonely!" she said sadly. "I donít want to be alone tonight."

"Solyma, just go to sleep. Youíll feel better in the morning."

"But Iím so lonely!" she sobbed as she began to pull off her dress. Tancred managed to free himself from her hand as she pulled her dress over her head and let it drop to the floor. "Stay with me."

"I donít think this is a good idea-" Tancred stopped as she pulled her shift and her underwear off and lay back on the bed, one thigh raised seductively. He licked his lips at the sight of her bare neck and body, the moonlight filtering through the lace curtains casting her body in stark shadow.

"Please," Solyma said softly.

"Well, you asked so nicely-" Tancred quickly shucked his clothes, hopping around on one foot as he struggled to remove his boots. He finally fell onto the bed beside Solyma and ran his hand over her stomach. He could smell her blood, a heady blend of spicy cinnamon a coppery tang. Overlaying that was the almost overpowering smell of alcohol. Unable to resist any longer, he pounced on her, his fangs sinking into her neck with a moan of pleasure.

Solyma began to cry out in pleasure as he lapped at her neck, filling his mouth with her blood. She felt herself immediately on the brink of orgasm, feeling herself dripping with desire. She rubbed Tancredís back and neck as he continued to drink from her, her other hand slipping between her thighs. "Fuck me," she gasped.

Tancred mumbled incoherently as he eagerly obeyed her, the effects of her blood and the drink coursing through her veins making his head spin. He drunkenly prodded at her thighs with his cock before he managed to slide into her. She moaned and grabbed his hips, pulling him against her as she pumped her hips upward. "Oh yesss-" she moaned as their bodies slapped against each other.

Solyma screamed in pleasure as Tancred bit her neck again, sucking hungrily in time with his thrusts. She let her hands fall from his hips to lie on the covers, her fingers twitching slightly as she panted for breath. She began to moan quietly as her orgasm began to sweep over her, making it seem as if the room was spinning around her. She let out a loud yell and arched her back, pressing herself up against Tancred, and then fell back to the bed, her entire body limp.

Tancred stopped thrusting when he felt her go limp. He checked her color, fearing that he had drained her of too much blood. She was still pink so that wasnít the case. "Youíre asleep?" he said incredulously as she began to snore. Her mouth was hanging open in an extremely unladylike manner as she shifted her body under him and dragged a pillow under her head.

Tancred grumbled and lightly slapped her cheek. "Come on, wake up," he said. He hated it when his partners just laid there. It reminded him of his first marriage. That thought alone was enough to make him shudder.

"Donít mind me," Solyma said sleepily. "Do what-" she yawned, "-ever you want."

"What? I canít believe youíre doing this to me." It was too late, she was already asleep. Tancred swore loudly as he pulled out, feeling himself quite limp and very frustrated. He made a halfhearted attempt to fondle her breasts but it was useless. "I feel so used," he said as he pulled on his clothes and stomped out of the bedroom.

   ***

Ismene slept uneasily. She had fled Lord Volchimís house a little over a week ago and had found shelter in a fishermanís home. That had been just before the storm had hit and the dragon had appeared. A week since the fisherman had left in his small boat to sail to Corannon and carry word of both the lordís and dragonís depredations.

The fishermanís wife, Emma, had treated her kindly, giving her a small but comfortable cot in their spare room. Ismene had done her best to help the woman around the house and with her two children. She hadnít done very well in helping the fishermanís wife cook, but Emma had been very grateful for her help with the children.

Now she tossed and turned, the blankets twisting around her. She gasped and opened her eyes as something ran over her body. Ismene looked fearfully around the room, wondering if Lord Volchim had finally sent someone after her. Something was nearby, something not alive yet not dead either.

Ismeneís eyes widened as she saw a filmy shape like a sheet of tattered lace float through the door and hover over her. She watched in terror as a face rose from the shape like a swimmer floating to the surface of a lake.

"Who are you?" Ismene asked quietly, not wanting to wake Emma. The shape continued to stare at her, its facial features hardening into the face of a man.

"Life, so sweet, so delicious," Ismene heard in a soft whisper.

"Youíre a ghost?"

"Sweetness, so so sweet," the ghost said as it drifted closer to her. Ismene scuttled backwards across the bed, feeling the rough boards of the wall pressing against her back through her shift.

"Go away!" Ismene said as the ghost floated directly in front of her face. She moaned as the ghost floated closer, itís lips feeling like mist on her skin as it kissed her. Her hands passed through the ghost, as effective as if sheíd tried to hold fog. "What do you want?" she whispered weakly, feeling herself becoming lost in the sensation as the ghost licked her neck.

"Sweet life, love and life, life and love, sweetness," the ghost said. Ismene slumped back against the wall as the ghost began to kiss her neck and ran a transparent hand over her shoulder. She slid down the wall to lie back on the cot as the ghost slipped the straps of her nightgown down her shoulders, kissing her creamy skin as it was revealed.

Ismene watched with glazed half-open eyes as the ghost began to lick her breasts, its tongue sliding over her nipples delicately. She whimpered in pleasure as it began to suck at her breasts, its tongue working over her hardening nipples until they were stiff with pleasure. The elf gasped softly as more ghosts began to appear around the cot, pale and indistinct faces both male and female circling above her. They began to swirl around her, their hands stroking her flesh and rubbing her body. Ismene felt her heart racing as she spread her thighs and reached down, pleasuring herself as the ghosts pleasured her.

She lay on the cot, her nightgown bunched around her waist, one hand rubbing her pussy while she began to lightly stroke her nipples with the other. The ghosts began to settle on her, their mouths licking and sucking at her neck, thighs, and breasts. Ismene began to cry out softly as she felt herself close to coming.

"Ismene? Is something the-" Emma said as she cracked the door open. She had come to investigate when she heard Ismene crying out. She had thought that the young elf had been having a nightmare. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of the elf masturbating on the bed, surrounded by the lacy forms of the ghosts. "By Lashia! Whatís happening?"

Ismene didnít seem to notice her observer and continued to rub herself, her breath quickening and her eyes closing as she lifted her slim hips from the bed. The ghosts did notice and swarmed over Emma, one of them wrapping itself about her head and sinking into her without a trace. Emma blinked and shook her head, a strange light filling her eyes. She suddenly felt the urge to touch Ismene, to feel her and know her in every way possible.

Emma swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry as she let her nightgown slide to the floor revealing a body with full and lush curves. She walked slowly over to the cot and knelt by Ismeneís side, running her hand through the elfís silky blond hair. Emma bent over Ismene, her long brown hair falling over the elfís face as she kissed her.

Ismene reacted instantly. Her entire body stiffened and she cried out, her yell stifled by Emmaís mouth. Ismene clutched at the sheets with one hand and plunged her fingers into her pussy as she came. The ghosts glowed and moaned in pleasure along with her as she came, their pale forms becoming more defined for just a second before fading back to lace.

The elf girl lay still on the bed, her bosom heaving as she panted for breath, while Emma kissed her way down Ismeneís stomach. She gently pushed away Ismeneís wet fingers after sucking them clean and bent her head to Ismeneís sex. Emma began to lap at the elf, her tongue flicking over the girlís clit while she ran her hands over the elfís stomach and thighs. Her tongue began to move rapidly over Ismene while her fingers slid into her. Ismene began to moan until Emma reached up and stuffed a corner of the blanket into Ismeneís mouth, stifling her increasingly high pitched cries.

Emma shook herself with a start, moving back from Ismeneís body and looking around in confusion. She licked her lips absent mindedly and blushed as she realized what she was doing. She quickly pulled on her nightgown, her eyes straying back to the sleeping elf lying on the cot, her limbs akimbo and her nightgown tossed to the floor. The fishermanís wife felt her blush deepen as she thought of what she had done to the helpless elf, a surge of guilt running through her as she thought of her betrayal of her husband. Emma wiped her eyes as she gently covered Ismene with the blankets and tucked her in, running her hand softly over her cheek before hurrying from the room.

   ***

Ismene jerked herself upright to the sound of pounding on the cottageís front door in the early hour just before morning. Her head was aching as if she hadnít slept at all during the night. She had had the strangest dream, something about being ravished by... By what? She couldnít remember and the dream was fading with the morning light. For some reason her nightgown was off her and laying on the floor in a heap. The elf reached down and pulled it on as she slid from the cot she had been given and crept to the door that led to the front room of the cottage. She peered around the edge and saw the front door shuddering in its frame as something heavy smashed into it. The fishermanís wife stood holding a lamp with her two children holding onto the folds of her nightgown.

"What is it, mommy?" one of the children, a small girl, asked.

The woman looked uncertainly at Ismene. For some reason she blushed a deep red and broke eye contact immediately. "Donít worry, go back to bed and stay there," Emma said.

The children had just disappeared towards the back of the house when the door collapsed inwards in a shower of splinters. Emma let out a short cry of terror, her hand flying to her mouth.

Standing in the doorway were the yellowed bodies of several skeletons, the dirt of their graves still clinging to them. Their feet clicked against the wood of the floor as they filed into the cottage, their empty sockets staring at Ismene.

Ismene waved back Emma as the woman picked up a poker from the fireplace and advanced towards the skeletons. "They arenít here for you, just keep out of their way," she whispered urgently as she backed towards her cot. As soon as she had entered the room she slammed the door shut and pushed her cot against it. She could hear the clicking steps of the skeletons as they approached the door and began to pound against it.

A sickening feeling of dread in her stomach, Ismene turned to the small window on the far side of the room and wrenched it open. She climbed through it, catching her nightgown on a splinter and tearing a long slit from her upper thigh to the hem. She tumbled into the alley running between the cottage and its neighbor, her eyes darting from side to side as she scrambled to her feet. She squinted as her eyes shifted to pick up the ambient magic present in the world.

The wood of the cottage appeared to be a faded green while the lush plant life that proliferated in and around the town shown a brilliant green. She gasped at the dirty grey of the skeletons as another group shuffled around the corner. Turning to run, she spotted another group approaching, trapping her in the alley. A crash of breaking wood came from inside the cottage as the skeletons broke down the bedroom door and began to approach the window.

A skeleton wearing the rotted remains of a stewardís suit broke ranks and walked towards her, a tarnished silver ring clinging to its finger as it reached out towards her. Ismene backed away, the draining waves of the necromancy used to animate the corpses chilling her to the core. She tried desperately to remember the simple spells that would protect an elf from the effects of the undead but failed, her mind a blank as the undead approached. She stumbled, falling to her knees as the skeletons closed around her, their hands reaching out to clutch at her, their vacant faces the last thing she saw as darkness closed in on her.

   ***

Solyma moaned and pulled the covers over her head as Hector yanked open the drapes. Her head felt like someone had used it to split logs and her mouth tasted like she had been giving zombies blowjobs.

"Kill me," she croaked as Hector pulled back the covers. She curled into a fetal position and tried to pull her pillow over her head.

"Time to leave, Solyma," Hector said impatiently. "Our bags are packed and the carriage is waiting. You have enough time to wash and eat, IF you get up right now."

"Why do you hate me so much? Iíve always been nice to you," Solyma moaned as Hector pulled her pillow away and sat her up. Hector pulled her to her feet and propelled her towards the bathroom, handing her a glass of suspicious looking liquid to drink. "What is this?"

"Something to make you feel better," Hector said, catching her as she tried to slump back into bed. He grabbed her under the arms and dragged her into the bathroom. He emerged a few minutes later after dumping Solyma into the tub and turning the shower on full force to the sounds of Solymaís curses and sputtering.

Solyma exited the bathroom, still toweling her hair, another towel wrapped around her slender waist. "What?" she said as Hector coughed and jerked his head towards the door.

"Nice to see you up and moving," Tancred said sourly from the doorway. He wore a pair of dark spectacles and was tossing his dagger in the air and catching it. Behind him Bradley grinned widely at Solyma.

She grunted and pulled on the shirt Hector was holding out to her. "Whenís the boat leave?" she asked, her voice muffled by the shirt.

"Ship. In half an hour," Tancred said, wandering around the bedroom. "You owe me for last night. A lot."

"Go away, no, not you Tancred, I need you to carry my bags," Solyma said closing the door on Bradley. She let the towel around her waist drop as she dressed, ignoring Tancredís outraged expression. She belted on her sword belt and smoothed the creases in her pants.

"Ready?" Tancred asked impatiently. Solyma smirked and answered by throwing her bag at him.

The Moon of Corannon already strained at its moorings, seeming eager to sail free from the harbor and fill its sails with the brisk west wind. Sailors were climbing over the rigging, readying the schooner for sail as Solymaís coach arrived at the dock. She thanked the driver and wandered off down the dock letting Hector and Tancred carry her bags.

"Iím doing this to get into her bed," Tancred muttered to Hector. He had been plotting revenge since he had left Solymaís townhouse. Images of Solyma tied down to a bed, awake this time, and helpless being mercilessly teased by him until she begged him to fuck her. "Why do you do it?"

Hector raised his gauntlets in a semblance of a shrug. "I do what I do," he said simply.

Behind them Bradley hefted his pack and hurried after them while Kerrith paid the coach driver and hauled his luggage down from the top of the coach.

"Come on, Solyma, youíre blocking the ramp," Tancred grunted.

Solyma scowled at him and trudged up the ramp, stepping gingerly onto the shipís deck.

"Is something wrong?" Kerrith asked as he stepped aboard. Behind him, the sailors were hauling in the boarding plank and casting off the mooring lines.

"Sheís afraid of sailing," Tancred yelled cheerfully as he headed towards the door to the cabins.

"My regre-" Kerrith began.

"Iím not afraid of sailing!" Solyma snapped. Kerrith noticed that she was already turning slightly green. "Iíve just got a hangover!" She continued after Tancred, cursing at him and a sailor who brushed against her.

"Itís going to be a long trip," Bradley muttered darkly to Kerrith as he headed towards the cabins.

Solyma opened the door to the cabin assigned to her and cursed. She cursed again at the sight of the young noblewoman yelling at her servant.

"Are you a sailor?" the woman said, her voice high and irritating. "This cabin is unforgivably small! I demand a larger cabin!"

"Iím not a sailor and weíre sharing this cabin so get used to it," Solyma growled back, her head throbbing from the womanís, more of a girl really, voice. "Now move that stuff off my bed."

The blond noblewoman gaped at Solyma. "How dare you speak to me in that way! My father is a very important man, you will show the proper respect to me-"

Hector floated into the room carrying Solymaís bags which he had appropriated from Tancred, who had been a few seconds from throwing them overboard. The noblewomanís servant looked up and shrugged her shoulders in a gesture that communicated a lifetime of feeling. Hector floated around the yelling women and set down the bags. The servant followed him out into the hallway.

"Umm, hello. Iím Annette, Lady Skyeís maidservant. But everyone calls me Nettie," the young girl said. Hector bowed and raised his visor. The girl was pretty, at least by the standards that he had learned from Solyma, with bright blue eyes. She had a line of freckles scattered over her cheeks and lovely red hair tied back in a ponytail. She was rather slight, not really filling out the expensive traveling dress she wore, although she moved with the grace of a dancer.

"Hello, Annette. My name is Hector and I am Professor van Dolceisí servant," Hector said. Annette smiled shyly at him. They both winced at the sound of crashing furniture coming from inside the cabin. Hector sighed loudly. "I suppose we should take care of our charges before they sink the ship."

Annette giggled, her smile lighting up her face and for a moment making her radiant. "Yes, we should. Lady Skye getís so mad if Iím not there when-"

"Nettie! Get in here!" Lady Skye yelled.

"Hector! Get in here!" Solyma chorused.

The two servants sighed and entered the cabin. Lady Skye was standing by the cabinís porthole with her arms crossed beneath her breasts. Her face was twisted in anger as she glared at Solymaís back. Solyma was standing by the door, the weave for a lightning bolt half finished in her hands. The two servants spared a glance for each other before going to their respective charges, soothing words on their lips.

"We have to share this cabin?" Tancred said in disbelief to Bradley and Kerrith.

Kerrith looked up from the bunk on the right side of the cabin and finished stowing his armor and weapons beneath it. "Yes, schooners are not particularly suited for the transportation of passengers. This vessel has more passenger space than most of the others I have traveled on. Were this one of them, we would be sleeping on deck," he answered.

Tancred growled gutturally, making Bradley back away from him nervously. "Oh, stop that. Iím not going to eat you," he said irritably. "I get the top bunk and the porthole stays open at all times when Iím here. No offense, but I havenít eaten enough and I donít want to smell your blood."

"Very well," Kerrith said. "The journey to Merglise will be around four days, so we would be best served by becoming accustomed to each otherís company."

Annette and Hector had managed to calm Lady Skye and Solyma. Eventually. Solyma still wanted to fry the noblewoman with a lightning bolt while Lady Skye thought Solyma should be flogged.

"I canít believe I have to share a cabin with that witless-" Solyma fumed as she stomped onto the deck.

"Solyma, you can share the cabin or you can sleep on deck. Unless you plan on offering yourself to the Captain," Hector said wearily.

"Whatís his cabin like?" Solyma asked eagerly.

"About two-thirds the size of yours."

Solymaís face fell in disappointment. "At least Iím not seasick yet."

"Weíre not moving yet."

"Oh."

   ***

"Ladies and gentlemen, the next dance will be a waltz," the conductor announced.

Lord Volchim slept easily, his feet tapping in time to music from the past.

"Ismene, would you care to dance?" he had said.

The elf girl had looked up at him, her eyes wide and an almost comical expression of surprise on her pretty face.

"Me, my lord?" she had said, the shrimp hors díoeuvre in her hand forgotten.

"Yes, you, Ismene," he had said, his tone jovial. "The dance doesnít start for some minutes, would you mind if I sat?"

Ismene had blinked rapidly and then blushed, indicating the seat next to her. "I would be honored, my lord."

"Please, none of that ëmy lordí anymore. Youíre like a mother to Amy and Theodric. They really like you," he had said as he sat next to her.

"But, my lord-"

"Ah, ah, ah," he had chided, his finger pressing her lips. "None of that anymore, agreed?"

"Oh, well, yes, my-. Yes-?" she trailed off, wondering what to say.

Lord Volchim smiled and stood, taking her hand in his. "Call me Arcin," he said as they stepped towards the dance floor. For a moment the ballroom seemed to fade and darken, the lights disappearing along with the dancers, leaving an empty and dusty place filled with shadows.

"Just follow my lead," he said, remembering her saying that she didnít know how to dance. They stepped out into the center of the dance floor as the orchestra began to prepare for the waltz.

"Lord Volchim, there you are," Lady Reya called out. "I simply demand that you dance with me now. Six years is far too long for you to go without a dance, widower or not-. Oh, the tutor," she said the word with all the disdain someone would say ëwhoreí, "seems to have decided to dance with you."

Ismene flinched at Lady Reyaís tone and tried to pull away from Lord Volchim, her eyes downcast. "Well? Go away, you impudent little thing. I think the servants are having dinner in the kitchen, why donít you join them?" Lady Reya had continued, her words slicing into the elf like poisoned whips.

Ismene was near tears when Lord Volchim caught her hand and pulled her back to him. "Reya," he said, purposely leaving off the honorific, "Iím not terribly interested in dancing with you, Iím sure you can find another partner. If youíll excuse me-" he moved with Ismene off towards the orchestra, leaving a fuming Lady Reya standing alone.

"Iím sorry, my-, Arcin. Iíll go back to my room now, I need to study anyway," Ismene said quietly.

"Nonsense!" he answered, lifting her downcast face with his finger. "I was dearly hoping for a dance with you. Please donít disappoint me."

"But, your wife-. You havenít danced with anyone since she-."

"Well then, itís time I finally danced with someone, isnít it? Besides, Reya was right about one thing, six years is enough time to go without dancing."

"Are you sure? I really do need to-" She was interrupted by the conductor tapping his baton on his music stand.

"Ladies and gentlemen, our waltz will begin. And now, ëWaltz for the Sea and Dragoní," he said then turned to the orchestra. Ismene thought she saw Lord Volchim wince at the mention of a dragon, even if it was only a music title. She understood, after what had happened to his wife. "One, and two, and one, two, three-."

Lord Volchim smiled and took Ismeneís hand and began to dance, whispering the steps quietly to her so she could follow.

"And step, step, step," he extended his arm and let her spin, her dress billowing out to the side. He smiled as she twirled back towards him, facing away with his hand resting on her hip and herís placed lightly above it. He held her other hand out to his right as they- "Step, step, twirl-"

She spun away from him and then back, this time facing him. "Tricky part now," he whispered as his hand found the small of her back. "Now we, sweep-"

Ismene gasped as Lord Volchim bobbed and took a long step. She followed along, smiling brightly as they swept along the outside of the dance floor. The bright lights of the ballroom blurred as they dipped and spun along, the other couples gradually falling away till only they remained.

"Last part-" Lord Volchim said as they spun back towards the middle of the floor, oblivious to anything besides each other. They stepped apart, their arms extended towards each other and their hands lightly holding.

Ismene held her skirt in one hand as stepped towards and around Lord Volchim while he did the same to her. They stepped like this, their eyes still on each other, to the music until they both spun once and faced each other again.

"You know this dance," Lord Volchim said teasingly as they clasped hands again and moved together.

"But I donít, really!" Ismene started before she saw the look in his eyes. His hand was warm and firm against her back as they spun one last time around the dance floor. She lost herself quite willingly in his eyes as his hand held hers and he spun her out and then tugged her back in. She gasped as he turned so that she fell past him and into his arm, leaving her looking up at him with one foot poised off the floor and him leaning over her.

"Not so bad, was it?" he grinned as the music faded. She smiled back at him as he leaned forward, his lips close to hers-

He straightened up suddenly as the ballroom erupted in applause. Ismene smiled shyly and blushed as she looked around and saw the gathered noblemen and women clapping and smiling. Even the conductor was clapping furiously, was that a tear she saw in his eye?

She managed to gather her wits about her as she took her skirt in her left hand and curtsied while Lord Volchim bowed, their hands still clasped. They bowed and curtsied several times around the room, Ismene feeling her heart rise into her throat as she saw the eyes on them.

"For someone who doesnít know how to dance, you were wonderful," Lord Volchim said as he straightened from his last bow. "For someone who knows how to dance you were wonderful," he said as he hugged her close. For a seemingly endless moment they looked into each otherís eyes. Ismeneís breath caught in her chest as he leaned forward, his lips brushing hers, until at the last moment he settled for a friendly kiss on the cheek.

Lord Volchim sighed and opened his eyes, jerking as he saw the cobwebbed ballroom. "Ismene?" he said, "Where-?" He turned looking about the room and seeing only his footprints in the dust. "Ismene? Whoís Ismene?"

Shaking his head, he suddenly laughed. Ah, how angry Miri would be if she knew he was dreaming about other women, he thought. He glanced out the smudged and dirt covered windows at the warm light of the sun rising over the horizon. Today was the day when she was supposed to arrive back from her trip, he remembered. For some reason he shuddered, thinking of an urn filled with ashes. Hers? No, a bad dream, a nightmare. The dragon would have been nothing to her and the Knights. She was safe and coming back to him today. He glanced down at the dusty clothes he wore and smiled. Miri would tear him open if he greeted her like this, heíd better get back to his room and change to meet her at the docks.

   ***

Ismene moaned quietly as she opened her eyes. She blinked and rubbed her eyes, looking up at the ceiling. The memory of the undead came back to her in a rush and she jerked herself into a sitting position.

She turned and gasped at the sight of the skeleton dressed in a stewardís uniform standing near the door. As her head cleared, she saw that she was in Lord Volchimís bedroom. In his bed, she realized with a start.

She tugged the shoulder strap of her nightgown higher on her and started to slip out of the bed when Lord Volchim entered, whistling cheerfully.

"Hello, Jeremiah," he said to the skeleton. "Did you need something-" He stopped suddenly, a broad smile forming on his face when he saw Ismene. "Miriam! Youíre back early, your ship must have had caught a good wind!"

Ismene drew back fearfully against the headboard as he moved over to her and sat next to her on the bed. She quaked in terror as he reached out and pulled her into his arms, hugging her tightly as he kissed her deeply. She moaned and pressed her hands against him, knowing that she had no chance to get away. "But why are you in bed?" Lord Volchim asked, his voice puzzled but cheery. He smiled tenderly and brushed back a lock of blond hair from her face. "Gods, how Iíve missed you." He turned to the skeleton and smiled. "Thank you, Jeremiah, we wonít be needing anything- Actually, could you send breakfast up in-" he looked sideways at Ismene, "oh, three-quarters of an hour?"

Ismene watched the skeleton bow, his head hanging precariously onto his neck, and leave, tiny bits of dirt falling from its uniform to scatter on the floor. She was desperately confused by Lord Volchimís behavior. Had he gone mad? Was that why he had- She shivered in memory of that night. Why was he calling her by his wifeís name?

"-you cold?" he finished saying as Ismene turned her face back to him. "Youíre shivering! Here, let me warm you up," he said as he pulled the blankets higher over her and began to rub her arms. "You havenít said anything, did I do something?"

Ismene drew back from him, pulling the covers higher over her body as she looked at him nervously. There were dark circles under his eyes, as if he hadnít slept in days. "Lord Volchim? Iím not your wife," she said cautiously, watching his reaction carefully. He seemed confused and then smiled again.

"Miri, what are type of game are you playing at?" he said, kicking off his boots and lying on the bed next to Ismene.

"But, my lord, Iím not Lady Volchim."

He smiled again and said, "Oh, so who are you then? Waiting in my bed and wearing my wifeís nightgown?"

Ismene blinked in confusion. She was wearing her nightgown and the skeletons that had brought her here seemed to follow his orders. "Iím a tutor you hired!" she cried out, pulling her knees up to her chest as she huddled against the headboard.

"Tutor? What- Oh. I see." He grinned as he pulled his clothes off, sliding under the covers, his naked body close to Ismene. "If you wanted to play a game, Miri, you could have said so," he said into her ear.

"Game? What do-" Ismeneís confused question was cut off as he kissed her again. He kissed her gently, his hand cupping her chin as his other slowly moved the straps of her nightgown down her shoulder. She moaned softly as she felt herself responding to his gentle caresses.

Lord Volchim chuckled. "A tutor, Miri? Were you thinking that one up on the way back?" He leaned over and began to kiss Ismeneís neck and shoulder, his hands tugging her nightgown down her body. "I always liked it when you pretended to be a serving wench, but whatever you like."

Ismene moaned, feeling a confused swirl of lust and fear spinning through her body. "Oh, my lord," she moaned as he cupped her small breasts in his hands and began to lick lightly at her nipples.

"I suppose that I need to test you and see if you are a suitable tutor, hmm?" he said in between licks. Ismene gasped as he suddenly flipped her forward and over his thighs, his hands pulling her nightgown off and throwing it to the floor. "If you pass your tests, maybe you can teach me a thing or two?"

"Lord Volchim, I-" Ismene said, trying to free herself from his firm grip. Her eyes widened as she felt his cock stiffening and poking at her belly as she twisted and tried to squirm out of his grasp.

"Letís see, ah, whatís the capital of Krisephyr?" he said, biting his lip to keep from laughing. He sighed as he watched Miri wiggle on his lap, her stomach rubbing wonderfully against his cock. "Timeís up! Corannon is the answer, Iím afraid youíll need to be punished for not knowing something that easy," he said, running his hand over her bottom. He smiled in anticipation as he lifted his hand, watching as she froze, her entire body taut and tense.

Ismene cried out as he slapped her ass, making a loud noise but thankfully not hurting much, more noise than anything else really. She cried out again as he continued, spanking her four more times before stopping and slipping his finger into her.

"Youíre not supposed to be enjoying your punishment so much," he chuckled as he pulled his sopping fingertip from her. Ismene blushed, realizing that she was enjoying this, despite the knowledge that he might become violent and take her with as much cruelty as he first had. "Next question, ahh, whatís the name of the elven kingdom?"

Ismene sighed in relief. "Taladros," she said quickly.

"Youíre right. The name of the dwarven kingdom, now!"

"Socratan!" Ismene cried out as she felt his hand lift from her stinging bottom.

"Maybe these questions are too easy. Name the most common race of demon."

Ismene gaped at the question. The most common race of demon? She had no idea. "I donít know," she said softly. She yelped as Lord Volchim spanked her again, the noise ringing throughout the room. When he was done, her bottom stung furiously and she was more aroused than she could ever remember.

"I see you still need to learn a thing or two, but I see potential," he said. She moaned as he lifted her off his legs and placed her on her back next to him. "It will be my honor to teach you them."

Ismene felt her legs spreading without conscious thought as he moved above her, his swollen cock brushing against her skin as she sighed softly. She reached up and held loosely onto his shoulders as he slid between her legs, kissing her deeply. She closed her eyes and sighed in pleasure as he slid into her, his cock slowly pushing into her despite her generous lubrication. "Please," she whispered, "just be gentle."

"How could I ever hurt you, Miri?" he said quietly as he looked into her eyes. He kissed her again and pushed into her, his cock filling her and eliciting a low moan. Ismene began to cry out softly with each thrust, her arms wrapped around his body, feeling a pleasure growing within her with each movement of his cock. She wondered what was wrong with her, why she was enjoying having a man who had taken her against her will take her again. She shuddered as he drew almost out of her and thrust in again, moving her across the bed. She sighed and let her head fall back onto a pillow, loving the soft feel of clean sheets rubbing against her back with each of his thrusts. She moaned in pleasure and lifted her legs to wrap around his waist, her dainty toes curling with each penetration.

Lord Volchim buried his face in Miriís hair, the long dark curls smelling of the orchids that bloomed in her garden. Her hair was as soft as a breeze against his cheek as he turned his head and whispered into her ear, "I love you." She moaned and pressed herself against him, her hands running over his back while her legs tightened around his waist. "Donít ever leave me-" he whispered and gasped as she tightened around him and yelled, her entire body quaking and shivering. She let out a long gasping moan, her head tilted back to stare at the head board as she arched her back and then thrust her hips against him. He moaned as he felt himself coming and gave a last quick thrust before releasing his seed into her.

"Miri-" he whispered as they lay together in the afterglow, her facing away from him with her back pressed against his chest. He idly ran his hand over her flank, feeling her shiver at his touch. He kissed the back of her neck and closed his eyes, listening to her breathe as the rising sun cast a golden light over their bodies.

   ***

Kerrith tried to ignore the screaming coming from behind him as he practiced his weapon drills in the bow of the schooner. He slid his sword though the air in a series of horizontal cuts and spun with a low stab as the sound of breaking crockery drifted to his ears. He sighed and turned to look back towards the stern of the ship as Hector and Lady Skyeís maid tried to soothe the tattered nerves of their charges.

Solyma had been violently seasick since they left port, finally being able to walk only when she had nothing left to sick up. Lady Tamara Skye had been needling her incessantly and insulting her at every opportunity. Solyma had responded by throwing a fireball at the young noblewoman. True, she had said that she meant to miss, but Kerrith and everyone else on the ship thought otherwise.

At the very least, the fireball had stopped Lady Skyeís open taunts. Although not for very long. Lady Skye had the relentless ability to completely disregard common sense that Kerrith had only seen in the very rich and very spoiled.

"-I donít even know why youíre going to Merglise!" Tamara was yelling. "You canít kill a dragon by lying with it, no matter how many diseases you have!" "Maybe we should take you along, the dragon would kill itself rather than listen to your whining!" Solyma shot back.

"At least I donít stoop to rutting with corpses!"

Tancred looked up from where he was leaning against the rails, watching the water. "Now that wasnít called for-" he began before Solyma interrupted him with another insult.

"Even a corpse wouldnít fuck you!" she snarled at Tamara.

"How dare you use such language in the presence of a lady!" Tamara cried out in horror. Solyma was about to say something worse when Hector and Annette managed to distract their respective charges and avert another round of curses and insults.

Kerrith sighed and went back to his drills, not relishing the thought of another four days on the sea with them.

"Whatís the matter with you?" Tancred asked as Solyma fumed and stared sullenly out to sea.

"Nothing that throwing that little twit overboard wouldnít solve," Solyma said with a tight smile.

"Sheís a sweet little thing though, isnít she?" Tancred said as he unconsciously licked his lips. He vaguely wondered if he could get the Lady Skye to become one of his regular visitors. "Solyma, come on. Iíve never seen you like this and weíve known each other for a long time," he said, peering over the tops of his darkened glasses. He sighed. He hated having to be the supportive one. Thatís why he loved his very limited relationships with a score of noblewomen around Corannon. They only needed one thing from him, something which he was glad to give. "Tell me whatís wrong," he said wearily.

"I miss Penelope," she said quietly.

"Who?"

"Penelope! The elf that nearly got killed by the Corthronos!"

"Oh, right. Her." He thought hard for a moment. "An elf? Pretty little thing? Sort of dense?"

"Sheís not dense! Sheís just naive! And smart! She canít help it if sheís been sheltered!" Solyma said with such violence that Tancred recoiled from her.

"Fine, fine," he said soothingly. "So why are worrying? Weíll be back in a week or two and you can be with her all you want."

"You donít understand," Solyma said sadly as she slumped down against the railing, her legs sticking through and dangling down against the hull. Tancred tried to get her to say more but she just ignored him until he walked away shaking his head.

   ***

Ismene sighed as she slid away from Lord Volchim. He was sleeping now, his face showing lines of exhaustion and age that had been invisible when he was awake. She looked at him for a long while, watching him sleep before she crept across the bedroom and quietly retrieved her nightgown. She slipped it on while looking nervously at Lord Volchim. He stirred for a moment, making her heart skip a beat, then settled back into the bed, his arm going to where she had been resting.

Her hand flew to her mouth to stifle a cry as the door suddenly opened. Jeremiah? she thought, entered, his fleshless hands carrying a tray loaded with a inexpertly cooked breakfast. It was no wonder that the cook wasnít fulfilling her usual duties if she had to deal with a house full of skeletons.

She slipped out behind him as he walked into the room, either ignoring her or not noticing her at all. Ismene glanced down the hallway and began to creep quickly down the carpeted surface towards her room and the childrenís room.

She reached her small room and ducked in, relieved to see that it hadnít been disturbed in the week since she left. A late night snack from then was growing a healthy crop of mold, but otherwise everything was the same. Ismene froze when she looked at her bed, still unmade since the night that Lord Volchim had- She shook her head and went to her wardrobe, opening the doors and pulling out a traveling dress.

She had pulled it on and was stuffing her things into a brown cloth valise when the door opened behind her. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Lord Volchim standing there wearing a robe, a horrible smile on his face and a faint reddish gleam in his eyes.

"Youíre not getting away again, whore," he said malevolently, his speech suddenly thick with the same accent as a Kilasatian trader who had once been by Ismeneís home town.

Ismene sprinted for the window and knocked it open, hearing Lord Volchim roar and run after her. She was halfway out when he grabbed her skirt and hauled her back in, slapping her hard on the face and sending her dazed to the floor. "You donít do anything without my permission, whore," he spat as he tugged her up by her hair and dragged her towards the door, Ismene frantically hurrying to keep her hair from being tugged out.

She winced in pain as he threw her to the floor of the library, her hair falling in disarray over her face. "Lord Volchim, Arcin, why are you doing this?" she asked, feeling tears welling up in her eyes.

Lord Volchim sat back in a large padded chair and smiled at her over steepled fingers. "Lord Volchim is dead. I am Cirron Maccius. You will call me, master."

"Cirron Maccius? What-?"

"Do not speak without my permission!" Cirron roared. "You are nothing! I could get any woman in the world if I desired, do not think yourself so unique as to warrant special treatment."

For a moment Ismene thought that Lord Volchim had just gone insane. But then she remembered the dragon swooping in over the town to burn nearly all of the ships at anchor along with the piers and dockhouses. And then the undead that had begun to prowl the town, threatening anyone who was unfortunate enough to be out after dark. She rubbed her stinging cheek as she pushed herself onto her knees and stared at Cirron, now that she concentrated she could feel a difference in him, there was the same aura of coldness around him as that which surrounded the skeletons who had seized her. What was he? she wondered, and what did he want from her? She felt a sinking feeling in her stomach as she realized exactly what he wanted.

"Come here," he said, snapping Ismene from her thoughts. "Come here!" he repeated when she hesitated. She slowly stood and walked over to him, her heart pounding against her chest as she stood in front of him. "On your knees." Ismene slowly obeyed and knelt before him. She watched in horror as he spread his robe and revealed a cock already hard and erect. "Now, lick it."

"Never," she said, sounding more resolute than she felt. "Iíd rather die."

Cirron glared at her chuckled. "Iím sure you would," he said. "But would you let your young charges die as well?" Ismene watched in apprehension as he clapped and yelled an order. A skeleton dressed in a dusty suit of mail trudged out of the room and returned several minutes later with Amy and Theodoric before him. The older girl held her brotherís shoulders, staring firmly at Cirron and trying not to show her disgust for the skeleton escorting her.

"Father, what do you want?" she said and then stopped, her eyes wide at the sight of Ismene. "Ismene? I thought you left-"

"Silence!" Cirron yelled. "Now, Ismene. Would you want to see my warriors slice the throats of these two younglings? They can do it right here if you would like."

"Amy?" Theodoric asked, his young voice high and frightened. "Whatís happening? Whyís father being so mean to Ismene?"

"Heís not our father," Amy answered angrily. "He just looks like him."

"Oh, youíre perceptive. I guess youíve inherited some of your parents talent. So," he said, turning to Ismene. "It is your choice." He watched as Ismene looked back at the two children, her eyes filling with tears. "Very well, ki-"

"No! Iíll do it, just donít hurt them," she said quietly. She smiled encouragingly at the children as the skeleton led them out of the room. "Donít worry, weíll both be fine," she called out to them, a forced smile on her face. She turned her head back to Cirron, a mixture of despair and resignation in her eyes. "Do what you will with me, please, just donít hurt them."

"Your devotion is admirable. Now, suck my cock."

Ismene closed her eyes, her body shuddering with disgust as she opened her mouth and slowly took Cirronís cock into it. Her mind filled with thoughts of Lord Volchim, how they had danced and sailed, how he had gently kissed her lips for the first time under a moonlit sky. She forced those thoughts from her mind as she began to suck on Cirronís cock, her cheeks hollowing and tears leaking from under her eyelids, knowing that Arcin was not the one forcing her to do such horrible things. "Now lick it," she heard Cirron growl. She complied slowly, running her tongue over the length of his shaft, realizing that she could still taste herself on him.

She grunted as Cirron dug his hands in her hair and forced her mouth down the length of his cock, shoving back towards her throat. She whimpered as he tightened his grip and began to thrust his hips up at her mouth. For a moment she thought he was going to push his cock all the way down into her throat, but at the last moment he stopped and pulled back, settling for letting her bob her head up and down his cock.

Ismene felt his cock beginning to twitch as she continued to lick and suck at it. Suddenly her mouth was full of his come. She jerked back but was held in place by his strong hands. "Swallow," he growled. Ismene shuddered but obeyed, forcing herself to swallow the sticky liquid. When he was done, he pulled out of her mouth and cleaned his cock off with a handful of her hair. Laughing, he stood and walked out of the library, closing and locking the door after him. Ismene stayed there by the chair, supporting herself with her arms as her body shook with a mixture of disgust and anger.

   ***

"Um, hello," Annette said shyly to Solyma. Solyma looked up at the slender maid and then turned her face back to the rolling waves of the ocean.

"Yes?" she said.

Annette fidgeted and wrung the skirt of her dress. "Iím Annette," she finally said, stammering in her nervousness.

"I know." Solyma looked up at the girl and sighed. "Why donít you have a seat?"

Annette nodded gratefully and sank to her knees besides Solyma, carefully arranging her skirt around her. "Was there something you wanted?" Solyma asked as she drew her legs back through the railing and sat crosslegged facing Annette.

"I, um, just wanted to make friends," the maid said shyly. Solyma examined her closely, wondering if this was some sort of elaborate scheme by Tamara to get her back for the fireball. Solyma decided that Annette was far too bad of an actor to lie with any effectiveness, therefore, she must be telling the truth.

"Really? Why?" Solyma asked.

"Well, youíre the only other woman on the boat except for Lady Skye, but I canít be friends with her."

"Ship."

"Pardon me?"

"Itís a ship, not a boat. Why canít you be friends with Lady Skye?"

"Sheís a Lady!" Annette said, as if she were amazed by Solymaís question.

"So am I, Iím still friends with Hector."

"I guess. But-"

"Yeah, Lady Skye is Lady Skye."

Annette and Solyma were silent, sitting together quietly as the ocean passed by the schooner and the wind whipped in the sails.

   ***

Ismene swore as she searched through the desk located in the middle of the library, one hand rubbing her sleeve against the come drying in her hair. She shoved aside tomes, a few of which seemed like necromancy texts as hunted across the surface of the desk. She smiled as she found the knife that Lord Volchim used to sharpen his quill pens. The lock proved to be no great problem to force, Ismene wasnít surprised, Lord Volchim wasnít very good at ordering new locks from Socratan. The door to the childrenís rooms wasnít guarded but it was locked. Ismene managed to force it as well and slowly pushed the door open. She sighed in relief when she saw Amy and Theodoric sitting on a couch in the parlor that connected their rooms.

"Ismene!" they cried out together as they rushed over to her. She shushed them as she hugged them both, trying not to cry in relief.

"I need you to pack some clothes, we need to leave here right now," she said to them. Amy rushed off immediately and began to pack although Theodoric took a few steps and then stopped.

"Can I take Alfred?" he asked embarrassedly.

"Yes, you can bring Alfred, just hurry!" Ismene said. Theodoric was six and he had a stuffed dragon named Alfred. Ismene wondered how heíd feel if he knew that a dragon had been terrorizing the town as he rushed off to pack.

   ***

Solyma lay on her bunk and stared at the wooden planks above her. She didnít want to move for risk of sending her meager dinner of soup and hard biscuits off to join to her lunch and breakfast.

On deck she could hear Bradley and Tancred competing for Annetteís attention. The maid had been the center of their attentions since they had left Corannon. Tancred was likely doing it to annoy her, Bradley because he went after nearly anything with breasts. Between them it sounded like Annette was enjoying herself, Solyma had heard her delightful little laugh many times over the evening. A sweet girl, she thought to herself as she drifted off. Her last thought was of Penelope as it had been since she had gotten back from Kathaln. Penelope...

   ***

Cirron Maccius swore viciously in Kilas as he stomped through the halls of the Lord Volchimís manor. He had returned to the library the previous evening, expecting to find a suitably cowed and submissive elf waiting for him. Instead he found an empty room. He was further infuriated by the disappearance of Lord Volchimís two children, with their absence the spirit of Lord Volchim had begun to fight him again for control of his body.

The lord had tried to kill himself shortly after Cirron had raped Ismene and made him believe that the fault lay with him. Cirron had just managed to regain control before the lord had run himself through with his disused sword. From then on, Cirron had threatened the lord with the lives of his children.

Cirron pushed open the doors leading onto a broad terrace that looked out to sea. He looked up as a shadow fell over him and the beating of great leathery wings filled the air.

"To me, Vysthus!" Cirron yelled as if he were calling a common falcon back to his arm.

"You may have bound me to your service," the dragon boomed as he settled onto the terrace, his claws scraping marks in the hard granite, "but do not think that I will forget such insults."

The dragon was immense, from the tip of his snout to the tip of his tail he stretched further than two fishing boats lined stern to bow. His shoulder was twice again as high as the top of Cirronís head and his great wings stretched well over a hundred feet. His body lightened from a dark green on his back to a pale blue on his belly, his steel hard scales brilliantly reflecting the early afternoon sun.

"Iím sure you wonít," Cirron said in an almost pleasant tone of voice. "But you will accept them for as long as I have your eggs."

The dragonís eyes narrowed, the brilliant gold of his iris seeming to glow with far more light than the sun floating high overhead. He moved his head down to Cirronís level, his neck sinuously twisting. Cirron found himself staring directly into the dragonís face as a gust of hot breath blew from the dragonís nostrils. "Beware, human," Vysthus said in a quiet voice, "do not press me to far or I shall decide that the risks to my children outweigh the satisfaction of of pulling your guts out your mouth."

Cirron smiled, forcing himself to show no weakness. "Your children will be returned to you in good time once you have finished my tasks," he said. "Have you?"

"The fisherman of Merglise have no more fleet and they huddle in terror, waiting for my return," Vysthus said, his voice full of contempt for the human before him.

"Good, I have a new task for you. You will find the elf girl named Ismene and bring her to me along with the children of Volchim."

"I will do as you say, although I wonder if you have the strength to deal with her, especially if you threaten her charges."

"No more impudence from you!" Cirron yelled, a dark globe of energy forming around his right hand. He reached forward and the globe streaked forth to scatter over the dragonís face.

Vysthus hissed in anger as the magic seared the sensitive scales around his nostrils. "Your time will come, screeling, and you will be sent back to the Darkness crying in terror," Vysthus said evenly and then turned, his tail purposely smashing the doors to the terrace as he sprang into the air.

As he flew Vysthus remembered his first meeting with the elf. She and Lord Volchim had been sailing past the cape while he had been hunting for whales. He smiled a toothy dragon smile as he remembered the startled expression on the elfís face as he had raised his head from the sea to look at the two on their small sailboat. A pity that he had to find her and return her to the screeling, he could only hope that the fishing boat that he had let escape had reached Corannon and summoned help. Without assistance Vysthus feared that his eggs were doomed.

Cirron watched the dragon fly away, a smile on his face. When his deeds were talked about in word and song they would remember this, that Cirron Maccius tamed a dragon! He laughed as he walked around the terrace towards the small garden next to the house. It would serve as a good area for his kennels or maybe a small pit for animal fights. Cirron snorted contemptuously at the lovingly tended bed of orchids, pulling his sword in preparation to chop them to bits. His face twisted in sudden fear as he felt Volchim fight him more fiercely than he had ever before. Cirron watched as the tip of the sword moved towards his throat. Only by relenting and fleeing the garden was he able to overcome Volchim's sudden surge in strength. No matter, he thought. The gardens could be destroyed at any time.

   ***

Ismene looked upward through the thick covering of tree branches and creeping vines, wondering if the dragon would see her and her charges. Yet again she wondered why Vysthus was assisting the thing which had taken Lord Volchimís body. Perhaps Cirron had stolen his children as well?

"Why canít we go wave to Vysthus?" Theodoric asked from where he crouched beside her. He seemed frightened and confused by the fact that the dragon whom he had thought friend was now trying to take them back to Cirron.

"You know why, for some reason Vysthus is trying to take us back to the bad man," Ismene said as Vysthus flew off towards the east.

Theodoric clutched Alfred closer to his chest. The stuffed dragon had seen better days, hours of tramping through the mud and dirt of the thick forests which surrounded Merglise and the manor had coated the stuffed dragon with dirt and leaves. "We need to keep moving," Ismene said. She was trying to reach the tower of Cielcroixís local wizard. She didnít know him well, all she remembered of him was a long white beard and a overwhelming fondness for shrimp. But hopefully he could help hide them.

   ***

Solyma was feeling a little better after her second day at sea. The rolling of the ship had become a little less sickening and she had managed to eat more than soup and biscuits for dinner. There was still the issue of Tamara to be resolved, but otherwise it looked as if she could start to enjoy the trip to Merglise.

"Beautiful night, isnít it?" Kerrith said to her as she joined him in the bow of the ship. Above them the sky was full of stars, the pinpoint brilliance of them making Solyma feel at peace for the first time in a long while.

"Yes, it is," she answered, leaning back against the rail to look up at the sky. They stayed like that for a while, neither of them speaking as they watched the stars in their endless dance overhead. "I donít think I ever apologized to you," she finally said.

"About- Ah, the Corthronos," Kerrith said.

"Um, yeah. Iím sorry I summoned them and that they caused all the trouble they did."

"You are lucky that they didnít cause more. No one was killed by them. Except my horse."

"Iím sorry about that, too."

"Apology accepted, you showed admirable bravery jumping into that portal to save the elf womanís life. I believe that you have paid any debt you owed."

"Thanks." They looked up at the stars for a while longer. "Sorry about saying those things about Selene."

"Apologize to her when you see her next."

"I, uh, I will." Solyma shifted slightly, wondering what Seleneís reaction would be to seeing her again. Leaving someone tied to a bed generally didnít make them well disposed towards you. "How are you two doing?"

Kerrith smiled, the first that Solyma had seen since they had started the trip. "Very well, sheís progressing rapidly at the College. She should graduate very quickly."

"Thatís good to hear."

"I suppose that in a way I should be thankful that you summoned the Corthronos. If you hadnít then I would have never met her."

"Just fate, I suppose."

"Perhaps. Iím thinking of proposing to her, after she graduates."

Solyma looked over at him, wondering why he was telling her this. "Do you think sheíll say yes?" he continued. Solyma smiled, her teeth flashing in the dim lamplight.

"Sure she will," she said. "And if she doesnít, well, plenty of other women out there."

"No. Not like her. No one else like her, not if every one of those stars was another world just like ours." Kerrith said softly, his eyes suddenly sad. Solyma straightened up, uncomfortable with how emotional Kerrith had suddenly become. The man was usually as emotional as a rock, he hadnít so much as flinched when he fought the Corthronos or Valkersan.

"Iím heading to bed, goodnight," she said with a wave. Kerrith nodded absently, his head still turned towards the stars.

   ***

Cirron Maccius slept uneasily, his head filled with dreams of the darkness that he had managed to escape and the memories of his host, Lord Volchim. No amount of drink had brought him peace from the dreams, it seemed as if Volchim was trying to make him remember every awful moment of death. He twisted, his dreams melting like candle wax before reforming in distorted and hideous images. Cirron cried out in his sleep as he sought to flee from them. His heart slowing, he found himself immersed in the mind of Lord Volchim...

Arcin Volchim, Lord of Cielcroix, stared at the urn containing the ashes of his wife and wept. A part of him knew that this was a memory, but that did not stop the terrible ache from forming inside him and the horrible sense of loss that had accompanied him every day since then.

The weather outside the small chapel reflected his mood, whether by chance or by his unconscious use of his skill in magic, he did not know. Rain lashed at the windows while lightning stampeded over the land, splitting trees in its violence. He pounded his fist against the floor of the chapel as the wind rose to a shriek outside.

As a lull in the storm shrouded the chapel in darkness, he stared at the floor and stood. He had never allowed obstacles to stand in his way, death would not separate him from his beloved, no matter how long it took, he would find her again. He gave one last look at the urn as he opened the doors and stood in the whipping rain, then he disappeared into the night.

He remembered what he had done to her. It had been the night before Miri was supposed to leave, she had volunteered to deal with a rogue dragon preying on one of the small villages on the border with Socratan. They had been drinking too much, they had started to argue over some tiny thing but it had spiraled out of control until they were screaming at each other in the garden. He had insulted her, something uncalled for and unfounded.

He remembered her accusing him of having an affair with a serving girl. He had accused her of having an affair with the Knight she was traveling with. The look in her eyes, the mixture of anger and hurt had only made him furious. He didn't hit her, he never would, never could, but he turned to her garden instead. He had trampled the orchids that she tended to every day, trampling them beneath his boots while she screamed at him to stop. She had loved those flowers, for the long years when they hadn't been able to conceive, the flowers were her comfort. He had known that.

He remembered her unleashing a weave at him. It had bloodied his nose and cracked his ribs, leaving him half-conscious in the bushes. She had bent to pick up the crushed remains of her flowers, cradling them in her hands, not looking at him as she left. That had been the last time he had seen her.

He remembered the next day. He had spent the entire day working with the gardeners trying to repair some of the damage he had done. He remembered picking up the limp pieces of orchid in his hands and rushing them over to Daven the priest. He remembered ordering Daven to heal them, knitting together the mangled stems and petals until he had saved as many as he could. The next day had been spent sending letters to the finest hot houses in Krisephyr, ordering their finest specimens of orchids for immediate delivery. He had worked feverishly to prepare the garden for her, spending every day working the earth until his back ached and his knees burned. The garden had been ready for her, his apology to her, the day before she was due back. But all that had arrived on the ship was a small urn and an envoy from the king.

He remembered that he had never apologized to her. He remembered that she had left thinking that he hated her. He remembered that she had left and he hadn't seen her off. He remembered ignoring Jeremiah's pointed suggestions to see her ship leave. He remembered not saying good-bye.

Cirron smiled at the pain that Volchim was feeling and delved into his memory, bringing events that Volchim would rather forget to the surface...

Lord Volchim hunched over his books, lightning and candle flames the only illumination in the library. He had spent years in here, poring over every tome he owned and sending to the Library at Corannon for more. It had cost him dearly, but he had also purchased dozens of tomes from all over Alderest, each sharing one common theme. Necromancy.

He knew that the secret to contacting the dead was within his grasp. He regretted that he could not spend more time with Amy and Theodoric, but soon their tutor would arrive and they would be busy with their instruction.

Cirron grimaced in his sleep as he felt Lord Volchim struggle against him, trying to keep his memories away from the screeling. Cirron fought back viciously forcing the lord to think of the miserable expression on Ismeneís face after he had come in her mouth, withholding the fact that the lord had prevented him from choking her with his cock...

Lord Volchim idly ran his hands over the cover of the tome that had just arrived. He had been neglecting his research ever since Ismene had arrived. But it had been so long, six years since Miri had been killed. He wondered if she would want him to go on with his life, to try to find someone new to love. As soon as he had completed the thought, he felt guilty. She had been his wife of twelve years and would have been his wife forever. Was it his fault that she had died?

He was close, he knew that. What was in this tome would allow him to pierce the veil between the living and the dead. He would be able to communicate with them, to once again see his wife and hold her in his arms. He owed her this much.

Banishing thoughts of the enchanting elf maiden from his mind, Lord Volchim began to inscribe the Circle of Piercing into the wood of the floor. He laboriously carved the symbols of protection and honing, copying the symbols from the tome as exactly as he could. Whether it was haste or a knot in the wood, one symbol was flawed.

Lord Volchim thrashed from his prison within his own body. He could see himself beginning the ritual, using skills normally suited to weather magics for necromancy. He tried to yell a warning to himself but he was too late. The darkness had opened in the circle, making the night outside seem like high noon. There was silence while he searched for his wife and then a scream of triumph as something flew from the darkness and rushed into his body.

The next week went by in a haze. Daylight had banished the creature at first while Lord Volchim tried frantically to find a way to free himself. But when night fell, the creature was free to perform whatever evil acts it wanted.

The only priest powerful enough to help in an exorcism was found dead, stabbed in the back in his home. Irvan Kingsman, the local wizard, had disappeared into his tower after a swarm of undead waylaid him on his way back from town. By then it was too late for him, Lord Volchim thought. The creature stealing his body was gaining more and more power, each day he felt control return to him for a shorter and shorter amount of time.

Then came the night that he most wished he could take back. The creature had let him watch helplessly as his attraction towards Ismene was warped and twisted. He had done his best to fight the creature, keeping it from harming Ismene too badly. But the next morning, when his nightmare had proven true, he knew that he had to end it. But the creature had taken that from him as well and he had lost almost all of his control. Then it had begun to feed him dreams and hallucinations to keep him passive while the creature slumbered. Lord Volchim raged at how easily he was taken in by the visions stolen from his memory. He only hoped that Ismene had managed to escape, he could sense the anger coming from his controller, perhaps she could free him. Perhaps...

Cirron awoke slowly, feeling Lord Volchimís struggles fade as he was pushed deeper into the recesses of Cirronís mind. Today, he thought. Today he would find that bitch and torture her until Volchim cracked and surrendered control of his body entirely.

   ***

Cirron snarled as he saw the schooner in his scrying weave. He studied it to the limit of his meager ability, able only to discern that it flew the flag of Krisephyrís navy. Could a message have been sent to the capital? he wondered. That fool of a mage who lived near the town couldnít penetrate the cloak that Vysthus had thrown over the area. Then who? Someone might have made it away from the town before Vysthus had destroyed all the ships. Yes, that was it. Someone must have sailed away for help. No matter, he could use the power that Lord Volchim could summon to control the weather and destroy the ship.

   ***

It had taken Ismene and the children nearly a full day to reach the vicinity of Irvanís tower. Ismene had been torn between pressing on in the darkness and risking injury or finding shelter for the night. She had finally decided on the latter because of the childrenís fatigue. They had slept in a hollow between a treeís roots with a small smokeless fire that Ismene had built. It was a great risk to have any source of heat or light that Vysthus might see, but the children had been in desperate need of some sort of comfort. But they had made it through the night without even the distant beating of Vysthusí wings to disturb their sleep. Now they stood on the narrow dirt road that led up to the clearing where Irvanís tower stood. It was overgrown by a torrent of vines and moss, making it look almost like a part of the forest that surrounded it.

Tired and dirty, Ismene led the children to the door and raised her hand to knock. There was a tingle of magic in the air then the door opened to reveal the portly bearded form of Irvan. The mage looked like someoneís kindly grandfather and seemed to do his best to keep up the image. He was the one who had given Alfred to Theodoric.

"Ismene? Thank all the gods that youíre alright!" he said as he saw her, pushing up his spectacles onto the bridge of his nose. "The children are safe as well, come in, come in," he said as he stood to the side and waved them in.

Ismene stepped by him, ushering the children in. They already seemed happier, when Ismene had first arrived their favorite thing to do was to spend the day with the elderly mage. Irvan smiled gently at her as he closed the door and barred it behind her. "A simple precaution," he said with a shrug.

He showed them up a curving flight of stairs to the living room, the children taking off their muddy boots before stepping onto the rug. "Iíll start some baths for you," he said. "Oh dear, you must be famished. Ismene, thereís plenty of food in the kitchen, would you be kind enough to prepare a meal for you and the children?"

Ismene nodded, running a hand through her hair and plucking out several leaves and twigs. The children followed her into the towerís kitchen, pointing out where Irvan kept the sweets. "Later," she said, smiling, "first you need breakfast." The children helped her to prepare a simple meal of bread, cheese, and fruit. She watched them as they ate, wiping Theodoricís chin as fruit juice ran down it.

"Iíve drawn each of you baths," Irvan said as they finished. He wiped some lingering steam off of his spectacles and sat at the table next to them. "I need to talk to you after youíve washed," he said to Ismene, his voice suddenly very serious. Ismene nodded and followed the children upstairs to the bathroom where Irvan had filled the large main tub and a smaller portable tub with steaming water. The room was very hot and humid from the rising sun outside and the water inside. Ismene felt herself break into a sweat immediately as she helped the children bathe, promising Theodoric that Alfred would get a bath after him.

Ismene shut the door on the bedroom where the children were sleeping, exhausted from the day before and the final hike to Irvanís tower. The mage smiled at her as she entered the kitchen and poured her a cup of cool fruit juice.

"Thank you," she said as she took a sip. It was orange juice, common here because of the extensive orchards that grew towards the mainland on the peninsula. "My favorite."

"Iím glad you like it," Irvan said. "Now, you must tell me what has been going on in the manor. Why has Lord Volchim suddenly been acting like a madman? I tried to see him on several times but at first he refused to see me, then he threatened me with his undead servants." Irvan huffed and removed his spectacles to clean them on his robe. "Then Vysthus comes by, saying that Lord Volchim wants me dead but that he will try to deceive him."

"I donít think itís Lord Volchim who is giving the orders," Ismene said softly. "He- He assaulted me and said that his name was, ëCirron Macciusí, I think." She took a long sip at her juice to clear the memory of the taste of the manís come in her mouth. "I saw some books that looked like they dealt with necromancy, at least I think they do."

"Necromancy? I feared this might happen."

"That what might happen?"

"That he might try to contact his late wife. I warned him against it, necromancy is the most dangerous form of magic one can try, but he was desperate to talk to his wife again. I thought that you took his mind off his ëprojectí-" Irvan sighed and put on his spectacles. "Cirron Maccius, that name sounds familiar."

He waved his hand in a complicated pattern, Ismene could barely see the faint strands of magic as he wove them into a weave. She turned her head as a book came floating through the door and landed on the table. "Iím getting old, Iím afraid," Irvan said, "I spent a lot of time making a weave to fetch my books from the library for me. Now," he opened the book and began to leaf through it. "There, yes. ëWe do not possess much solid information on Tancred Guiscard, infamous warlord and mercenary, but much more is known about one of his henchmen. Cirron Maccius was a Kilasatian soldier turned mercenary. Known for his exceptional brutality and vicious treatment of women, Cirron is believed to have been born in Torsas, the capital of Kilasat in 46 A.U.," Irvan skipped ahead a page. "Ah yes, Cirron was last known to be in the area of what is now Cielcroix acting as a pirate. His death has been reported in many different manners ranging from drowning in a storm, being killed by the Krisephyrian Navy, to being executed by his former leader, Tancred Guiscard."

"But if heís dead how- I see, Lord Volchim summoned him from the dead, but why?"

"If itís any consolation, I donít believe that Lord Volchim would ever summon such a spirit back into the world. He was most likely trying to find his wife and stumbled onto this manís spirit instead. If there was any flaw in the circle surrounding the portal than the spirit could escape and attack its summoner."

"So Cirron is using Lord Volchimís body."

"Yes, Iím afraid so."

"But what happened to Arcin? I mean, Lord Volchim," Ismene said, her voice distraught.

"Heís trapped in his own body, I imagine he struggled fiercely but in the end Cirron was far too evil and powerful for him to resist."

"Heís still fighting."

"What do you mean?"

Ismene looked down at the table and rolled the cup in her hands. "When, when Cirron was assaulting me, he could have done much worse but he stopped. I think Lord Volchim was keeping him from hurting me badly."

"Thatís possible. There may still be time to save Arcin. But without a priest or someone else who knows the rites of exorcism, there is no way to separate the two."

"You donít know them?"

"No, dear. Iím sorry, but I donít. Iím sorry, I really am." He looked over Ismeneís shoulder at one of the kitchen windows. It was starting to rain heavily. "Thatís odd, I donít think there was a cloud in the sky an hour ago."

   ***

"Whatís going on?" Solyma groaned at Hector as she knelt by the chamberpot.

"A storm has risen. The captain says that we have to lower the sails quickly and attempt to ride it out," Hector said from the doorway. His helmet and gauntlets were dripping with water. For a moment they were illuminated by a flash of lighting through the porthole.

"How long is it going to last?"

"Not long, the captain thinks that its been risen by magic. If that ës the case then the conjurer wonít be able to keep up something this ferocious for long." Hector looked back towards the door to the deck. "I must go, they need every hand."

Solyma nodded weakly and waved him away as she slowly climbed back onto her bunk. Below her Tamara was fuming. "You say youíre a mage," she said peevishly. "Why donít you and that other one stop the weather?"

"Manipulating the weather is a difficult skill to master. Iíve never learned how and Bradley is even worse than I am."

"I should have known that youíd be useless when we could use a real mage."

Solyma ignored her, feeling far to bad to start another round of insults. She only hoped that she could manage to be sick on the girl.

Kerrith clung to the slick rope as sailors up in the sails struggled to untie them. He braced his boots on the deck as he held one of the hastily rigged safety lines for the sailors. Behind him he could hear the captain shouting orders as the helmsman turned the schooner into the wind.

"Whereíd this storm come from?" Tancred shouted from where he was holding another sailorís safety line.

"I donít know," Kerrith yelled back, feeling the driving rain running down his soaked hair and across his face. He tightened his grip on the rope as a wave swept across the deck. "Bradley, can you do anything about this?"

The mage looked over from where he was holding a third sailorís line. "Sorry! I donít know much weather magic, all I can do is predict it," he yelled, his face reflecting a bolt of lightning far to close for comfort. "I donít think this will last more than ten hours tops!"

They ducked as a bolt of lightning slammed into the top of the main mast and sent a spar spinning to the deck. Kerrith dove to the side, narrowly avoiding being trapped by it as it tipped and slid over the crushed railing into the sea. "Get down from there!" he yelled at the sailors as another lightning bolt roared through the sky above.

"If they donít get those sails down weíll sink!" the captain yelled over the driving wind.

"Bradley! Can you help?" Kerrith yelled.

"Maybe, but I might end up damaging the sail if I try to untie them with magic," Bradley yelled back. He nearly slipped as another wave swept over the deck, carrying away the broken splinters of wood from the spar and the railing.

"Get those sailors down!" Kerrith yelled to the captain. The captain yelled and waved his arms in the signal to get back to deck. Kerrith watched the sailors clambered back down the rigging, incredibly close to falling overboard with each wave. "Do it, Bradley!"

The mage handed his line to the captain as the last of the sailors made it safely to the deck and scrambled out of the way. The mage began to move his hands in a intricate motion that soon widened to sweeps of his arms. Kerrith could see him concentrating and then throwing his arms wide. The sails fell loose of their ties in a cascade of soaking white canvas. Sailors immediately ran to them and began to furl them around the spars of the mainmast.

"Everyone below deck!" the captain yelled when they finished. "Iíll stay up here and man the helm."

"Get below, Iíll do it," Tancred said as sailors began to hurry to the relative dryness of below decks. "I canít drown and the lightning probably wonít kill me," he said in answer to the captainís unspoken protests. "Here, take these," he said, throwing his dark spectacles to Kerrith. "I donít want to lose them."

"Alright, just keep the ship turned towards the waves. You do that and weíll be fine for as long as the storm lasts. Iíll make sure that someoneís with you in case you need to send for help," the captain yelled over a roar of thunder.

"Iíll stay with him," Hector said. "I cannot drown or be hurt by the lightning, it seems obvious that I should act as his messenger."

"Glad I had you two aboard!" the captain said with a salute as he caught a sailor who had slipped on the wave washed deck. "Good luck! And may Adramas shield you!"

Tancred nodded back as he climbed to the poop deck and lashed himself to the wheel, Hector floating at his side, apparently unaffected by the wild rolling of the deck. "So," he yelled to Hector, "know any good stories?"

Solyma was vaguely grateful when the motion of the ship changed from a violent side to side rocking to a bow to stern rolling. Not much more grateful, though. From her bunk she could see the single porthole in the cabin and it seemed to be covered or underwater far too much of the time. She thought of it bursting open and a flood of freezing sea water pouring in, filling up the cabin as she tried to swim, the coldness pulling her down and filling her lungs- She shuddered. Her only consolation was that Tamara seemed to finally be showing some sign of discomfort despite Annetteís comforting presence by her on the lower bunk.

   ***

"Why is Vysthus helping Cirron?" Ismene asked Irvan as he refilled her cup of juice. "I thought he was on good terms with Lord Volchim and everyone else in Cielcroix."

"He was. It would take something very powerful to force him to help Cirron," Irvan said. He was standing by the kitchen window watching the rain fall. "A threat? But what kind?"

"Someone he loves?" Ismene said, thinking of how Cirron had coerced her with the threat of harm to the children.

"His wife? But sheís even more powerful than he is, no, she would be in no danger from Cirron."

"He has a wife?"

"Oh yes, dragons marry for life."

"But Iíve never seen her, where is she?"

"Iím sure you have. Dragons start to look like one another after a century or so of marriage. If Vysthus ever seemed to be larger than normal, that was probably his wife you saw. The other times she might have been with their egg-" Irvan suddenly stopped and straightened up. "Of course, brilliant, Ismene, brilliant! Heís stolen their egg! Thatís the only way that Cirron could threaten them." Irvan walked over to Ismene and lifted her from her seat in a hug. "Now, if I can only find where their egg is, I could rescue it. Vysthus or his wife are definitely old enough to have possible learned how to exorcise. We may be able to save Arcin!" He sniffed. "My, is that you? Iím sorry, Iíve kept you from your bath. Why donít you go take it? Iím going to start scrying areas where the egg might be. Call if you need anything." With that Irvan hurried from the kitchen and up the stairs to his scrying chamber. Ismene placed her cup in the kitchen sink before going upstairs to a much anticipated bath.

   ***

Solyma woke to a view of stars and sky through the porthole. The storm had lasted the entire day and into the night. Apparently it had cleared after she had fallen asleep. She rolled over onto her stomach and peered out the porthole. The sea outside was as smooth as glass and for the first time on the voyage she felt like eating something.

She climbed down from her bunk, hitching up her nightgown and tiptoeing across the floor, more for the benefit of Annette who had fallen asleep on the floor next to Tamaraís bunk, than for anything else.

Solyma reached the galley and crept in. The cook typically slept in a hammock suspended by the stove and she had no particular desire to disturb him. She reached the pantry and carefully opened the door, mouth watering at the prospect of some cheese or dried meat. Anything besides soup.

Her face fell as she saw the bare shelves of the pantry. "Sorry, we didnít get any special provisions in the capital. Thereís still soup, though," the cook said from his hammock.

Solyma shook her head sadly as she took a biscuit and flask of water. She nibbled halfheartedly at it as she trudged back to her cabin.

"Will you be quiet? Iím trying to sleep!" Tamara hissed at her as she entered the cramped cabin.

"Quiet!" Solyma whispered harshly, "Annetteís trying to sleep!"

"How dare you give me orders, you-" Her voice was cut off as Solyma shoved the hard biscuit into her mouth, quite effectively gagging her. She tried to pull it out but was stopped as Solyma grabbed her arms and pinned her to the bunk.

"Iíve had enough of your insults, Tamara," Solyma hissed. Suddenly she smiled, an evil wicked grin that made Tamaraís heart start to race. "Donít say anything when I take out the biscuit or it goes right back in." Tamara wiped her mouth as Solyma withdrew the biscuit.

"How dare-" Tamara started only to be cut off by Solymaís glare. "What are you doing?" she whispered, suddenly very afraid of the other woman.

Solyma ignored her and slid under the covers with her. Tamara slid away until her side pressed against the bulkhead. "What are you doing?" she whispered in a more urgent voice as Solyma pulled her nightgown off and reached for Tamaraís.

"Netti-mmmph!" Tamara gasped as Solyma pinned her to the narrow bunk and kissed her deeply, her tongue chasing Tamaraís around the noblewomanís mouth. From by the bunk, Annette stirred and rolled over.

Solyma grinned at the struggling noblewoman, easily holding her down. Tamara was soft and although she had a sweet body, it was due to her inborn beauty more than any regimen of exercise. Solyma had to struggle to keep from laughing as Tamara whimpered in fear as Solyma began to remove her nightgown. Solyma smiled at the flimsy piece of nightwear, mainly lace and silk and not very modest at all.

"You shouldnít dress like that," Solyma whispered into Tamaraís ear. "People might think youíre a whore. Or that maybe youíre trying to lure someone into your bed." Tamara flushed in anger as Solyma straddled her and gasped at the feel of Solymaís wet pussy against her stomach. "Iím going to get something out of this trip," Solyma said as she leaned over and pressed her breasts against Tamaraís equally full ones, "youíre going to give it to me." With that, she kissed the noblewoman again, this time meeting no resistance. Tamara moaned as she began to kiss Solyma back, her nipples hardening and her pussy moistening. "I wondered why you kept sneaking a look at me when I dressed," Solyma said as she sat up. "I thought you were just trying to figure out a way to get back at me." Solyma watched as Tamara blushed and tried to turn her head.

Tamara whimpered as Solyma slid up her body and straddled her head. Without any urging by Solyma, she opened her mouth and began to lick at her pussy. Solyma rubbed her own breasts with one hand while the other reached back and lightly played over Tamaraís pussy. She teased the noblewoman, finally slipping her finger into her when the noblewoman began to whimper piteously.

"You enjoy this, donít you?" Solyma said quietly as she rode Tamaraís face to orgasm. "Whatís your life back on your estate like? Were you, unnnh- screwing the stableboys and servants? Is that why youíre getting sent away?" Solyma gritted her teeth and began to pump her fingers into Tamaraís pussy as she came, her hips grinding against Tamaraís face. She leaned against the bulkhead as she panted for breath until Tamara began to struggle underneath her.

Solyma slid off the noblewoman with a grunt, smirking as Tamara gasped for breath, her face shining in the moonlight. "Now, masturbate," Solyma said. Tamara gulped, lust clouding her eyes as she reached down and began to slide her fingers into herself, first one, then two, then three. Solyma watched in appreciation and began to squeeze and rub the noblewomanís breasts. Tamara came almost immediately and would have made a racket if Solyma hadnít leaned down and covered Tamaraís mouth with herís. Solyma smiled at Tamaraís flushed face as she slid out of the bunk and carefully climbed up into herís, having a feeling that the noblewoman wouldnít bother her any more.

Neither of them noticed that Annette was wide awake and had her hand up her nightgown and buried between her legs, biting her lower lip until it bled to keep from crying out in pleasure.
 

PART II

Ismene sighed in pleasure as she slid into the large bathtub, feeling her skin tingle at the touch of the steaming water. She smiled as she splashed water over her breasts and neck, relishing the feel of being clean for the first time in days. 

There were several small clinks as she set pulled her hairpins free and set them on the tile floor next to the bath. She ran her hands through her hair and shook it out, letting the ends trail in the water. She grimaced as she combed out twigs and leaves, wincing as her comb caught in a particularly vicious tangle. Ismene smiled in grim satisfaction as she finally freed her hair of knots and began to wash herself. 

Many minutes later, she tucked her legs back against her chest as she watched the water swirl down the drain, carrying the dirt and soap with it. She looked outside the window, it was still raining and it did not appear to be night yet. The young elf smiled and plugged the drain once the water had gone, turning the two large brass handles and leaning back as hot water sluiced into the tub. 

A Knight of the Tome had stopped by several years ago and had supervised installation of plumbing in the manor and Irvanís tower, at least that was what Lord Volchim had told her. Thinking of him, she felt a sudden weight of sorrow settle over her heart. It didnít seem possible that he was gone with no way to free him. 

ìThere must be a way,î she whispered to herself as she turned off the water. She let out a long breath and leaned back against the porcelain of the bathtub, letting her arms dangle over the side as she relaxed. Ever so slowly, she felt her eyes closing, closing, closing, until she was asleep. 

Ismene half-turned and smiled at Lord Volchim. He was standing a feet feet away from by the cliff edge, looking out to sea.

They had ridden out to the westernmost point on the peninsula that formed the province of Cielcroix. It was a lush land, green from the many rain storms and warm temperatures of the southern sea. 

And windy, she thought as she settled her hat deeper on her head, making sure that the leather thong looped under her chin was still tight. Emerald green grass that just reached the tops of her shoes whipped along in sweeping waves as the wind rushed over the cliff. Further out to sea, Ismene could see dancing whitecaps and the spouting of a pod of whales headed north for the summer. Beyond them an advancing bank of clouds threatened to drench Cielcroix with one of its summer thunderstorms. 

ìThey come by here every year,î Lord Volchim said as he stood next to her. ìHeading north in summer and south in winter.î 

ìIíve never seen a whale,î Ismene said. She had heard that they were huge, as large as a dragon, with great wings that they used to fly through the water. ìWhy do they spout?î 

ìThey breathe air, just like we do,î Lord Volchim said. ìWhen you see a spout that means that theyíve surfaced to breath and theyíre blowing the water free of their noses.î 

Ismene nodded, distant lessons in biology floating back to her. She flushed, realizing that she was a sorry example for a tutor if she didnít know such basic information about the world. ìI wonder, are they dangerous?î 

ìNo, not at all unless you provoke them.î 

ìIs it possible to sail out and see them?î 

ìYes, would you care to go?î 

ìIíd be delighted-î She was cut off by the beating of immense wings. Startled, Ismene looked up and saw the form of a dragon briefly blotting out the sun as it flew overhead. Lord Volchim waved and yelled out a greeting. The dragon responded by dipping its wings and circling once overhead before flying out to sea. ìWhereís Vysthus going?î she asked. 

ìHeís hunting. The whales are easy prey for him. He just watches for the spouts and carries a small one off. The larger ones are too big even for him,î he said as he calmed the horses. The horses were relatively used to Vysthus but the dragon still could cause them to panic if he happened upon them suddenly. 

ìLord Volchim? Those clouds are coming towards us awfully fast-î Already she could feel the wind getting colder. 

ìYouíre right, if we ride hard we should be able to get back before the storm hits.î Lord Volchim waved a goodbye at the diving shape of Vysthus on the off chance that he was watching and lifted Ismene into her saddle. 

Ismene tried not to flush at the feel of his hands tight around her waist. She could climb into a saddle perfectly well, even wearing a dress. After all, she had been riding horses since she was a girl. But she enjoyed letting Lord Volchim help her. She thanked him as she settled herself sidesaddle. 

Heavy drops of water began to splash off her hat as Lord Volchim vaulted into the saddle and turned his horse back towards Merglise and the manor. Ismene looked up and felt the rain falling harder. Lord Volchim was looking at her quizzically as she hitched up her skirt and swung her leg over her horseís back, sitting properly on a horse for the first time in quite a while. 

Lord Volchim smiled faintly as he studied Ismeneís legs out of the corner of his eye. He knew sheíd get embarrassed if she knew he was watching. Still... He shook his head and tapped his horseís flanks with his heels, watching as Ismene did the same.

In her bath, Ismene sighed and shifted slightly, sliding down a bit further into the water... 

The storm had overtaken them a little more than halfway back. Rather than brave the fierce winds and lightning, they had taken shelter in a small cabin that hunters would use if they stayed out too late. The horseís were stabled in the small lean-to next to the cabin as Ismene dried her hair. She had a fire going as Lord Volchim entered the cabin. 

ìGood thing we have leftovers from the picnic,î he said as he shook his cloak out and hung it near the fire to dry. 

ìThereís most of a chicken and a few sandwiches. What do you want?î Ismene asked as she knelt by the picnic basket, luckily it was made out of tightly woven wicker and had kept most of the rain out. She wondered why the cook had packed so much food for them. The cook had just kept smiling and nudging Ismene with her elbow while saying things like, ìYouíll be hungry after youíre done,î and ìIím sure youíll find a use for this jam.î But it had turned out for the best. ìLord Volchim?î she said. 

Lord Volchim shook himself out of his reverie. Ismeneís dress had gotten wet in the last few minutes before they had reached the cabin. It was sticking to her slender body like a second skin as she dripped onto the rug. He could clearly see the outlines of her breasts and- He swallowed, her nipples. ìI, uh, Iíll have one of the sandwiches,î he finally said, moving over to the window to watch the storm. 

Ismene was glad that he had his back turned as she took two sandwiches out of the basket. Despite the cold of her dress against her skin, she felt unaccountably warm. She imagined him looking at her body with desire, wanting her... 

Ismene turned her head and shifted herself, beads of sweat trickling down her face and neck as the bathwater steamed... 

Ismene lay by the fire, her back towards Lord Volchim. He had given her the blanket they had brought along on the picnic, settling on his dried out cloak for himself. The food had been as delicious as when they had eaten it at lunch, perhaps more so with the storm howling outside and a warm fire roaring in the hearth. 

She had slipped out of her dress and was only wearing her underwear and shift beneath the blanket. She snuck a look over her shoulder and saw Lord Volchim lying on his back, his hands behind his head and eyes closed. She had a sudden urge to go over to him and lie down on top of him. Flushing in the firelight, she turned away from him and felt her hand slid down her belly to the hem of her shift. Biting her lower lip, she tugged up her shift and slid her hand down the front of her underwear. She turned her head and began to pant into the blanket as she began to slide her fingers in and out of herself, imagining that they were Lord Volchimís. Her other hand snuck up under her shift and began to massage her small, firm breasts, squeezing her flesh desperately as she pumped her fingers in an increasing tempo. 

Lord Volchim opened his eyes when he heard Ismene breathing hard. He had nearly been asleep when he had taken notice of her change in breathing. Was she having a nightmare? he wondered as he turned his head. He stared dumbly at the motions of her arms and body for a good minute before he realized what she was doing. Ashamed and incredibly aroused by catching her in the act of pleasuring herself, he rolled to face away from her, trying to think of anything other than her slim body with her long legs and breasts that seemed to beg to be kissed- He groaned and closed his eyes tightly, trying to think of maintenance needed at the manor. 

Replace the shutters on the west wing, he thought. Clean the ballroom windows, inside and out. What else? Oh, yes, touch up the paint on the library window frames, it was looking a bit pale. Order some lemons for the cooks pie and- Do all elves pleasure themselves when other people are around? Do they have different standards of modesty? Would she mind if I watched? She isnít making a lot of effort to hide her moans- Lemons for the cook! Make sure that the sailboat is in good condition to take Ismene out to see the whales- She really wouldnít mind, I donít think. I mean, maybe its a custom, like walking around with your jacket undone to show that you arenít hiding anything- 

Lord Volchim shifted his pants, trying to find a more comfortable position. Ismene seemed to be almost finished, at least if her muffled gasps were anything to go by. He heard her give a long pleasured sigh and then the sound of her arranging the blanket.

Knowing it was impossible, he tried to ignore the sound of her soft breathing and fall asleep. 

Ismene smiled as she remembered that night, letting her arms slide over her head as she slipped into the tub. She awoke with a nose full of water and shot to the surface, splashing water over the bathtubís rim as she coughed and gasped for air. Serves me right for falling asleep, she thought ruefully as she rubbed her nose. Iíd better get dinner ready for the children. 

        ***

 Solyma woke up, refreshed and happy for the first time in weeks. She smiled as she remembered the startled look on Tamaraís face as she had torn off the noblewomanís nightgown. Something good out of this trip, Solyma thought sleepily as she stretched luxuriously and climbed down from her bunk. 

Tamara paled and stared furiously at her breakfast as Solyma walked into the schoonerís tiny galley. Annette blushed and took her bowl of porridge outside onto the deck, leaving Solyma and Tamara alone. 

Solyma rested her chin on her fist as she looked over the table at the quickly eating girl. Solyma reached out and took Tamaraís chin in her hand, lifting the girlís face to hers. 

ìGood morning,î Solyma said then smiled at the mixed look of lust, anger, and embarrassment on Tamaraís face. ìHow did you sleep?î 

ìI slept quite well, thank you,î Tamara said in a frosty voice, only slightly spoiled by a blush creeping up her face. 

ìHmm,î Solyma said as she leaned back and looked at the galleyís table. It seemed the perfect size to stretch out a young noblewoman. Four scarves, Solyma thought, not rope, too rough on her delicate skin. She smiled as she stood and leaned over to give Tamara a deep kiss. ìIíll see you later, donít wear anything too expensive.î 

The noblewoman nodded without thinking as she watched Solyma saunter out of the galley. Her spoon dropped forgotten into her porridge, sending a small spray of droplets onto her dress unnoticed. 

Kerrith looked up as Solyma walked onto the deck, a broad smile on her face. He was helping the rest of the crew clear the deck of debris and tangles of rope and sail. They had taken a beating during the night and would need to heave to for repairs before continuing on to Cielcroix. Luckily they were near the scattered islands of the Debrus Archipelago. There was the problem of the vicious monsters that roamed the islands and the possibility of stumbling into a pirateís den. But monsters or no, without repairs the schooner would never make it to Merglise. 

ìGood morning everyone!î Solyma called out as she stretched and wandered over to where Kerrith and Tancred were cutting free a tangle of rope and wood. 

ìYouíre in a good mood,î Tancred grunted. Kerrith had gained a new, if grudging, respect for the vampire. Previously he had thought that the vampire was just a fop, gliding through life and doing little to contribute. But he had shown admirable bravery and dedication, staying at the helm through the night and continuing to work during the day despite the discomfort that the sun caused him. ìWait-î Tancred narrowed his eyes as he studied Solyma then shifted his gaze to Tamara. His eyes widened as Tamara said nothing, breaking the three day old routine of a morning insult. ìYou-?î 

ìYes,î Solyma smirked. 

ìHow? How did you-î 

ìYou know how it is, spoiled noble, you just have to show them whoís boss.î 

Tancred worked his mouth silently in mute outrage. He had been planning to seduce Tamara tonight. Now what was the use?

Solyma had beaten him to it. They had been doing this to each other for the past hundred years, usually when they were both bored. Seductions had been evenly divided between them for the most part, at least until they had parted ways after Solyma had knifed Valkersan in the back. In the short time that they had both been living in the city after getting back from Kathaln they had resumed the contest. Solyma had been getting the upper hand, with his lovers from the higher circles of nobility, Tancred hadnít had as much time to devote to it. Although, now that he thought about it, Solyma hadnít been bedding nearly as many people as she had in the old days. ìWhatís the matter? Lose your voice swapping stories with Hector?î Solyma said, leaning back against the railing with her arms crossed under her breasts. 

ìTancred!î Kerrith called out. ìWeíre getting ready to go ashore and fetch some timber, youíd be a great asset if you came.î 

ìGo on, itíll be fun, you and the rest of the men. Telling stories about your conquests,î Solyma said cheerfully. 

Tancred narrowed his eyes and glared suspiciously at her. She was planning something. But what? ìShreds!î Tancred swore softly. ìFine, Iíll come along.î 

ìGood, itíll make cutting the timber go much faster. Solyma,î Kerrith said, ìHector will be with us, if you donít mind. That way you can contact us if thereís any danger.î 

ìSure,î Solyma said. ìBut danger from what?î 

ìPirates. Just keep a look out and youíll spot them in time for us to get back. The captainís spotted suitable trees just a short walk from the beach.î 

ìHmmm, handsome and dashing pirates whoíll want to ravish every woman aboard?î 

Kerrith frowned. ìNo, pirates who kill everyone on board after they rape you.î 

Solyma shrugged. ìIíll keep an eye out then.î 

        ***

 Ismene looked around the room confusedly for a moment before she remembered where she was. Irvan had a distressing tendency to furnish his rooms in garishly colored and patterned overstuffed furniture along with the stuffed heads of exotic animals. Something resembling a giant hamster was mounted on the wall above the door. It didnít look too happy about its situation. At least the furniture was comfortable, Ismene thought. It had taken her a while to get used to the deep and soft mattress but she had finally managed to stop feeling like she was being swallowed up by it. 

ìOh good, youíre awake,î Irvan said as he cracked open the door. ìI was just making breakfast.î 

ìThank you. I really should be doing the cooking,î Ismene said as she sat up. 

ìNonsense! Youíre my guest, I should be bringing you breakfast in bed.î Irvan smiled broadly when Ismene smiled. ìGood, now hurry along otherwise Theodoric and Amy will eat everything themselves.î 

        ***

 Tamara looked nervously over at Solyma as the crew of the schooner along with Kerrith, Tancred, Hector and a bitterly complaining Bradley rowed towards a nearby island. The young noblewoman watched apprehensively as Solyma began to tie bits of rope into knots, all the while looking at her with a wicked smile on her face. 

ìAnnette, Iím going back to my cabin,î Tamara said and quickly fled back below decks. Annette looked up from a piece of embroidery and watched curiously as Solyma followed Tamara, whistling cheerfully. Looking around at the empty deck, Annette set her embroidery basket to the side and followed Solyma quietly. 

Tamara jumped when the door to the cabin shook. She had locked it behind her and watched the latch shake as someone rattled the handle. 

ìOpen the door, my lady,î Solyma said mockingly. ìI know you want this.î 

ìGo away! I will not consort with such a vile and filthy person such as you!î Tamara yelled back as she pulled on her cheapest dress, a rather gaudy thing made of red fabric with a plunging neckline. 

ìFilthy? Vile? Iíll show you vile and filthy, now open the door!î 

Tamara smoothed the dress down her legs and craned her head to check how it draped over her bottom. The dress was rather tight around the waist and hips and clung to her bottom quite fetchingly. ìYouíre a horrible beast!î she yelled. ìHow dare you attempt to molest me again!î 

Solyma smiled. ìOh yes, youíre going to get molested. And much more.î She quickly spun a weave that lifted the latch on the inside of the door and pushed it open. Tamara was standing against the far bulkhead wearing a slutty looking red dress. It did look good on her though. 

ìWhat a cowardly thing to do! Using your magic to enchant me,î Tamara said icily as Solyma slowly approached her. ìWait- What are you-?î 

Solyma noticed that Tamara made no effort at all to avoid her kiss. ìIíve never used magic to get a woman,î Solyma whispered as she led Tamara out of the cabin and down the hallway towards the galley. Neither of them noticed Annette creeping along behind them. 

ìWhat are you going to do with those?î Tamara asked as Solyma held up a handful of scarves she had taken from Tamaraís luggage. 

ìGuess, now hop up on the table,î Solyma said. Tamara complied slowly, watching as Solyma pushed her towards the center of the table and then onto her back. 

ìYouíll pay for this,î Tamara said softly as Solyma began to tie her ankles to the table legs. 

ìMmm hmm,î Solyma replied as she moved up the table and tied Tamaraís wrists above her head. Solyma tugged on the scarves to make sure they were secure and stepped back. She smiled at the sight, she admitted she had a nasty little fetish for seeing her lovers tied up or down. Most of them enjoyed it, at least they did after she was done with them. Solyma tapped her fingers on the table thoughtfully and then left the galley, leaving Tamara alone while she went back to their cabin and retrieved another scarf. 

ìCanít have you making too much noise and upsetting Annette, can we?î Solyma said as she entered the galley. Tamara struggled for a moment as Solyma tied the scarf between Tamaraís lips, muffling her protests while not making her seriously uncomfortable. ìNow,î Solyma said as she slipped out of her clothes, ìthe fun part.î 

Annette crept out of her hiding place in a storage locker and approached the galley door. She peered inside and moaned softly at the sight before her. Solyma was crouched on the galley table bent over with her head buried between Tamaraís thighs.

Tamaraís dress had been hiked up above her hips and her bodice had been torn open to expose her full and rounded breasts. 

The maid knelt by the door and hiked up her skirt enough to pull down her underwear. She quickly began to rub herself as she watched Solymaís head move up and down as she licked Tamara. The noblewomanís moans were muffled by a scarf secured in her mouth leaving the galley silent but for the heavy breathing of Solyma and the wet sounds of her tongue lapping at Tamaraís pussy. Tamaraís nostrils flared as she began to buck her hips up towards Solymaís mouth, straining against the scarves tying her to the table. 

Annette leaned against the doorway as she slid her fingers into herself, biting down on her other hand to keep from crying out.

She felt herself deliriously excited and close to coming as Solyma moved up on hands and knees to straddle Tamaraís body.

Annette watched, her fingers pumping madly, as Solyma removed the scarf from Tamaraís mouth and turned to face Tamaraís feet. 

Annette tumbled out of the doorway in her effort to keep from being seen and landed on her back. She heard Tamara cry out, her voice muffled by Solymaís thighs, and came onto her fingers. She was staring up at the hallís ceiling, listening to Tamaraís increasingly frantic cries when she heard a loud thump from the deck above along with a harsh male voice. 

ìTake the men below decks and check out the hold, a schooner flying the kingís flag must be carrying something important,î another voice, more educated but full of malice, cried out. 

Annetteís eyes widened as she realized what had just happened. She pulled her underwear up and stumbled into the galley, whispering urgently to Solyma, ìSolyma! Pirates! Theyíve come aboard!î 

ìWha-, uhh! Mmmph,î Solyma gasped out she continued to lick at Tamara. 

ìPirates! We have to get out of here!î 

Solyma swore as she reluctantly pulled herself off Tamara and scooped up her clothes. She heard heavy footsteps descending from the deck as she pulled on her shirt and looked for someplace to hide or, failing that, a weapon. 

ìSolyma! Annette! Untie me!î Tamara said, her voice full of fear. Annette nodded and began to struggle with the knots in the scarves until Solyma grabbed her shoulder and motioned for her to stop. 

ìNo time-î Solyma began. 

ìYou canít leave me here for those-î Tamara yelled until Solyma clapped her hand over the womanís mouth. 

ìYou hear something?î one of the pirates said from down the hall. 

ìNaw, hey, look. These are womanís clothes,î another said. 

ìTheyíve got to be aboard somewhere, there were only men on that boat.î 

ìRich too. Letís find ëem.î 

Tamaraís eyes were panicked and wide as Solyma looked around the bare galley. ìDonít say anything, donít move, donít even breathe,î Solyma said as she began to craft an invisibility weave around Tamara. She motioned for Annette to go into the kitchen with her head as she began to tie off the weave. She had just finished and was turning to rush into the kitchen herself when the pirates entered the galley. 

ìDonít move, bitch!î the first one yelled, waving a rusted short sword at her. The other one, shorter and with a scar across his bald head, leered at Solymaís bare legs. 

ìSheís a good looking piece,î the bald one said as he moved towards Solyma. 

Solyma eyed him warily, spinning a fireball in her hand behind her back. ìOh, please, donít hurt me! Iím very rich and Iíll pay you whatever you want!î she said, doing her best damsel in distress voice. 

The pirates laughed. ìYouíll pay us alright,î the taller one said. 

Not a very original response, Solyma thought as she finished the fireball. She was about to char the shorter oneís face off when she heard another pirate behind her. 

ìLook what I found!î he said as he pushed Annette into the galley, a sword at her back. Her dress was torn and she looked like a deer facing the hunterís arrows. Behind her were at least two more pirates. Solyma cursed inwardly as she counted the pirates, too many for her to deal with before they killed Annette. 

ìIf my maid was harmed in any way, Iíll have your heads!î Solyma said as she let the fireball dissipate. Time for a new plan, she thought. Now, I just have to think of one. 

ìSolyma, what-?î Annette began. 

ìLady Solyma, you stupid cow! Do I have to whip you again?î Solyma snapped. Annette looked confused for a moment before she caught on and nodded. 

ìIím sorry, my lady. I wonít forget again.î 

ìSee that you donít.î 

By this time the first pirates had moved closer to Solyma. ìWe got real lucky this time,î the taller one said, ìtwo sweet pieces to have fun with.î 

ìI donít know,î this was one of the others, ìthe captainíll want her for himself. You know how he likes the rich ones.î 

ìWeíll just have to have some fun before the captain seeís her then, wonít we?î He motioned to the one holding Annette and the maid was pushed forward to stand next to Solyma by the table. Solyma watched carefully as the bald pirate leaned against it, his arm almost touching Tamaraís hidden leg. 

ìWhy ainít she dressed?î one of the smarter ones said from the back of the crowd forming in the galley. 

The bald one looked at Solyma closely, she could practically hear the squeaky wheels of his mind turning as he thought. His eyes widened comically as Solyma reached out and pulled Annette to her and ran her hand down Annetteís back to her bottom. ìThey were going to fuck!î he said. 

ìTwo girls canít fuck,î another one said. 

ìYeah they can,î the bald one said and grinned, displaying an incredible collection of gum diseases. ìDo it, show ëem what you do.î 

Solyma sighed inwardly. Men, she thought and hoped that Annette would play along. She held Annetteís shoulders and turned the maid towards her. ìPlay along,î Solyma whispered as she tilted her head down and kissed Annette. The maid responded surprisingly warmly to her kiss, parting her mouth willingly and moving her hands down to the small of Solymaís back. 

ìNow,î the bald one said, his mouth hanging open and drool trailing from his lower lip, ìget those clothes off and get on the table.î 

Solyma cursed inwardly again. Maybe if she was lucky she could scare the pirates with a lightning bolt and get- No, too damned many. It seemed like the entire ship was packed into the galley. Solyma stalled for time as she slowly began to undo the ties of Annetteís dress. The young maid looked into Solymaís eyes, trusting her completely. 

ìWhat are you doing here? You lotíre supposed to be checking out the hold!î a new voice yelled as he pushed through the crowd. Solyma looked over and saw a ridiculous sight. The pirate, apparently the captain, was dressed in a garish motley of styles from Corannon and Alathan. He was wearing the type of feathered cap which was popular for all of a month several years ago along with the puffy shirt, tight trousers, and boots with ridiculously large and flared toes. He was a waling representation of rich bad taste from the past twenty years. The final touch, and Solyma had to work hard to keep from laughing, was an overstuffed codpiece colored an eyewatering yellow. ìEh, whoíre these two lovely ladies?î 

ìWe found them here, captain,î the bald one said, obviously disappointed. ìThey were going to put on a show for us.î 

ìNot here they ainít! The crew could be back any time and theyíve got a Knight with them!î There was a general sound of muttering fear and anxiety among the pirates. ìSo get into the hold and start taking it back to the ship!î The crew began to mutter but they obeyed and soon the galley was empty but the pirate captain and the two women. ìNow, you two get on deck!î 

Solyma walked out of the galley behind Annette, swaying her bottom in a way that was guaranteed to gain the pirateís full attention. Just before they reached the deck she turned to him, a seductive smile on her face. 

ìCaptain,î she said, ìthe men wonít be back for a day. They told me so themselves.î 

ìA day, really?î the captain said, licking his lips. 

ìYes, a day at least. Now, your men wanted my servant and I to put on a show for them.î Solyma pouted, curving her full lips into a frown. ìI donít like such uncouth and mean men. But you are obviously someone with style and class. Weíd be delighted to give you a more...private show.î 

ìOh yes,î the captain gasped while his face turned a beet red. ìIíd enjoy that.î 

ìWe could do it right here? Or maybe in our cabin?î 

The captain licked his lips, his eyes flicking from Solymaís bare legs to the enticing curve of Annetteís shoulder. ìRight here,î he managed to gasp out as he began to pull off his codpiece. 

Solyma smiled and let the shoulder of her shirt drop down, nearly baring one breast. She slinked closer to the captain and pressed his eager hand onto her breast. ìMy, you are strong,î she whispered huskily. The captain groaned and bent his head to suck at her breast, his hands reaching under her shirt to fondle her buttocks. Solyma endured this long enough to see that the pirates were all busy elsewhere. Then she kneed the captain in the groin and slammed his head into the bulkhead. Annette was still staring open mouthed when Solyma kicked him in the head for good measure and rolled him into a supply closet. 

ìIck,î Solyma said as she pulled her shirt up, ìI need a bath now.î She turned to Annette and motioned for the younger woman to follow her. ìGo lie on the top bunk,î Solyma ordered as they entered the cabin that Solyma and Tamara shared. 

Annette obeyed and lay down as Solyma quickly spun a weave of invisibility around her. When it was done Solyma smiled warned Annette against moving or making a sound. With that she ducked down and pulled out a heavy leather case from her luggage. 

Solyma smiled as she pulled on some clothes and strapped on a light suit of leather armor over that. She had just finished when she heard some pirates stomping up from the hold. She crouched behind the door as they passed, pulling two daggers along with a long sword from the case. 

Annette heard two wet thumps in the passageway outside the cabin as Solyma dispatched the pirates. There was a long pause and then she heard the door to the deck open. Then the screaming started. 

Solyma whooped with glee as the pirates ran around the deck trying to get back aboard their ship. A few stood with swords or bows at the ready until she threw a lightning bolt at them. It had been a while since she had used these battle spells but the old knowledge flooded back and soon she was blasting the pirates into messy bits of reddish meat. 

She ducked behind a barrel as one of the pirates finally shot an arrow at her. None of them seemed to know how to deal with a mage, she saw no hint of a mass rush or of someone hiding and waiting to surprise her in between spells. 

ìGet back to the ship!î one screamed as he ran by her. She waited until he was near the railing before pitching a fireball at him.

The pirate screamed as he went up in flames and toppled into the sea leaving only a cloud of sickly-sweet smelling steam. 

The ship the pirates had arrived on was small, a large sloop at best. Solyma grinned as she knocked another pirate into the water, a ship that size usually had twenty men at most. Another fireball reduced the crew to perhaps ten. 

She stood as the remaining pirates ran back across the boarding planks and cut the lines securing the two ships. Solyma stood on the deck, her arms shrouded in the crackling and flaming nimbusí of weaves of fire and lightning. She considered the ten panicked men trying desperately to push away from the schooner and laughed, making an obscene gesture at them as they sailed away. As they reached the limit of her range, she poured the stored energy from the weaves into one last fireball. The barrel sized fireball soared across the sea, little flames detaching and floating to the water where they extinguished themselves with a hiss, and punched through their main sail. In seconds the sails were ablaze beyond hope of salvation with the fire spreading through the rigging and turning the masts into giant torches. 

Solyma brushed her hands off on her thighs and turned around. She swore as she saw the pirate captain climbing up the stairs from the lower decks, a knife at Annetteís throat. 

ìI thought I told you to stay still,î Solyma said to Annette. 

ìIím sorry, I thought they were all gone and I was going to come up-î 

ìEnough talk!î the pirate yelled. ìYou may be one powerful spellweaving bitch, but Iíve got your little slut and sheíll die if you try anything.î 

Solyma sighed. She should have realized that underneath all that ridiculous clothing the pirate would still have to be one mean son of a bitch to stay in command of ship. ìWhat do you want?î she asked. 

ìYouíre going to swim to the island and get the shipís boat and bring it back here. When you do, Iím getting out of here and Iíll push this one overboard once Iím out of your reach.î 

ìI canít swim,î Solyma said, somewhat truthfully as she ran her hands through her hair. She could swim, but not for very long and probably just straight down. She began to shape a weave as she pushed back her hair and tucked it behind her ears. 

ìThen youíd better learn fast!î the pirate yelled, his knife dangerously close to Annetteís throat. Solyma grimaced and pulled off her leather breastplate. She began to move over to the railing as she pulled her shirttails out of her waistband and started to kick off her boots. Looking back at the pirate she smiled and pulled her shirt over her head. 

The pirateís eyes flicked to her bared breasts for a split second, long enough for Solyma to finish her weave and send the pirateís knife flying from his hand into hers. Annette struggled and kicked and managed to get away from him as he pulled his sword. 

ìIíll kill you,î he started to say. He got as far as ìIíllî when Solyma threw the knife back at him, catching him in the base of his throat. He gurgled something indecipherable and fell to the deck, his puffy shirt soaking up most of the blood. 

ìThatís quite a mess, Solyma,î Tancred said as he watched the sailors sweeping the deck clear of debris. ìWhy didnít you just burn the ship before it could grapple?î 

ìMore fun this way,î Solyma said quickly while she turned her head to look out to sea. She could feel the drain from using so much magic in such a wasteful manner, usually sheíd be more efficient and less flashy but... 

ìReally? You let them board?î 

ìSure.î 

ìYou didnít forget to post a lookout and get surprised by them?î 

ìOf course not.î 

ìThen why is Tamara tied to the galley table?î Tancred laughed at her face as she suddenly remembered the noblewomanís predicament. ìDonít worry, sheís still invisible. I smelled her. Youíd better get down there before the cook starts setting the table.î 

        ***

 Cirron flipped through one of the many books that lay strewn about Lord Volchimís desk in the library. He saw no use for them, none of them had pictures, at least not the kind that heíd want to look at. 

ìWhy should I keep these?î he asked the wavering form of Sammel, a wizard he had known back when he had worked for Tancred. 

ìThese books are an incredible collection of necromantic tomes!î the shade said, his voice sounding like an echo from a long tunnel. ìWith these you could summon almost any spirit and force it to do your bidding!î 

ìI donít like magic,î Cirron said, throwing the book to the floor, not noticing as the shade winced. 

ìMagic freed us,î Sammel said. 

Cirron grunted in reply and shrugged. ìWhat would you need to summon an army of spirits?î he asked. 

ìA sacrifice first to gain the service of a powerful Dathuz, then it could serve as a general for the spirits summoned after it.î 

ìWhat kind of sacrifice?î 

Sammelís form wavered and shifted as he looked nervously around the room. ìWell, my lord-î 

ìOut with it, man!î 

ìThe Dathuz have an intense desire for the things that they are denied- 

ìAnd those are?î 

ìUmm, women, food, liquor.î 

ìSo? I can get any of those in abundance.î 

ìBut my lord, a Dathuz of the power we need would not be swayed by a serving maid and a keg of beer.î 

ìWhat would they require?î 

Sammel coughed nervously, purely out of habit. ìAn elf woman? And perhaps some good Willowsrun wine or maybe some diamondflower extract?î He braced himself for Cirronís anger, the mercenary had not been kind when his plans were obstructed. He raised his transparent and haggard head when Cirron began laughing. 

ìYou forget the hospitality of our good Lord Volchim! He has supplied all we need, there is are several bottles of diamondflower in the cellar. As for an elf woman, well, our Lord Volchim had an equally good taste when he was selecting his women as when he was selecting his drink.î Cirron smiled and laughed again as he felt the impotent struggles of Lord Volchim. 

        ***

 ìBeautiful place,î Solyma said idly as she leaned against the shipís railing and watched the town of Merglise. Her eyes swept over the whitewashed two story buildings that formed most of the town, taking in their brightly painted shutters and balconies while searching for any sign of life. ìWhere is everyone?î she asked herself. 

ìThey would have most likely fled,î Kerrith said from towards the center of the deck. He was unpacking the gear and weapons that he had brought for dealing with the dragon. ìA house offers no protection against a dragonís flame.î 

ìHector, can you find anything?î Solyma asked. Hector paused and seemed to concentrate for a while before he shook his helmet. 

ìThereís a powerful shield blocking any scrying, it seems start at the edge of the port, perhaps if we pass through it I can try again,î he said. 

ìWho made it?î Kerrith asked. 

ìI donít know,î Hector said with a shrug, ìit could have been the dragon, thatís the logical answer.î 

The motion of the ship changed as the helmsman turned it towards the townís docks. Or what was left of them. Most of them were charred wooden pilings although a larger stone pier remained intact although scorched. Solyma surveyed them, noticing that there were no boats moored. ìWhereíd the boats go?î she asked. 

ìFled?î Tancred said as he walked over. He had changed into his armor, a suit of leather older than most people on the ship, and was running through a series of stretches. 

ìNo,î Kerrith said, ìlook.î He pointed to the charred remains of a mast sticking up out of the water. The shape of a boat could be barely made out below the water. ìBurned along with the docks.î 

Bradley was nervously watching the sky as the schooner coasted towards the pier and sailors jumped off to secure the ship. No dragon had appeared by the time Solyma and the rest had unloaded their luggage and the schooner had cast off, hurrying to reach its destination further south on schedule. 

Solyma gave a cheery wave to the receding forms of Tamara and Annette before turning to walk down the pier towards the town. Behind her, Hector floated slowly after her, his helmet bowed in concentration as he scryed the area around the town. 

ìFind the dragon yet?î Solyma asked as they reached the town square. ìFinally, dry land.î The square was paved with smooth square flagstones, painted a light sky blue color. Directly across from the road leading to the docks was the town hall with an empty flagpole standing before the stone building. 

ìNot yet,î Hector said quietly. 

ìDo you guys feel that?î Tancred said suddenly, lifting his nose to sniff at the air. 

ìWhat?î Solyma said. She watched as Tancred rubbed his arms and grimaced. 

ìThereís a disturbance,î he said, ìtry to feel it.î 

Solyma shrugged and closed her eyes. She moved her arms in slowly in front of her as she spun a weave. Bradley, Hector and Tancred watched the softly glowing lines of magic come together as she gathered them into herself. Solyma shivered as she began to feel the chill of masses of undead in the area. 

ìSomeoneís been creating undead,î she said. ìLotís of them.î 

ìItís coming from the manor of Lord Volchim,î Hector said. 

ìCan you see into the manor and find out whatís going on?î Solyma asked. 

ìNo, someone has blocked it off from scrying.î 

ìThe same person who covered the town?î 

ìNo, this one is much weaker, although its craftsmanship is quite good.î 

ìHey, Kerrith?î Bradley suddenly said. ìDo you guys see that?î His shaking finger pointed towards a small speck on the horizon that was growing rapidly. 

ìGet ready,î Kerrith said as he hefted a large barbed spear. 

        ***

 ìWhere is Vysthus?î Cirron yelled as he strode through the dusty corridors of the manor house. ìI want that elf girl found now!"

 ìHe says that soldiers have landed at Merglise,î Sammel said as he floated after Cirron. Behind him was a small group of zombies and skeletons wearing the rusted and filthy remains of armor and carrying various weapons. 

ìHelís blood!î cursed Cirron as he smashed a vase of dead flowers to the floor. ìWhy are they here?î 

ìI donít know, my lord.î 

ìIf Vysthus is too busy killing them then you will have to find the girl. Use those books you love so much and find her!î Cirron said, watching as Sammel bobbed obsequiously and floated towards the library. 

        ***

 ìSpread out!î Kerrith yelled. ìSolyma, Bradley, you know what to do!î They nodded and peeled off to duck under the balcony of a building on the other side of the street. The theory was that as the dragon attacked one team, the other team would be able to attack it without worry. When the dragon turned its attention to them, the other team would attack. Wolf pack tactics and good in theory, the only problem being that it was theory. 

The dragon swooped in low over the town and landed in between the would-be dragonslayers, its tail poised and ready to strike as it swiveled its head from Kerrith on one side of the street to Bradley, Tancred, and Solyma on the other. 

Solyma gulped and hoped that her flame shield was as good as she remembered it to be. Tancred looked back at her and hefted the heavy barbed dragonslaying spear in his hands. ìReady?î he asked. Solyma started to answer when the dragon flamed them. 

        ***

 Sammel flipped through the pages of particularly ominous looking tome until he found the diagram illustrating the weave necessary to summon an- 

ìIncubus,î Sammel said. He sighed. Incubii were notoriously insubordinate, especially around women. Still, it was the only creature he could summon on short notice and, with the amount of power he could wield, the only creature that would be able to find and bring back the elf woman. 

The shade began to trace out the weave of summoning on the floor, using the same chalk that Lord Volchim had used in his attempt to summon his dead wife. Sammel hoped that his attempt at summoning would end better. 

        ***

 ìThat was close,î Tancred said as he kicked the melted spear head where it lay among the heap of ash and charcoal that was once a two-story building, possibly the local inn. Solymaís shield had held easily and had deflected the dragonís flame around them. Tancred had then thrown the spear at the dragonís eye and might have killed it then if it hadnít flamed the spear. 

ìYouíre telling me,î Vysthus said. ìYouíre very fast for a vampire.î 

Tancred shrugged. ìOnly when I want to be,î he said, eliciting an exasperated sigh from Solyma. The dragon just stared at him in polite incomprehension. 

ìWould someone mind telling me whatís going on?î Bradley asked from by the docks, ready to jump into the water if the dragon showed any further sign of combustion activity. 

ìYou were sent here to kill me, were you not?î Vysthus said. ìA fisherman brought reports of a marauding dragon and a lord who seemed to have gone mad?î 

ìYes,î Kerrith said, still leaning on the his spear. He seemed mildly surprised, the first time Solyma had ever seen him that way, when the dragon crouched on the ground and laid its head at his feet. This allowed Kerrith, not a short man by any means, to look directly into the dragonís eyes. 

ìHonorable Knight of the Shield, I beg you for assistance,î Vysthus said. ìMy egg has been kidnapped by a screeling. He has forced me to obey his commands by threatening my child.î 

ìHow did this happen, my lord?î Kerrith asked, flipping his spear and jamming it point first into the ground. 

ìHe stole into the cave that my wife and I share under cover of a fierce storm. Being a creature from beyond the veil, he managed to elude myself and steal my egg. I admit that I was not as cautious as I should have been, my wife and I have always been on good terms with the people of Cielcroix and I felt no reason to be vigilant. I have learned my lesson.î 

ìThatís all very well and good,î Solyma said, ìbut how do we know that youíre telling the truth? You could just be trying to get our guard down.î She tried not to show annoyance as Bradley and Tancred slowly edged away from her. 

ìYou cannot know, all I can do is offer my word. And the fact that I have not tried to kill you.î 

Solyma could hear Bradley sputtering in outrage from behind Kerrith. ìYou just tried to incinerate us!î he yelled, ducking back behind Kerrith when the dragon swiveled its massive head towards him. 

ìNo, he didnít,î Solyma said. ìHe wasnít using a very hot or fast flame, why?î 

ìThe screeling has the shade of a mage serving him,î Vysthus said. ìI was afraid that he would be watching us.î 

ìThen why are you talking to us now?î 

ìI have spun a weave around us to block any attempts to scry into this area.î Solyma turned her head to look at Hector who nodded slightly. 

ìI suppose we should find your egg then,î she said. 

        ***

 Sammel sighed and tried to explain what he wanted to the incubus again. The incubus was stupid even by the rather lax standards of its kind and was doing its level best to escape from the summoning circle. 

ìNo, now listen- No there arenít any women for you here,î Sammel said. ìFind the elf woman and bring her back here, yes, an elf. No, you canít have her, my master wants her for himself.î The incubus grunted in anger, obviously upset at not being able to have his way with the elf. ìIf you do this, then you can have all the women you want.î 

The incubus sounded like he liked that idea. Sammel finished securing the weaves of tracking and control to the creature before he opened the circle. ìNow find the elf woman and bring her back here, unharmed!î Sammel said as the creature raised its nostrils and sniffed at the air. In a flash the creature crashed through the libraryís windows and was off into the forest. Sammel fervently hoped his control over the beast didnít slip. Most incubii would use their power of illusion and mind control to place their victims in whatever fantasy they most wanted, subsequently feeding on the sexual energy given off by the women. This one looked like a throwback to the incubiiís primitive ancestry as a race of magical predators, generally content to mate with anything female. 

        ***

 Faded and dry, the flower still exuded its soft, delicate scent despite the fading effects of time. Ismene felt tears welling up in her eyes as she gently stroked the scarlet flower with a trembling fingertip. She had found the flower in her bag, tucked away in an inside pocket and forgotten since that night... 

The moon shone brightly down on the small garden next to the manor. From inside the ballroom music could still be heard along with snatches of conversation drifting on the night air. Lord Volchim and Ismene waltzed through the garden, uncontrollable grins on their faces as they spun each other to the faint music of the orchestra. 

Ismene laughed in delight as Lord Volchim lifted her by her slender waist and spun her around him before pulling her close and kissing her. Her laughter faded as she murmured in pleasure and ran her hands over his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath fabric of his jacket and shirt. 

Lips still pressed together, they sat heavily on a stone bench near a profusion of orchids. Ismene closed her eyes as she took a deep breath, the heady perfume of the flowers making her head spin. She opened her eyes as Lord Volchim reached down and plucked a single scarlet blossom from the garden. She watched with wide eyes as he tucked it in her hair just over her ear and leaned forward to kiss her again... 

Ismene blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the flood of tears that threatened to overwhelm her. Despite her efforts a single tear slid down her cheek and dropped onto the flower, soaking into the faded stem. Ismene jerked her head up as she heard Amy and Theodoric running down the hall, their voices raised in laughter as they chased Irvanís small dog, their laughs accompanied by the small creatureís delighted barking. Ismene smiled and wiped her eyes with a handkerchief, tucking the flower back into the darkness of her bag before standing and going to the door. 

ìIf youíve got that much energy, you can help me wash the clothes-î she began. In the warm darkness of her bag, the flower bloomed again, its withered stem and petals swelling with new life. 

        ***

 ìThereís someone else trying scrying the area around the manor,î Hector said suddenly. Solyma looked over from where she was lounging on small lawn of grass in front of the town hall. 

ìAny idea who that could be?î she asked. 

ìIt is most likely Irvan, the local mage,î Vysthus answered. ìI have not been able to contact him since the screeling took control over Lord Volchim.î 

ìWhereís he live?î 

ìIn a tower a short distance from town.î 

ìCan you take us there? If we work together we should be able to find the egg a lot faster.î 

        ***

 The incubus snorted the air, catching the distant scent of an elf woman on the breeze. Grinning, it dropped from the tree branch it had perched on and darted through the densely packed trees of the forest. 

        ***

 Ismene sighed as she leaned against the warm stone of the towerís outside wall, her hands tangling in the moss and other vegetation that grew over it. She had snuck out for a few minutes by herself to cry without disturbing the children. 

She wiped her eyes with her handkerchief and turned to walk back around the tower towards the door. The young elf froze when she saw the creature standing in front of her. 

The monster was at least six feet tall and heavily built. Two small horns stuck from its forehead, lending an even more fearsome aspect to the monsterís face. It had long jaws which parted to reveal a mouthful of sharp teeth and a long, snakelike tongue.

Ismene slowly began to back away from it, hoping to circle around the tower and get in the door. 

She stopped as it snarled at her, a barbed tail rising from behind its back to lash back and forth. Looking down, she saw a monstrous cock jutting from between the creatureís legs, the same greenish-grey color as the monsterís skin. 

Ismene managed to scream once as the monster leapt at her and bore her to the ground. She struggle fiercely against it and managed to punch it in the snout as it leaned down to lick her face. It snarled in anger and covered her mouth with one of its claws before lifting her in its arms and running into the forest. Ismeneís struggles proved futile as the tower disappeared behind them and the shadowed depths of the forest surrounded them. 

        ***

 Vysthus arrived at the tower first, circling and finally swooping in for a landing as Solyma and her companions trudged up the small dirt road on foot. 

ìWe should have brought horses,î Bradley mumbled to himself as they entered the towerís clearing. 

ìNo room on the ship,î Kerrith said mildly. 

ìItís not like it was much of a walk, maybe two miles,î Solyma said. 

ìWell, Iím not used to walking so much,î Bradley said as he sank to the grass of the clearing and pulled off his boots. He rubbed his feet as the rest of the group studied the tower. They were startled as the door burst open and an elderly mage burst out, weaves crackling around him. 

ìIsmene!î he yelled and then he noticed them. ìWho are you? Vysthus? What are you doing here? What did you do with Ismene?î 

ìWeíre from Corannon-î Solyma began, only to be interrupted by Vysthus. 

ìWhat has happened to Ismene, Irvan?î the dragon asked. 

ìSheís gone! The children said she went outside for a moment but never came back. If you didnít take her, then who did?î 

ìThe screeling.î 

ìAeleonís book,î the mage moaned, ìIíve got to find her!î 

ìWait a minute!î Solyma yelled. ìWhatís going on here? Whoís Ismene?î 

They listened as Irvan and Vysthus quickly told them of what had been happening in Cielcroix, starting with the death of Lord Volchimís wife and finishing with Ismeneís escape from the manor with the children. 

ìRight,î Kerrith said. ìCan horses travel through the forest?î 

ìNot easily,î Irvan said. ìUsually itís easier to go around and take the roads, even if it is a longer trip.î 

ìVery well, Tancred, you have certain abilities. Will you be able to follow the trail of Ismeneís kidnapper? The rest of us will remain here and try to find Vysthusí egg.î 

Tancred sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose after removing his dark spectacles. ìYeesss,î he said slowly. ìItíll be tough in daylight, but I suppose Iíll still be faster than the rest of you. But why doesnít Vysthus find her?î 

ìIf the screeling, Cirron, sees him, he may order Vysthusí egg killed,î Irvan explained. 

ìOh, I see- Wait. What was his name?î 

ìCirron Maccius, why?î 

Tancred sighed again and glanced over at Solyma. ìRemember Cirron?î he said. Solyma made a face and nodded. 

ìYou knew him?î Irvan asked incredulously. 

ìYes, I killed him. He was a mercenary under my command when I was younger. He was too out of control and I had to kill him one day.î 

ìThen youíre Tancred Guiscard?î 

ìThe one and only,î Tancred said with a faint smile as he sketched a bow. ìIíd better get after, whatís her name? Ismene. I can still smell her. Sheís an elf,î he said with a wink in Solymaís direction. Then he was off, seeming to almost glide between the trees with supernatural agility and speed. 

        ***

 Ismene screamed as the monster pinned her to the soft earth of the forest floor, his tongue sliding over her face as she twisted in his grasp. She lashed out with her knee and caught the incubus in the groin, causing itís grasp to loosen. Wriggling frantically, she managed to pull free and slide out from under the creature. She was a few steps from the creature when she felt a hand close around her ankle and pulled her to the ground. 

Her breath exploded from her lungs as she fell to the forest floor, bits of leaves and twigs scattering. She pushed herself up with her hands, looking over her shoulder at the creature holding her. She screamed again as it pulled her dress from her body with one hand, leaving her barely clad in her shift and stockings. 

Her screams were cut off as the incubus covered her mouth with its hand and pinned her beneath it, its breath hot and loud in her ear. Ismene squirmed beneath the monster as it ran its tongue over her neck and up the curve of her jaw, stopping to nip at the tip of her ear with its teeth before sucking hungrily at her neck. 

Ismene sobbed in terror as the thingís cock pressed against her back. She could feel a warm wetness soaking through her shift as the incubus rubbed its cock against her. The young elf moaned in despair as she realized there was no escape from the creature. 

Her eyes widened as the thing lifted itself off of her and tore her shift off, tossing the ruined garment to one side before grasping her hips and pulling her bottom into the air. Ismene twisted madly as the thing wrapped its arms around her waist and slid its cock over her bottom towards her entrance. She screamed in despair as the tightened its grip, realizing what was going to happen to her. 

The incubus let its weight fall onto her, crushing her to the soft earth. Ismene clawed at the ground, vainly hoping for some miracle to rescue her. She shuddered as the monster licked at the back of her neck then down to her the creamy white skin of her bare shoulder. She let her head fall to the dirt, her body tensing as the monster shifted and prepared to drive into her.

Ismene closed her eyes and waited for the inevitable. 

Just as the monster was ready to penetrate her, Ismene felt a rush of air and then the monsterís weight was off her. She scrambled to her feet and was turning to see what had happened when something hard struck her in the forehead, sending her tumbling to the ground unconscious. 

        ***

 The sea had been calm that day, small waves moving over the surface of the ocean as gently as if it were a lake. Lord Volchim was at the tiller of the small sailboat as they sailed out past the tip of the peninsula towards the pod of whales. 

ìIsmene,î he had said, ìI think I love-î 

Ismene had been surprised when he had leaned over and kissed her, but not enough to not enjoy it. The kiss had seemed to go on for a long time until a sudden splash of water over the edge of the boat had soaked Ismene to the skin. Vysthus had apologized for surfacing so close to the boat, he had forgotten how small it was. After that, they had watched the whales. 

ì-my fault!î a manís voice was saying somewhat petulantly. ìI didnít mean for the incubus to knock a tree down on her!î 

ìTancred,î another voice said, this one feminine and a warm sensuousness to it. ìNo oneís blaming you, weíre lucky that she wasnít hurt badly.î 

Ismene opened her eyes and looked at the whitish blur of the towerís living room ceiling. ìLook, sheís awake,î the woman said. Ismene blinked slowly and tried to move her head, groaning as a stabbing pain jabbed through her temples. A beautiful human woman with long coppery hair was leaning over her and placing a cool cloth on her forehead. ìHow are you feeling?î 

ìWhat happened?î Ismene asked quietly. 

ìThis man saved you,î Irvan said as he leaned over the back of the couch to look down at Ismeneís face. ìHeís from Corannon. Theyíre here to stop Cirron.î Ismene smiled at the handsome man wearing the dark spectacles. He smiled back, flashing brilliant white teeth and canines that seemed longer than they should be. 

ìIím not the best healer,î the woman was saying to Irvan, ìbut I think she should get all the rest she can.î Irvan nodded and patted Ismene on the shoulder. 

ìWeíll be in the kitchen if you need anything,î he said with a gentle smile. Ismene nodded back and found that she was already falling asleep as they walked away. 

ìIt wasnít my fault,î Tancred said again as they gathered around the kitchen table. He had been especially moody since he had gone after the elf girl. Solyma thought it was the sun getting to him. He had been in the sun for the past three days, on and off. It wouldnít kill him, but it sure wasnít helping his temper. Solyma also thought he might be hungry. 

ìNo one thinks that it is, Tancred,î she said soothingly with a pat on his hand. ìNow, how are we going to get the dragonís egg back.î 

ìI have a name,î Vysthus said through the open kitchen window. 

ìSorry, how are we going to get Vysthusí egg back?î 

Tancred was only half-listening as the rest of the group sketched out a plan to decoy most of the undead and Cirron away from the manor with an illusion of Ismene. Tancred toyed with the cuff of his shirt sleeve as Kerrith questioned Irvan on the layout of the manor and where the egg was. With Hectorís help, Irvan had managed to find the egg fairly easily. 

The vampire sighed as Irvan began to put together dinner for his guests, knowing that he would have to find some other way of getting nourishment. Maybe Solyma, he thought with a little smile. Or failing that, he could go find some animals in the woods.

ìThank you,î he said as Irvan gave him a glass of wine. 

Cirron, Tancred thought as he sipped his wine. He had been ruthless even for a mercenary, showing no regard for the lives of civilians or anyone else in his way. Men, children, women... Tancred grimaced at the thought of what Cirron had done to the women unlucky enough to fall into his clutches. He still felt sorry that he hadnít killed Cirron earlier, he might have saved Tatiana... 

ìHey, Tancred,î Solyma said. Tancred looked up guiltily and saw that everyone else had left to prepare. ìYou coming?î 

ìWhatís happening?î Tancred asked. 

ìWeíre getting ready to leave for the manor, Vysthus and Irvan are going to create a diversion while you get the egg.î 

ìMe?î 

ìYes, werenít you listening? You kept nodding your head.î 

ìSorry, I was thinking of something, someone else.î 

ìWell, come on, youíll need to eat before you go. I think I can spare some blood,î Solyma said with a wink as she led Tancred towards the guest bedroom. ìIíll explain the plan to you.î 

        ***

 Cirron fumed as Sammel reported the death of the incubus. ìHow am I supposed to summon a legion of Dathuz then?î he yelled. 

ìSir, Iíve been scrying for the elf woman and Iíve just found her near town along with Irvan. I think they might be trying to escape.î 

ìEscape? Whereís Vysthus? I want them dead!î 

ìVysthus reports that heís on his way but there are Krisephyrian forces in town with mages. Heíll need help.î 

ìBah! Useless lizard! Leave a guard for the egg and form the rest up in front of the road. Weíll wipe out those Kingdom fools and get our sacrifice.î 

        ***

 ìThey took the bait!î Bradley whispered excitedly. 

ìYeah, Cirron never was the brightest candle in the chandelier,î Tancred said, feeling much better with some of Solymaís blood in him. They were both still flushed from the, ah, briefing that she had given him. 

ìYou know your job?î Kerrith said, peering out of the undergrowth they were hidden in at the receding forms of Cirronís undead soldiers. 

ìDo the vampire, shadow of the night, thing and get the egg out from underneath the guardís noses. I know what to do,î he said, feeling immensely better with nightfall and eating. 

They watched as Tancred stood and became a cloud of reddish mist spreading out over the ground. He slowly began to drift towards the manor house, indistinguishable from any of the other patches of mist and fog forming in the night air. 

        ***

 Ismene sighed softly as she closed the door to the childrenís room. They had been worried sick over her and had had trouble getting to sleep. It had taken three stories and a lullaby before they finally drifted off. 

She slowly walked down the short hallway to the stairs and then down to the living room, her feet slipping soundlessly over the rug. She stopped in front of the window and gazed out at the moon and towards the patch of forest where she knew the manor was. 

ìIs everything alright, Miss Isalisos?î Hector said as he floated in from the kitchen, wooden spoon still in hand. He had been idly working on a batch of chili, hoping that the smell of cooking food would help relax Ismene and the children. 

ìOh, yes, yes, everything is fine,î Ismene said as she looked over at the odd familiar of the female mage. He was a pair of gauntlets and a helmet and that was all, something Ismene couldnít ever remember seeing before, even in Taladros. 

ìIs it?î he said, floating closer. Oh yes, Ismene thought, the monocle. It flashed in the moonlight and reminded Ismene of a particularly stuffy merchant friend of her fatherís. 

ìNo, I suppose it isnít. Lord Volchim, Arcin, is trapped inside that monster and no one is willing to try to free him,î Ismene said, more sharply than she had intended to. 

ìThere is no way to free him, Ismene,î Hector said softly. ìThree mages taught at the College agree. Without someone to perform the rites of exorcism, Cirron will have complete control of Lord Volchimís body.î 

ìThen why donít we find somebody who can do them?î Ismene asked, feeling her voice rising. 

ìThereís no one in Cielcroix alive who knows them.î Hector floated closer and held up the spoon. ìHere, try some chili, itís very good.î 

ìWhy canít they capture him and take him somewhere where someone knows how to save him?î 

Hector sighed as he lowered his spoon, his chili still untasted. ìThey will try their best to do so. But Cirron is a dangerous man, he may not allow himself to be captured.î 

Ismene wiped at the tears coursing down her face with the back of her sleeve. ìI wish I could talk to him one more time, tell him that I know he wasnít the one who-î She stopped and looked down at the floor, moonlight reflecting off her tears. 

ìI wouldnít worry about that if I were you, he probably knows that. Did you say anything like that to Cirron?î 

ìI...donít think so. Why, could he hear me if I said something?î 

Hector cursed inwardly as he saw the sudden hope that lit up Ismeneís face. ìNo, I donít think-î But he was too late. Ismene had rushed out the door and down the stairs, her hair flying behind her. 

        ***

 ìHeís taking his sweet time getting the egg,î Solyma grumbled, swatting at a mosquito buzzing around her head. She was trying to remember a weave to repel insects when she saw something moving behind one of the manorís windows. 

ìThere he is,î Kerrith said. ìCan anyone tell whatís happening?î 

ìUm,î Solyma said as she squinted, trying to see through the night. Suddenly there was a crash and Tancred flew through a large window to land hard on the ground outside. He had an egg slightly larger than his head cradled in his arms as he stood shakily. ìLetís get the horses,î Solyma said 

Tancred was swearing loudly as he limped over to them, his clothes torn and bloody furrows scratched in his face and his arms.

ìThrice damned zombies,î he mumbled as he climbed onto his horse wearily. None of them noticed the pale shape of an elf woman slipping into the manor as they rode away. 

        ***

 They had just turned onto the road leading back to Merglise and from there to Irvanís tower when Solyma heard Hector calling to her. Kerrith looked questioningly back at her as she reined in her horse and bent her head. 

She swore vehemently as she listened to Hector. ìIsmeneís gone missing,î Solyma said. ìHector thinks sheís headed back towards the manor.î Solyma paused, listening to Hector again. ìGodís blood! Hector thinks that she wants to try to talk to Lord Volchim.î 

ìWeíve got to find her,î Kerrith said. ìBradley, go with Tancred and ride back towards town and the tower. If weíre lucky youíll intercept her on the way.î Kerrith looked over to Solyma. ìWeíll head back towards the manor, she may have passed us while we were in the forest.î 

        ***

 Ismene walked slowly through the rotting halls of Lord Volchimís manor. Decay seemed to have set in at a tremendous speed, causing the polished woods and painted plaster to fade and mold. It was hardly recognizable as a place where children had once run or dances held. 

She had seen none of the undead and could not feel their presence. Ismene took that as a sign that the soldierís plan had worked and drawn off the undead guarding the manor. She wondered if her trip was wasted. In all likelihood Lord Volchim- no, Cirron would be leading his troops. 

For a moment Ismene hesitated and turned to look back toward the main entrance of the manor. Down the fungus and moss festooned walls she could see the doorway to the main foyer of the manor. Rectangles of moonlight shone in through the dirt smudged windows that line the hallway, casting stark shadows over the floor. ìNo,î she whispered. ìI have to do this.î 

Steeling herself, Ismene began to walk towards the library. As she approached she could see flickering lamplight shining under the doors. Her steps slowed as she reached the doors and shivered. She could feel the presence of the undead behind the doors, as palpable as a clammy hand grasping her heart. 

Ismene quickly wove the charms against the draining power of the undead around her, feeling the chill effect pass from her soul.

Biting her lip nervously, she lifted the latch of the door and pushed it open. 

Cirron was sitting at Lord Volchimís desk, his booted feet propped up on the top of the desk while he leaned back in Lord Volchimís chair, idly tapping a riding crop against his hand. He was looking over towards Ismeneís left at something she could not see while a warm breeze blew in through the shattered window. 

ì-soon as Sammel getís back,î he was saying. ìYouíre a lucky bitch, the Dathuz like their women as pure as possible. Sammel says that you wouldnít make a very good sacrifice after being violated in every way. But donít think youíll escape that fate. Iíll enjoy watching you scream.î Ismene froze, suddenly paralyzed by fear as Cirron looked over towards her and jumped to his feet. She didnít run as he rushed towards her and seized her around the waist, pressing her body to his as he leered at her. ìAs stupid as you are beautiful,î he said and dragged her into the library. 

ìLord Volchim, I know you can hear me-î she said, trying to catch his eye as he shoved her to the floor in front of the desk. 

Ismene winced as the hard wood floor banged into her knees. From her position she could see who Cirron was talking to. The cook, a woman of perhaps twenty-five summers hired just a few years ago was lying against the shelves lining the wall. She was bound hand and foot and gagged. Marks of tears could be seen on her face and her dress was torn in many places, exposing her quite immodestly. 

ìYour Lord Volchim is dead!î Cirron yelled, raising his hand and nearly striking Ismene across the face. He stopped and smiled evilly. ìAnd soon youíll wish you were too.î 

        ***

 Solyma studied Kerrith from the corner of her eye as they rode back up the road towards the manor. He seemed to be almost enjoying himself. She wasnít surprised. Kerrith never seemed to be as full of life as when he was riding to the rescue of some fair damsel in distress. Which was probably why he was a Knight. 

        ***

 ìMy lord, I am sorry to report that there was no sign of the elf woman or Irvan,î Sammel said as he floated into the library.

ìVysthus was-î he broke off as he saw the kneeling form of Ismene. 

ìShe came to me!î Cirron crowed. ìNow, summon the Dathuz, we have wine and women for it to enjoy!î 

ìLord Volchim,î Ismene said as Sammel began to outline the loops and curves of the summoning weave. ìPlease, can you hear me?î 

ìHeís-î Cirron began and stopped, holding his head. He grunted in pain and slammed his fist on the desktop, making the books stacked there jump. ì-Dead! I, am, in, control!î he yelled, punctuating each word with a slam of his fist. 

ìI know you didnít want to do...what you did to me,î Ismene said, looking into Cirronís eyes, praying that Arcin could hear her, even if he couldnít reply. ìI remember the day on the boat and the night of the ball. I know you wouldnít do that to me.î 

ìBe quiet, you filthy whore!î Cirron shouted, clutching his head in his hands as Sammel began to finish his weave. The slammed his fist into the desk again and swept it free of books. His right eye seemed to be glinting red while his other seemed to be normal in color. 

ìIsmene,î he suddenly said in a tired and distraught voice, ìget out of-î 

ìNo!î Cirron shouted as his eyes suddenly flared red. ìSammel, are you ready?î 

ìYes, my lord, just place the girl in center of the circle,î Sammel said. 

ìIím going to enjoy this,î Cirron snarled as he lifted Ismene by her hair and shoved her into the waiting circle. The weave flared to life, trapping her within it. Ismene watched helplessly as Sammel finished the weave of summoning and opened the way for a Dathuz. 

The elf woman scrabbled backwards, feeling her back press against the wall of magic that enclosed the circle. She could feel the charm she had woven around herself flickering and failing as a blast of energy, fouled by the touch of the undead, blew out of the center of the circle. She shivered as she saw the strands of magic tightening and spinning in her vision until a pitch black vortex formed and opened. 

Cirron smiled at Ismeneís scream. He watched as the portal opened and an amorphous black shape flowed out to land in the middle of the circle. The shape seemed to unfold as it stood until a gaunt figure formed of darkness stood in the circle. 

ìWhat do you want, screeling?î the Dathuz asked, its voice sounding like the scrape of an executionerís axe over the whetstone. 

ìMy lord,î Sammel said obsequiously, ìwe ask for a boon.î 

ìWhat?î 

ìMy lord, we ask you to lead an army for us, an army of your fellow Dathuz.î 

ìIt will take a great price before I stoop to serving you, screeling.î 

ìWe have all that you could want,î Cirron said suddenly as he approached the circle holding a long necked crystal bottle. ìThat woman is yours to do with as you please and I have a bottle of the finest diamondflower extract.î 

The Dathuz made an echoing cough which Sammel realized was a grunt. ìIf you agree, I will allow you stay on Alderest for as long as you may desire,î Sammel said. 

ìVery well,î the Dathuz said. ìKeep me supplied with what I desire and I shall serve you.î With that, the Dathuz turned from them as if they didnít exist, turning his entire attention to Ismene. ìAn elf woman, young. It has been too long.î 

Ismene tried to recoil from the Dathuz as it turned towards her but could do little more than moan feebly. The dark shape became more defined as it approached her, changing from a vague outline of a humanoid to a definite shape. Ismeneís eyes widened as the Dathuz reached out and caressed her cheek and she whimpered as it brought its head close to hers. She could barely make out the Dathuzís face, it seemed to be cloaked in a shifting pattern of shadow and darkness. Suddenly, like a face appearing from a cloud, she made out the form that the Dathuz had taken. She recoiled as the face of a minotaur appeared and leaned forward. 

ìLeave...leave me alone,î she managed to say in a quiet voice. Her head was spinning and she could barely see as the weakening effect of the undead flowed over her. 

ìI think not,î the Dathuz said quietly and suddenly she felt the cold of its presence recede. Ismene looked up at it, feeling returning to her hands and face. But the Dathuz was still there. 

ìHow?î she said as she stood on wobbly legs, leaning against the wall of the circle for support. She could see the Dathuz more clearly now. The stories she had heard had done nothing to prepare her for the sight of the spirit of someone dead for years. This Dathuz had shaped himself into the form of a minotaur with clawed hands and spiraling horns, whether from some perverse desire or whether it was his natural form, Ismene did not know. 

ìDo you think I have spent centuries in the darkness without learning to control it?î the Dathuz said. ìIt has become a part of me.î 

ìPlease, donít do this,î Ismene said as the Dathuz reached out, knowing that her words were useless. 

The Dathuz laughed at Ismeneís struggles, pulling her close and running a cold claw over her cheek. Ismene squeezed her eyes shut as the undead kissed her, the chill of his lifeforce making her shiver. She turned her head frantically as the Dathuz sought her lips, her hair coming loose from its pins and flying a waves around her face. 

Ismene moaned as she the Dathuz kissed her, wincing as it bit at her lower lip, feeling herself grow colder as the thing sucked her life from her body. A half remembered lesson floated back to her, the Dathuz wanted life above all else and they could steal it from a living being for their own purposes. Ismene struggled weakly, her hands clutching at the Dathuzís wrists and trying to pull them away. It felt as if she were trying to grip soft, gellid ice with the strength of tempered dwarven steel. 

ìNot yet, not before I have a chance to sample your charms,î Ismene heard the Dathuz say. He released her, watching in satisfaction as she fell to the floor, her body shaking uncontrollably. She could do nothing but shiver as the Dathuz waved his hand and caused her clothing to fall away from her body, crumbling the cloth into dust and blowing in the breeze. 

Ismene panted for breath as the Dathuz knelt behind her and raised her onto her hands and knees. She stared straight ahead, reading the titles of the books on the shelves in front of her, trying desperately to ignore what the Dathuz was doing. She whimpered softly when the Dathuz ran its hands over her back and down to her waist. Her body was shivering with fear as she closed her eyes and waited. 

Ismene made a strangled cry as the Dathuz pushed his cock into her unprepared anus. Tears sprang to her eyes as she stuffed the edge of her hand into her mouth, biting down and trying to keep from screaming in pain as the Dathuz squeezed her waist tighter and jerked her back onto its cock. Her head fell forward and she made muffled squeals of pain as the Dathuz pushed harder, its cock sliding into her one agonizing inch at a time. For a moment she thought she was going to pass out then the Dathuz stopped, its crotch pressing against her smooth buttocks. 

Ismene breathed hard through flared nostrils as she tried to get used to the horrible feeling of the Dathuzís cock in her ass. Just when she thought she could bear the pain it was causing her, the Dathuz roughly pulled back until only a bit of his cock remained in her. His next thrust forced her down onto the floor, her small breasts rubbing against the polished wood. Each thrust caused her breath to explode from her body in a gasp. Her hand had fallen from her mouth and Ismene would have screamed but for the fact that she could barely gasp enough air to breathe. The Dathuz began to thrust harder into her, jerking her bottom into the air as it lifted her on its cock. Eyes wide and glazed with pain, Ismene felt the Dathuz come in her. 

Ismene turned her head to the floor and struggled not to cry as the Dathuz slowly pulled out of her, savoring the feeling of her ass clenching at his cock. The elf woman let out a wavering moan of relief as the Dathuz finally pulled himself out of her and leaned back to sit on the floor. 

ìDonít think weíre done yet,î the Dathuz whispered as he stroked her sweat slick back. Ismene managed to whimper softly as the Dathuz gathered her in his arms and lifted her into the air, its freezing arms freezing against her flushed skin. 

Ismene moaned as the Dathuz turned her to face away from it and pressed her against its chest. Her teeth chattered as the Dathuz kissed the back of her neck and reached down to part her legs. Her efforts to close them failed miserably, she could barely keep her head from lolling like a rag dollís. Her eyes widened as she saw what Cirron was doing to the cook. He had the poor woman bent over the desk and was tearing the few shreds of clothing that remained from her body. 

Ismeneís attention was brought back to her own plight as the Dathuz let her slide down his body until the tip of his cock pressed against her quim. She shivered as she saw the thing, erect and ready to impale her. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth as the Dathuz loosened his grip on her waist and let her slide onto his cock. 

A stifled whimper escaped her clenched teeth as his cock began to penetrate her. She moaned as he thrust his hips upwards while jerking her down onto his cock, sliding a fraction of an inch into her. Her hands tightened into fists at her side, her nails biting into her palms as she tried to keep from screaming. 

ìI had forgotten how tight you elves are,î he hissed into her ear as he moved one hand up to rub and caress her stomach. ìAre you enjoying this? I will try to be gentle,î he said with a hard thrust up into her and a laugh. He laughed again as he stroked her silken blonde hair and buried his muzzle in it, smelling deeply and inhaling the sweet scent of the soap she had used earlier in the day. 

Ismene groaned as he slowly slid into her, whimpering with each thrust. She could feel herself drifting away from what was happening, away from the painful thrusts of the Dathuz, away from the screams and cries of the cook. 

The Dathuz grunted in disappointment as the elf fainted although he wasnít surprised. He left any pretense of gentleness behind as the elfís head nodded forward and yanked her down onto his cock. He could feel her quim squeezing his cock as it slowly accommodated him, pleasures he had not felt in centuries flooded back as he ran his hands up the womanís flanks and cupped her small breasts. His hands easily covered them as he began to squeeze and fondle them in time to his thrusts, stroking her nipples and smiling as they hardened. He began to grunt in pleasure as he pumped faster into the elfís limp body, his hands fondling and groping her skin. 

Cirron watched, his eyes glazed with lust, as the Dathuz had his way with the elf woman. He had been disappointed at her lack of screams and pleas, he had been hoping she would have at least cried. But her violation was pleasing enough, apparently painful enough to cause her to faint before the Dathuz had finished with her. Cirron smiled and licked his lips as he pushed his cock deeper into the struggling woman beneath him. She screamed each time as he pushed deeper into her quim, her body jerking and squirming beneath him as he bent her over the desk. He pulled her dark hair back cruelly, making her watch as Ismene was violated. ìYouíll be the Dathuzís next toy,î he said in her ear, delighting in her despairing wail. With each thrust he imagined that it was that sweet elf he was taking again, her cries and her tears. 

        ***

 Ismene blinked and tried to see where she was. It was dark around her, like the darkness just before dawn, full of potential and as if the world was holding its breath. She gasped as she remembered what had just happened, how the undead spirit was raping her. Her mind spun in confusion as she looked down and saw herself fully clothed in a ball gown and realized that she felt none of the pain that the Dathuz had caused her. 

ìHello?î she said to the darkness. ìAm I dead?î It didnít seem right. All her life she had been taught that when she died she would be led to the next world by Talas and Taleh, the twin gods of the elves. There was supposed to be a ship waiting for her not this warm darkness. 

ìIsmene?î She gasped as she heard that voice. 

ìLord Volchim? Arcin?î she said, looking frantically around her for him. Nothing but the darkness but then she heard the sound of bootheels on the floor. Turning towards the sound she saw a light like a candle bobbing around head height. ìIs that you?"

Ismeneís face broke into an ecstatic grin as she saw who was carrying the candle. ìArcin!î she yelled as she ran towards him. 

He caught her around the waist, letting the candle blow out as he spun her around in a circle and kissed her. The darkness was gone now, replaced by the light of lamps. Ismene looked around as they broke their kiss. 

ìWeíre in the library?î she said. But what she saw was not the decaying and dirty library that she had been in but the clean and warm library that Arcin had kept when she had first arrived. 

ìIsmene,î he said. ìThis is just an illusion.î 

ìThen, weíre dead?î Ismene said slowly. 

ìYou, no. Me, yes.î 

ìBut-î 

He quieted her by pressing his finger to her lips. ìI donít have much time left. Iíve used what little strength I have left to bring you here,î he said quietly, his eyes falling to the floor. ìThereís so much I want to tell you, but I donít have the time. Here,î he said, placing the harshly glowing curves of a magical weave in her hand. ìThereís no more time,î he said while the light from the lamps began to fade. 

ìArcin! No, wait, donít go yet!î Ismene cried. But there was only darkness. 

        ***

 The Dathuz grunted with as he pounded into Ismeneís quim. Her limp body jerked across the polished wood of the floor as he thrust into her while her arms lay splayed over her head. He groaned in pleasure as he felt himself climax and grabbed her breasts while he pushed himself all the way into her. 

ìAre you enjoying your woman?î he asked as he pulled out of the unconscious elf. The Dathuz turned to face Cirron. The woman had ceased her struggles and was lying limply beneath him with her eyes closed. 

ìImmensely,î Cirron grunted with a last thrust of his hips. ìWill you summon more of your kind now?î he asked as he pulled up his breeches. 

ìVery well.î 

        ***

 Solyma crept behind Kerrith, her sword at the ready and a weave of fire wrapped around her left hand. They were creeping towards the sound of a womanís high pitched screams. The screams had faded and stopped a few minutes ago making Solyma wonder if the woman was still alive. 

They stopped outside a set of double doors. Lamp light could be seen from under them and a muffled conversation heard. 

ìSomeoneís trying to summon something,î Solyma hissed under her breath. 

ìOn three, one, two, three-î Kerrith said, kicking open the door and rushing in under the cover of his shield, Solyma right behind him. Solyma had a glance of a man bent over a woman who lay limply beneath him on the desk before Kerrith leapt over the desk and tackled the man. 

Solyma ducked as she felt the heat of a fireball scorch over her head. Tucking and rolling to the side, she turned her head and saw the wavering form of screeling in time to dodge its next magical attack, a bolt of dark energy. 

Solyma dropped her sword as she brought both hands up and let loose a blast of magical fire. The screeling howled in agony as the fire loosened its ties to the world of the living and pushed it closer to the realm of the dead. Solyma ignored the deafening crashing and cursing coming from behind her and deflected another bolt of energy with a hasty weave of defense. 

The screeling roared and charged at her, flinging another bolt of energy as he flew towards her. Solyma hissed in pain as the screelingís hands grabbed her arm and sent a wave of freezing cold into her. With her free hand she conjured another fireball and this time shoved it into the screelingís face. She held the fireball there, pumping as much energy as she could channel into it and watching as the screelingís form wavered and finally disappeared in a burst of fog and tattered cloth. 

ìSolyma, watch out!î Kerrith yelled. Solyma spun and saw the nightmarish form of a Dathuz with the shape of a minotaur charging her. She tried to dodge away from it but failed as its hands hauled her back by the shirt and clamped around her neck. 

ìI wonít have time to enjoy you, pretty one,î the Dathuz said as it squeezed her neck in preparation for crushing her windpipe.

Solyma brought her knee up and scored a direct hit on the Dathuzís crotch, causing it to stagger. It was enough time for her to shove another fireball in its face. 

Solyma paled as the Dathuz shook its head and turned back to her, apparently unaffected by the fireball. She grasped at her dagger and yanked it from its sheath as her vision began to turn dark around the edges. Solyma stabbed the Dathuz in the neck and wrenched her dagger to the side, causing a stream of steaming black blood to shoot from the gaping wound. The Dathuzís grip loosened just enough for her to break free and fall to the floor gasping for breath. 

She looked up just as the Dathuz raised its claws to slash her open. Trying for a desperate dodge, Solyma jerked her body backwards into a reverse somersault. Expecting at any moment to feel the claws of the Dathuz tearing into her, Solyma finished her roll and hopped to her feet. 

Solyma watched as Ismene shoved a weave into the Dathuzís back, stopping it mid-strike. The weave began to glow and expand to surround the Dathuz and then began to tighten. The Dathuz roared in anger, his bellows shaking books from the shelves, as he was banished back to wherever he came from. 

ìIíll remember you, elf!î he screamed as his body shrank and disappeared. ìIíll have my revenge!î And then he was gone with nary a trace. 

Solyma turned at the sound of crashing glass and saw the fleeing form of Cirron running out the library door with Kerrith in hot pursuit. Rubbing her neck, Solyma chased after them and onto a large stone terrace. 

ìHeís getting away!î she yelled to Kerrith as they ran after him. ìHeís too damn fast!î It was true, Cirron was easily outpacing them and had reached the edge of the terrace before they had crossed a quarter of it. 

Cirron turned his head and slowed to make an obscene gesture at them and laughed as he turned to run. He grunted in surprise as Vysthus knocked him to the ground with a beat from his wing and landed to place his claw directly above the manís heart.

ìKill me and you kill Lord Volchim!î Cirron yelled in a last desperate gamble. Solyma and Kerrith ran up to the dragon, watching as Bradley, Tancred, and Irvan slid off his back. 

ìPlease, donít!î Ismene shouted as she ran out of the library and onto the terrace, her body covered only in a light lace curtain salvaged from the window. She ran over to Vysthus, her blond hair streaming in the moonlight to crouch by Cirron. ìArcin, if you can hear me, please show me,î she begged. 

Behind her Irvan shook his head and Kerrith moved forward to pull her back. He stopped when Cirron groaned, ìIsmene? Is that you? Itís so dark, I canít see. Help me, please.î 

ìItís him, itís Arcin!î Ismene cried out. 

ìArcin? Is that you?î Irvan asked. 

ìYes, please, Iím almost gone, I donít have any more strength to fight him,î he stopped and his eyes closed. When they opened he said, ìSee! Your precious lord is trapped within me! Kill me and you kill an innocent man!î 

ìVysthus, try the exorcism,î Irvan said. They watched as Vysthus began to craft a weave using his free claws and his serpentine tongue. The weave sparkled to life, seeming to flame and burn as it settled onto the chest of Lord Volchimís body. They watched as he screamed and flailed, his heels drumming against the granite of the terrace. 

ìPlease, Arcin, come back to me,î Ismene said. 

There was a long silence as Lord Volchimís body stilled. 

ìDid it work?î Irvan asked. 

ìI think so,î Vysthus said. ìIím not sure.î 

ìIt worked,î Lord Volchim groaned. ìI feel awful.î He looked at the claw pinning him to the ground. ìCan you let me up?î 

Vysthus grinned and lifted his claw as Lord Volchim sat up slowly. Ismene let out a sob of relief and rushed over to him as he stood, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his chest. ìDonít worry, Ismene,î Lord Volchim said, ìweíll have lots of fun together in the dark!î 

Kerrith swore as Cirron pulled a dagger from his belt and spun Ismene around. He held the dagger to her throat as he backed away, glancing up at Vysthus. ìDonít try anything or she dies.î 

Ismene struggled against him, feeling her heart crumbling with each obscenity that Cirron whispered in her ear. She gasped when he said, ìIsmene, itís really me this time. Iím trapped, I canít get free. I canít die as long as my body lives.î 

ìArcin?î 

ìNo!î Cirron said vehemently as he shook his head. ìLord Volchim is gone-î 

ìKill me!î Lord Volchim said. 

ìNo!î Cirron screamed, his grip on Ismene slipping. She managed to twist away from him enough so that she was facing him.

He seemed to be struggling with himself as his dagger came up and then lowered. 

ìTake it!î Lord Volchim hissed. Ismene stared at him as she took the dagger from his unresisting grip. 

ìDie you bitch!î Cirron yelled and charged at her. Ismene moaned in horror as she felt him charge onto the dagger and saw the pain in his eyes. He clutched at her as he fell to the terrace, blood spilling from his wound and painting the stone, shining black in the moonlight. 

ìIsmene?î Lord Volchim whispered as she lowered him to the terrace, blood soaking her hair and skin. ìIím sorry. Iím so sorry.î 

ìShhh, donít be. Irvan will heal you right up,î she said, smoothing back his hair from his face. 

ìNo, I have to die and take Cirron with me.î 

ìDonít talk like that.î 

ìIím sorry. Please,î he shuddered, ìforgive me?î 

ìOf course I forgive you.î 

ìGods, what a fool Iíve been...î 

ìShhh. Quiet. Why arenít you helping him?î Ismene asked, her voice cracking with grief. She shook her shoulder out from under Irvanís gentle touch. 

ìMiri? Where are you? Why didnít you come home?î Arcin asked quietly, his eyes seeing some distant time and place. ìI miss you so much. Iím sorry I wasnít there for you-î he shuddered again, his skin growing deathly white. ìMiri? Iím sorry,î he said as he looked up into Ismeneís face. 

ìI forgive you,î she said quietly. ìI love you, Arcin.î Ismene leaned over and kissed him gently on the mouth. 

ìI love you too, Miri. Iím sorry about your garden, Iíll help you plant a new one as soon as you get back-î Ismene watched in horror as his eyes glazed over, their gaze focused on someplace that she had never seen
 
 

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