A Wizard's War

The ship, Mermaid’s Cradle, was guided by great oars toward its final mooring point. The port of Votu L’Shoa was crowded with ships; fishing vessels, trading barges, the ships of Southport, and large naval vessels patrolled the outskirts of the L’Shoan waters. The Mermaid’s Cradle was too large to navigate the crowded docks, so they would take the dinghy to shore.

Not for the first time, Amos heaved and let loose his breakfast over the side of the ship.

“We are nearly there,” Dagon laid a comforting hand on the small of Amos’ back.

“Remind me,” Amos wiped at his mouth with his sleeve, “to never travel by sea again.”

“This city is beautiful,” Dagon admired the expansive cluster of wooden buildings and the palace sitting atop the promontory, “but it stinks of fish.”

“Not a fan of seafood?” Amos smiled as he sniffed at the salty air.

“I think I’ll have occasion to find out,” Dagon grimaced, “but I will miss my red meat and game from the wild forests.”

“Anything is better than the bilge water they’ve been feeding us and calling it soup,” Amos grumbled.

“Can’t argue with that…”

After learning that many of the survivors from Southport and Mayweather had fled in ships to Votu L’Shoa, Amos and Dagon had decided to follow along. Amos hoped he would find Ellina, but looking at the vast city, he was filled with doubt. At the very least they would be among allies and could figure out their next move. Amos wondered if Gregor had survived as well, he feared the worst, but tried to keep the thoughts out of his mind.

Amos sighed with relief as he felt his feet plant firmly back on solid ground. Dagon looped an arm around his and pretended to support the big man. Amos let him.

“Safe and sound,” Dagon whispered with a laugh.

“If you say so,” Amos grumbled and blushed as he laid his own hand over Dagon’s. Amos could feel the growing attraction between them, but they never discussed it.

“Where shall we start?” Dagon considered, “I see some of the banners from Southport here in the harbor… we could ask them about survivors.”

“It’s as good a plan as any.”

Amos followed Dagon’s lead, despite his awkwardness, the lanky archer had a certain charm. Amos supposed it was an easy smile; made you want to smile too. Several rugged soldiers from the Southport army pointed them in the direction of apartments that had been made ready for the survivors. Upon arriving at the apartments another man recognized Gregor Hightower’s name.

Before nightfall, Amos was standing outside the apartment of his old friend.

“What are you waiting for?” Dagon urged, “Should you knock?”

“There was much left unsaid,” Amos sighed heavily.

“Well,” Dagon motioned toward the door, “Now you get a chance.”

“Listen…” Amos looked at Dagon earnestly, “It was before I knew you. I felt…”

To Amos’ surprise the door suddenly opened, and an old woman let out a piercing cry of joy.

“Raigar’s beard and the Esther’s blessed rays!” Mirva grappled Amos in a tight hug, “I can’t believe you’re alive!!”

“Nor, I, you!” Amos chuckled with delight. Whatever worries he’d felt about meeting his old friend with his new friend (more-than-friend, potential lover), seemed to evaporate in an instant.

Over Mirva’s shoulder, Amos saw Gregor appear down the hall, walking with a limp. Gregor’s tired eyes grew wide in disbelief. Stumbling forward one hasty step at a time. Mirva moved aside and the three clutched each other in blissful reunion. There were tears and laughter but very little conversation at first.

“How is this possible?” Gregor finally asked.

“I owe my life to this man here,” Amos pointed at Dagon who raised a hand awkwardly, “Couldn’t have done it without him.”

Gregor swiftly took Dagon’s arm in greeting and shook it eagerly.

“What is your name, savior?”

“Dagon,” the archer spoke suddenly bashful, and let the curls of his hair partially hide his face.

“You are most welcome, friend! You have brought us great joy!”

“Here! Here!” Mirva exclaimed.

“Have you word from Mayweather?” Amos interjected eagerly. His hopes were high after finding Gregor so easily. Amos had his answer as Gregor and Mirva seemed to sober quickly.

“I’ve requested scouts be sent to find my family and Ellina, but nothing…” Gregor began and then bowed his head.

“I saw the destruction…” Amos felt near to tears again, “I already feared the worst. I just didn’t want to admit it.”

“More survivors trickle in every day, dear,” Mirva placed a hand on Amos’ shoulder, “Your sister could easily be among them.”

Amos nodded uncertainly before Gregor invited them inside. It was a cozy space at the end of the hall. A single room with a cooking fire and bedrolls on the hard stone floor. The wonderful aromas indicated that Mirva was in the midst of making their evening meal.

“What is that amazing smell?” Dagon licked his lips as he rubbed his hungry belly.

“Fish soup,” Mirva beamed, “I’d go for something more, but fish is what you get around here.”

“Didn’t you say there was a surprise this time?” Gregor jabbed curiously.

“Well…” Mirva shrugged, “If you must know, they also had a few scallops that I added this time. Thought it’d give us more to chew on.”

“I’m hungry enough to eat an old shoe,” Dagon laughed, “This sounds like a fine feast!”

“Mirva’s cooking is outstanding,” Amos confirmed, and they all prepared to dine.

They were silent while they ate. Mirva beamed with pride as she watched the eager men ravenously gulp the meal she prepared.

“Does Lady Evynee still lead the fight?” Amos asked after he’d finished. He wanted to ask more but dared not do so just yet.

“She sits frequently with the war council…” Gregor looked into the cookfire’s flames with a pained expression, “but I have not spoken with her in some time.”

“I see,” Amos grimaced, “I’m sorry.”

“For the best, I’d say,” Mirva chimed in knowingly. Gregor shot her a wounded look and Mirva simply shrugged as she began collecting bowls. Dagon jumped up to help her.

“You two catch up,” Dagon looked at Amos from beneath his dark curls as he helped Mirva.

“Where do I begin?” Gregor spoke at last after Mirva and Dagon had left to do the washing.

“I could start,” Amos moved a little closer, “I can tell there is much on your mind, and you can collect your thoughts while I do.”

“Alright then.”

Amos recounted his fight against the mechanical monstrosity with Dagon and how Dagon pulled him from the burning rubble to safety. After Amos had healed a bit, they began the long trek back to Mayweather to find any survivors.

“Lady Evynee…” Gregor looked ashamed, “She ordered the city destroyed so as not to fall into enemy hands. I feared you had died with the rest.”

Amos was shocked to see tears falling freely down Gregor’s cheeks when he looked back into Amos’ eyes. Amos took his friend’s hands in his own and leaned their heads together in comfort.

“I’ve felt so useless ever since,” Gregor choked on his sobs, “The way I turned you away.”

“None of this is your fault.”

“At least you’re here now,” Gregor planted his lips softly on Amos’, and Amos could taste the salty tears falling down his face. Amos pulled back almost instantly but cupped a hand on Gregor’s cheek, absently wiping the tears.

“There was a time,” Amos smiled sadly at his friend, “I would have wanted this more than anything.”

“But now?” Gregor asked.

“You are in pain,” Amos reasoned, “Trying to atone for what happened, but we both know that you chose Evynee because of who you truly fancy. I’m grateful you were my first, that I was able to share that experience with you, but if I’m honest…”

The door to the apartment opened and Mirva, followed by Dagon, stood in the entrance. Dagon saw the two men in their intimate position and cleared his throat. Amos let go of Gregor’s hand and sat up straighter, but it was much too late.

“I may go fetch water,” Dagon excused himself and set off quickly.

“But I got some earlier?” Mirva was confused and tried to stop him, but he was gone.

“I see,” Gregor nodded glumly as he looked between the door and Amos, “Then what are you waiting for? Go after him.”

Amos scanned Gregor’s face for jealousy or anger but saw only sincerity. His friend nodded again toward the door and motioned him to go.

“We have more to discuss,” Amos spoke apologetically.

“Of course, we do,” Gregor laughed tensely, “but it can wait.”

Amos ran out the door of the apartment as Mirva gingerly dipped out of his way.

“Esther’s wings! What was all that about?” Mirva asked Gregor.

“Young love,” Gregor smiled.

“Oh, how exciting!” Mirva chuckled.

“Dagon, wait!” Amos caught up with the archer as he was walking down a busy street. Dagon turned toward the big man with a stony expression on his face.

“I tried to tell you before we met them,” Amos panted, “There was a time I felt I wanted to be with Gregor…”

“And now?” Dagon asked hesitantly.

“I want you,” Amos pulled Dagon in and kissed him deeply. Dagon’s rigid body softened and leaned fully into Amos’ kiss. When they parted, Dagon had a shy grin on his face.

“I thought you felt the same, but we hardly discussed the first kiss by the river. I wasn’t sure what it meant. Seeing you with him…”

“’Tonight, we see each other’,” Amos interrupted.

“You have my back and I have yours,” Dagon smiled as a tear of joy slid down his cheek.

They kissed again. They kissed as they moved down the street. Their tongues found each other as they left the bustle of the street and stumbled into an empty stable. The smell of horse was heavy in the closed space, but they did not seem to notice as Amos pressed Dagon against a bale of hay. Soon Dagon’s tunic was over his head and his trousers around his ankles as Amos explored the pale, thin frame. He laid kisses all over the man’s body before swallowing his engorged shaft deeply.

“Oh, Amos,” Dagon moaned in pleasure as he felt the tongue exploring his shaft and the throat squeeze around his head. It was wet and warm, Amos worked at him with more love and attention than any lover before. Amos lifted Dagon, like he weighed nothing, and with Dagon’s legs around his thick neck he swallowed Dagon deeper.

Dagon felt safer and more in control than any point in his life even as he was lifted and handled by Amos. Dagon longed to be trapped in the embrace of this hulking, muscular stud forever, until their bodies melted as one in a flood of their orgasm.

“I want to taste you too,” Dagon spoke breathlessly, and Amos lifted him and planted him back on the ground. They both worked together to strip Amos down quickly and Dagon let free the large erection from Amos’ trousers. Dagon gasped and blushed with pleasant surprise. Dagon tasted his new lover and was not able to perform as diligently or as deeply as Amos, but he could hear the cries of ecstasy.

Amos’ mind was spinning, he couldn’t believe this was finally happening. His cock throbbed with excitement, he felt so full and hard, and the mouth was so soft. Amos knew he wouldn’t last long, but he was too lost in the pleasure to stop it. He came without warning, filling Dagon’s mouth with his warmth. Dagon choked in surprise, but then greedily tasted the reward.

“That was…” Dagon laughed awkwardly as he finally removed Amos’ semi-hard shaft from his lips.

“I want you inside of me,” Amos yanked Dagon to his feet as he turned around. Amos spat upon his fingers and began working his hole.

Dagon was hesitant, but his own dick was still so hard and as Amos toyed with his own muscular hole, he knew he wouldn’t resist. Dagon closed the distance and slipped inside as Amos leaned over the hay bales. However tight Amos throat had been, his ass was three times so. The round cheeks of Amos’ ass wrapped around every inch of him and clutched him deep with every thrust.

“Fuck, oh fuck,” Amos whimpered as Dagon picked up speed.

“You like the way I fuck you, big guy?”

“Yes…” Amos panted, looking back at Dagon, “Fuck me harder.”

Dagon gave him what he wanted. Their bodies slapping together loudly. Dagon had never laid eyes on such a perfect male form, let alone fill him with such wanton lust. Dagon stifled the cries of his intense orgasm as he collapsed over Amos’ back. The firm muscles beneath made Dagon’s cock twitch again and his body shuddered with the release.

“You are so warm inside me,” Amos whispered and then sighed.

“I have never…” Dagon panted, close to tears, “Felt anything so sweet.”

They collapsed in the loose hay nearby, holding each other as the world grew darker around them.

__________

The horses and soldiers trudged solemnly through the marsh lands. They were forced to navigate between sink holes and bogs while being bitten by mosquitos the size of butterflies. Several horses had already been lost and a good deal of men had succumbed to a sickness. The journey to Caiman’s Folly was treacherous and the last resort for the Order of Belothemid. Lord Byron was seething with rage at their failure in Southport, then the orcs had failed to meet them after conquering Mayweather. Instead of an army they were met by Orc Magister Sylas and a handful of followers.

“What is the meaning of this?” Lord Byron had growled and shot Auren a spiteful look.

“My apologies,” Sylas had stammered, “but Rom Hammerfist is no longer the orc king of Kaska…”

“I gave you power and station,” Auren screamed, “You promised you would see it through!”

“I’m sorry, my lords,” Sylas groveled, lowing himself on the ground, “A mysterious boy came and… I still don’t understand how… the miserable slave!”

“A boy?” Auren had chimed in eagerly, “With bright green eyes? Was his name Simon?”

“That is… how did you know?”

“Your little pet has cost us dearly,” Lord Byron spat.

“This is the will of Belothemid,” Auren rounded on Byron, “Would you dare question it?”

“Watch your tongue,” Byron growled, “Or watch me cut it out. I am god’s chosen vessel not this boy with whom you obsess!”

“Of course, my lord,” Auren backed away a step, but Byron had caught the contempt in the man’s eyes. When in the court of King Leopold, Auren had promised Byron such glory and power in their great conquest, but since meeting the boy they were led to failure at every turn.

“Please, my lords,” Sylas begged, “With some help I can return and reclaim Kaska…”

Lord Byron’s sword was a flash, and the ground was stained red with the magister’s blood.

“The hour is too late, and my men grow short on supplies. We cannot risk an open battle against orcs on the fields of the Savage Plains,” Byron declared, “We ride North and regroup with the garrison at Palamere. Then we move on Caiman’s Folly and the Hidden Path.”

“That route is riddled with danger,” Auren pleaded.

“Then I’ll make sure you go first,” Byron growled as he mounted his horse and issued his orders.

So much time had passed, and days had been wasted, but at last they were nearing the broken settlement of Caiman’s Folly. Lord Byron contemplated Auren’s motives as he rode, and he wondered if the old sorcerer had reached the limits of his usefulness.

Auren Qualls had brought the teachings of the Order to the Riven Kingdom and the court of King Leopold, but the religion had started long before under the guidance of the war wizard Arganon. Lord Byron had only recently become aware of the existence of a sect of the Order of Belothemid in Votu Vomir.

While in Palamere, Lord Byron had received an intriguing letter from Vicar General Akar of the Order of Belothemid suggesting an alliance to stamp out the corruption of the Votu High Council. Too long had the new gods reigned and it was time for the Votu Alliance to fall. It seemed plots were already in motion and new powers coming into play from within the Council itself. Lord Byron was not sure how best to use the information, but he kept it from Auren. Should the old wizard continue to fail and exhibit disloyalty, there may be other solutions.

Byron was pulled from his thoughts as a giant scaled beast erupted from a nearby bog. Many had mistaken the creature for a floating log but in an instant, its many sharp teeth dragged a horse and its rider back into the mossy water. Byron leapt from his horse and pushed his men aside as he approached the beast. The rider was still screaming when his head managed to rise above the surface of the water, his lower half missing in the blood-soaked water.

Byron ended the screaming man’s suffering and fed the blood to his hungering blade. The sword was wreathed in a black flame of unholy power as he plunged it deep into the beast’s skull. The creature thrashed and then grew still in the water.

“Drag it out of there,” Lord Byron ordered as he waded back out of the water, “Tonight we feast on its flesh, and I taste its heart.”

“Yes, my lord,” several soldiers moved to comply.

“One of the greater caimans,” Auren mused as he rode up on his horse, “I wondered if any still survived. They were hunted, mistaken for dragons at one time. And their scaley hides were sought after by traders.”

“Save your history lesson,” Byron snarled as he sheathed his sword, “It threatened my men and now it’s dead. Let that be the lesson.”

“Of course, my lord,” Qualls bowed his head.

“That look again,” Byron thought.

“Is the girl ready?” Byron asked the sorcerer.

“She is, my lord.”

“Good,” Byron looked toward the ruins in the distance, “Let us hope the line of Eldwood can still open the Hidden Path.”

“Elven magic is temperamental at the best of times. And the girl’s blood has been diluted by years of crossbreeding. There is no telling what will happen.”

“She will find a way,” Byron stated menacingly, “Or I will have no more use of her.”

Trudging through the marsh, tethered to several other prisoners, Jemma Eldwood drew closer to her fate. So long ago she had stumbled out of the woods and thought she’d found freedom only to be recaptured by goblins. Several times she had tried to end her own life, but they kept her alive and then punished her severely. Byron was a cruel man and Auren was equally sadistic. She had never been more unhappy to be born of elven blood.