Tanys Defiant Page 8

  “No!” Cini shouted, “I will possess the Flame, and I will be Queen!”

  Tanys moved to gag the woman again, but too late it seemed, for at that moment, a guardsman hammered at the bolted door of the chamber, demanding a word from the mistress of the ship. Tanys and Misha looked at one another in alarm, and Cini glared at them both, smiling fiercely through her gag to see their plans undone.

  “Did Jorva do wrong?” the dwarf asked.

  “No, Jorva did well,” Tanys answered, readying her dagger, “and now Jorva gets to fight again.”

  “Oh, good,” Jorva said pleasantly.

  Tanys looked to Misha who knelt again beside Carathan on the floor. Nothing of the cold indifference she had shown Cini remained in her now, and she was again just the fragile girl who loved a sorcerer. Misha held his head to her breast with tears in her eyes, rocking him gently and whispering fervently, “Come back to me, come back to me.”

  The door splintered beneath the pounding blows of the guardsmen outside, then burst inward. The ghasts charged into the room, eyes blazing with berserk fury as they fought to free their witch queen. Jorva hurled himself into the fray like a wild beast, tearing and breaking men apart with teeth and nails.

  Tanys ripped her knife through the throat of a charging guardsman, his bright blood sprayed hotly across her face as he fell gurgling to the floor. A spinning kick knocked the next man to the floor where the raven girl plunged the blade hilt-deep into his chest with a solid thump. A brutal kick to her ribs lifted her off her feet, and she lost her grip on the handle of the weapon still imbedded in the dying man’s body. Tanys looked up from the floor to see a familiar face.

  This was the third time this man had hurt her. She rose to her feet, determined he would never do so again. The ghast laughed mockingly, swinging an ugly shortsword in a slow arc before him as he advanced on her. “On your knees, sweetling,” he laughed harshly, “I’ve got something to give you.”

  The air whistled with the force of the kick Tanys drove up between the man’s legs. Her shin tingled with the crushing force of the blow, and his sword clattered, useless, to the deck as he tumbled forward, unable even to cry out in pain. Tanys caught him as he slumped to his knees, his hands clasped protectively, too late, over his groin. He gasped for breath as Tanys straddled him, cradling his head between her hands, pressing his face against her thigh. His eyes were rolled almost completely back under their lids as she lifted his chin, shifting her hips to brush the laced fly of her canvas breeches against his gasping lips.

  “That’s as close as you’re ever going to get.” Tanys said flatly, and with a sudden motion, she snapped the man’s neck.

  Tanys picked up the man’s sword and advanced on the remaining guardsmen. Six of the strongest ghasts had hurled themselves bodily atop the berserk dwarf, pinning him for the moment beneath their sweating, cursing bulk, though the effort had been costly, as evidenced by several missing teeth and fingers among them. Even now, they struggled to bring a blade to bear on the tattooed wildman in hopes of ending him. Tanys raised the sword, her lips parting to issue a challenge, when, with a snarl of triumph, Cini managed to shake free the gag that prevented her from casting spells.

  Tanys’ body once again betrayed her. This time, her every muscle contracted with unspeakable force, contorting her body and leaving her helpless on the floor, screaming in wordless agony. Through the red haze of her vision and the pounding of her heart in her ears, Tanys was distantly aware that Misha rose to her feet, just as a blast of cold blue light carried the southern girl’s frail body across the room, pinning her against the wall with crackling energy. Somewhere Cini was shrieking the words “Kill them!”

  Two guardsmen advanced on the fallen women, blades drawn, and the light of Cini’s witchfire gleaming in their crazed eyes. Tanys struggled against the bonds of the sorceress’ spell, her trembling hand weakly grasping for her fallen sword, knowing she would never reach it in time. Then, as though from somewhere far away, a voice like the wind in the pines spoke. The words were soft, barely audible, but they carried such power that everyone in the room stopped to listen… and obey. “Stop fighting.”

  Tanys’ eyes went to Carathan who sat, slumped in exhaustion, amidst the furs where Misha had laid him. As though his words carried spellcraft of their own, no one in the room could act against him. Cini’s spells were broken, and the pain was gone, but still Tanys’ body refused to move. Misha struggled to rise, unburned now by the cold flames of Cini’s wrath, but could only look upon the golden form of Carathan with helpless adoration. Cini still hung in her chains, her face a wasteland of rage and loss. Jorva and the guardsmen, still locked in a frozen struggle of life and death, stared, blankly, awaiting the next command of the fire-wreathed sorcerer’s voice.

  Carathan rose to his feet like a newborn foal, rivulets of sunlight streaming down his naked body to pool, steaming in the furs at his feet. “What do you want, Cini?” Carathan’s voice rasped like a golden mist from his lips, “Why have you done these things?”

  “I just…” Cini sobbed, her eyes full of tears, “I just wanted to be as powerful as you are.”

  “No, my love,” Carathan whispered, “that cannot be.”

  “Give me the fire of creation!” Cini screamed, “Give it to me, or I’ll kill her. I’ll kill her right here in front of you!”

  Carathan’s eyes moved sadly to Misha, still crumpled against the wall. The slim girl half rose in protest, mouthing a plea to him, begging him not to give in.

  “Give it to me or I’ll burn her bones to ash!” Cini screamed.

  Carathan’s eyes dropped as he took a step toward the chained sorceress who demanded his compliance. Tanys tried to cry out to stop him, but her words were as silent as Misha’s. Slowly, Carathan crossed the throne room to face his wife. The deck smoked and hissed where his footsteps burned into the wood. “I would have done anything for you Cini,” he whispered, gently brushing the hair from her eyes.

  The shackles crumbled to dust at Carathan’s touch, and Cini’s arms fell to her sides. Gently, he embraced her, and all the hate and fear drained from her face. For a moment, Tanys saw in her the innocent beauty of the girl that the magician had taken to wife. “I love you,” he said, pressing a fiery kiss to the cold pale lips of the sorceress.

  Golden light burst from Carathan’s flesh, wrapping Cini in a nimbus of flame. Through his kiss, the magical fire poured from him, into her. The light of their joining filled the room, becoming unbearable in its glory. Tanys looked away, shielding her face with an upraised hand. The heat of Carathan’s flame seemed to burn her skin, and she cried out in fear, certain that everyone in the room would be incinerated by it.

  At last the light subsided, and only Carathan remained where Cini had been. He stood alone in the charred circle where his fire had blackened the floor, his skin flushed but no longer burning with magic flames. The tears that streaked his face were only the tears of a man who had finally let go of someone he had loved. His eyes, hollow and distant, stared blankly into space. Tanys wanted to run to him, but Misha was already there, fervently kissing him and weeping tears of joy. Carathan gently returned her embrace before stooping to pick up a small glowing stone, the size of an acorn from the floor. Of Cini, no trace remained.

  “Lord Carathan,” a guardsman said with shaking voice as he knelt, placing his sword at the magician’s feet, “we are at your service. Command us.”

  Carathan smiled weakly, looking down at the man. “Let my friends alone,” he said, “and stay out of my sight for the time being… I’ll give you my orders later.”

  “Yes, my lord!” the trembling man agreed as he scrambled for the door, “Our lives and honor are yours!”

  The men who had subdued Jorva now released the bloody dwarf and collected their wounded and dead. Jorva seemed confused by the sudden change in their allegiance, but tried his best to adapt to it, offering his awkward congratulations on the ghasts’ fighting abilities, and graciously returning a
severed finger to one of the men rather than swallowing it.

  As the last guardsman pulled the splintered doors closed behind him, Carathan called out to him, “One more thing…”

  “Yes, my lord?”

  “Set a course for the Abyssal Keep.”

  “As you command, my lord,” the guard replied before taking his leave of them.

  Carathan’s whisper was low and deadly, “I have business with the men who killed my wife.”

  Chapter 9

  “Why you play with that knife so much?” Jorva asked. The Dwarf sat, cross-legged in the chair opposite Tanys in the shadowy hall outside the door of Carathan’s bedchamber. Tanys looked down, noticing for the first time that she had been repeatedly clicking the blade of one of her black daggers in and out of its scabbard. The knives had been returned to her, along with her clothes by Cini’s crew once Carathan had taken command. Jorva himself was now dressed in the black garb common to the ghast warriors, though he had characteristically refused any of the weapons offered to him by their former enemies.

  Tanys only frowned and made a conscious effort to stop fidgeting with the dagger, crossing her arms tightly, her hands balled into fists, as she chewed absently at the corner of her lip. From the sorcerer’s bedroom came once again Misha’s muffled giggles. They had been at it for quite some time.

  “Jorva hungry,” the dwarf muttered gloomily.

  “Then why don’t Jorva go the hell upstairs and get something to eat?” Tanys snapped. She was immediately sorry for taking her frustration out on him, but he seemed not to notice.

  “Maybe Jorva go look for food,” he wondered aloud, “Tanys want eat too?”

  “No, Jorva,” she sighed, “I have to stay here and guard. I don’t trust these ghasts, even if Carathan does.”

  “Jorva bring food back.”

  “No, thank you, Jorva,” Tanys answered softly, “I don’t really feel very hungry right now.” Another peal of girlish laughter sounded from within Carathan’s chambers.

  Jorva shrugged and sprang to his feet, scurrying off down the hall toward the galley.

  It had been three days since Cini’s death, and it seemed that Carathan had regained his strength. Misha’s healing magic was powerful indeed, and the southern girl had never left his side. Tanys wasn’t certain why it bothered her so much. The sorcerer was a fine lover, no doubt, but Misha held a prior claim, and Tanys was no soft town-girl to waste time pining for another’s man. She resolved to put the matter out of mind. Beyond the door, Misha’s soft moans turned to gasps of pleasure. Tanys stood up and paced the length of the hall, humming tunelessly to herself.

  She spun on her heel, her hand going to the blade at her hip when she heard the door to bedroom crack open. A soft voice whispered her name, “Tanys?”

  Misha stood in the doorway, dimly illuminated by golden glow of candles within the bedroom. Her red hair hung in wild disarray, framing her delicate smile and large, dark eyes. The glow of love-making clung fresh to her nymph-like body visible through the sheer creamy silk of her thin robe as she leaned against the door frame, looking out into the darkness of the hall. Tanys stepped into the dim light to face her. Somehow her hand remained at the hilt of her dagger, and there was no expression on the raven girl’s face.

  Misha looked at her for a long time, the smile never leaving her face. She spoke softly again, “come inside.”

  “I have to stand watch, Misha,” Tanys answered, a bit too harshly.

  Misha reached out and gently took Tanys’ hand from the dagger at her waist, pulling her toward the open door. “Come inside.”

  Tanys reluctantly stepped inside the room, and Misha quietly closed the door behind her. What Tanys had taken for candlelight was the glow of the acorn-sized jewel that was the magical fire Carathan had won from the sunken city. It glowed now from inside the crystalline vase where the sorcerer kept it, within arm’s reach of his bed where he now lay. Carathan lay on his side in the center of the large, low-slung cot, piled high with soft furs and down-stuffed cushions, covered to his hips in pale linens. A haunted and faintly sorrowful look flickered in his eyes when he saw her enter. “What’s wrong?” Tanys asked.

  “There’s nothing wrong,” Misha whispered as she moved closely in behind Tanys, placing her small hands on the raven girl’s shoulders, massaging them gently, “my lord Carathan, it seems, is having trouble keeping his thoughts in one place tonight. I think it would be best if I gather them all together for him in one place.”

  “Misha…” Tanys started to protest, half turning to face her, but the southern girl pressed a finger to Tanys’ lips and gently turned her head to face Carathan, who looked up at her with an unfathomable expression in his eyes.

  Misha’s hands deftly unlaced the bindings of Tanys’ shoulder pauldron, setting the armor aside and softly caressing the tension from her shoulders and back. The girl’s delicate fingertips pressed firmly through the black silk of Tanys’ bodysuit, tracing the muscles on either side of her spine, down to the leather belt at her waist. Misha’s hands slipped around her, touching the buckle of the weapon belt in front. Tanys’ hands moved to stop her, but the southern girl did not relent. “My name is Misha,” she whispered bemusedly, “and I mean you no harm.” Tanys’ hands withdrew, and the belt parted and fell away with a soft click.

  Tanys’ mind reeled as though in a fevered dream, unable to protest, as Misha gently lifted her arms, slipping the black silk shirt off over her head. Tanys sighed heavily, licking at dry lips, her eyelids half-closed against the seductive magic of the southern girl’s touch. Misha stood beside her now, and Tanys saw a tiny alabaster bottle in her hands. From it, clear amber oil poured out into the girl’s palm, which she then rubbed into Tanys’ skin. The oil warmed her where it touched, exciting every sense in her body, as Misha’s hands passed over Tanys’ chest. Her full breasts glistened in the golden light of the room, rising and falling with her sighing breaths. Tanys stepped out of her boots almost without conscious thought, and Misha let her own robe fall to the floor. Misha hands moved again to Tanys’ waist and peeled the tight black leggings down, denuding the raven-haired girl.

  Misha lead her to the bed and bade her to kneel there beside Carathan as she dribbled more of the fiery oil onto Tanys’ skin. Tanys leaned forward, taking Carathan’s head between her hands and kissing him deeply and passionately as she closed her eyes, losing herself in the heat of the embrace. Misha knelt behind her; the girl’s hands worked the burning oil into Tanys’ lower back and taught buttocks. Misha’s thin, deft fingers reached beneath her, tugging playfully at the dark curly hairs between Tanys’ legs before slipping up through the cleft of the raven girl’s womanhood. Tanys gasped and Carathan moaned softly as she bit his lip. Misha continued to work the tingling oil into her most secret places, and Tanys was completely at her mercy as she knelt on all fours, trembling and aching for more.

  Then Misha pressed a hot kiss into the small of Tanys’ back and reached around to whip aside the blanket covering Carathan’s manhood. He groaned as he slumped back into the cushions, swollen and throbbing with need. Misha gently guided Tanys’ hips astride him, and Tanys shuddered as he entered her, slipping, hard and full, between the well-oiled petals of her nether lips. Misha straddled him behind her as well, her left hand cupping Tanys’ glistening breast, the other reaching down between the lovers’ legs, teasing strange new pleasures in ways that Tanys had never experienced before. Misha’s delicate fingernails raked across skin that seemed alive to every sensation as never before, and the raven girl cried out in pleasure so loudly that she was certain everyone on the ship must have heard her, but she didn’t care.

  Waves of pleasure washed over Tanys as she came again and again, howling in the ecstasy of the moment. Carathan raged and moaned, seemingly ready to explode at any moment, impossibly large inside her. Finally, unable to bear anymore, Tanys cried out in the high war-shriek of the raven tribe and collapsed back off of him, utterly exhausted, across the foot of the be
d. Then Misha was there before her, astride him, looking down on Tanys with a fierce grin of triumph and a wild look in her eyes as she rode him. Tanys lay on her back between his knees, panting heavily, their bodies slick with sweat, and Misha ruled above them, the fingers of one hand tangled tightly in the soft patch of raven-dark hair that crowned Tanys’ conquered sex. Misha’s other hand tightly clasped the jewels of her mastered lover as she rode his shattering climax to its ultimate end, releasing him only when the last throbbing throes of his passion subsided into the silence of complete release.

  Tanys’ eyes closed as she felt Misha release her, too tired to try to cover herself or even to say anything. She did not know what to say. She felt utterly spent and ashamed. She had become Misha’s plaything, and was completely powerless to stop her. She hadn’t wanted to stop it. The weight of Misha settling in beside her on the bed caused her eyes to flutter open. Lying beside her, the girl’s face glowed with the glory of her conquest.

  “Thank you, Tanys,” Misha whispered, settling in the hollow beneath Tanys’ left arm.

  “Carathan?” Tanys asked, her voice seemed dry and weak and far away.

  Misha smiled and glanced toward the head of the bed, “He’s asleep now… we took a lot out of him.”

  “Maybe you did,” Tanys chuckled, “I think you just used me to get him there.”

  “You owed me that!” Misha grinned viciously, digging her fingers into Tanys’ side. Tanys snorted with laughter as she rolled into a defensive position to protect herself from the tickling. Carathan grunted once in his sleep as a wildly flailing heel caught him in a tender place.

  The two women lay facing each other, giggling and shushing one another like girls, and Tanys found it hard to hold any ill feelings toward the southern girl. “I’m sorry Misha,” she said at last.

  “I’m glad it was you,” Misha smiled, “I wouldn’t have been able to stand it if it had been someone else I think.”