by M. D. Grimm
"You're not worth anything, Aishe!" Sessan shouted. "And the very fact that your precious mage abandoned you is proof of that."
Screaming with fury, I put my entire weight behind the blade as I brought it down and decapitated my uncle.
"You're wrong," I whispered, my voice raspy. The blade sank into the ground, and Sessan's head rolled a few inches away, his face frozen in a leery grin. My legs shook so violently that I had to lower to my knees or risk falling over. My head fell forward, my hands still gripping the sword. I panted. I was so tired. Too tired to stop all those old memories from flooding back. Too tired to stop the emotions that came with them.
My eyes burned as I saw his face again and heard his voice.
Morgorth. How I wished he was here now.
My father's hands gripped my shoulders, pulling me to my feet.
"Clean that up," he said to Eulun, dragging me out of the tent, guiding me to the one I shared with Wyn.
"Pae, what--" Wyn.
"I'll explain later. Get your rest."
"Yes, sir."
My father sat me down on my cot before kneeling in front of me. How could Sessan say something like that? How could he even think it? Morgorth never touched me, despite my desperate desire that he would. He had been kindness itself. I gathered enough courage to lift my eyes and meet my father's. There was nothing but love in them.
"He was wrong, you know." His voice was soft, compassionate.
I nodded mutely.
"You are the strongest dialen I know."
"What?" I said, my voice barely more than a croak.
My father smiled. He leaned up, gripped the back of my head, and kissed my forehead.
"You heard me, lad," he whispered. "You are the most worthy. No one in our tribe will say different. Remember that."
I didn't know what to say. So I stayed silent. My father stood. I continued to stare at him.
"Clean yourself up. Visit your mother. Then get some sleep -- dawn isn't far away."
I nodded. My father turned. Wyn frowned.
"That goes for you, too."
"Right."
Our father left. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
"What was all that about?" Wyn asked, the demand in his voice evident.
I saw the bandage on his head. I smiled tiredly. "Tell you in the morning."
Chapter Seven
Present time
I waited in our bedroom, unable to keep myself from pacing. Anticipation bubbled in my stomach and my hands shook. It wasn't as if I'd never had Morgorth before. Or he me. It wasn't as if this was a new thing. Sure, it made sense that I was excited since it had been weeks since we'd been intimate this way. The magick fever had prevented much intimacy, and then Master Ulezander's arrival had sucked all of Morgorth's energy.
I stopped pacing. I took a moment to really think about it. By the Mother, it really had been awhile since there had been more than simple handjobs or blowjobs (as Morgorth called them).
No real wonder why I felt so antsy.
I shook my head at myself, laughing slightly. I felt like a kid again, anticipating my first fumble in the darkness under the starlight.
The bedroom door opened, and in came Morgorth, an exhausted smile on his face. He was sweating again, his heavy coat slung over his arm, his robe-jacket unbuttoned again, but this time all the way, showing off his bare chest.
"Hey, there," he said, his voice slightly hoarse.
I was instantly by his side, taking his other arm, and leading him over to the bed. I pushed him down until he sat, and it bothered me that it didn't take much effort. He looked like he might keel over any moment.
I knelt. "You don't look well."
The coat fell to the floor, but he just smiled at me. "I'm okay. Really. I finally mastered my stance, and now we're moving on to elemental magick-harnessing. I'm looking forward to that one actually." Then he suddenly sighed. He met my eyes. "I'm sorry I'm so exhausted. I'm keeping to what I said, though."
I smiled slightly and shook my head. "You need sleep, Morgorth. Have you looked in a mirror?"
"But--"
I picked him up again and headed to the bathing chamber. "You'll get another bath, and then you're going to bed."
"Damn it, Aishe," Morgorth cursed. "I want you to fuck me."
I smiled down at him. He could barely keep his eyes open. "I know. I want that as well. But it won't be very enjoyable for either of us with you in this state."
Morgorth grumbled but relented. I bathed him gently, and this time I kept my own clothes on, simply washing him. I took pleasure from my free reign of his body, and struggled to swallow my disappointment. I couldn't be mad at him or even at Master Ulezander. This phase of training would end soon enough, and then he would be all mine again. I knew I wasn't the only one struggling with frustration. Every now and then, Morgorth would give me a look that had his eyes flashing, his mouth pulling into a thin line. I suspected he thought himself weak for not being up for anything other than sleep.
He was the complete opposite of weak.
I helped him out of the tub, dried him, and carried him to bed. I stripped before pulling the blankets over both of us, curling around him, his back to my chest, his butt cradled in my thighs.
He sighed. "I love you."
My heart warmed, and my disappointment evaporated. "And I love you."
"You're too good for me." His voice was little more than a mumble.
"Hush." I kissed his neck, his shoulder, and my arm tightened around his waist. "We have time, my love. We have time." I hoped to the Mother and the Hunter we did.
It wasn't long before I fell asleep. And that's when the dream, the memory, found me.
The smell of burned flesh meets my nose. I cough, the acrid scent burning my nostrils and lungs. I can see smoke rising above the tree branches. I can't move for a moment, hearing my heart thundering in my ears. The smoke is coming in the direction of my tribe's camp. Too much smoke. And why do I smell burned flesh? Did I get lost? No, no I know I am not lost. I don't get lost anymore; my training has shaped me into a warrior.
But how can this be? I run, my fear no longer rooting me to the ground but propelling me forward. I have to know. By the Mother and the Hunter, I have to know.
What has happened to my tribe?
My swift feet carry me over the uneven ground. I barely make a sound as I dodge around trees and branches, the smoke becoming thicker, the smell of death coming closer. I near the clearing and stumble to a stop as I enter the camp that had once housed my kin.
Death surrounds me. What is not burned is torn apart. Tents, weapons... bodies. Bodies everywhere. My bow drops from my hands. My legs shake. I can barely walk, but I force myself to. I force myself to look, my blood growing cold, my vision spinning.
Familiar faces stare blankly back at me. Pieces of bodies are strewn around, some as if they have been torn and eaten. Insides are outside. Blood soaks into the greedy ground as if it is water. I continue to walk, dazed, unbelieving. I don't want this to be true. By the Mother, how can this be true?
A whimper reaches my ears. For a moment, I think it comes from myself. But no, it doesn't. It is coming from my left. A collapsed tent is half-smoldering from embers. But I see a form underneath it. I hear another whimper.
Suddenly possessed, I lunge forward and tear away the tent, frantic to find the one who is still alive. The one who might give me some answers. The one I might save.
Amyla.
My little, baby sister.
Torn, nearly gutted, all her limbs are intact, but she is naked, having obviously been ravaged. Shock gives way to rage. I howl, venting my fury into the air, wanting the world to understand my torment.
"Aishe."
Her voice is small, broken. Mother only knows how she stayed alive so long. I gather her in my arms, drawing my cloak around her. Her eyes are clouded with pain, and she is too cold. I know she is dying, but I can't accept it. I can't.
"Amyla," I
manage to say, my voice breaking.
"H-he took..." She coughed, her broken body shaking with it. I hold her tighter, sharp pains shoot through my chest.
"Who? Who took what?" I ask.
"He took the ruby. Father's ruby," she manages to say. She struggles to stay conscious. To stay alive to tell me. "He came with lutin, and they attacked us."
Lutin? How can this be possible? They are vicious shape-shifting beasts. They are not commanded.
"Who did this, Amyla? Who?" I had to know that one thing.
She whispers, "A lesser mage who came to l-live with us while y-you were g-gone. H-he tricked us."
I was losing her. "Amyla!"
She focuses on my eyes, her own blurring, growing darker. "Avenge us, Aishe. Y-you m-must..."
"I will." I grip her hand. "I swear on my blood, my life. I will avenge you all."
She smiles. She dies.
My head snaps back, and I howl, "Amyla!"
"Amyla!" I shot up in bed, my entire body clammy and covered with sweat. I gasped, shuddering, sobs caught in my throat. A vice constricts my chest, squeezing my lungs, my heart. I hadn't had a dream that intense for a while. I covered my mouth with my hand, trying to control myself. But sobs still tore at my chest, memories of that horrible day, and the days after running through my head, unstoppable.
"Aishe?"
His callused hand on my back firmly brought me back to the present. I sucked in a breath but still couldn't stop the sobs.
Morgorth sat up, his hand moving to my shoulder. "Hey, you're safe. I'm here. Breathe."
I turned to him, my arms snapping around his waist, my face buried in his chest. I wish I could just burrow inside him, just escape my pain, just for a little while. He lay back down, taking me with him. His arms were tight around me, his warmth seeping into my skin, banishing most of the cold that lay in my gut. By the Hunter, I felt like an ice cube.
"Aishe? You can... can tell me -- you know, if you want."
His tender and unsure attempt at comfort, at offering himself to listen, helped me control my sobs. It wasn't easy for him, I knew that. He didn't completely understand what I had been through; I knew that, too. But he was trying, and that meant something.
I managed to tell him, though my voice broke often, and I had to clear my throat a lot. After I was done, we were both silent for a short while.
"I don't know what to say," he said softly. "I... I just don't know." He paused. I listened to his heartbeat. It wasn't very steady, but I found it soothing. "I don't want to make it worse, you know? But I will say that I love you and... and they're not in pain anymore."
I closed my eyes. I felt myself smile, though it trembled. He might not think he knew what to say, but most of the time he hit the target.
"You're right," I said softly, my voice hoarse. "They're not in pain. Not anymore. The Mother has them. They're safe."
He stroked my back. "I'm so sorry, Aishe. I'd take away your pain if I could. I'd... I'd go back in time and save them if I could."
My breath shuddered out as a knife pierced my heart. I lifted my head and looked at his face. I could see in his eyes that he meant it. They were dark, determined. I swallowed hard, remembering my anger at him after the massacre, knowing that he knew what the future would bring for my tribe. I still felt it, like a twinge in my heart, but it was only a twinge. There was a purpose to everything the Mother did and what she let happen.
And I truly believed the saying: What the Mother has written, let no one unwrite. It was a saying many creatures of Karishian knew. I'd also heard it from Morgorth. He said it was a mage's Number 1 rule. A taboo. Not just a saying, which was meant to comfort, to know that the Mother wrote everything for a purpose, even the tragedies. Believing that saying was the only way I could console myself about my tribe's massacre.
I kissed his chest. "I know." I raised my head and met his eyes again. "But no one should go back and change the past. You know that."
He frowned, his eyes filled with concern, uncertainty, but also determination. I wiped my eyes.
"This will pass," I said to him as well as to myself. "My grief will never disappear, but it will fade. It will ease."
He still looked concerned. "What can I do?"
At that moment he looked like he would give me the world if he thought it would take this sharp pain in my chest away. That alone eased the grief, the guilt that I still carried for not being able to protect my tribe.
I kissed him gently, eased further by his soft lips, the taste of him. It was a tender kiss, gentle and reassuring, for both of us. I brushed his hair away from his face, loving the softness of it, the thickness.
"You're here," I whispered. "That is what you can do. You can keep being here when I need you."
"I promise," Morgorth said firmly before pressing his lips to mine again. But harder this time. His arms tightened around me, his tongue sliding across my lips. I shuddered and pressed closer, my body reacting immediately. My mind needed a little bit more persuasion to look past the memory it had brought forth.
Morgorth's hand on my shaft helped that along. I sighed into his mouth, and his tongue took the invitation, thrusting inside, sliding against my own. I moaned as he rolled me beneath him. I spread my legs instantly, wanting to feel him rub me intimately. His fingers were in my hair, tangling around the strands, keeping my face immovable as he ravished my mouth. My fingers traced the scars on his back, sliding down to his soft butt, squeezing gently.
He moaned.
This was what I needed. Connection. Intimacy. A passionate reminder why I still lived, why I strove to move past my grief. He was the reason I still lived. Why I could still live. Without him, there was nothing. No joy, no happiness, no recovery. Emptiness.
I gripped his shoulders, my fingers digging into his skin. With a simple move and a burst of strength, I switched our positions. I pushed him into the mattress; he didn't resist. His hands moved from my hair to my butt while I ravished his mouth. I took control of the kiss, rubbing my erection against his, relishing the way he trembled with the friction, the pleasure I was sure was dancing through his balls just as it was mine.
I pulled back, liking that his lips were swollen, enjoying the sparks of lust I saw in his eyes.
"Take me. Now," he said. I have never known him to be so insistent before. Maybe it was a sign that he was becoming more comfortable with "us." More comfortable initiating intimacy, demanding it. I could hope.
And, maybe, he knew it would comfort me, reassure me if he let me take him.
"Yes." I took his mouth in another swift kiss.
He tore his mouth from mine a moment later, took a large breath, and murmured a word. A word of magick. They were strange words, ones he made up. They were always musical in nature, in the way he pronounced them. This one sounded like "nevianave." Others sounded like "luellu" or "muenunev." They were beautiful when said in his voice, especially when he was shouting them with fury, his eyes a burning amber, his skin glowing while the wind churned around him ferociously, howling like a monster.
I hardened farther just remembering. It was almost painful.
He shoved a bottle of lube into my hands -- another courtesy of that strange world called Earth -- and started kissing me again. His magick sparked around us, a tingling, dancing rainbow of color and energy. It had no direction; it just brushed against my skin, tickling, urging me to give us what we both needed.
I readied him, my slicked fingers probing him. He grunted, his eyes shut tight, his hands gripping my shoulders. I sucked his nipple, growing harder with the way his body tightened around my fingers, drawing them in, demanding more.
"You enchant me," I whispered, my voice hoarse, my throat dry. I bit his neck, and his body jerked. His hands tugged at my hair again, and our eyes met.
It was difficult to breathe, let alone talk. My heart was doing a violent dance in my chest, my ribs seeming to crack under the pressure. My gut tightened with need, heated with lust and love. His brown eyes
were now a faint amber, and his breathing was none too steady either.
"I love you," I managed to say as I slicked my erection, removing my fingers from inside him.
"Aishe--" His voice was a grunt.
"No words in any known language can describe how much I love you," I said, right before I slipped into him with one firm thrust. His body arched, he hissed, but his legs wrapped around my waist. Not for one moment could I lose contact with any part of his body, so I lay on top of him, gripping his hands, lacing our fingers.
My hips snapped and thrust, creating sweet fiction, building the flames that were burning inside us even higher. His body responded to mine, moving with me, demanding more. I gave him more, nipping his lips, taking violent kisses. His hands gripped mine in a vice, just as his body clamped down on my cock, tormenting me with his tightness, his softness. His eyes were wide, staring into mine, his face flushed.
I was aware of everything about him: his frantic breath on my face, his heart hammering against my own chest, his body pulsing as I shoved us both over the cliff into a bottomless pit of ecstasy.
When next I knew anything, I could still hear his heart and his breath, but his body was still, except for the occasional twitch. Mine was in a similar state of shock. I think our bodies had forgotten this sort of pleasure, considering how long it had been since we'd indulged in it.
"Maybe if I can't walk tomorrow," Morgorth said suddenly, quietly, "Uzzie will give me the day off."
I grinned, snorted. "Don't depend on it."
"Yeah," he said with a sigh. He began stroking my back with his fingertips, and it made me shiver. I purred, shifting under his touch, feeling smug and happily used.
"I wish everything could be solved with wild sex," Morgorth said.
"The world would be a happier place with less wars and violence, if that were the case." I lifted my head and propped my chin on my fist, which lay on his chest. Morgorth's eyes were closed, but a small, satisfied smile was on his lips.
Looking at him, feeling him, I couldn't help but silently thanking the Mother and the Hunter once again for bringing us together.
I rolled off him, but I was unwilling to break all contact. I gripped his hand. He turned to me, laying his head on my shoulder. His heavy breathing already indicated he was close to falling asleep. I stared up at the ceiling, wondering if I would sleep again this night. The dregs of the memory lingered, but making love had smothered most of it.
