Wraith King 3

by Jack Porter

  “When he asked you to kill Ferlenna,” I finished for him.

  The man nodded.

  “And then what were you to do?” Ilana asked, speaking for the first time. The man glanced up at her, and again, his eyes seemed to glaze over, but then his gaze darted back to my dagger. I thought about laughing, and maybe I would have if I hadn’t been so incensed.

  “Answer her,” I said.

  “We weren’t supposed to do anything after that. We were just to keep on living, same as always. He told us he would consider our debt paid if we did this.”

  I looked at Ilana, who returned my gaze. We likely had the same thought. It couldn’t be a coincidence that this warlord had ordered the death of the very person we were trying to find.

  “How long have you been working for the Wraith King?” I asked, allowing murder to creep into my voice.

  The man shook his head. “We never have, I swear it.”

  “I believe you’re lying.”

  “I’m not!” the man said, almost too loudly. Sarina growled, and he seemed to realize his mistake, for his next words were quieter. “I’ll swear by whatever power or goddess you want me to. We only work for ourselves. Not the Wraith King, not other men, and not the elves or dwarves. No one.”

  “Just this warlord,” I said, and the man had no answer. “Is there anything else you want to tell me? Something that may prevent your death?”

  The man’s mouth moved open and closed, but no sound came out. “I’ve... I’ve told you everything.”

  “How do we find this warlord?” Ilana asked.

  “You don’t,” the man said, and tears were actually rolling down his face. “He finds you. You head to the forest of the wood elves, and he finds you. I swear it.”

  I was burning with anger now, and felt the control of my magic slipping. “You stupid fuck,” I said. “You slaughtered innocent people!”

  “I’m sorry!” the man said, his voice changing pitch. “It was just a job. And they weren’t innocent, they only serve those they want to serve. My kind would never get to benefit from their water.”

  I nodded, doing what I could to rein in my disgust. “You’ve provided me with enough information, I think. How do you want to go?” I asked again. “By the Hellhound’s fangs ripping open your belly, or by a succubus?”

  The man looked confused, and then he looked up at Ilana again. “I’ve heard... I’ve heard that men who die in a succubus’ arms die a pleasurable death.”

  “I’ve heard that, too,” I said, withdrawing my dagger from his scrotum. “Is that your choice?”

  The man nodded, and his expression was almost hopeful as he looked into Ilana’s eyes. His erection returned a second later, and Ilana smiled charmingly at him. Then, her expression darkened, and she reached down to slit his throat with the same bloody dagger that had killed his lover, opening a gash from earlobe to earlobe. The man’s eyes went wide, and he glanced at me. And then the gurgling began as blood spurted out and soaked the ground.

  We left him there to die and then approached the rise again.

  There was no more time for talking. I slid down the hill while Sarina bounded ahead of me. Ilana had flown ahead and already found another victim, who she dispatched the same way she had the scouts. After so many weeks of hunting orcs and slavers, I had no sympathy anymore for those who preyed on the weak. And I wasn’t about to give this party the chance at a fair fight. After all, they hadn’t allowed the people at the water sanctuary to do so. The brigands had slaughtered the innocents in their sleep.

  It was only fair that the same thing happened to them.

  By the time I got to the bottom, the camp was beginning to stir at the sounds of men dying. Sarina had killed two without letting them make a sound, but the third one, a woman, woke and saw her. She screamed as the Hellhound’s jaws closed over her head. Sarina shook her head like a dog with a stuffed toy, and the woman went limp as her neck snapped.

  I killed two bandits, both of whom had started to reach for their weapons. I didn’t care that they were both women. At this point, my anger didn’t know gender or race. And as I fought a woman who raised her sword against me, stumbling from her bedroll on the ground, my mood darkened even further. Was there no end to bloodshed in this land? No end of the strong preying on the weak?

  I killed her by ramming my sword through her heart. As if she’d had a heart, I thought, killing children…

  Overall, we made short work of the bandits, and when we were done, I looked on grimly at the camp. “Kill the horses, too,” I said.

  Sarina’s lip lifted in a snarl. She would always be a stable maiden, and her first love was horses. But I glared at her. “They will only starve out here,” I spat. “Kill them, too.”

  Ilana landed in front of me, her hands wet with blood. “Jon,” she said, her eyes hard. “Leave them be. It’s not the horses’ fault they carried rogues and murderers.”

  I wanted to argue with her, to tell her how fucking wrong she was. How fucking wrong the whole world was. Instead, I stabbed my sword into the dead body at my feet. “Fine. Do what you want. Let the orcs eat them as prey.”

  Ilana reached out a hand to me, but I shook her off and stomped back up the hill.

  The night, which had started full of promise, had turned into a nightmare. But I had one thing on my mind. All those people at the water sanctuary were dead because of me. All because a seer said they needed to be. And while I had other goals in mind, I also knew I wouldn’t rest until I met this warlord and his seer, and ripped their hearts out through their throats.

  6

  I woke the next morning beside Sarina. At some point in the night, she had shifted back into human form but hadn’t bothered to get dressed. And then she’d snuggled in close to me, so that her hair tickled my nose.

  We’d spent the remainder of the night camping in a small rocky nook south of the massacre. There, we had some shelter from the smoky wind and were hidden from any unfriendly eyes.

  Sarina was already awake and smiling at me. I smiled back and reached over to brush her wild red hair out of her face.

  “I’m sorry about the horses last night,” I said.

  She touched my hand. “I know. Your mood has darkened of late.”

  I sighed in agreement, but I really didn’t want to talk about it. Just then, my mood was turned toward something much more pleasant.

  I traced my finger over a scar on her cheek. “What about this one?” I asked. Her beautiful body was covered in scars, and as I’d learned, each one had a story behind them. Learning those stories had become a favorite pastime.

  “A dagger,” she said. “When I was eight years old, my sisters and I were training with them. One of the other girls lost control of the blade she was throwing, and it sliced my cheek instead of burying itself in the wall.”

  “It’s a good thing it wasn’t a bit further left,” I said, thinking about something else I’d like to bury, but it wouldn’t be in a wall, “or you might have lost an eye.”

  “It’s a fortunate thing I moved,” Sarina said, “or the dagger would have killed me.”

  “You lived a dangerous childhood.”

  “Didn’t you?”

  I shrugged. “Not so much.”

  But I didn’t want to talk about my childhood, either, which I had learned only recently was all a lie. My mother wasn’t my mother. I didn’t know who the real woman was. And my father was the Wraith King of Hell.

  So, naturally, I wanted to kill him.

  But not yet. I wasn’t strong enough. And so I was searching for answers. To my past and my future, it seemed.

  I ran my hand down Sarina’s side and pulled her toward me. She arched an eyebrow and then reached down to touch me. I was ready to play. What the hell—I was always ready to play. And I couldn’t wait to feel Sarina’s body even closer to mine, to feel her strong legs wrapped around my waist.

  Still resting my hand on her hip, I kissed her. She tasted like apples, as usual, and I dove
in with my tongue eagerly, wanting her to know how much I desired her, and how much she had come to mean to me. Sarina was the first person in Hell I had laid eyes on. And yeah, after her trying to kill me, we’d found out that we were very suited for each another.

  In the back of my mind, I wondered where Ilana was, but she must have been doing something important. Or simply checking out the area. We all took turns looking out for each other, and I trusted her to have our backs, and to not be too far away.

  My fingers searched farther down Sarina’s thigh and then toward the soft curls between her legs. She sighed when I touched her, and I dipped a finger inside her, feeling the warmth there, and the desire. She ran a hand along my jaw and then down to my collarbone. I hooked my finger, massaging her inside wall, and used my thumb to stimulate her too. The redheaded woman moaned and pulled me forward for a kiss. Her mouth tasted sweet, and I delved into it eagerly, my tongue battling with hers, but there was no loser. We were both ready to do more.

  She slid her hand down and whisked it inside my pants, feeling my length. Her fingers moved deftly up and down it, sometimes squeezing, and sometimes almost tickling. And I kept pleasuring her with my hand, increasing my motions when she began gasping for breath.

  “No,” she said, pushing me away. “Not this way. I want you inside me, Jon.” She pushed me over onto my back and began untying my pants, releasing my erection. Then, without any more foreplay, she straddled my hips and sat down on me, easing down until I was completely buried within her.

  Moving above me, her body was exquisite. Hard, yes, and muscular, but with distinctly feminine lines. Her wild red hair fell down over her shoulders as she leaned toward me, momentarily hiding her breasts from view. She bounced up and down, riding me with determination. Not content to let her do all the work, I lifted my hips to meet her, thrusting and matching her rhythm and speed.

  With every joining of our bodies, her lips parted a little, and soon, she was moaning my name.

  “Sarina,” I whispered, feeling how wet she had become, and how her walls were beginning to clench around me and her thighs were quivering. But I wanted it to last a bit longer, so I slowed my momentum. She growled in frustration, and I smirked.

  “You’re wicked, Jon,” she said, grinning. Her body was covered in a light sheen of sweat, and her smell of apples permeated my senses. I still didn’t know how she smelled that way, when I’d never seen an apple for as long as I’d been in Hell.

  Pulling her to me, I kissed her full lips, letting my tongue glide over them and then push back inside. Then I ran my hands down her back and to her butt, grabbing it and feeling the juxtaposition of firm and soft there. With a swift movement, I thrust deeply into her, pulling her down onto me hard.

  She gasped and grabbed my shoulders. I did it again, harder. Sarina was tough, but I was conscious of not breaking her. But she seemed to like this because I felt her walls around me tighten, and, if it were possible, she became even wetter.

  For the next thrust, she met me with equal resolve, and the next, and the next. She began to make the most erotic sound, uttering a sensuous, wordless cry with each thrust. I joined her, making more noise than perhaps was wise, and the pressure began to build to the point of no return.

  I thrust against her again and again, using my hands on her butt for maximum impact. Her legs began to quiver once more, more violently this time, and I kept the pace we’d set, watching her face.

  That was maybe my favorite part—seeing Sarina’s face when she came. Normally, the warrior woman kept a tough countenance, rarely letting a glimpse of softness show through. But when she was in the throes of ecstasy, all that fell away, and her face seemed to glow as it relaxed. Her mouth would soften into a half smile, her pupils would dilate and her eyes, normally wary, would become hooded.

  When she came, her wordless cry became louder, her mouth opening with a shout and her walls squeezing around my shaft. One more thrust, and I followed her, my body shuddering with an orgasm so intense I saw stars. We lay there, panting and quivering, for some moments.

  Sarina had collapsed on top of me, her hair in my face. There was no need to speak, just bask in the glow as we caught our breaths.

  Finally, she raised her head and planted a small kiss on my lips. I brushed some of her hair behind her ear.

  “Are you happy with me?” I asked.

  “Of course,” she said, smiling. “I wouldn’t be with you if I weren’t.”

  I nodded. “God, I’m so glad.”

  “The goddess approves of us, I think,” she said seriously.

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I feel fully released of my vow from the High Priestess. For the first time, I am my own person, and I choose to be with you, Jon.”

  When I had met her, Sarina had pledged her life to the High Priestess. A life of service, fighting, and celibacy. But the High Priestess was dead—we hadn’t been able to save her—and it made me happier than I liked to admit that Sarina had chosen to fight and sleep by my side. But one thing bothered me.

  “Do you feel free?” I asked. “Are you fully in control of your Hellhound, do you think?”

  So far, I was the only person other than the Wraith King who had complete control over her Hellhound. If Sarina didn’t travel with me, we didn’t know for sure that she could keep as much control as she had, or if she would turn back into the animal forever and run back to the necromancer.

  She smiled. “Does it matter? Yes, I admit to wanting complete control over my body, but it wouldn’t change who I chose to fight beside. I would follow you of my own free will.”

  “Do you think there’s a chance of you becoming completely human again?” I asked. “Could we find a spell to change you back?”

  “How do you know that’s what I want?” she asked archly. “As much as I hate the Wraith King for what he did to me, I have to admit that being able to shift to a Hellhound has tactical advantages I never would have imagined. If they didn’t, I would never shift into one.”

  I nodded.

  “But,” she added, frowning. “It would be good to know that I was completely free. That if for some reason I’m ever separated from you, I won’t lose my mind and run back to the necromancer.”

  “Yes,” I said. “Maybe we can find a way.”

  Sarina kissed me then, driving away all other thoughts, and while we waited for Ilana to return, we began working toward round two.

  7

  Ilana returned with breakfast just as Sarina was getting dressed, pulling her short tunic up over her body, leaving her armor off for the time being. The succubus set down her game—a large snake—and watched Sarina with a look of longing. “Looks like I missed the activities,” she said with a smile.

  I grinned. “We can always resume them if you want.”

  Ilana leaned down to kiss me, igniting my passion once again. But after a moment, she pulled away. “I’m always ready for you, Jon, but we should eat and then decide what to do.”

  I pulled Ilana down for one more kiss, and then let her go again. When she turned to pick up the dead snake, though, I swatted her ass playfully. She let her long, silky tail brush my cheek as she sat a little away and skinned the snake. In a moment, the creature’s skin had been pulled off like an inside-out sleeve, and she was cutting it into chunks for roasting.

  It definitely wasn’t my favorite form of breakfast, but in these hills, there wasn’t much other than small rodents, a few birds of prey, and snakes. Rather than complain, I watched as she expertly put the chunks on a spit over the fire.

  Sarina left and returned with water she had sanctified, and by the time the meat was ready, we had all settled in for a chat over breakfast.

  “As much as I enjoy killing orcs and wraiths,” I said, “we’ve exhausted our options here in the Slavers’ Bowl, don’t you think?”

  Sarina nodded and took a bite of the chewy meat. “Ferlenna was our last hope of finding information in this area,” she said between bites. “A
nd, noble though it may be, if we stay here, all we become is orc-killers.”

  “Agreed,” I said, thinking. The green jewel Ferlenna had passed to me was sitting on my knee, and I’d been turning it over and over while I’d tried to figure out if it meant anything. After deciding it probably didn’t, other than being a token of good faith, I slipped it around my neck and tucked it inside my shirt.

  I took a bite of the snake, vaguely wishing at least for a little salt or other seasoning, but we were running low on supplies, and there was no sense in going back to the last village to buy some. We could have looked for some at the water sanctuary, but I didn’t relish the idea of stealing any more from those people, even if they were dead and would never know. And while we’d taken the bandits’ coins, there was little else they’d had on them that was worth carrying with us, even including their stolen goods.

  “So,” I said. “What are our other options? I’ve learned quite a bit about the Slavers’ Bowl in the last few months, but not much outside of it. Who else would know something about the Elfstone?” I asked simply out of habit. It was a discussion we’d had many times before. “Other races? What about the wood elves the bandit mentioned?”

  Ilana shrugged. “I don’t know much about them. They live in the forests to the south.”

  I looked at Sarina, but she shook her head. “I know nothing of them.”

  “Dwarves?” I asked.

  But Dwarves were unlikely to know anything about an elven artifact or prophecy. They stayed mostly hidden away in the mountains, and I’d only come across two or three since arriving in Hell, and then always in taverns.

  I thought about the half-elf we’d met in the tavern yesterday, wishing circumstances had been different and that maybe we could have asked her for information about the elves. I could have been wrong, but she didn’t really look much like Nya or the other Dark Elves of Blackhold. Maybe the slave knew of other elven peoples nearby.