Liam's brows bunched together.
Well, these guys are definitely charmers, he thought. tensed and ready to take any advantage of a chance to run. He played, for a moment, with the idea of killing them. But two trained warriors, with guards nearby? No way.
Besides, killing a general is most useful during the battle.
“Now,” Borin said, “Go. But come back soon. I'd love to plow that ass again.”
“You might not get the chance, Borin,” the woman said, sounding amused. She walked out a moment later – and Liam watched her go. Tough. Tall. Scarred to hell. There didn't seem to be an inch on her pale body that wasn't marked by the line of a knife. But she still walked in armor that essentially covered her vitals and nothing else, a thin black thong riding between her ass cheeks.
Liam heard a quiet groan of a cot – and knew that Borin was getting ready to lay down. He moved away, trying to make as little noise as he could, then followed the priestess. To his absolute complete lack of surprise, he came to a bright green and blue tent with an eye of Ra symbol hung over the entrance... and the Eye of Ra itself parked nearby. The weapon was mounted on a large wooden pole which itself was planted on a heavy duty cart, with bronzed wheels and enough places for archers to sit and duck behind cover. The wagon was painted in lurid colors and there were fearsome designs cut into the shields attached to the sides and front, all of them along the same general theme.
Get close, get wrecked, fuckers.
Though Liam was sure they'd express that more poetically, if given a choice.
The Eye itself looked nothing like the symbol that hung over the tent and had been used as a representation for the weapon, even in Tethis' illustrations. Rather than being gold and curved, the device looked like several crystals cut into circular pieces and polished to a mirror shine. They had been mounted in a narrowing set of four bronze poles. A chunk of unrefined gemstone sat between each of the crystal plates, glittering lightly from just the reflected torchlight.
Liam shook his head. “I shouldn't be shocked. But it's a fucking laser.”
“And how do you know what a laser is?”
Liam spun around.
The Priestess of Ra stood there, wreathed only in a sleeping gown, a glowing, crackling field of energy surrounding her left hand. Her eyes were as pitiless and distant as that of any eagle.
Liam remembered energies like that blowing massive Spartoi warriors into tiny chunks with remarkably little effort.
“Well, uh,” he said, bowing to her. “Greetings, honorable priest-”
“You've been enchanted to seem unremarkable. Unmemorable.” She paused. “Three cubits high? Hair the color of gold.” She clicked her beak, her tongue darting along its edge for a moment. Liam wasn't sure how, but she was able to speak utterly fluently. He'd have expected the lack of lips to be an issue.
“I might as well cut to the chase,” Liam said, improvising. “I am Liam Vanderbilt of Earth.”
The Priestess of Ra's eyebrow ridges lifted. “Liam? The warrior Sobek has been throwing at every problem he's run into?”
“Not every problem, but yes,” Liam said.
The Priestess glanced left, then right. Then, jerking her head. “Come in, Liam of Earth. I think you might want to talk to me and tell me what you are doing here before I call for the guards.”
She turned and walked into her tent.
Liam tried to not get distracted by her tail feathers – flicking up, they caused her robes to part ever so slightly at the back, revealing a hint of warm thighs and inviting buttocks. He clenched his jaw, forced his mind back on track, and started forward into the tent. Once the flap had shut behind him, he saw that the tent bore little resemblance to a mobile temple. Beyond the small shrine – complete with clay statues and tiny bowl for offerings – he saw no religious accouterments at all.
“So, Liam,” the priestess said, her voice clipped. “What brings Sobek's pet Christian here?”
“I'm not actually technically working for Sobek right now,” Liam said. “I'm here from the City of the Dead Gods.”
The Priestess snapped her head around. Her eyes narrowed.
“Sysminor – the false god who claimed the city? He's dead,” Liam said. “The Council is back in charge. There's no reason for this fight to happen.”
The Priestess looked taken aback. She lifted her hand again, crooking the middle finger of her other hand to indicate that Liam should step forward. With a memory full of exploding Spartoi in his head, Liam stepped forward and ducked his head forward. Her palm pressed to his forehead and she whispered in Coptic: “Ra, shine the light of truth on this one.”
An energy unlike anything Liam had felt surged through him. Unlike the gentle touch of Tethis' healing magics, or the almost comforting caress of the magic of Anubis, Ra's light burned. It seared through him and left him staggering and falling to his knees. He leaned his head forward – bumping his forehead against soft, downy fur. The Priestess knelt down before him, her hands on his shoulders.
“Forgive me,” she said, her voice still clipped but more gentle now. Her hands ruffled Liam's hair, the scales feeling oddly soft. “I know it hurts – it's why I cannot simply truthsee everyone I run into.” She clicked her beak. Liam was starting to get the idea that was the eagle-girl equivalent of an irritated snarl. “That black bastard.”
“Hey,” Liam said, his voice still dazed, his mind still reeling. “No racism.”
“What?” the priestess asked. She slapped the top of his head. “Stop being silly and focus, Liam.”
He shook himself, his mind drawing into sharp relief once more.
“First, what's your name?” he asked, putting one hand on his thigh as he got his foot under himself again. Standing, he felt his head spin, but only for a moment.
“Hesira,” she said.
“Hesria,” Liam said. “I have a plan to send this army running tomorrow. But it won't work if they have access to the Eye of Ra.”
She clicked her beak, hard enough to make Liam flinch.
“Damn that black bastard,” she snarled. Liam tried to not point out she had used that insult before -he figured now was not the time. Hesria shook her head and frilled out her feathers as she put her hands on her hips. She craned her head back to look into Liam's eyes. “Borin refused to march unless he had joint control of the Eye. Ra agreed to his terms.”
“He did?” Liam asked.
“Ra is among the oldest gods in the universe,” Hesria snapped.
Liam held up his hands. “Hey, not trying to insult him. Just, well, what does joint control mean?”
“It means that unless we break the sympathetic connection between Borin and the control gems, he can use the Eye in its secondary feature: firing a diffuse ray of heat. It won't shatter the walls, but it will still cook your troops.”
Liam had a sudden, vivid mental image of the Martians from H.G Wells' War Of The Worlds.
He shuddered.
“Okay. How do we break it?” he asked, trying to sound optimistic.
Hesria shook her head. “Unless you can think of a way for me to have a deeper connection to you than to the man who has been giving me orders for the past three weeks, I cannot think of it. The sympathetic connection must be forged, it cannot be rushed or hurried.”
Liam pursed his lips.
“So...” He paused. “The connection between you and Borin the Black is your working relationship?”
“Yes, why?” Hesria asked.
Liam looked at her. He cocked his head to the side. Then he leaned forward and, as he didn't want to risk kissing her beak, he pressed his lips to her furred throat. His hands grabbed her hips and drew her into a tight embrace, his body molding to hers. Hesria gasped quietly, her tail feathers flipping up with a quiet fhump. Then she put her scaled palms on his chest – Liam could feel, with a thankful shudder, that her claws had retracted now that she was not furious. He let her push her back.
“We can't do that!” she said.
> “Why not?” Liam asked.
“Well, I...” She stopped.
“I mean, do you find me attractive?” Liam asked, grinning at her. His hand caressed the side of her beak. The priestess turned her head, bumping the blunt front of her beak against his palm, the bottom opening so her tongue could dart out and lick his skin. Her tongue was dark black.
“I do...” she murmured.
“You are beautiful,” Liam whispered back, his voice husky. His free hand caressed her rump, squeezing the smooth, hard curve of her furred backside. Hesria moaned. “And we do need to break the sympathetic connection. Desperate times, desperate measures and all that”
Hesria' golden eyes flicked up to skewer his blue ones.
“So, I'm just a military objective?”
Liam grinned, cupping the bottom of her beak. His eyes were warm. Inviting.
He had gotten quite a bit of practice at this.
“Hesria, I'd be doing this no matter what the military objectives are...” He leaned forward, kissing the front of her beak, then turning his head to the side. Her tongue tentatively pushed out, stretching and touching his tongue. It was the most awkward kiss he had ever started but from the way Hesria melted into his arms, her breasts mashing against his chest, it clearly did something for her. His hands squeezed her ass and he gently lowered her to the cot that dominated the left side of the tent.
Hesria lifted her arms above her head, the wing-feathers that covered their backs fanning out under her. Liam took hold of her breast band, shoving it up and over her breasts. Her nipples were hard and bright pink against her white fur. She moaned as he ducked his head forward, sucking first on one, then the other. She squirmed under him, her scaled hands caressing his back.
“Oh, you aren't incompetent,” she murmured.
...thanks? Liam thought, looking up at her, his mouth fastened around her nipple. He released her tit with a quiet smack and then kissed her belly, his own cock growing harder and harder. If his kilt hadn't been hanging loose under his thighs as he kissed around the priestess' belly button, he'd have been pitching a tent as big as the one they were in. He found her slit, pushing up some of her pubic feathers – a curious reflection of Meg – and dove his tongue between her pussy lips. He tongued her eagerly, his nose rubbing her clit as he buried his face against her pussy.
Hesria moaned and arched her back. Her thighs spread wider and one of her clawed feet spread and then clenched in the air above Liam's head. He watched, out of the corner of one eye, aware of just how sharp those claws were. His hand went to her thin ankle, lifting her leg further as he kissed the inside of her thigh. From the quiet growl that emerged from Hesria, she was horny. Liam grinned and bit down on the inside of her thigh gently, then harder, drawing a series of delicious moans and groans from Hesria.
His free hand, though, wasn't idle. His middle finger plunged its length into her sex and he finger-fucked her. His thumb found her clit and circled it gently.
“Oh Ra!” She crooned, her beak opening as her tongue lolled into the air, her eyes looking dizzy as her hips twitched under his lips. Her sex clenched around his fingers and juices collected on his palm. Liam grinned, then tasted them with a single lick.
“Mm, sweet,” he murmured.
“Ahhh,” Hesira moaned, her eyes closing. “Oh that was g-good.”
“Is that enough of a connection?” Liam asked, planting another kiss on her belly, feeling her muscles tightening as he slipped his finger from her pussy. He licked his fingertip and sighed. She was sweet.
“Y-essss...”
Liam nodded. “Okay, then-”
But Hesria spread her legs, slowly, lifting her ankles as she reached down to open the soft, black fold of her sex. Her eyes were shyly averted and she murmured under her breath. “But, uh, we should be sure. Right?”
Liam bit his lip. Then he slapped his forehead. He was a fucking idiot. He reached into his belt pouch, pulling out the way he was going to signal Meg for pickup. He tapped his iPod on and saw that the clock said he had a good two hours before sunup. He tapped at it a few times as Hesira looked at him with increasing confusion.
“What are you doing?”
“Thirty minute timer,” Liam said, grinning at her. Then his hands went to his kilt and he unbuttoned it with a push of his thumbs. His cock sprang free and Hesria's eyes widened in a very gratifying way. Her arms reached to either side of the bed, grabbing onto the cot frame with a quiet click of claws on wood as Liam crawled over her. He nuzzled at her neck as her tongue flicked along his ear. She whispered, eagerly.
“I want that inside me.”
“Never would have guessed,” Liam murmured, kissing her chest. He shifted, his cocktip pressing to her sex.
He plunged into her, pinning her to the bed and himself to her. For a moment, all he could feel was her tightness, her eagerness. Then he slid back, so that only the very tip of his cock filled her wetness. He slammed back down, his balls slapping her feathered ass. Her shoulders hunched and she bucked her hips back against him with the desperate eagerness of someone who hadn't been fucked like this in a while. Liam rushed himself, knowing that in a proper world, he'd have enjoyed this for a long time.
But this wasn't a proper world.
This was Purgatory.
He broke the kiss to her neck, looking into her eyes.
Hesria's eyes were unfocused and her break opened, then closed. “Oh Ra, oh Ra, oh Ra!” She spoke in counterpoint to the soft pap pap pap of his balls slapping her rump. Her tail feathers twitched up underneath him, caressing his thighs and his balls. Her clawed hand reached up, caressing his neck. Liam felt that her claws were free – but they were very gentle as they slipped along his skin. Her eyes met his, focusing slightly. “C-Cum in me!”
Liam grinned at her.
“As you command,” he murmured.
He picked up the pace, taking her ankles in his hands and spreading her wider. He slammed home harder and faster, the cot rocking and creaking loudly. She turned her head and bit down on her pillow to avoid screeching loudly enough to wake half the camp. But then Liam felt pleasure course through his body. Heat. Whiteness. All of it surged into him and he shuddered and let himself loose inside of her. His balls clenched as he emptied both nuts into her.
“Ah...” Hesria hissed as the quiet chime from his phone told him that it was time to go.
Liam slid from her sex with a wet slurp – pausing only a moment to admire the way that her sex dripped with his seed.
He never got tired of seeing that.
Then, smiling at her, he said: “Gotta fly, Hesria. Remember, you just need to make sure the weapon isn't used – we'll handle the rest.” He paused. “Oh, and Borin mentioned that some of the soldiers wouldn't be in for a sack.”
Hesria nodded. “The Samaritan spearmen, some of the other archer units.” Her brows furrowed. “Why?”
“If you could talk to their leaders – try to get them to stand back, it'd help. Even a little bit will help.”
Tiredly, she nodded. “I'll do the best I can, Liam.”
Liam smiled at her. “That's all I ask.”
He turned and slipped from the tent.
And found himself face to face with Liviana of Sparta and a muscular lizardman made of solid gold.
“So,” Brax said. “You're Liam Godkiller.”
He looked down at Liam, then up at her again.
“Do you want time to put your kilt back on?”
* * *
There was something to be said for a lifetime of shocks - it taught one how to affect calm. Liam noticed, first, that Liv had a slave collar around her neck. Her eyes were clear: Yeah, I know, right? Liam nodded to her subtly as he finished buttoning his kilt tightly and brushed his palms along the front of his kilt. He took a moment then to look Brax over.
The General.
Someone who could take an entire city with less than a hundred lizardmen and hold it in the face of constant, simmering resentment. Someone who coul
d instill enough loyalty for his men to turn against a god, but remain at his side. Despite having never met him before now, Liam felt as if he had a sense for the other man’s mind, seeing how his army had operated even without his oversight.
“Funny,” Liam said. “I expected you to be taller.”
“I felt the same, honestly,” Brax said.
“I don't suppose that Borin the Black is a friend of yours,” Liam said.
“No, actually,” Brax said, grinning. His hand went to his neck, where a tiny necklace was looped around his shoulders. His finger touched the amulet and his body shimmered, and in his place stood a shortish, tough-looking son of a bitch. As a human, with an easier to read face, Liam could see the steady experience, the crooked smile, the calculating eyes. Then Brax drew his finger away from the amulet and he looked like a golden lizardman again.
“So, we're both infiltrating this place,” Liam said, shrugging. “So, I think we can agree that fighting will get us both killed.”
“But of course,” Brax said.
“Now, I'm presuming you're here to find out what this army is doing parked outside of your city.”
“Well,” Brax said, spreading his hands, “It did seem prudent.”
“All right,” Liam said. “Did you run into any of your fellow lizardfolk?”
Liv, meanwhile, was glaring at Liam. She jerked her head at Brax – and if she wasn't trying to tell him to kill the bastard, Liam would have eaten the only bladed weapon he had on hand at the moment, which was a small knife tucked behind his kilt. He met her eyes, then looked back at Brax.
Brax, meanwhile, hadn't moved his hand an inch closer to the short sword strapped on his hip.
“I may have,” he said.
“Did anyone tell you that Sysminor got blown to kingdom come?” Liam asked.
“Ah,” Brax said, “That explains it.”
Liam smiled. “Don't suppose you're going to tell me what it is?”
The Cross Guard (Purgatory Wars Book 3) Page 13
