“Nay! But if we do not unite as one people we stand in danger of losing both of our races,” Dillon said passionately.
“Perhaps that is what is meant to be,” Cronan responded.
“Nay! I was not chosen to come from the world of Hetar to oversee the destruction of Belmair’s world,” Dillon told Cronan firmly. “I was called to unite it.”
“He has your confidence, Kaliq,” Cronan remarked drily. “I well remember your youth, and teaching you. But he is young yet.”
“He is young,” Kaliq agreed, “but I believe he can do this, Cronan.”
The ancient Shadow Prince nodded. “Very well,” he said. “I will help you. The Yafir lord took the knowledge he has from one of the books here. It is called A Compendium of Time Manipulation. When that fool, Napier IX, banished the Yafir, and Ahura Mazda was so desperate to save his people I turned a blind eye to him when he entered this place. I let him roam at will, and that is the information he sought and took.”
“Can time be maneuvered to protect the Yafir when they come up from the sea?” Dillon asked Cronan. “I would not harm them in any way. I am thinking mostly of those mortals, and those with mixed blood who have lived there the longest.”
“It is possible, but it will take a thorough knowledge of time itself, and a very strong magic to make this all happen. You will need that before you can treat with the Yafir,” Cronan said sagely. “Those who would return will want to do so immediately once they learn the option is open to them. You will not want to delay for the best way to thwart Ahura Mazda is to destroy his power base, or at least weaken it severely.”
“And in the days we are learning about time, and fashioning our spell,” Dillon noted, “we can also work toward helping our Belmairans accept what is to happen.”
“That, I suspect, will be the most difficult thing of all,” Cronan said.
“Duke Alban, I believe, will be open to these changes,” Dillon told the ancient.
“Alban descends from the family of the lady Arlais,” Cronan remarked. “She was to wed a duke of Belia, but when she was stolen on her wedding day it was her younger sister who wed that duke instead.”
“I think it would be a good thing to learn which families lost women to the Yafir, and then bring these two sides, Belmairan and Yafir together eventually,” Cinnia suggested boldly. “It might help us in trying to reconcile both folk.”
“An excellent idea!” Cronan agreed.
“Do you know where the compendium is?” Dillon asked the ancient.
Cronan smiled. “You must look for it,” he said with a small, wicked smile. “Let yourselves out when you are finished. Use your father’s spell whenever you wish to enter here. You will be welcome.” Then he turned to Kaliq. “Will you join me, my old friend? We have much to catch up on, I think.”
Kaliq nodded, and the two Shadow Princes disappeared.
“How did he get here, I wonder?” Cinnia said.
“Perhaps he will tell Kaliq, although Kaliq will not necessarily tell us,” Dillon answered her. “Now we had best seek out the compendium.”
Together they searched the little library for the next several hours. Each volume upon each shelf was checked for both title and content. Dillon was growing irritated, for the truth was that Cronan probably knew exactly where the book was, and could have told them. He smiled to himself. It was just the sort of thing Kaliq used to do to him when he wanted a lesson firmly imprinted upon his pupil.
Then Cinnia cried out, “Here it is!” She brandished a small leather-bound tome.
Dillon took it from her, and thumbed through it. “I’ll take it to read,” he said aloud, and he tucked the little book in a pocket within his robes. Putting an arm about Cinnia he returned them to their apartments in their castle. As their personal servants were nowhere to be seen Dillon turned Cinnia to him, and touched her lips with his. “Will you take pleasures with me now, my love?” He caressed her face with a finger. “I missed you last night, Cinnia. Did you miss me?”
“Aye, I missed you,” she told him. “How much did you miss me, my lord?”
“Come into our bedchamber, and I will show you,” he replied, nuzzling her ear.
Taking his hand she led him from their shared dayroom, and he closed the door behind them, slamming the bolt firmly so they would maintain their privacy while they played. The sun cast dappled shadows upon the stone floor of the chamber and its colorful rugs. He pointed a finger at her, and her gown dissolved. She pointed one at him, and his robes were gone.
Her gaze dropped, and then she said, “I cannot see that you missed me greatly, my lord. Perhaps you were mistaken as to the depth of your affections,” Cinnia teased.
Reaching out, he took one of her soft, round breasts in his hand and fondled it. The ball of his thumb rubbed her nipple, which tightened in response.
“Kneel before me,” Cinnia said to him, and he did. “Raise your head up, and remember you may not touch me with your hands unless I give you leave. Open your mouth, but do nothing more until I tell you that you may.”
He lifted his head, his eyes dancing with delight at the game she was playing with him. He parted his lips for her. Leaning forward Cinnia placed the nipple he had played with into his open mouth. He remained perfectly still, his hands at his sides. She remained silent. He longed to tug upon that nipple, but in obedience to her wishes he did nothing, but he could feel his cock beginning to respond very strongly to this torture.
After a few minutes she said, “You may suckle upon me, my lord.” And then she gasped as he pulled strongly upon the tender flesh, mouth, tongue and teeth all working at her. She could see his hands clenching and unclenching themselves.
“Do you want to touch me?” she taunted him.
His eyes, hot with desire, gazed silently up at her as he sucked upon her breast.
“You may fondle my buttocks if you so desire,” Cinnia finally told him. “But you will release my nipple if you do so. You must not be too greedy for my flesh, my lord.”
His mouth tugged upon her for a short while more, and then nipping fiercely upon the nipple a final time he released it, his hands going immediately to her buttocks, which he kneaded strongly as he slowly, slowly, drew her forward. And when she was exactly where he wanted her, he ran his tongue down her shadowed slip.
“I did not say you could do that!” Cinnia cried. “Oh!”
Dillon’s tongue pushed between her nether lips, and with unerring aim found her pleasure jewel. He teased at it, and she let him. Her juices were beginning to flow when he released his hold upon her bottom, and swiftly thrust two fingers into her sheath all the while working the sentient nub of swollen flesh beneath his tongue. The fingers moved rhythmically back and forth within her sheath, and she found herself pushing down upon them as she sought to get him deeper.
He laughed. “You’re greedy as always.”
“You’re too good, as always,” she managed to murmur.
“Do you want me deep inside of you, my love?”
“Aye! Hurry!” she pleaded with him.
He pulled her down to her knees, and then lay her back, pushing her legs high. “Do you think I am showing you my need now, my love?” he asked, brandishing his manhood, which was now quite swollen and lengthy.
In answer she moaned with her need.
He answered her in a single hard thrust. Then he began to ride her until she was weeping with her delight.
Cinnia felt the length of him plungin
g forward until he was practically entering the mouth of her womb. He was so hard, and his flesh burned her with his lust. With her legs raised high he could fill her with his full length, and she loved it. She tightened and released, tightened and released the muscles of her wet sheath around him, and he groaned with his delight as, kneeling between her upraised legs, he pleasured her until her head was spinning and she was soaring into the skies above. “Oh, Dillon!” she cried.
And the sound of her sweet voice so filled with ecstasy broke his control. His manhood quivered violently and then exploded his love juices into her. It seemed to him as if his juices would never stop flowing, but finally his big body jerked hard several times, and he collapsed with a gusty sigh. “Cinnia, Cinnia! None has even pleasured me like you do,” he told her as he moved to take her into his arms.
“Even she who is said to be my double?” Cinnia asked him wickedly.
“Not even she,” he told her honestly.
Hearing the truth in his voice, Cinnia smiled contentedly. “I am glad for that,” she said, “though Arlais tells me Sapphira pleases Ahura Mazda well.” Then she grew serious. “What will happen to her when he is no more, Dillon? Will Tullio accept her and her child back in Beldane, or will they make them outcasts?”
“I do not know the answer to that,” Dillon said. “I cannot be certain if Tullio will accept the changes to come. I know Alban will, and Dreng won’t. But I am not certain of Tullio. Only time will give us the answer to that, my love.”
Duke Tullio, however, had suffered a great tragedy on his return home. His vessel had been caught in a terrible storm within sight of his own coastline. It had sunk, and only the duke, and four of the sailors aboard had survived to reach the shore. His sister, Margisia, along with everyone else aboard, had drowned. Tullio was devastated, for he had been deeply fond of his only sister. It was the son-in-law who had been designated his heir who had sent word to the king and the queen of the terrible calamity. And because Cinnia was thought to be Sapphira it was necessary for her to put on the mourning white for her mother. Perhaps now, she thought, if Tullio ever learned what had become of Sapphira, he would welcome her return. Did Sapphira even know of her mother’s terrible end? Cinnia wondered.
She did. Ahura Mazda had learned of the disaster, and considering it a blow against Dillon, trumpeted the news within his own hall. Arlais saw the false Cinnia go pale, and moving discreetly to her side she caught her hand in hers and murmured low.
“Do not show your distress. You can only mourn in secret, my dear.”
“Do not speak, I beg you,” Sapphira replied, her soft voice trembling.
“I know who you really are, but you make our husband happy, and that is enough for me,” Arlais responded.
Sapphira nodded silently, and their eyes met in understanding.
Poor girl, Arlais thought. She is arrogant, rude and selfish, yet I pity her. And what will happen to her when the changes come? Arlais had spoken to her two eldest sons, Behrooz and Sohrab. They were cautious, but open to her tale of meeting the young queen of Belmair upon the Dream Plain.
“We will not betray our father,” they said as one.
“Neither will I,” Arlais answered them, “but he will not change. There have been peoples throughout history who have split and gone in different directions when they could no longer live beneath a single rule. Belmair sent those who changed to Hetar. But before any decision is made, before you even speak with your families and adherents, we must learn if we can still survive upon the land. The sorceress has not called me again, but she will when the time is right. We must wait.”
It was a difficult time for those looking to change the world. While he studied the small book on time manipulation Dillon also made it his business to speak with the ordinary folk regarding the Yafir. In his own district of Belmair he found the attitudes were mixed. Some were not averse to sharing Belmair with the Yafir again. Others were strongly opposed to it. The citizens of Belia, like their duke, were more than willing to share their province with the magic folk. The people living in the Beldane sector like those of the Belmair sector were divided, while Dreng of Beltran and his people were diametrically opposed to the Yafir.
“This will take longer than I had anticipated,” Dillon said to Kaliq and Cronan one evening as they sat together in the little hall. The ancient Shadow Prince had taken to joining them, and the young king enjoyed his company. It was interesting to see the great Kaliq deferring to another.
“What will you do then?” Cinnia asked her husband.
“If I cannot scatter the Yafir among all four of our provinces, what else can I do but raise another mass of land up from the sea for them?” Dillon replied.
“A most ambitious undertaking,” Cronan noted drily. “But will it not defeat your original purpose to bring Belmairan and Yafir together as one people?”
“Perhaps in the beginning,” Dillon agreed, “but the most important first step in my plan is to bring them out of hiding. Some will assimilate into Belmairan society immediately. And Belmairans will get to know them through trade between the provinces. There will be more intermarriages between the young people, but these marriages will be negotiated between the families. We will have no more stolen brides.”
“First you must solve the problem of stabilizing their ages so all the Yafir may continue on with reasonable life expectancies,” Kaliq said.
“It will not be easy,” Dillon said. “I am not certain a mass spell will suffice, and I would do no harm. I believe it may have to be done one by one.”
“That is time-consuming,” Cronan’s ancient voice said.
“You have far greater knowledge than I in this matter,” Dillon replied.
“Why do you think that?” Cronan responded.
“You are sympathetic to the Yafir,” Dillon said. “Why else would you remain here in Belmair all these centuries? I suspect you have guarded them for all this time. They are magic folk, but of the lower orders, Cronan. They had not the knowledge or power to create the world below the sea in which they live. I think you did that for them.”
“You are right, Kaliq. He is very intuitive and clever,” the old Shadow Prince said. “Aye, I have been protecting them, but like many races they have become their own worst enemy, and unless something is done they will become Belmair’s, as well. Another king in the mold of the previous rulers here would have surely spelled Belmair’s doom.”
“Then help me to help the Yafir,” Dillon replied. “If I raise a new land mass from the sea, can we three together enchant it so that the Yafir may live in safety? I will devise a spell that can be used individually to ply time to our will so some may be dispersed to the other provinces, except Beltran. I have no time to argue with Dreng at this moment. I will deal with him later.”
“And what of Ahura Mazda?” Cronan asked.
“I will deal with him later, as well,” Dillon said grimly. “First the land must be brought up from the sea. Then it must be made habitable. When that is done then we will approach those among the Yafir who would come up from the sea.”
“It is a good plan,” Cronan said.
“May I speak to Arlais about it?” Cinnia asked her husband. “That way she can prepare her sons, and their adherents. I think knowing they need not face the immediate hostility of we Belmairans may make their decision an easy one.”
“Aye,” Kaliq agreed. “It is clever.”
“Do I not always achieve my purposes, my lord?” D
illon asked his father.
Cronan chuckled. “He has your ego, I see, old friend. I should like to meet his mother one day. She must be strong to have withstood you, Kaliq, and yet birthed you such a fine son. There is no in-between with these faerie women. They can be either as hard as iron, or soft as butter.”
“Lara is a little of both,” Kaliq told the ancient. “But the softness is the small bit of mortal blood that flows within her.”
The next morning they met in Dillon’s library, and spread a great map of Belmair upon a large table. The largest province, Belmair itself, appeared to sit in the very center of the great sea, surrounded by the three smaller provinces of Belia, Beldane and Beltran each set equidistant from each other, and Belmair province itself. To have fit a new province between the others would have destroyed the balance. It was decided to put it in the southern part of the sea away from the others. This way it could be said the Yafir had discovered the place, and had been living there for centuries. No one need ever know about their world beneath the sea if they chose not to speak of it.
The following morning the two Shadow Princes settled themselves upon Nidhug’s back, and she flew to the spot where together they would create this new province, which would be called Belbuoy. The dragon hovered over the area as Dillon called forth land from the deep. He stood upon Nidhug’s back near the graceful curve of her neck.
Heed me waters of the sea. Spread yourselves, give way to me. At the calling of my hand, slowly, slowly raise new land. Gentle hills and meadows fair; beaches wide, and harbors there. Soil that’s rich and air that’s sweet; a place for magic folk to meet. Give way, oh waters of the sea. I ask it of you humbly.
The Sorceress of Belmair Page 43
