by Megan Derr
Not much in the world could burn in the face of a torrential downpour. But among those few substances, the Dragon's firebombs were pretty near the top. It was just one more reason they kept them closely guarded.
Jac turned her head, shared a brief look with Myra before their attention was jerked back in the direction of the village, where smoke was now billowing in such great quantities it was visible in the rain. For a moment, Jac swore she could hear screams.
Another explosion, but Jac was distracted by a flash of movement at the tree lines.
"Someone's coming!" Charlaine bellowed.
"I see them!" Jac turned toward Myra—and realized he was looking in the direction of the village. She followed his gaze, and sure enough, there was another figure running toward them.
The rain had lessoned slightly, though not enough to make life any easier. "There's another coming from the trees!" Myra said.
The two figures spied each other as they drew close.
"Get back!" the figure to Jac's right snarled, throwing something at the second figure.
Harold. That was Harold. Wan and haggard, with blood sluicing from a wound that hadn't been bandaged well, but there. "Back off, Iron Moon, your clan has caused us all enough trouble! I mean to—" He broke off as the other figure went at him with a sword.
"Stop!" Charlaine and Myra bellowed. "Stop! We're all on the same side!"
It was less the shouting that stopped them and more that both Harold and the woman—who must be Kimberly—lost their footing and tumbled down into the water. The field was rapidly becoming a pond.
Getting back up, they went right back to fighting, snarling at each other now in words Jac couldn't understand.
"Stop!" Myra shouted again. "Kimberly! He's an ally." He twisted his head to look at Jac. "Right? This is the one you were telling me about. Harold, from Dark Tide."
Jac nodded. Myra shifted back to the hostile pair and started shouting again, this time speaking Soltorish. Kimberly went down again as Harold swept her feet out from under her, but as he went in for the kill, she slammed a fist into his nose.
Myra bellowed louder than ever, so loud it must have hurt, and finally they stopped. They glared at each other a moment before dragging their eyes slowly to Myra, who hoarsely barked out several more sentences.
When he stopped, Harold gave a jerky nod and said something in reply as he knelt in the water, likely searching for his dropped weapons. "I want nothing to do with this woman, with Iron Moon—" Whatever he said then was outside Jac's limited Soltorish vocabulary, but it didn't take fluency or the glare on Kimberly's face to know he hadn't said anything flattering.
"Enough," Charlaine said, with all the command of a Second Lieutenant of Fathoms Deep and Shattered Wind. "We need to get out of here. I assume that's why you're both here, yes? Time is short. Someone will figure out whatever you did in the village was a distraction."
"Not the method I'd have gone with," Harold said tersely, sneering slightly as he waded over to Jac. He stared up at her manacled hands. "Can I borrow your shoulders?"
Jac gave him a look. "Please do."
With a fleeting grin, Harold deftly scaled up Jac and the pole, balancing on her shoulders as he picked the lock on her manacles.
Nearby, Kimberly was doing the same for Myra. As they both finished, they leapt down and tackled the far more difficult task of picking locks that were underwater.
Jac gingerly flexed and stretched her poor arms, scowling at the bruises and cuts on her wrists. She needed those wrists, Pantheon damn everyone and everything.
"There," Harold said, at the same time Jac felt the manacles around her ankles go loose.
Forcing back the sudden tears that wanted out, she pulled him to his feet and squeezed his hands in gratitude she couldn't yet voice. He smiled briefly, understanding in his eyes, and darted off to tackle Charlaine's legs while Kimberly got his arms.
Myra swept her up and kissed her hard, lips cold but his mouth warm, and if she thought she tasted salt water in there somewhere, it could have come from her as easily as Myra. A heavy hand on her back drew them apart, and then Charlaine was kissing them both.
For a moment, they lingered, clinging tightly to each other and crying in the rain.
"Come on," Harold called out over the rain that was rapidly lessening now. "We need to go. If we don't reach Dark Tide before Iron Moon catches up to us, we're all dead, and they won't be nice enough to do it slowly a second time."
Snorting at that, and ignoring that she was still very, very naked, Jac followed Harold into the jungle.
They didn't stop moving for what felt like hours, though it couldn't have been more than one hour at most. Somewhere in the midst of the trudge, the rain tapered off and left a sweltering, exhausting humidity in its wake, the swiftly returning sun setting rocks and other surfaces to gently steaming.
When they finally stopped by a small waterfall, Jac sank to her knees on what seemed to be a relatively safe patch of dirt. "Can I please have some Pantheon-damned clothes now."
"Sorry," Harold said. "I thought we'd be able to stop sooner, but the back of my neck has been prickling."
"Too bad it didn't prickle before we got captured," Charlaine said.
Harold grunted. "I let down my guard. I should not have."
With a sigh, Charlaine replied, "We all did. Without you we wouldn't have survived this damned jungle. We owe you—and you," he added, turning to Kimberly, "our lives." He started to say more but was cut off as Kimberly threw the pack she'd been carrying at him, catching him soundly in the chest.
"You can start repaying me by putting on some clothes," she said, but smiled fleetingly before turning away.
Charlaine knelt and rifled through the pack, throwing clothes at Myra and Jac before starting on his own.
Jac watched Myra for a moment, to be sure she understood how to put the clothes on correctly. There were long dark brown trousers that stopped at mid-shin, which were obvious enough; then a sort of jacket-shirt thing that had to be folded a certain way. She fumbled it the first time, and Kimberly stepped forward to help the second, binding it with a thin strip of fabric before wrapping a thicker, sturdier sash around her waist. Harold offered her a thumb ring of gleaming gold and carved with flowers. It was prettier than the usual leather and wood ones Jac bought but seemed functional enough. It also fit.
"A spare, but your fingers looked about my size," Harold said with a smile when she looked at him, and then handed her a bow that was nearly a perfect match of his.
"Thank you," Jac said, eyes stinging. "For everything."
"I'm glad you're still alive, warbird," Harold said with an answering smile as he handed over some knives and sheaths as well. "Not least of all because if I had failed to save you, my chief would have put a few more arrows in me."
Myra frowned. "Why does Chief Dark Tide care whether we live or die?"
Harold's smile turned grim as they all looked at him. "Haven't you heard? Harken warships have landed at Odokka."
"Fuck," Charlaine said.
"The emperor himself is here to supervise Harken's overtaking the Triumvirate."
"Oh, Realms." Jac shared a look with Charlaine and Myra, who looked the way she felt.
Harold wasn't finished. "We haven't received further missives on the matter, save one: that you three are to be returned alive or else."
Myra closed his eyes and swore softly. "Then we'd better get back before Sarrica loses patience."
"Spirits spare me ever being in a position that I would so casually refer to an emperor by his given name," Harold said. He dug into the pack he was holding and handed out food and a heavy skin. "Eat, drink. They're both intended to provide a great deal of energy for a few hours, but you'll sleep hard once we stop."
Charlaine and Jac nodded in unison and started wolfing down the food. Myra grimaced and ate at a slightly slower pace. When the whole group had finished, Jac pulled on the shoes she was tossed, strung her bow, and took up the r
ear position as they continued on through the jungle.
They traveled until the sun was just starting to set, finally breaking free of the dense jungle into a clearing that looked almost exactly like the village they'd recently fled, save for the colors of the banners scattered about.
Harold led them to the large house that overlooked the village square, where a solemn woman motioned them to enter. Leaving their shoes and weapons at the entryway, the exhausted, haggard group followed her into the sitting area, where a table had been laid with dinner.
Gratefully taking a seat, Jac half-listened as Myra recited what sounded like formal platitudes until finally they were allowed to eat.
Silence stretched taut over the meal, until the woman finally broke it. "Hibiki, tell me what you saw of Iron Moon."
Myra's brows rose as Jac and Charlaine's furrowed, but before they could ask, Harold said, "I found these three staked out, but before I reached the village to cause a suitable distraction, someone else had already done so. I added my own bits to the chaos then returned to rescue them. I wasn't able to explore further as everything happened faster than I intended. My impression, though, was that they were planning to move out soon. There were gliders waiting and several bags of supplies."
"Forgive me for speaking out of turn," Kimberly said, "but yes, you are correct. The elders—and some of the higher-ranking assassins—were planning to leave. The rest of the village was believed to be safe enough if Harken came for us."
"I see," the woman said, and set down her half-empty bowl of rice. She glanced over the table, then said, "Forgive me. I have failed to give proper introductions. You've met my youngest son. I am Chief Dark Tide, but you may address me as Chief Yugao."
"You use traditional names," Myra said.
Yugao nodded.
"I'm sorry for my ignorance," Jac said, "but what do you mean by traditional names?"
Myra glanced at Yugao, and at her minute nod, replied, "Back when this island was colonized by Benta, they installed their own government and, to make the islands more like Benta and less like our uncivilized selves, they forbade all manner of things, including most dialects and native names. Even after we were freed, those changes persisted, mostly because those in power prefer it that way so we 'fit in' more with the most influential nations like Benta and Treya Mencee. But some clans and villages still use traditional names, if only in secret. Iron Moon was not one of them."
"Dark Tide has never needed Benta to tell us how to exist, and we certainly don't need to keep mimicking them," Yugao said, mouth curling into a sneer. "Thanks to those Iron Fools, we will get to see what rules and changes Harken will force upon us."
To that, Jac could say nothing. Harken, especially under Sarrica, had a reputation for being fair and kind where few other nations were not, but cruel or kind, a master was a master, and the Triumvirate was not strong enough to stand against the Harken Empire out for blood, especially when they were still recovering from decades of Bentan oppression.
Pantheon and all the ancestors, why hadn't she been able to save Larren?
She drained her cup and bowed her head when Harold—Hibiki—refilled it. "Thank you for saving us." The wine was warm, bitter, made from rice and flavored with flowers. It reminded her of the meal they'd had with Lady Mark at the inn where they'd first been attacked, but this was even better.
Hibiki grunted and nodded at Kimberly. "I think she did most of the work, though I confess I am surprised to see anyone from Iron Moon turn traitor." His eyes shifted to Myra, mouth ticking up. "Anyone else, that is."
Kimberly toyed with the rim of her small wine cup, then took a sip. "I worked hard to be taken seriously by Iron Moon, instead of being one more woman shunted to the side to spend my life serving men and tending children. But I've never enjoyed being a glorified murderer, and I have liked even less this ridiculous vendetta. The more time passed, the more I detested it…" She glanced at Myra, then looked away. "Everything Myra said made sense. Even if he only said them in the hopes of persuading me to help him and betray Iron Mon, that doesn't make the words any less true."
"I'm grateful you were willing to listen and risk so much for someone you didn't even know," Charlaine said.
"We're all grateful," Yugao said. "Bad enough that Iron Moon has angered Harken to the point they have invaded us. I do not want to think how much worse it would be for all of us if we were returning your bodies. But please, you would probably like to rest now. We will be leaving at first light to take you to Odokka. Ideally it should only take a few days to reach. We do not deserve it, but I would ask of you to speak well of Dark Tide and the rest of the island, for most of us are not Iron Moon. We simply want to be left in peace."
Jac, Charlaine and Myra nodded. "Of course. Thank you again, Chief Yugao," Jac said.
She grunted softly and motioned for Hibiki to show them to their beds.
*~*~*
He took them first to a bathing room, where they washed quickly and changed into provided sleeping clothes. Several minutes later, they were in a small bedroom, most of the space taken up by the bed for three made up on the floor. The unexpected consideration stung Jac's eyes. She blinked the tears away and went when Myra motioned for them to get into bed. Myra then doused the light before joining them, with Jac in the middle. She slid her arms around him, holding tight as they both trembled and cried. Behind her, Charlaine pressed close, one arm draped across both of them, and she could feel his tears as he nuzzled her hair.
"I was really starting to think we wouldn't make it," Jac whispered. "Soldiers don't usually live long lives, but I didn't ever think that was how I would go."
"It's not how we went," Myra said.
Thank the Pantheon for that. But she would do it all again if that was what it took to save Myra.
She had no idea what was coming next, what would happen when they reunited with Sarrica, but they'd made it this far. They'd make it the rest of the way, all three of them.
Jac gave a small, shaky, but happy laugh.
"What's so funny?" Charlaine grumbled.
"Of all the things I expected to happen to me, winding up with both of you as my lovers never even occurred to me. Well, not seriously, anyway. I honestly wasn't sure what you'd do when I brought the matter up on the boat." She gave another shaky laugh. "I just figured it couldn't hurt to try, especially when there was no guarantee we'd be alive much longer."
She couldn't see him, but Charlaine's smile was in his voice as he replied, "I'm glad you said something. I doubt I ever would have had the nerve or the sense."
"I was too convinced I was being a selfish bastard to have ever asked," Myra said. "It's a good thing we have Jac to be the sensible one."
"I wouldn't go that far," Charlaine said with a snort—and laughed when Jac elbowed him.
Jac shifted, pushing her thigh between Myra's legs, head turning so she could nibble at his jaw. "It just seemed stupid that one of us should walk away when we agreed so vehemently about you. Why argue over who gets to love you when we can both do it?"
Myra swallowed audibly and shifted to take Jac's mouth in a hard, deep kiss that seemed to echo every emotion running through Jac. She returned the kiss heatedly, one of her hands sliding into his hair, the other sliding down and tangling with Charlaine's hand where it still curled over his hip. Myra whimpered and clung as tightly as he could—and whined when they abruptly drew back.
Jac smiled in the dark and together with Charlaine, dragged him into the middle of the bed, settled on either side of him, and set to driving him mad. Jac used her fingers to tease, pinch, stroke, and caress. And Charlaine—fuck, Charlaine had a hungry mouth. Jac couldn't remember a single other lover who'd been as enthusiastic as Charlaine was to put his mouth to every place he could reach and had the skills of a high-end whore. Watching him drive Myra wild was almost better than being the focus of all that ardent attention.
"Charlaine—"
Chuckling, Charlaine looked up briefly, lips swollen wi
th use, mouth wet with spit and Myra's want, some of it trailing down his throat in gleaming drops. His good eye burned and sweat made his skin shine. "Should I stop?"
"I'll kill you if you do," Myra gasped out as Jac pushed a finger inside of him and twisted it. She bent to kiss him, then pulled away to drag Charlaine into a wet, filthy kiss that tasted of all three of them. No other kisses would do, not after this.
Pulling away, Charlaine dragged his tongue across Myra's lips, then nibbled and sucked and licked his way down Myra's throat, back to where'd left off between Myra's thighs, immediately setting Myra to moaning and pleading again.
Jac moaned with him, remembering vividly how it had felt to be spread open and fucked on that tongue. She kissed Myra wet and filthy, sucking on his bottom lip before pulling away. "I want to fuck you. The moment we get home and have a moment to spare, I'm going to spread you open on our bed and fuck you until you scream. I bet you could take the largest cock I own. Would you suck it first, before I stuffed you full?"
Myra tried to reply, but between Jac's fingers and Charlaine's mouth, all he could really do was pant and gasp and beg for more.
Then Jac pulled away and went to retrieve something from her pack. At Myra's curious expression, she held up one of the jars of lotion from the bathhouse. Myra snickered.
Charlaine looked up, a question on his face, but before he could voice it, his breath punched out in surprise, followed by a soft groan as Jac's fingers deftly found the spot they'd been seeking. "Where did you get something slick, Dragon?"
"A bit of theft," Jac replied before curving over Charlaine to trail kisses along his shoulders and down his spine. "Get back to work before Myra starts pouting."
"Bossy," Charlaine muttered, but without heat, and went back to work extracting cries and moans that Myra seemed to surrender eagerly.
He came moments later, shuddering hard and barely muffling a shout in time. Charlaine drew back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and mercy of all the gods in existence, Jac loved him like that: mussed and sweaty, lips flushed and swollen, chin and throat wet from eating Myra out, that smug cat expression on his face.
