by Silas Post
A thunderous rumble behind me drew my eyes over my shoulder. Wick’s ship had crashed to the ocean’s floor, sending a murky cloud out from its base.
Clear of the shockwave that disrupted the waters behind us, Sadine slowed her swim and offered me a new breath. She pulled me tight as our lips touched, forcing my rigid length to glide against her pelvis. I felt her swollen mound beneath my head and I rolled my hips, exploring her body as best I could with hands bound behind me.
Sadine’s tentacle arm reached down my back and grabbed hold of my ass while another slid between our bodies, trailing down her flat stomach and splitting apart her lower lips. She curled around my shaft and guided me inside her core until my pelvis was flat against hers.
Her body was slick and tight, her natural lubricant a warm satin that sent a thrill through my every nerve. I thrust my hips gently at first, locking my eyes on hers and waiting for any sign I should hold back or slow down.
Instead, she bucked her hips against mine, burying my shaft deep within her before sliding back slowly. Another sharp thrust and slow retreat set the rhythm she wanted, and on her next approach I lunged forward to meet her effort with my own. She gasped and widened her eyes, rippling her gills with a sharp intake of air.
Then she pressed her mouth against mine and kept her face locked against my lips. We started to breathe as one organism then, her moans of pleasure pumping air into my lungs just as my groaning returned it to hers. Our bodies thrummed from the constant exchange of primal vocalization.
Her feet fluttered against the water in time with her rear tentacles, taking us on a wondrous journey where every kick sent a slight twist through our hips and every ripple of her tentacles sent a cool wavelet of ocean water across our faces.
Sadine’s breathing quickened, or maybe mine did. It was impossible to know where her impulses ended and mine began, locked in our cycle of accelerating breath and pleasurable moans.
Her sex tightened around mine, her every muscle clenching in preparation for climactic release. Her arms tensed and flexed faster, grabbing at every inch of my exposed skin, latching on with her suction cups and releasing again, a constant and ever-shifting exploration of my body against hers.
Her excitement thrilled me. Pressure built inside my body, eager to explode with our shared pleasure.
When she broke away from our kiss and arched her back, I could not contain myself. I leaned forward as my body tensed, burying my face in her buoyant pink breasts as she screamed toward the sky. Her body gripped mine with a passion so intense I forgot about breathing altogether.
There was no room for thought, my mind was so consumed in an explosion of pure bliss. My body pulsed in synchrony with Sadine’s rocking hips.
Then, with her body still clenched around mine and throbbing with her own climactic pleasure, the cuffs around my wrists and ankles split apart. The dense black material summoned by an infernal and imbued with unnatural energy was a thing of pain, and despair, and servitude. It could not stand up to the pleasure of this moment, the freedom and ecstasy of two souls finding their kindred match in each other’s company.
There was a key to unlock the infernal’s shackles, and it was forged in the sweet peace of unbridled joy.
My limbs back under my control, I grabbed Sadine by the hips and ran my hands up her arched back. I held her neck and pulled her upright, pressing her breasts against my chest and her lips against my own. I kissed her, ignorant of the need for air, knowing only that our bodies and our impulses had once again saved the other’s life.
We remained locked in our tight embrace, breathing in unison as our bodies calmed. We rejoiced in the warmth of our closeness in contrast to the cool ocean water that sped past us. Sadine angled upward and toward an underwater cliff, swimming us past jagged rocks that narrowed toward a dark tunnel.
My legs bumped against stone and then we came to a stop. Sadine released me and stood, her upper body disappearing above the water’s surface. I joined her, wading through shallow water inside a cavern deep beneath the island.
I forced my lungs to do their own work now and squinted the saltwater from my eyes. This cavern was dark, but some faint light shone from deeper inside it. Some fraction of that light made its way here, reflecting off the wet rocks that formed uneven walls around us.
Sadine lay flat on the ground here, her four tentacle arms spreading outward to her sides.
“Euphoria is a special kind of exhaustion,” she said.
I climbed on top of her, resting my knees beside hers.
“Oh, I’m not done with you,” I said, sliding my hands down her front. I ran my fingers one at a time along the side of her breasts, teasing the sensitive underside before continuing down her flat stomach. My palms met side by side as I rubbed my hands between her legs, then pushed her inner thighs to spread her legs while I lowered my face toward her sex.
An inch away from licking my way from the base of her slit toward a more sensitive spot further up, she placed the tip of one tentacle below my chin and lifted my face away.
“I told you before,” she said. “You can’t eat me, I’m poison.”
“You have a wonderful sense of humor,” I said.
“Thank you,” she replied. “But I’m not kidding about this.”
“Oh,” I said. “We’ll move onto other things then.”
A shadow extended past Sadine’s face and darkened her breasts. I glanced up to find its source and found a pair of sapphire blue eyes shining bright despite the surrounding darkness. The outline of a body stood at the cavern’s far end, watching us.
“Aho!” I yelled.
The figure did not respond in words I understood. It released a roar that rumbled through the cavern and echoed off the close walls.
I stood and Sadine did the same. She peered at those blue eyes and opened her mouth. A sound like dolphin chatter sped from her lips, a series of musical chirps and clicks. They continued an exchange in strange animalistic sounds until finally, they stopped. Sadine’s back stiffened and her tentacles relaxed, limp by her sides.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“She said we’re not welcome to stay,” Sadine said, “but we’re less welcome to leave.”
The pool of shallow water that led to the ocean tunnel receded then and the rocks themselves sealed shut.
21
“You will follow,” the dark shape said. Her voice was brittle with age. When she turned to lead us deeper into the cavern ahead, her gait was slow and she walked with a slight limp.
I looked to Sadine. She shrugged and began walking. I did the same.
A narrow crevice of rock formed a long hallway of sorts, leading to an inner chamber with a vaulted roof a mile high. It tapered all around us toward a sliver of blue sky and warm sunlight that streamed in from impossibly high up.
Beneath our feet was a flat expanse of solid rock, but posed in the center of this single room was a stone chair carved ornately like a throne. A skeleton rested there, slumped in its seat. The bones were withered, but they radiated a gentle blue light.
Our guide knelt before that throne. Her hands and feet were like a lion’s paws, covered in short tan fur but ending in sharp claws. A jumper dress in dark blue matched the sapphire light in her eyes. A long cat’s tail rested on the floor behind her.
Aside from the lion ears that parted her long gray hair, there were no other leonine features. There were, however, wings. They were massive and feathered like an eagle — or, perhaps, an angel.
“You’re a sphinx,” I said to our guide.
She glanced back and nodded.
“The people of this island haven’t seen your kind in ages,” I said. “Why do you hide in this cave of death?”
“I serve him,” she said, taking a place beside that throne and folding her hands before her. “I have always served him. And this is his temple.”
“Now what?” Sadine asked.
“Now, you wait,” the woman replied.
Sa
dine sat on the smooth rock floor of this so-called temple, while I did the same. My feet were cramped and wet inside my boots, so I slid them off my feet. My toes wrinkled from constant moisture and I tipped my boot toward the rocks, spilling a small puddle of salty water from it. A wet mound of sand piled up too, likely carried from the deck of Wick’s ill-fated ship. I emptied my other boot and slipped my shoes back on.
The sunlight that filtered through the high cracked ceiling was scant, but warm. I lay beneath it and waited. Wick was gone; Jarah and a ship’s worth of her people were released from captivity; and Rikki was out of harm’s way with Redelia’s soul in her custody.
I sat upright. Redelia. The gem that carried her was black and damaged. Her pendant was in the hands of Greenloft’s guards. The energy that sustained her was fleeting and sparse.
“I cannot stay here,” I said. “I must leave this minute.”
“There is no exit without his blessing,” the sphinx said. “Now be still. He comes.”
The flickering image of a man appeared behind the throne, the same bright blue light I had seen before. He blinked into existence gradually, his shape becoming more consistent with each second until finally his light was nearly opaque. He crossed his arms and stood there, his body half blocked behind the stone seat his servant stood beside.
“Thank you, Abra,” he said. She bowed her head.
“Why do you hold us here when lives hang in the balance?” I asked. “What do you want with us?”
“The same thing I want from any who would destroy the balance of my island,” he said. “I want you dead and gone.”
“No,” I said. “You appeared to me before. Your glowing blue aura showed me the royal army in time to expect their attack. You planted the seed of doubt in my mind when I encountered the infernal Araine. You guided our ship through the storm beyond your shores. That was you, shining your light as a beacon. A message. You welcomed me.”
“And what came of that?” he asked. “You allowed Araine to claim lives and bolster her energy. You tried to dedicate a temple to strengthen her power! I rebuked her then and I will rebuke her now, by silencing her emissary for all time.”
“Your rebuke was not against Araine,” I said.
“If Araine is not your mistress, what infernal sent you to my shore?”
“Not an infernal,” I said. “The goddess Redelia.”
“Every infernal fancies herself a goddess,” the man said. “And every mortal under her spell is a fool.”
“Redelia is the goddess of captured light,” I said. “She has sacrificed greatly to promote peace and life.”
“What does she know of sacrifice?” he asked, his volume rising further with each word. “None have sacrificed more than me!”
“Ask her yourself,” I said. “Reach with your psychic call and verify the nature of the lady Redelia.”
“I cannot!” he yelled, tightening his fists and shaking them in small motions by his sides.
“Because you’re an infernal too!” I yelled.
Abra gasped and lowered herself onto her knees. The man-shaped ghost took a step closer to me and I stood firm. The silence in that room became palpable as the final echoes of raised voices died down.
His glowing cheeks sagged. A ghastly nose flinched as his upper lip pulled back in contempt. I glared at him, challenging his glowering face with the resolution of my own hard eyes.
After staring into my pupils for a tense minute, his fingers unfurled. His glower softened into a slight frown.
“I am no infernal.” He spoke his words calmly now. “I am Okkor, the god of gods. And I am dead.”
He crossed the room then and put his glowing hand on Abra’s shoulder.
“If you died, why do you stay?” I asked. “Why hold this island hostage to your eternal whim? Let Redelia found her temple here. Her life is forfeit otherwise.”
“I created this island,” he said. “Every inch of it is beholden to me.”
“Share it,” I said. “You have a reputation as a divine force of aid and support, or is that a myth that grew out of proportion to any good deed once done?”
“It is an honest reputation which I believe I have earned,” he replied. “For centuries I offered a helping word and a kind hand. As the path to divinity welcomed new travelers, I provided rest and aid. My power was bountiful and my energy overflowing. I gave it away for no reason other than the gratitude my generosity sparked in others. Through this, I learned the pleasure of charity.
“That pleasure only improved my power,” he said. “It was a boon for the island I built from nothing below my own feet. What started as a pebble on the ocean floor blossomed into a small continent lush with fruits and trees and peaceful creatures. Then, the forestkind were born.
“I was a young god, amazed at the blessings life could bestow. The more my power grew, the more sphinxkind appeared. I attracted explorers and traders. I attracted settlers. I was a world onto myself. The man every god sought as a mentor and a friend, I delighted in my own reputation. Then, the trouble started.
“I grew too powerful. When I drank from the well of life, I drank too deep and too quick. The energy left for my brother and sister gods dipped too shallow to sustain them, but my thirst was rampant. I could not tame my impulse.”
“Are you the one draining the well so thoroughly that my goddess sips at insufficient dregs while her life force leaves her?”
“Does it run shallow again?” he asked. His soft expression never hardened at my accusation. “No, it is not my doing. Not this time.” There was a sadness in the light blue aura that flickered before me, the shape of a man long since released from his body but still tethered in death to this island.
“My conscience would not allow my thirst to cause my siblings grief,” he continued. “I had a difficult choice to make, and I made it. One last boon to my kind. I turned away from the well of life.”
“You stopped nourishing yourself?” Sadine asked. “What a sad fate for an island that once thrived.”
“Yes,” Okkor said. “I killed my island’s creations, long before I knew the repercussions of my own self-harm.”
Sensing my confusion, Okkor continued, answering the questions that still hadn’t formed in my mind. “The relationship between the gods and the forestkind is complex. The divine energy that feeds life to the gods bears a link to the world forest itself. Without a god to draw life from the earth, the forestkind are subject to the ravage of time. They age, and they die. Given enough death and distress, the forest ceases to bear new children in a suffering land.
“I starved myself to death, and in so doing, I killed my faithful servants.”
“No,” Abra said. “You strain to protect me even in death. You protected others too, before…”
“Time comes for you next, Abra,” Okkor said. “I am sorry.”
“How could you protect anyone,” I asked, “after your life has ended?”
“Another miscalculation on my part,” Okkor said. “Creating an island from nothing does not make it part of the world at large. Settlers came, yes, but the traders left when it was clear there was no money to be made. The cyclopean people lived in peaceful harmony with a bountiful land. They had no need of coin.”
“But the cloud carriers did,” I said.
“Yes,” Okkor replied. “Those avaricious ferrymen of the skies refused even me. The energy I accumulated in life still rests inside my bones, and I draw on it to soothe Abra’s aging and protect the island. I keep the ocean storms at bay. I quell the sands when Araine whips them into frenzy. I still the wind itself. Though, the task is more difficult as my energy depletes.
“Already Araine takes advantage of my diminished control, seizing the outer shores and sinking the tendrils of her felonious claim into the island I strain to protect.
“I cannot survive such eternal struggle. In time, there will be no energy left to fuel my fight and my soul will evaporate into nothing. A truer death there never was.”
&nb
sp; “Oh, Abra,” Sadine said.
The old sphinx lowered her head. We all knew what Okkor’s true demise would mean for her, the last of her kind.
“This island may be lost to you,” I said. “But it is not lost to all. Allow Redelia to claim it as her own. Help one last god with your final moment here, before an infernal claims the mountain’s peak instead.”
“I cannot,” Okkor said. “My rebuke is built into the land itself. It’s not just rock and dirt and plant. The entire island is my temple. No one can claim it while my spirit lingers.”
“Then don’t linger,” I said. “Redelia will revive the island in your stead. She will claim the mountain’s peak and the power stored atop it.”
“I don’t understand your meaning,” Okkor said. “There is nothing up there but a shelf of rock and a brief tear across its face to warm my bones under the sun’s noon light.”
“Araine sensed power at the island’s center,” I said. “She intends to claim the mountain’s peak.”
“This is the island’s center,” Okkor said. “Not its barren peak. The power Araine sensed is here in my bones.
“It matters not. There is no afterlife for me, no gentle journey in the cloud carriers’ embrace. I am doomed to haunt this island until everything on it dies.”
I slipped my fingers into my pocket. There it was, all the way from Greenloft’s realm. The fare for a journey up to heaven.
“I can release you from this fate,” I said, lifting my copper farthing for Okkor and Abra to see. The melancholy fled Okkor’s face then, a whirlwind of possibility delighting within his inner eye.
“Redelia would protect the island?” Okkor asked.
“For all time,” I replied.
“And Abra,” he said.
“Would not be alone. When the island revives, so too will the forestkind who called it home. We have quelled the danger of forests before and renewed the cycle of life therein. We will do the same here.”
