Gale Season

by Marie Harte

  “Alandra, what—”

  “Shh.” She placed a finger over his lips and smiled. “I’m giving you what you demand, my prince,” she purred and rotated her hips to push him halfway out, only to draw him back in. “You’ve made me so wet. Your cum and mine, sliding together.” Her breathlessness was not an act, nor were the beading nipples scoring his chest and the glazed look in her now grey-violet eyes.

  Something was happening between them, something magical and extraordinary, but Aerolus was too busy thrusting inside his affai again to give it the due attention it deserved.

  * * * *

  First Aerolus, and now Cadmus was missing. Outpour had yielded no answers except the possibility that he might see Lexa, so Arim sought the one other lead he had on the unusual.

  He stared suspiciously at Trudy Warner in her living room, just knowing the woman had played some part in his nephews’ disappearances. Today something about the woman was decidedly off. She gave him no hint of the desire she’d professed yesterday, nor did she possess any of the timidity she’d had in dealing with him. No, today Dr. Trudy Warner was all icy bitchiness, and that faint glow around her said it all.

  He didn’t think she’d been shining the last time he’d seen her. But now he couldn’t be sure of anything. If the Aellei were involved, he might very well have met with an imposter yesterday, one that at least had the sense to mask herself better than she was now.

  Studying the luminescent glow around the taller but still stout woman, he noted the abrupt way she stood, her legs splayed slightly wider than a woman’s stance, the archaic dialogue spewing from her mouth an obvious blunder. And the way she looked at him…‘she’ was most likely a ‘he’.

  Who the hell had taught this young whelp to transform?

  “Well, Mr. Arim? I suspect you’d best take your leave before I call upon the appropriate authorities.” Trudy crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a glare that promised grim retribution if he didn’t leave her alone.

  Arim sighed. “I can kill you, or you can tell me what’s really going on. I’m feeling generous, so it’s your choice.”

  Trudy stammered. “I-I don’t know what possessed you to say such a thing, but if you take one more step I’ll call—”

  “The appropriate authorities. I know.” The thin tether on his patience drew taut. “Your speech is pathetic. I thought your kind visited this plane rather frequently.”

  Trudy blanched and looked beyond Arim, giving him just enough notice to narrowly avoid a blast of green fire from his immediate left. Stabbing his fingers towards the source of the attack, he heard a muffled cry before the figure turned to stone.

  In a lightning move too quick to actually be seen, Arim had Trudy by the collar and dangled her in the air in a grip too powerful to escape without incurring tremendous damage.

  “Change back, now,” he ordered, his voice a silky threat.

  The young Aellei shimmered back into his original shape. Long, light-brown hair glittered around a sensual, almost feminine face. Like his kind, this Aellei was exotic enough in looks to never pass for human. He was tall, his feet now reaching the floor, and his eyes were a pale, almost colourless blue. But it was his bright white skin that set him most apart.

  Arim shook him. “Let’s cut the crap. You know who I am.”

  The young male nodded, trembling like a leaf in heavy wind. A streak of world-weary satisfaction hit Arim, that his reputation as a sorcerer and Killer of Shadow was as strong in Aelle as it had been hundreds of years ago.

  Unfortunately, he’d had to earn that reputation. It had taken the Dark Tribes centuries to truly divide, and he’d had little choice in the matter to either accept death at the hands of Darkness, or fight back with the Light.

  He stared at the young Aellei. “What should I do with you now?”

  His words had the male shivering, his gaze darting to his companion frozen by the kitchen. “I-I wish, I, ah, don’t know what—”

  “Tell me why you’re here, or your death will be very long in the making.”

  The Aellei swallowed loudly. “We’re just here to get one of our lost.”

  “A lost Aellei?”

  Nodding furiously, the Aellei explained, “Our people thrive on change. Several times a year, mostly during festival season, we travel to other places to play, for fun.”

  “But the earth realm was declared off-limits centuries ago, when the humans started seeing strange things. Puck and his under-appreciated sense of humour,” Arim added sarcastically.

  The male nodded and flushed. “Right, well. So we’re—I’m here to gather one of our lost ones back before the queen has to explain why we broke the boundary again.”

  Arim stared. Something about the youngster was decidedly wrong. Altering his perception, Arim growled low in his throat and threw the young Aellei so hard he broke through the wall.

  “Enough, young one. I tire of these games.” His mood darkened as the Aellei snickered. “Tell me what I want to know, or I’ll feed you to the Light, one piece of flesh at a time.”

  The male sneered but shimmered into another form, this one of a much more mature Aellei, his hair reaching his hips, his eyes a bitter blue and full of deceit. “Took you long enough, oh, great Light Bringer. I fear rumours of your greatness have been exaggerated.”

  Arim arched a brow, and the male’s foot turned to stone.

  Shrieking and swearing in several languages, the Aellei pulled frantically at his foot, but could only move it a few inches at a time, as if the appendage weighed several hundred pounds.

  “That’s Noraevian rock. It responds strongly to the gravitational force in this plane. Now try again, before I forget myself and leave you here to rot with your friend.”

  “I’m here for a traitor. It’s Aellein business, nothing to do with a Light Bringer.” The Aellei looked like he wanted to weep as he stared at his foot, no doubt more concerned at how his foot looked than how it felt. An odd vulnerability, the Aellei clung to vanity almost like a religion.

  In his upset, the male’s colouring grew so brilliant Arim had to shield his eyes. He cursed and allowed half of the male’s foot to return to normal.

  “The traitor?”

  “She’s not here, obviously.” Even under Arim’s power the Aellei had the nerve to sound disdainful. “Look, this really isn’t your business.” The man’s cocky tone dimmed somewhat, and he looked almost apologetic as he stared from his foot to Arim. “I am sorry you witnessed this. I don’t want any trouble. Just—”

  Sensing another presence, Arim ducked and rolled behind Trudy’s couch. Several more Aellei arrived to join their friend. Archaic spells, green fire and a sudden slowing of time twisted Trudy Warner’s house into another plane altogether.

  Familiar with Aellein tactics, though he hadn’t faced them in years, Arim cast a quick protective spell, enabling him to deal with the Aellein attackers, shattering their time warp.

  “Shit, it’s not working,” one swore.

  “My dark cloud isn’t working either,” another muttered.

  “Meha! Ah ele feal rul tser.” Another cursed. Grab him, staffs at the ready.

  Arim teleported into Trudy’s kitchen, only to find himself facing nearly a dozen wary Aellei. All appeared to be seasoned warriors, their marked battlestaffs and calculating expressions indicative of harnessed malevolence.

  “Ah, the infamous Killer of Shadow, Tanselm’s much-feared sorcerer.” The tallest of them spoke, his eyes a luminescent green. “I’ve been wanting to do this for the longest time.”

  He pointed his staff, which began to shimmer into a hazy grey, at Arim’s middle. A stream of dark energy flew from the staff into Arim’s shield. But instead of deflecting away, the burst of energy melded with his defence, channelling through Arim’s rage until the shield disintegrated into a neutral layer of magic.

  Once the shield fell, others began firing at will, the seething, shifting pulses of Shadow like an icy burn, striving to invade and take h
old of his person.

  As they held him within their small half-circle, the Aellein warriors laughed, their scheming cheer brimming with anticipation. Arim remained calm, fighting the incessant clawing at his mind and magic. He defended himself with Tanselm’s Light and the spells he’d been born knowing, realising the fight with these warriors would not be as easy as defeating mere wraiths.

  The Aellei and those who lived in Shadow were far more dangerous than they appeared. Shadow dwellers possessed characteristics both Light and Dark, making them resistant to many spells and able to penetrate energy barriers with ease.

  Arim chanted a spell in his mind, pleased when a few of the warriors began to blink in discomfort. Several dropped their staffs and began to squirm, the Light within them threatening to break free.

  “Rainku.” The leader cursed him and clenched his mouth shut, fighting the effects of the spell. In a garbled voice, he added, “Fian, take him.”

  Arim stood with his back to the refrigerator, keeping himself safe on at least one front. Or so he thought. A shimmer of magic kissed his neck, and he whirled to meet the threat from behind, but wasn’t quick enough. Where the appliance once stood, a giant ogre lumbered. It threw him across the room like a javelin in Tanselm’s summer games. He landed in a heap against Trudy’s entertainment centre, smashing his right arm against her plasma screen TV before crumpling into a bruised heap on the ground.

  “Son of a bitch,” he swore, one of Cadmus’ new phrases coming in handy as he stumbled to his feet. He gingerly cradled his arm and cast a healing spell before confronting the ogre. Staring at the decidedly ugly Shadren, he wondered if he might talk it out of this battle.

  Large and slow, ogres were nevertheless quick of mind, contrary to those who thought them as dim as they were ugly. Its skin a lacklustre, scarred green, this ogre was surprisingly clean and dressed in fine cloth, a different type of foe from the ogres Arim had long ago battled. Its eyes were large, black and clear, unusually sober. Dangerous, but interesting.

  “If I might ask a question,” Arim said formally, nodding in respect to the creature that trudged closer.

  “Kill him, Fian,” the leader demanded, rubbing at his burning eyes. “Do it before he ensorcels you.”

  The ogre blinked and stopped several feet away. “Question?” It grunted and motioned for Arim to continue. Behind it several Aellei burst into bright light while others phased away, leaving only four remaining who appeared to be overcoming his Light spell.

  “Why do you do that one’s bidding?”

  The ogre looked over its shoulder at the leader. “Zartic not so bad. He promise ‘Landra’s secret ‘lixir.”

  “Fian, shut up and kill him. I’m not paying you for your conversation, you ill-mannered cretin.” Zartic had apparently recovered and gathered his three remaining warriors near the kitchen island.

  Fian turned its homely visage back to Arim, a thick, red band of coarse hair framing its face like a lion’s mane—only this ‘lion’ looked more like a rabid baboon. The ogre appeared irritated, sparking in Arim a lick of hope.

  His elbow still throbbed, but it was nothing compared to the fire burning in his gut. Shadow magic didn’t mix well with Light, and Arim hadn’t yet been able to deal with the murkiness travelling throughout his body. He needed a distraction, or at least help in dealing with the Aellei.

  “Fian, is it?” Arim bowed but kept his eyes on the ogre. “I am Arim, a Light Bringer from Tanselm. I have no discord with you, friend ogre, but with the ones there who think so little of manners and honesty.” He glared at Zartic and his cohorts. “’Landra never had the elixir, Fian. I have it, and they want it for themselves.”

  Fian stared hard at Arim, making Arim wonder if this ‘Landra really did have an elixir the ogre wanted. From what he knew of their breed, ogres would do almost anything for fine, aged cinarum.

  “As a matter of fact,” he bluffed, subtly rubbing at the pain in his sternum while he stood firm and tall. “I’ll give you a barrel of the stuff right now if you dispose of those rogues for me.” He waved his hand and a barrel of royal cinarum appeared, the finest ‘elixir’ in all of Tanselm. Queen Ravyn would have his head if she knew, but her celebrations could make do without one more barrel of the stuff.

  “You shoddy fuck.” Zartic glared at him, thrusting his staff in Arim’s direction, which, unfortunately for the Aellei, also pierced the ogre. The Aellein warriors took their cue and turned their weapons on Arim as well, making it look as if they had turned traitor to their ogre.

  Fian took the insult and the threat to heart. “Not like tricksters. Want payment. Want apology,” it said in a clear, angry voice. “Now.”

  “Shit. Just kill it and the sorcerer,” Zartic huffed.

  But the ogre didn’t fall under their steady blasts, and soon it was upon them, its meaty fists clobbering the first warrior it reached.

  “Dammit, Zartic. Control it!” The warrior under attack sounded strangled, his throat wrapped by the ogre’s fist.

  “Fian, stop! You’re mine, I own you!”

  Arim shook his head and began to heal the burn pervading his body. “Tsk, tsk, Zartic. For a leader, you know precious little about those you command. Ogres are a proud race. And you Aellei know all about pride, don’t you?” he asked softly. “If not for your sorry conceit, you might still be in Tanselm, hmm?”

  Knowing the jibe would further irritate the Aellei, he was pleasantly surprised when the warrior neatly bypassed Fian, who was now making a mess out of the remaining Aellei, and moved in for the kill.

  The minute Zartic’s staff made contact with him, Arim closed his hand around it, skewing its polarity.

  Zartic screamed in dismay and watched helplessly as the staff burned into a pile of ash before his eyes.

  “Come now, before me,” Arim murmured and enslaved Zartic with a mind spell.

  If only I’d been able to do that to Cadmus. Arim grimaced. He glanced distractedly at the ogre. “The cinarum is yours, Fian. And good health to you.”

  Fian grunted that he’d heard and continued to smash his fists into the barely moving Aellei.

  “Now unless you want to join in your brethren’s fate, perhaps you’d best explain why you’re here. Tell me all about this traitor, and unlike Fian, I might let you leave with all your limbs intact.”

  Zartic gasped as one of his men screamed, the sucking sound of flesh parting from bone a heady enticement to talk. He spoke quickly, his words making Arim’s already bad mood steadily worse.

  Chapter Five

  Alandra stared down at Aerolus’ face, which even in slumber appeared sharp, ready for battle. She stroked his cheek, feeling safe to show such affection now that he lay asleep beside her. Unconsciously, she’d absorbed a massive amount of his energy while the two made love, putting her Wind Mage into an almost trancelike rest. She grinned, not sure why she found the thought of Aerolus snoozing so funny.

  Her grin faded as she stared at him, and heat welled within her again, only hours after they’d revelled in one another’s bodies. She trailed her hand over his stubbled cheek and marvelled at his natural splendour. What a sensual creature. She couldn’t help an escaping sigh as she stared at the rest of his delectable body. And all mine.

  She giggled and clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the sound. Having sex in Aerolus’ room was not the smartest move for an Aellei determined to avoid Arim the Light Bringer. But Aerolus had dragged her here, after all. And as she lingered with him in bed, the hazy, drug-like stupor that muddied her mind left her wondering what was truly safe and what might be harmful.

  Shrugging, she petted her Storm Lord, running her fingers over his ripped abdomen, fiercely attracted to his unfettered eroticism. He moaned softly and curled towards her, stirring an unusual welling of emotion she normally kept banked.

  “Too much power,” she slurred, knowing she was not in her right mind but helpless to prevent another giggle. “I need some water. Or chocolate, that might help.” Alandra
fell off the bed onto her butt, her less than graceful fall making her laugh even harder.

  Grabbing the first piece of clothing she saw, she donned an overly large black T-shirt and stumbled to the door.

  “Alandra?” Aerolus murmured.

  “Just grabbing a glass of water, Aerolus le Aelle,” she teased, imagining him all too easily in Aelle by her side. Shadows, but he was so incredibly beautiful. Staring at him, she noted how lovingly the shadows played over his frame, how the light knew just when to leave him. Blinking at the sudden overlay of his magical aura over his physical body, she noted the slight curl of Shadow, her Shadow, that now clung to him like a second skin.

  Pleased beyond measure and ignoring the inner warning that shrieked at her to pull back, she hummed softly and closed the door behind her as she skipped down the stairs.

  “Ah, blessed life.” She felt so unencumbered by all the problems she’d faced since she’d first overheard Queen Lidra’s plot against Tanselm. Loving with Aerolus left her absolved of worry and guilt, of the nagging sensation that doom lay just over the horizon.

  As if all her troubles had been solved, she basked in the elemental energy that filled the empty spaces within her. Right now, as the sun rose to signal a new day, the world seemed brighter, the air sweeter, and sound richer than even that heard in Aelle.

  She grinned at the comparisons and entered the kitchen seeking something to drink. Before Aerolus had cast a furious protective spell over the house, she’d been a regular visitor. She knew the layout of the grand three-story like the back of her hand, though from the perspective of a pixie.

  Reminded of that part of herself she was forbidden to reveal when offworld, she closed her eyes and tried to focus. A mistake. She tripped and chuckled, her balance definitely off. Once her laughter had spent, she frowned at her lack of coordination, a definite sign she teetered on the verge of inebriation.

  On the verge? Try way over the edge. “Crap. I’m toasted. Might as well enjoy myself.”