“I had suspected as much,” he said. He turned his head for a moment. “My apologies for my grief, your highnes. I know you have suffered greatly among the Clans.”
“Nonsense,” said Fione. “It was a small thing. You seem to have faced more tragedy than I.”
“I was set upon by brigands in Lowvale, who were led by a fearsome warlock and a corrupt knight wearing green—”
At this, Sir Vallan paused, his gaze falling on Kiera, clad from her neck to her toes in her dragon jade plate.
“—armor,” he finished. Sir Vallan’s eyes scanned the room, and Pol felt a cold chill when they caught him standing behind Heldi. Vallan’s remaining hand tightened into a fist.
“Green armor?” asked Fione. “That sounds like Lady Kiera here.”
Kiera said nothing.
“No, no,” said Sir Vallan. “It could not have been.”
“Not many other green knights in the East,” said Tau.
“I must have been mistaken. Blue, perhaps.”
Pol was about to say something, but Heldi touched his wrist.
“Don’t be a fool, Sorcerer Pol,” she hissed at him.
“Regardless, your highness, please give me the honor of serving you in the battle tomorrow.”
“I could not stand to see another member of House vai Farrow fall,” said Fione. “And with your wound.”
“I could serve as a messenger, your highness,” said Sir Vallan. “I can still ride.”
Fione hesitated and Sir Vallan spoke into the pause.
“Please, your highness, let me honor my father.”
“Very well, Sir Vallan.”
“Thank you, my princess.”
“All right, I think we can safely say we’re done here,” said Elina. “Errah, if you’ll stay behind, I’d like to confer with you more about the Clans and their tactics.”
“Of course, Warmaster.”
“General. Tudron’s the Master of War,” said Elina.
“Will Tudron call the warriors to battle tomorrow?” asked Errah.
“No, that’s me.”
“Then you are Warmaster.”
The tent emptied its contents out into the late afternoon sun. Ked embraced Kiera, kissing her on the forehead, then traded introductions with Vel and Largan, before leaving to confer with Cail vai Keller. Pol approached Kiera, and Vel regarded him with a nod before dragging Largan away to check on their tribe.
“You didn’t say anything to Sir Vallan,” said Pol.
“Neither did you,” said Kiera.
“Heldi told me not to.”
“She’s smart.”
Pol stared at the ground for a moment.
“Why didn’t he say anything, do you think?”
“I don’t know, Pol. But I don’t like it. Keep an eye out, will you?”
“For Vallan? What’s a one-armed knight going to do?”
“Anything he can, I’d imagine,” said Kiera.
“I’ll do my best. Oh, Heldi wanted me to invite you to her tent for dinner tonight on her behalf. You don’t have plans, I assume?”
“I have to prepare for single combat against the deadliest warrior in all the Dragon Clans tomorrow.”
“How long do you figure that’ll take? An hour, tops?”
“I expect it’s taken my entire life to this point, actually, so... probably.”
“Will you come, Kiera? I know you don’t like Heldi.”
“I don’t.”
“If you die out there, this’ll be our last night together.”
“And if we win, I’ll have to marry Tau.”
“So, really, this is our last night, period.”
“Okay, Pol. I’ll be there.”
* * * * *
Olene had been reading the fairy tales in the Joian library, and she’d come across a particularly odd one, that mentioned a knight in a duel to win the hand of a comely young maiden. The maiden had visited his bed the night before the duel, in order to pledge her love for him and consummate it, and he had refused, so that she would not sap his strength before combat.
Olene had laughed for quite a long time about that idea.
The Vashili had camped just inside the forest, leaving the plain between the walls of Tia Joi and the woods beyond empty. Olene’s scouts reported they were already beginning to harvest logs for war machines, so tomorrow the Dragon Clan would march out and destroy them. The Sea Clan was already in the field, though Aren and a few of her more trusted warriors had arrived two days earlier for instructions. They would be the hammer that fell on the anvil of the might of the other four clans. Even without the Sea Clan, they numbered nearly twice as many as the combined strength of Tia Vashil and Coulain.
The entire city was readying for battle and combat. Tonight there would be drinking and dancing, gambling and fighting, boasting and singing.
And no one would shy away from a willing partner’s bed tonight. After all, there might never be another chance to feel another’s skin pressing against theirs.
Olene groaned as a tongue flickered along the piercing in her clit. Iandra’s dark hair, cropped so short she was nearly bald, burned up between Olene’s legs from where she worked. The leader of Olene’s elite raiders was a comely woman with sharp aquiline features. Iandra’s slender fingers dug into Olene’s heavy right breast, making her gasp. Behind Iandra, a battle-scarred champion of the Earth Clan had grasped her by the hips, plunging his cock in and out of her.
Fingers pulled on Olene’s left nipple, twisting the piercing there slightly and Olene groaned again, then cried out when she was nearly lifted off the throne by the cock pressing deep into her ass.
Beneath her, Jorga grunted, humming almost to himself. Olene braced herself on the arms of the throne, pushing back against him, her back arching into his chest until she could feel his breath at the base of her neck. His hand squeezed her tit again, his fingers rough. He had one arm wrapped high around her torso, just above Iandra’s head.
The throne room in the Tower of Joi was filled with warriors and thralls and the sights and sounds and smells of bodies coupling. Above it all on the dias, Olene thrilled to watch the different shapes being joined, the glistening bodies, the cries of ecstasy.
The warrior behind Iandra moaned, and Olene’s captain paused to glance over her shoulder at him before shaking her head and returning to her work between Olene’s thighs. The Earth Clansman pulled out of her, his hand shaking over his cock as his seed poured across her back. Iandra barely moved, the only indication that she was enjoying herself the soft hum that buzzed through Olene’s crotch as the milky white fluid decorated her skin. Once he was spent, the Earth man crawled away to the side, panting heavily.
A River warrior appeared, his cock already sopping wet from some earlier experience in the night, and sought to kneel behind Iandra. Olene clucked her teeth at him, motioning him to her. When he approached, she reached out and grasped his cock, feeling it harden in her hand. She leaned forward, then paused, glancing back at Jorga, the red eyes glinting as he watched her, his face an expression of pure lust.
She turned back, her tongue snaking out of her mouth to lap at the head of the warrior’s cock, easing herself down until her lips began to envelope him. She felt him harden further in her mouth, the taste of his skin salty with sweat, and she forced her mouth down until she had almost all of his cock inside it. When she withdrew, the skin shone down to where her lips had been.
Olene laughed, pushing the warrior away by his cock, and he returned to kneel behind Iandra, pushing the raider boss up into the throne, the tops of Iandra’s breasts being squeezed between Jorga’s legs and the edge of the throne. Iandra’s hands were on Olene’s thighs, lifting and spreading them over the chair’s arms, the raider licking fervently at her chief’s clit, grunting as the River man behind her thrust into her hard. Olene wrapped an arm around Jorga’s head, leaning back and turning in to him as much as she could manage, relishing the feeling as Jorga’s tongue explored the piercing in her
nipple.
Iandra groaned again and shuddered slightly, and the River warrior pounding into her shuddered hard in return, gripping her waist and slamming her forward hard once more. Olene’s attentions must have primed him more than she had realized, because he gasped as his orgasm overtook him inside Iandra. Olene caught a faint glimmer of a grin on the raider’s face as he shook behind her. Iandra leaned forward, easing his cock out of her. She rose to her feet, pressing forward, causing Olene to groan as her tongue left its work on her clit, then gasp as it slithered up her body, tracing a warm line up across her navel, pausing briefly to consider one breast. Iandra pushed herself tight against Olene, the chieftain’s breasts being lifted on the raider’s more modest form. Iandra still had her hands down between Olene’s thighs, and one hand began to manipulate Olene’s clit while the fingers of the other made a play for the entrance to her pussy. Olene’s lips yielded easily, and Iandra drove three fingers deep into her, gaining a guttural moan when they pressed against the sensitive top of her cunt.
Iandra pressed her tongue into Olene’s mouth before it could close, exploring the chieftain’s mouth thoroughly. Her fingers began to push hard inside Olene. The chief’s eyes closed, her pleasure welling up inside her.
Her tensing body brought the feeling of Jorga’s cock pressing into her ass, and she knew Jorga could feel it too, his reaction immediate, his grip on her body tightening as he pressed up into her as hard as he could.
Iandra’s mouth was exploring her neck now, her tongue lapping at the space where it met Olene’s shoulder. Olene’s skin was hot where Iandra’s arms were rubbing against her belly as she drilled her fingers into Olene’s sopping wet pussy again and again, her other hand blazing against Olene’s clit.
Jorga groaned and grunted, and Olene shook, feeling his hot cum race into her ass, the warmth emanating up into her, blending with the pleasure that was pouring through her body. Her thighs tightened, and she could feel the dam of her climax was about to burst. The noise of the throne room seemed to grow, the moans and grunts, the laughter and gasps pushing into her ears.
* * * * *
Varomar heard his sister’s cry split the room, but he ignored it. He tried to put it all out of his mind for the moment, losing himself in the fine velvet embrace of Uli’s cunt. The little thrall was rocking back and forth on him, her hands planted on his chest, her body gliding first forwards, then backwards, then repeating. He could have watched it for hours.
“If you’re going to lose the combat tomorrow, make sure you die,” Jorga had told him. “You will secure the victory for your people.”
By the Dragon, Jorga was not from the Clans. What man told another to die before a combat? Left to his own devices, Varomar might well have chosen to die on the field tomorrow should he lose the Champions’ Combat. But now all he could do was wonder what Jorga’s plan was, and why his death would mean something. It unnerved him. Varomar did not fear death, but neither did he seek it. Jorga sought death.
Uli sighed, lifting up to let Varomar’s softened cock slip out of her body. He grunted in disappointment, and then to acknowledge his mood was not suited for fucking at the moment. Uli seemed put out, but then she caught sight of something and her face... changed.
“Not in the mood to celebrate, Warmaster?” asked Aren, striding forward. Not for the first time, Varomar admired the Sea Clan chieftain’s figure, muscled and lean, no indication that she ate better than her warriors as chief. Her markings were done by a careful hand, the dragons that chased each other around her shoulders and collarbone appearing to dance on the surface of her skin.
“And such a fine thrall to make one in the mood to celebrate.”
“Make use of her if you wish,” said Varomar. He sat up, giving Aren a careful eye. “My sister has loaned her to me for the night.”
“A high favor, Olene’s personal pleasure thrall,” said Aren. She reached forward, gripping Uli by her hair, pulling the girl forward. Uli hurried to crawl in front of Aren, rising up to her knees.
“Aye,” said Varomar. He watched as Aren stepped her legs apart, pulling Uli’s mouth up to her pussy. The thrall’s tongue slid out, snaking it’s way up Aren’s puffy outer lips. After a moment, a soft moan snuck out of the chief’s mouth.
“You must be quite distracted to... oh... not fall victim to this girl’s charms,” said Aren. Uli had her arms up now, one hand wrapped behind Aren’s thigh, the other massaging the chief’s buttock. Aren’s legs were beginning to shake. She glanced at Varomar.
“Could I lean on you, Warmaster?”
Varomar rose to his feet, stepping up behind Aren. She leaned back into him, her shoulders resting on his chest. He ran his hands down her sides, letting her rest her weight in his grasp.
Aren snaked an arm back, wrapping it behind his head, her palm on his neck. He could smell the oil she used in her braid. Her other hand was in Uli’s hair, the dark black strands spilling through her fingers.
Aren's back arched, her shoulder blades pressing hard against Varomar’s chest. The hand that was on Uli’s head rose for a moment to lead Varomar’s hand over her breast, and he rolled the nipple between thumb and forefinger. She gave a long moan, her head tipping back. Her chest heaved in his hand, and she groaned again, pulling Uli’s hair hard upwards, dragging the little thrall’s mouth harder against her body. She shuddered and changed her holds, each arm gripping Varomar’s wrists to steady herself, using a leg to push Uli away as she panted hard against the come down of her climax.
Varomar stood still, letting her catch her breath. To his surprise, she turned and grasped his face, dragging him in for a kiss. Her other hand roamed over the hard muscles in his chest before find its way down across his stomach to his cock. Aren gripped him, stroking his cock with vigor.
Her hand stopped, and he groaned into her mouth, only to feel a warm wet embrace of the head of his cock, the suddenly applied pressure eking another groan, one tinged with pleasure this time. Aren had shifted slightly, and she sucked on his tongue before parting the kiss with a nip at his lower lip. She began to sink down his body, the mouth on his cock slipping away as she went to her knees before him.
Varomar stared down at his groin. Aren and Uli both had a hand on his cock, pumping it in unison, their lips locked in an embrace. Aren’s proclivities were well known in the Clans, so the hunger with which she kissed Uli did not surprise Varomar, but the way Uli returned it in kind would have made him raise his eyebrows, had he not known her well. Not for the first time, Varomar reflected on what a true thrall Uli was. Some of the Dragon Clan chafed at being made to serve when they were judged not fit for combat, but not Uli. Not only was she dedicated to her mistress, she fell to satisfying the needs of the warriors with enthusiasm.
He reached forward, grasping Uli’s head and turning her back towards his cock. Aren grinned at him, placing her own hand on Uli’s head, the two of them pushing her down, feeding Varomar’s cock between her lips. He let out a long moan as most of his length disappeared down her throat, his hips beginning to pump slightly. Aren held Uli’s head in place as he plunged in and out of her mouth. She stopped him with a light touch to his torso, pulling the gasping Uli off him so she could lick across the thrall’s mouth.
“Lay down, Warmaster,” said Aren. Varomar retook his position on the floor, and Aren leaned forward to grasp his cock, giving it a long lick that made him writhe slightly.
The chieftain dragged Uli forward by her hair, positioning her back over Varomar’s crotch, holding his cock straight up and letting the tiny thrall slip down onto him. He groaned, his cock once again as hard as ever. Aren climbed over him behind Uli, using the grip on her hair to force her to bounce along Varomar’s length.
Aren’s hands fell along the front of Uli’s body, pulling her nipples until the girl gasped aloud. Aren’s right hand slipped down Uli’s stomach, finding the girl’s clit, and fobbing it slowly under her thumb while she continued to knead at Uli’s breast.
“You like this
, don’t you, girl?”
“Yes, mistress.”
“Tell him.”
“I like this, master,” Uli moaned to Varomar.
“Good, Uli,” said Varomar. He gripped her hips, meeting their next fall with a surging thrust of his own. Her pleasure bubbled out of her lips.
“One last fuck before you die, Warmaster,” Aren taunted. “Better make it the best of your life.”
“I won’t die tomorrow.” Still, he began to pound into Uli a little harder.
“Their warrior, Kiera of the Ullan, she’s their best.”
“I nearly killed her,” said Varomar. Aren’s pace on Uli’s clit was increasing, and the tightness of the thrall’s pussy was growing in equal measure. He was beginning to question how long he might be able to hold out.
“When she fought as Dragon Clan, you nearly killed her. I’ve heard she killed one of Iandra’s Raiders with her bare hands. And she wears their armor plate, but made of pure jade.”
Varomar had not heard that, but Uli’s warm cunt erased most of his questions.
“I’ll not die.”
And yet, Jorga had told him to do just that, if he were to lose. And he might, against a warrior covered in jade. Impenetrable against his cleaver.
Aren seemed to see where his mind was going. She grabbed Uli’s arms, tucking them behind the girl’s back, making Uli jut her chest out. Her thumb on Uli’s clit stroked in a slow, determined pace against her.
“Someday, you’ll be called upon to choose, Varomar. Who are you most loyal to? Olene and Jorga, or the Clans.”
“Olene leads the Clans to greatness.”
“Olene leads the Clans where Jorga advises her to. She wants greatness only for herself and Jorga.”
“No. The Clans are her people. I am her people. She is a loyal chief.”
“Jorga is her people now. Her be-all and end-all,” said Aren. “What loyalty does she have to listen to a Sorcerer?”
Aren kissed Uli’s neck, sucking hard. When she looked up, her mouth had left a mark. She looked back at Varomar.
Dragon Jade Chronicle: The Warlock And The Warrior Page 43
