Treasure Revealed

by A. S. Etaski

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Treasure Revealed

  Sister Seekers Book 2

  by

  A.S. Etaski

  Published by Corpus Nexus Press

  www.redsister.net

  www.patreon.com/etaski

  www.facebook.com/asetaski

  Copyright © 2019, A.S. Etaski

  Cover Design by Eris Adderly

  Formatting by Guido Henkel

  This book is a work of fiction and intended for adults only. Sexual activities represented in this work are between adults and are fantasies only. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as the author advocating any non-consensual activity.

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Dedicated to each of us seeking a place to simply be.

  CHAPTER 1

  We paused and went still, holding our breath. The solitary House Guardsvrin passed by us, bored and distracted as she grumbled something under her breath. I didn’t catch it; a pair of battling beetles I’d been watching a moment before had fallen off their fiberstalk perch and clacked together in the dirt to my right.

  We waited. No one else appeared.

  *You hear?* I signed to Gaelan.

  *Teasing slut,* she replied.

  I frowned. *What now?*

  My Sister blinked, brows arched. *No. She said, ‘Teasing slut.’*

  *Ah.*

  My first thought was that the Guardsvrin must be referring to the Bred Consort from the Royal Court currently in residence here. There was no bigger tease on the whole plantation, I knew from personal experience. Although, I supposed she could have been talking about another bua who had rebuffed her.

  My first feeling was of relief. Gaelan wasn’t inexplicably angry with me again.

  The enclosed garden of Tenth House Itlaun was crafted with refined rock formations and mushroom rings of all sizes as their bases. Several were large enough to crouch behind. Fleshing it out more were stands of tough, sculpted fiberstalk, many varieties of lichen crawling over any surface. Attractive bits of moss decorated the cobbled pathways, and soft-glowing root-crawlers illuminated them.

  It took considerable effort and expense to have a garden like this, and of those I’d seen, I thought they followed this pattern and only varied in size based on wealth and status. The ones at the Palace were the oldest and largest of them, with more enchanted spiders draping reflective veils of intricate design above the walking stone. This one wasn’t that much larger than the one my Mother owned at the Twelfth House.

  It wasn’t easy to hide in these gardens, either; not if your target was at all wary. Mages and Red Sisters had the advantage for camouflage and determination over the mundane Nobles and servants, no matter their motivation and care. Here, a combination of Gaelan’s magic and our unique red cloaks aided in blurring our outline and encouraging other Davrin eyes to slide over us without focusing on us.

  *Come,* Gaelan ordered, and I followed, a tight ball of tension and excitement nestled in my gut.

  We had been briefed before coming here. I had studied the layout and routine of the House for some time. The Sisterhood knew where the single, laughably-termed “Matron only” passage lay, and the wards set upon it were no match for the counter-magic within my new bracers or Gaelan’s honed experience. We silenced any potential alarm, shifted a stone panel used infrequently, and entered the mansion’s secret passage.

  My heart beat stronger in my chest as we slid through the black guts of the House, gaining height mostly through dusty, cobwebbed ladders rather than stairs. I imagined the Matron herself squeezing through here and thought it an indication that the Tenth House hadn’t been too long in its coveted place. After another generation or two with Consort blood, however, Matron Itlaun might garner enough favor with those above her to remodel these spyways to be more comfortable.

  They already have one such Consort-bred heir on the way.

  I recalled too vividly for my own comfort how Tulia, the Third Daughter of this House, conceived upon the altar at the last Worship Ball. The new sire gifted to Tulia’s Matron was the same Priestess Son whom I had discovered alone and unprotected during my trials. He was the one I had attacked in my insanity, in that breeding madness clinging to me after surviving the ritual of Braqth’s Threshold. The Consort had not been willing. I had tied him down, forcing his staff erect before jamming it up into my hungry cunt.

  Gaelan pulled me off just in time.

  I had almost conceived. With Priestess fertility magic saturating my very essence, I would have conceived, if this beautiful bua hadn’t been extraordinary in his climax control. Had I become pregnant, I would not have become a Red Sister. I would have belonged instead to the Priestesses until I birthed the child of a poached male to which I had no right.

  After that, I would have had no place at Court or at my House. I thanked pure luck for my narrow escape, my fate now backed by the Sisterhood instead of the Priesthood. I did not like to think about what might have become of me after the Spider Queen’s handmaidens had claimed my own blood from my womb.

  My Sister led us to the hidden exit we sought, and I protested nothing, though I double-checked the route. Gaelan signed to me.

  *Remember your orders?*

  A nod, a sign of my own. *You lead. I observe.*

  I spotted a subtle smirk touch her lips. *Excited?*

  Fuck my crutch.

  *I will observe,* I repeated. *Be aware. His head is not a silk-void.*

  *No?*

  *No.*

  Gaelan grinned. *So clear, was it? As if your eyes weren’t lust-crossed when I caught you straddling him.*

  I managed not to huff so one could hear it. *That was Priestess magic! I wasn’t sober!*

  *Sure.* A silent snicker. *I bet his pretty face didn’t help.*

  *Shut up, Sister.*

  Satisfied, Gaelan turned to study the mechanism and chant a soft spell to “see beyond” the wall before we entered. The Consort had to be alone. Two cycles after an indulgent party such as the Matron had just thrown, he usually was.

  There had been some Nobles in previous missions, other places, both male and female, who never heard us enter. Gaelan had touched one Davrin’s shoulder before she knew we were there. It always helped start off an interrogation well for us. I hadn’t killed or arrested anyone yet, I mostly shadowed older Sisters, gathering information for Elder D’Shea in what appeared to be a sporadic need. Meanwhile, I learned the tricks and methods of the Sisterhood’s many roles.

  My Consort knew the moment we entered. His half-naked back was tense, and he stood up with practiced grace from where he had been sitting. Before my eyes were captured by his face, I glanced at what was in front of him while he sat: a modest meal slowly consumed, several colors of thread bundles, and a half-finished, soft decoration likely intended as a gift for his Matron.

  Such slender fingers. Talented in more than one way.

  I cursed myself for hesitating one step as the Royal Consort turned around and looked at us, soon lowering his gaze to the floor.

  Get a grip on your slit, Sirana. He’s just a bua.
r />   Yet he was the most alluring one I’d ever seen, to the point I questioned if there had ever been a Davrin with his face before. His lean, delicate features seemed sculpted from someone’s dream, surreal and unrevealing of his lineage as if he’d come from no known House or Matron’s family. His pure white hair was loose and thick, his nose straight as a blade, his mouth soft, full, and sensitive. His scarlet eyes seemed larger and as reflective as an ornate mirror, inviting like a warm hearth. I knew many Nobles with this same shade of red to their eyes whose needle-sharp gazes offered only a taste of hard metal or poisoned blood.

  This Consort was not recognizable as the son of any Priestesses I’d seen, although I’d not had the opportunity to study them all, and I could not imagine such a sire wandering around the Court without comment. This may be one of the older Consorts, and therefore he had been shared frequently by more females—always a downward trend for a male’s favor with his protectors— but that face was probably why he still held a coveted place as a breeding sire.

  Where are they keeping such births? Entirely unseen, revealed only at Worship Balls?

  I wanted to know. My Elder had told me I would find out in time. She knew, but as a first-turn novice, I wasn’t worthy of that information yet.

  “Look up, Consort,” Gaelan whispered. When he did, she signed, *You remember us?*

  His throat flashed as he swallowed, his eyes flicking to me before he refocused on Gaelan and her question. *For certain, Red Sister. I do.*

  *You will not tell your current Matron of this meeting. You will not tell any Davrin, servant, or slave of this House, nor any of the same visiting it.*

  He nodded. *Exactly as you sign, I will not, Sister.* After a pause, he added, *You do not mention my Priestess.*

  His Priestess. Who is she?

  *Tell her what you must,* Gaelan replied glibly, a perfect dismissal of his powerful owner, as if she already knew. *I trust you confessed to her your defilement in the kitchen?*

  I heard a subtle pulse in the quiet, clean room. Then my eyes widened.

  I hear it. I hear your heart.

  *I have not told my Priestess of your visit,* he told us.

  What?

  I held still, determined to give nothing away on my face while my Sister displayed her pleasure clearly to him.

  *No? Why not?*

  *She is… not merciful,* he answered as his gaze wavered.

  An understatement for any Priestess in the Sanctuary.

  *And if she finds out?* my Sister probed.

  My Consort looked at her face, at her eyes. *The Priestesses do not discover everything. In this event, I leave my fate to the Sisterhood.*

  Goddess. I wanted to fuck him. Here and now.

  Gaelan turned her ear toward the outside hall; we three were perfectly still. *You have time to talk about Matron Itlaun and her Daughters, Consort?*

  *If you wish, Red Sister. Ask your questions.*

  It was far easier than I might have guessed, getting him to cooperate. He answered Gaelan’s inquiries while I observed. He and I were always aware of each other, although he never glanced at me. My crotch was warm by the time the first noise warned us of an impending visitor. We left with such insights on the Tenth House from an observant and underestimated plaything, I almost felt proud to have found him.

  His head is not a void.

  I had learned more than a quarter-turn ago that the Priestesses used their Sons as spies. All Matrons anticipated this but accepted these gifts regardless; the trade in status far outweighed a pair of Sanctuary eyes watching those in the home. It wasn’t a concern if a Matron believed herself faithful already.

  The Priestesses also knew that the Sisterhood tried for the same, testing their Sanctuary Sons and their loyalty to their Mother-Priestesses. Our success in compromising them would vary on many factors, including circumstances, and the intelligence and will of the Consort in question.

  We had this mature and experienced male under our thumb, thanks to me. Elder D’Shea would be pleased, but I could already imagine the jab in which she might phrase it.

  At least something useful came of your Braqth-inspired idiocy.

  I looked forward to giving our report when we passed a rune point outside the Cloister. The mild enchantment matched and responded to a rune fixed on the inside of a Red Sister’s uniform—each in a different place; I wouldn’t have known where to look for this rune on most Sisters. When the two matched, a spell sent voiceless notice of our approach to the rooms of our Prime, Elders, and Leads. It was still possible to return unannounced—those Sisters had to be in their respective barracks or in the Prime’s strategy room at the time—but there was no doubt all of them heard this time.

  I was startled by a return message, deep inside my ear like a buzzing insect delivering the order.

  *Every Red Sister collect in the Prime Room immediately.*

  “Shit,” Gaelan whispered, glancing at me.

  We hustled inside the Cloister and began a smooth run through the dim-lit curves and ramps toward the Prime’s room, aware of the moment we passed the next rune point. The double, dead-end door opened without us touching it, and we entered to the altar room to see the Prime, Elders D’Shea and Rausery, and…

  The Priestess Lelinahdara?

  A Daughter of Braqth, inside our Cloister. More than that, the one who had wrenched private and bitter memories of my childhood tormentor from me, drawing out the hurt and truth of my barrenness like ancient pus. At the Prime’s order, Lelinahdara forced me to go through that same ritual again, and where my elder sister had failed, Lelinahdara had succeeded. My body was healed and strong, fertile, not as Jilrina had left it. Perhaps something to be grateful for.

  I still didn’t like a Priestess being here.

  In the plain, black-stone room, a score and more of Red Sisters had gathered. Upon the platform were our Red Sister leaders with the Sanctuary Priestess, the table still covered with maps and scrolls, but also an odd collection of materials and objects. Half of them looked to me as though they’d be used in ritual. Jaunda and half her teams were here, along with Qivni and those subordinate to her. All of them looked ready to tear down half of the Deepearth.

  Elder Rausery glanced up at Gaelan and me, joining the other Sisters under Lead Jaunda, and nodded to us. She spoke to the Prime but looked to D’Shea next. “Twenty-seven, more than half.”

  My Elder agreed while the Prime smirked like she looked forward to something.

  What’s happening?

  “I shall need a conduit with experience,” Lelinahdara said to D’Shea, but we all heard. Her voice was powerful yet lyrical, a sharp contrast to the gruff Prime and grounded Elder Rausery.

  “Red Sister Gaelan,” Elder D’Shea answered.

  This role had been decided before we got here. Now, it was formalized.

  The Priestess gestured my age-mate forward onto the platform; only with a definite nod from our Elder Sorceress did Gaelan obey. The Red Sister Prime turned toward the rest of us, her hair streaked with the gilded color of the aged, her eyes and face hard, the lines at the corners of her mouth that much more profound.

  “Three Ornilleth have entered our territory. They brought with them powerful thralls numbering over three hundred. The company dispatched a mark ago engaged in the last quarter but is struggling to push them back and starting to dwindle. We believe the Ornilleth are here to capture new bodies, whomever they find, they are not known to be picky. But most certainly they want Davrin, or they wouldn’t have come this far.”

  My brows rose high despite my attempt at a still expression like my Sisters. This would be my first pitched battle.

  Against thought-flayers of all things.

  The only other intelligent race in the Deepearth of which the Davrin were genuinely leery. If only a portion of the Tragar Dwarves were said to be mind-mages, then the entirety of the Ornilleth were precisely this. At even greater ability.

  E
nough for only three to control three hundred as extensions of their body.

  I felt a subtle urge to piss.

  “Twenty-seven of you will tip the balance in our favor,” the Prime continued, a rare show of confidence but also a demand. “Elder Rausery will lead in the field. Elder D’Shea is magical support, passing the intelligence between us. You will hear her voice in your head. Act on her orders as if I’m talking straight in your ears. Share information in return, I will need it. Braqth’s Priestess will shield you from mental attacks as she can but use your training.” The Prime seemed to look right at me. “An attack starts with pressure like water filling your head.”

  I remembered that feeling, intimately, though no one here knew because I hadn’t claimed it.

  We signed as one: *Acknowledged, Prime.*

  “Good. Priority is to let our army see you destroy as many of the thralls as possible, rebuild morale. When the power shifts, you’ll know it. Then I want those tentacled mind-eaters filled with poison from afar. Do not engage in melee or attempt a close kill under any circumstances. The last thing our Queen needs is for the Ornilleth Elder to gain the knowledge you all have. Not even one of you is to be captured alive.”

  My whole body flushed with a sick fear as I imagined my Lead Jaunda killing me rather than letting me be dragged off. To be subverted, turned into a thrall—a monstrous, entirely different creature—after my mind was stripped and drained of anything useful. Like it or not, a quick death was the preferable outcome. Did that mean I would kill another Sister if necessary?

  It must be.

  At least Gaelan is staying here.

  From atop the platform, Lelinahdara rested both hands on Gaelan’s shoulders, perhaps becoming accustomed to her mage aura. That moment, my Sister glanced at me. Like in the candle-lit chamber of my trials, she was the only one who held an expression I could read. Back then, it had been pitying. Now, she was concerned.

  I grinned, offering something she could read in return. Bring it on.

  Her mouth twitched.