Sword of the Tyrant

by Cebelius

  "Fuck's sake, really? Now? Are you kidding me? We're having this conversation now?"

  "We've got a week on the road ahead of us, when would you prefer to have this conversation?" Prada asked sweetly. "Tonight? Tomorrow? Three days from now at three o'clock? What kind of lighting would you prefer, Husband, because other than that the scene will be the same."

  Terry couldn't help but notice that both Mila and Shy had broken off their conversation and their horses were drifting back to allow them to join. He covered his face with both hands for a moment before letting his breath out in a rush. "How about never? Do I not get to draw the god damn line somewhere?"

  Looking up at Isthil, he said, "Look, this is not about you. There is nothing wrong with you. If it were just you from the waist up, I would be loving what I see. But I take people as a whole. I'm not going to just ignore half of what you are."

  Isthil was obviously trying to keep the hurt off her face as she glanced back at the cocoons secured to her saddle, then back at him.

  "I used PRADA with Ephe!" he cried in exasperation. "Not to mention she fucking forced the issue! The only contact I had with her was keeping her from killing me!"

  "I see." Isthil's voice was quiet, but not understanding.

  "I do not," Mila said, having clearly caught on to the subject matter without help, and just as unwilling as Prada to let the matter pass. "Despite our many, many differences, you took me. Laina has hooves not entirely unlike Isthil's, and you took her as well. Despite her ability to be a true female template, to my knowledge you have yet to take Prada as such, instead indulging her in her natural form. That is about as far from your kind as it is possible to be. Why not Isthil?"

  "Oh God, kill me now," Terry groaned. "Look, Mila, I find you sexy. Okay? I always did and it's just that fucking simple, even if it makes me a complete freak among my own kind, same with Laina. Prada I can't even begin to explain. Isthil, I like you, and I'm grateful to you. I wish I could be more but what you are just doesn't do it for me. It has nothing to do with what I consciously want. I don't get to decide who turns me on and who doesn't. That's nobody's fault! If you want my bond, you've earned that from me, and I'll give it to you, gladly. Even if you tell me you want to leave right afterward it's yours for the taking, but I just can't see myself having sex with you."

  His face was burning, and he was too frustrated to speak further. Fortunately, Mila saved him. She looked to Isthil and said, "A rakshasa cannot be lied to, Isthil. Every word of what he said was the bald truth."

  "You think I'd fucking lie about this?!" Terry demanded.

  "Calm down, Tee." Shy's voice was soft, but had an element of command to it. "There's no need for you to be so upset."

  "The fuck there isn't," he shot back. "I didn't want to hurt anyone, but bringing this shit up forced me to. Isthil didn't deserve that and neither did I!"

  "It is my fault," Prada said softly. "I thought he would subordinate his preferences to the fact that he genuinely is fond of you. Isthil, I am sorry for this."

  "No, it's fine," the nightmare said. She looked down at Terry and offered a wan smile. "I dinnae want a pity fuck. If ye'da given me one I'da known, an' that'd hurt worse than this."

  She offered her hand to Terry as she said, "I am hurt, but you're right, it's no' your fault. Bygones?"

  He took her hand and they shook.

  "Yeah. Sorry Isthil. I really, really am."

  "I know."

  For a moment, no one spoke, then Mila looked directly at Terry and asked, "Would you describe her as ugly?"

  "God dammit, Mila!"

  "Answer!" Mila demanded.

  "I will flatten you if you keep bugging him. Subject's closed!" Halla roared as her size increased until she towered over them all. "I've listened to you pester him and badger him and he doesn't have to fucking answer to anyone about what he likes and doesn't! He's been fair!"

  Mila didn't say anything else, but she didn't look away from Terry either. Her green-eyed gaze was piercing and her ears were laid back. He knew that if he didn't answer her, he was risking their entire relationship. He didn't quite know how she conveyed all that with just a look, but she did.

  "No. She's beautiful, all right? The way her hair floats around like she's underwater? Incredibly cool! Her silver eyes? The way she smiles? She's fucking gorgeous! I even think the way she talks is sexy! I just can't deal with the horse parts!"

  Terry held up his hands as he stared in exasperation at Mila and asked, "Happy?!"

  Mila glanced at Isthil and bared her teeth in a rather feral grin as her ears snapped up and her tail flicked once before she faced forward on her horse again.

  "Yes. Very happy."

  Terry looked up at Isthil, following Mila's glance, and saw the nightmare staring down at him with wide eyes and an expression he couldn't quite read.

  Past her, though, he saw Halla trembling with rage and focused on her as he said, "La, thanks for standing up for me, but don't threaten anyone here. If you feel like fighting or you're angry, say so and we'll work it out, but don't be a bully. I'm the bully here."

  "You sure don't act like it," Halla said, clearly grumpy as she shrank back down to seven feet tall, matching his height. "Can't believe you let 'em talk shit like that to you."

  "That's my choice to make, not yours."

  "Sure Boss. Sorry."

  "Forgiven."

  Halla was quiet for a few minutes, as were the rest of them. Conversation had effectively stalled. Then she broke the silence to ask, "So if I'm angry I can say something as long as I'm not threatening anyone?"

  Terry nodded as he glanced over at her. "Sure. It's almost always better to say something than hold it in."

  Halla nodded decisively and turned her golden eyes on the rakshasa riding ahead of her.

  "Mila?"

  Mila half-turned in her saddle to look back at the oni as she asked, "Yes?"

  "You're a cunt."

  Don't laugh. Don't laugh. Don't laugh!

  Terry turned away, blinking rapidly as he took deep, cleansing breaths and looked up at the beautiful blue sky, the rolling plains stretching away toward the mountains, anywhere else as he struggled to keep the shit-eating grin off his face.

  Raucous laughter burst out next to him, and when he turned to look he saw Isthil had stopped in her tracks and was holding both hands over her belly as she tipped her head back and laughed so hard it was a wonder she didn't fall over.

  He glanced toward the others and saw Shy shivering, one hand over her mouth as she vehemently shook her head, looking away from everyone in a vain effort to deny the funny.

  Mila looked more startled than offended. She met Terry's pleading eyes, saw his desperately strained expression, then shrugged and turned away as she sniffed and conceded. "Two points."

  Terry's composure cracked, then shattered. He was forced to join Isthil as he howled with laughter.

  He spared just enough energy to glance at Halla, who was looking over at him, and offer an appreciative thumbs-up.

  Her look of concern broke into a wide grin, and she winked at him.

  A late start combined with the lackadaisical pace meant they only made thirty miles that day, and wound up bedding down at a natural tank just beneath a shelf of rock exposed through geological processes utterly outside Terry's knowledge.

  The tank was rock-walled, no more than twenty feet across anywhere around its ragged shape, and deceptively deep. It was obvious given the crushed grasses and well-worn paths nearby that the tauren herds knew the place, but there was no one in sight when Terry and his company arrived, and they would only be there for one night.

  Terry helped unload Isthil, then the horses, before he wandered up to stand on the rock shelf above the water, facing the setting sun.

  It was summer, but the air had a coolness to it and the smell of rain was in the air. The clouds were heavy in the north, but the wind was blowing west to east, so Terry couldn't even guess about the likelihood of rain. Consider
ing they had only a pair of pup tents, he was hoping the storm would pass them by.

  He turned his eyes to the sunset, feeling the lingering warmth mingling with the soft, steady breeze.

  'You spend a great deal of your time marveling at the beauty of Celestine, Husband.'

  He didn't answer in words. What would he say? It seemed like every time he stopped and took a moment to appreciate simple things, a little of his stress bled away, and he had a lot of stress.

  He couldn't see the mountains Yuri had gone to, but they were very much on his mind as he searched the horizon.

  'They will succeed, and come back safe.'

  Terry was not reassured, but again made no coherent reply. Yuri and the others would come back or they wouldn't. If they did come back ... would they all come back? He had no illusions about the likely dangers they would face. Asturial's war body would do them no good underground. Who knew what waited for them? Whatever it was would have killed him had he gone — at least according to Baba Yaga — and he was no easy kill. Not anymore. Would they come back? Would they all survive?

  He let his thoughts wander, eyes aimless as he passively took in the beauty of evening.

  The crackling of a fire eventually distracted him, and he turned to see Mila and Halla sitting near the blaze. Despite their earlier friction, they seemed to be talking easily, and he was relieved to see it.

  Shy had already assumed her willow form, and he noted that without her mask she looked as though she had simply entwined her hands and feet and branches had sprouted from her body, leaving the core of her essentially unchanged. He did not see the glow of her eyes and presumed they were closed. Both Shy's mask and the black one stolen from Stheno had been sent along with Yuri.

  His eyes darted over the low space, but he saw no trace of Isthil, and wondered if she'd decided to part ways. If so he didn't blame her, though he was surprised she hadn't said goodbye.

  As he looked to the west again, now to gaze upon the darkening purples and reds left behind by a sun now set, he thought about how to best redistribute the loads. It wouldn't be too much of a problem. He would resume a giant size and carry the cocoons himself.

  'I ... hope, that she will return,' Prada thought, sounding uncertain.

  She's free to do what she likes, he thought. What's got you so shaken about it?

  'I wanted her for us.'

  Terry shrugged. She'll be better off if she leaves.

  Prada didn't dispute him, but he sensed her disappointment in him.

  He ignored it, turned, and leapt from the shelf of rock to the ground some ten feet below. He landed easily, knelt and drank from the tank, then walked over to the fire.

  Mila and Halla paused in their talk to glance up at him, and he nodded and said, "I'm going to sleep. You two okay?"

  "Sure," Halla said as Mila nodded, adding, "We have come to an understanding."

  "Good. See you tomorrow."

  "Did you eat?" Mila asked.

  Terry shook his head. "I'm not hungry. I'll have something tomorrow morning before we set out."

  He felt their eyes on him as he moved to a place where the rock shelf overhung the tank, and paused as Prada poured herself out of him. He settled into her bulk and closed his eyes.

  His worries swirled in his head, but he gave them no focus. Instead, he strengthened the barrier between his mind and Koschei's, then drifted until sleep claimed him.

  His dreams were strange, sensual at first but increasingly alarming. He found himself nuzzling with Mila, only to have her start hacking up furballs on his chest.

  Leaving her to it, he turned to see Shy curling her fingers in open invitation.

  He went to her, but as her body slid against his he felt bits of sticky sap pulling at him and sharp wooden slivers of her breaking off in his skin. He gently disengaged and shook his head apologetically.

  Turning as he picked splinters from his flesh he saw Laina. He smiled at her and she grinned back as she chewed cud. He took a step toward her only for her to cut loose with a long, completely bovine moo as she unwrapped her sarashi, showing him a pair of udders rather than the breasts he expected.

  Shuddering, he turned again only to see Cecaelia writhing toward him, a hungry look in her eyes. She shimmered as her tentacles shifted to her back, but in place of a normal woman's slit, she had an octopus' beak that opened and snapped at him as she strode forward.

  Turning, he started to run, hearing sounds of pursuit behind him.

  Sphinx appeared, her sinfully curved body obscured as she stretched bear-like hands toward him and opened a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth, licking her lips hungrily.

  Fleeing her, he found himself in a labyrinth of twisting turns, with the howling and monstrous cries of his lovers chasing after him.

  After glancing over his shoulder, he looked forward only to skid to a stop at the edge of a sudden cliff, waving his hands in a desperate bid to keep his balance. Beyond, just below him, he saw Asturial's war body settled down on her back as she splayed her entirely draconic form lewdly for him, talons holding open a slit big enough to consume him whole if he fell in.

  He took a hard left and kept running, but soon encountered Prada. She was amorphous but not entirely unformed. He saw eyes, mouths, and sex organs of both genders forming and subsiding all over as she slipped toward him.

  Completely panicked now he fled, and heard Euryale's screaming ahead of him, forcing him to turn again only to face Baba Yaga's manic laughter.

  He found himself cowering at an intersection that radiated out around him like a star, and from every direction the monstrous forms of his lovers came on, charging him with hungry eyes, lascivious expressions, and altogether monstrous forms.

  And then it was gone.

  Terry panted, still panic-stricken, and gazed around at a plain that was only revealed as such by the faint white horizon at its edges, far, far away on all sides.

  It was as though he stood on a plate of glass covering dark water. The sky overhead was completely black. Only the dividing line of the horizon gave any form to the darkness.

  Once reassured that the monsters chasing him were gone, Terry sat down, taking deep breaths as he sought to regain his composure. Lucidity came to him gradually as he calmed. Once he realized where he was, he looked up, knowing who he would see.

  "Was that me ... or you?" he asked.

  Isthil folded her legs underneath her, putting the barrel of her body on the dark surface before him as she looked at him curiously.

  "I swear t'ye, Terry Mack, you're the guiltiest man I ever saw in all my long life," she said with quiet amusement. "It was you, but I'm the reason ye dreamed as ye did."

  "Why?" he asked. "I've never ... seen them like that."

  "And yet, that's how they are, or can be," Isthil said with a shrug. "Bit rough 'round the edges, but not a one o' those visions was far off the mark. Aside from the whole, chasin' an' inarticulate thing. That was all you.

  "As for the why?"

  Isthil hesitated, then shrugged and said, "Fuck it. No real reason no' to say. The why is that ye like me, and ye feel guilty fer no' findin' me attractive enough for sex. Yer subconscious mind is tormentin' you with the double-standard."

  She smiled, though it wasn't a pleasant expression, as she added, "We are all monsters here."

  He nodded and looked up at her as he asked, "Can we ... keep this one between us? I don't want them to know."

  "I'll no' tell a soul, ye've mah word upon it," Isthil said, smiling gently now. "No sense hurtin' those ye love, and just like earlier today, this is nobody's fault."

  "I need you to stay," Terry admitted. "Before you came I was ... not doing well. But I want you to be happy."

  "I'm no sure how t' make that happen, t'be honest," Isthil said. "I thought about just leavin', then figured I'd say goodbye first. Lucky, I suppose. Your nightmare was pretty tasty."

  Her smile faded a bit, and she looked at him with earnest eyes. "Terry, here in the dreamscape I could
be anyone ye wanted me t'be. But the truth is, I dinnae want that, and I dinnae think you do either."

  "What made you want to stay?" Terry asked, struggling to find some way around the impasse. "You have Thomas' gift. Did you want a second?"

  "Hah, no. I've learnt mah lesson there. Truth is, ye've go' a family here that I want t'be part of. Simple as that. It's no' as if I'm in love with ye, but if I'm t'stay, I'd be lyin' if I said I didn't want a bit o' fun now an' then."

  She looked at him earnestly. "Thomas doesna know the meanin' o' the word 'fun.' You do."

  She chuckled and shrugged. "That's sexy."

  "What, not the broad shoulders and wicked taper?" he asked, grinning. "My sense of fun isn't exactly high on my list of draws."

  She snorted at him and quirked an eyebrow. "You've no clue what most templates are like after a little while here. I'm amazed at you."

  "Actually, I think I have a pretty good idea how it usually goes by now. How many templates have you met?" he asked.

  "Oh ... at least a hundred over the years. Thomas uses 'em when he catches 'em to make the behemoths. One template, five bonds, fused into one bein' t' make 'em all immortal and give their power t' the Zone. Most die durin' the ritual, but the few that make it are beastly strong."

  Terry nodded, then shook his head. "Thomas needs to die."

  "Aye, I think so too, now that I've seen you. Seen the way ye try and do right by everyone, no matter who or what they are."

  He looked at her, let himself get a little lost in her argent eyes, glowing like molten silver in the darkness. She had full lips, an easy smile ... and Terry made a snap decision.

  "You're right next to me out in the waking world, right?"

  "Aye, so?"

  He tilted his head and said, "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

  "Hah! Prada stripped you down after you fell t' sleep. I've already seen yours."

  "Well, that's not very fair is it."

  Her easy smile faded and she looked at him keenly a moment before she said, "I told you once, I dinnae want a pity fuck."

  "Not what I had in mind. If I can't, or I'm not into it, I won't press, but I've got an idea for a little fun if you're up for it."