by J. E. Keep
It was only by chance she caught sight of him as she ran, the glimmer of the moonlight upon a bit of metal—perhaps one of his weapons—betraying him as he climbed up into a tall tree at the edge of the clearing. She had no idea how he’d even gotten that far up, for it was far too much to jump and the climb looked to be more than she could handle even on a good day.
The growing sensation of that presence began to push her towards manic terror, however, and she ran to the tree. She found herself trying to ineffectually climb, and though there were no sounds to attest to it, she simply felt her pursuers were nearing.
He was so far up he was out of sight again, but try as she might, she couldn’t get to where he was. Couldn’t even make the first large branch. In her desperation she tried one of the smaller ones to leverage herself up, but it broke and tore into her leathers. She was probably bleeding from it, but her mind no longer felt like her own. She just had to get up!
There was no more train of thought in her mind. She was scarring up the side of the tree with her daggers as she tried to find purchase with them as climbing instruments. The centuries-old tree was marred by her failed attempts with great gashes in its bark.
The absence of sound was like a beating drum in her skull, terror like nothing she’d dreamt of filled her, but still she scrambled to get up. Then it all seemed to come to a head. She felt as if it was all over, and she’d surrender herself to the horrors of the beyond. Fighting was useless.
From out of the tree above came a hand, and it took hold of her bicep and pulled her upwards. That little lifeline enough to make her resume her fight.
With his hold, she climbed up into the tree. To one branch, then another. Higher still. And again.
She wanted to keep going, and very nearly grabbed for some flimsy branch that couldn’t have possibly held her in her manic attempt to escape the unknown horror. He stopped her though, pulled her to his hard body as they rested on the thick limb. His hand clamped over her mouth, and his voice rasped in her ear harshly, “Stop screaming!”
Screaming? She hadn’t realized she was, but when she stopped she realized her throat was sore and hoarse, more than she’d ever known it to be. She must have been screaming into the night ever since she’d lost sight of him, at least, for even when she’d had ash-throat infection had she not felt such hurt there.
All that, all that mortal concern swept away, though, as it—whatever it was—arrived. In that same silence it swept beneath them like a wave. She wanted to look to it, but he grasped her head and refused to let her look down. “Don’t!” he hissed quietly into her ear. “Don’t ever look!”
She could barely see him, her mania and tears blurring everything, and she clutched him like grim death. She felt something so primal thrumming within her, and her heart pounded against her ribs.
They were suspended above a sea of horror it felt, and all around she saw the trees move with its passing. It was the only sound, the only sign of its existence other than the eerie presence that prickled her scalp and made her skin goose bump.
It felt to her that if she just tilted her head down she could see it, perhaps understand what chased them. What nightmare haunted their journey. But he held her tight, kept her head from tilting down. She could see from the corner of her eyes him gazing up at the moon. And trembling.
He shook, his eyes wide and manic, teeth gritted as he kept himself staring up at the silver sickle in the sky. She knew instinctively he felt the same compulsion too. And fought it. Desperately. Whatever was below them, he knew—somehow—could never be laid eyes upon.
She swallowed and her throat burned with the effort, her lips parting as she stayed so near to him. She’d felt compassion for the rebels and their cause before. That was why she’d agreed to do what she’d failed to do. She didn’t think it was fair that her life had been so pampered while they struggled and died in such numbers.
Rosa had given it all up to try to give them a shot, to equal their footing a bit, but for the first time she realized that was impossible.
There was no way for the nobles to live like this, to be afraid of things they didn’t even have names for. They weren’t equal. They could never be equal.
The rebels had every advantage, and every right to be in control, and she clung to him with a greater appreciation than she’d ever known for another person.
Chapter 18 – The Nobles
It took the bulk of the day for Duke Samei Ellefor to get access to the Rensford manor. The shiny-helmeted Landsreck guard kept the compound walled off all day, putting the whole of the neighbourhood on high alert. Even with the diminished fortunes of the nobility, the death of one was still a tremendous affair.
Passing through the dark, ominous halls in his crisp suit, the Duke kept his head high. The soldier guided him into one of the larger parlors, and inside, he was surprised to see who was gathered. Or at least, he tried to act surprised. The Queen’s own doctor stood by the side, but before him was the Queen’s arbiter, a tall man with a severe look. He wore a brown suit with gold regalia upon it, including the chains-of-office.
There were no guards, but present was one genuinely surprising person. Duke Ellefor didn’t recognize the young man, but he dressed like a noble, to be certain. The sour look on his face amplified the effect.
Most importantly, however, was his daughter. A whole day of being brushed aside and questioned on the death of the late Duke Rensford must have taken a toll, but she was a keen actress too, and so he went to her immediately and in a very rigid but fatherly manner put his arms about her. “Ahh, my dear girl,” he husked. “What terrible tragedy befalls you so soon.”
Her eyes were rimmed with red, and as soon as his arms wrapped around her form, she sobbed again. She’d changed into a simple black dress that suited her figure, and her fingers wound into the rich fabric of his suit. “I will never love again!” she wailed in protest before she sniffled and pulled away from him, swiping the tears from her cheeks.
That was laying it on a bit thick, he thought, but he patted her back and kissed her neatly arranged hair. “There there, child,” he said soothingly. “You’ve many years ahead of you yet.”
The other occupants of the room gave them their moment, and Duke Ellefor looked to them. “She should return to the Ellefor estate for now, until she’s calmed herself.”
The sour-looking young man chimed in, “She’s welcome to return for good as far as I’m concerned.” He wore the uniform of a young noble who had just finished his term at the front. Or more precisely commanding troops who served at the front. Noble officers rarely so much as saw the frontline trenches.
The Royal Arbiter held up his hands, silencing protest. “The Queen recognizes that there is an issue of inheritance here to be resolved.”
Samei’s heart skipped a beat. The Queen was moving fast apparently.
Caprice’s lower lip trembled and her brows furrowed as she looked over them all rather skeptically. “I’ve lost my husband, the man I gave my maidenhood to, and you wish to discuss business?”
The room of men all seemed to look a bit uncomfortable at her discussing sexual matters so blatantly. All but the sour-looking young man that eyed her skeptically, that is.
“My daughter has suffered enough, has she not?” he stated, arm still about his delicate daughter. “The tragedy she awoke to was harrowing enough.” His mind, however, was on the Queen’s Arbiter. Hopefully she was acting on his behalf, as he’d proven himself most useful to the ruler. As far as she knew anyhow.
The Arbiter quieted things again. “The Queen recognizes that the young Lady Rensford has sacrificed quite a lot for the two houses, to put an end to a long feud.” That tone, however, shattered the Duke’s dreams. “But to hand over the whole of House Rensford to her would be the death of that noble line, and so cannot be done lightly.”
Samei’s eyes shot to the young man and saw that he was no longer looking quite so sour anymore. Smug was the word.
“Pray tell,”
spoke up the consoling father, “does the Queen wish to break with millennia of tradition in this matter?” He was nearly trembling with rage, but he hid it well. He had to.
“This is my home, now!” Caprice protested, and her knees weakened and trembled. She looked so uncertain, so crestfallen. “We were just getting it the way we wanted it,” she said of her and her late husband, and she looked far younger than her age for a moment. She seemed... diminished. “To lose him and our home and...” She sobbed again.
The dutiful father caressed her hair and squeezed her a little tighter. “There there, my child,” he consoled, “we shall sort things out for you.”
The Arbiter looked uncomfortable, doubtlessly not caring to deliver such news in front of the emotional young woman. He cleared his throat and began, “On the contrary. The Queen recognizes that tradition is important, and must be respected” — and Duke Ellefor knew the “but” was coming already — “but every effort must be maintained to retain the lineage of House Rensford.”
“Hear, hear,” chimed in the young man.
“Out with it already,” Duke Ellefor couldn’t help himself from muttering out in irritation. Just spit out the Queen’s little scheme already and be done with it, he thought.
Caprice ran her fingers through her long, dark hair. Her body felt so warm, her scalp prickling with anger and agitation. They were so close, so very close. They couldn’t be refused, and her eyes glistened with fresh tears.
The Arbiter paused and cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the Duke’s admonishment at first before he composed himself. “The Queen acknowledges the marriage of the late Duke Rensford and his wife Caprice, and should their blessed union have given issue and produce a legitimate heir to House Rensford, then all matters shall be considered resolved,” he explained with a bright smile to the Duke and daughter, thinking it quite generous.
“However?” Ellefor bit out, knowing such a thing was not possible.
Caprice’s hands went to her stomach, touching along to soft black stomach of her smooth flesh. The Duke wouldn’t touch her; not like that. Not with any amount of sexuality, even at his most gruesome, and she swallowed hard.
“However,” repeated the Arbiter, “should that not occur then the Queen shall have to intervene to see to the survival of House Rensford as a continuing column in the support of the Union,” he explained cautiously, getting a broad smile from the young man. Did he know something? For he seemed too smugly confident to be that happy over the chance Caprice was not already pregnant.
“A wise woman, our Queen,” stated the young man, paying proper deference.
“So that’s it then?” retorted the Duke. “The future of my daughter and all her sacrifices shall be left up to the chance that a brief marriage has given issue to a child? And should that have failed, all her sacrifices would be for naught?” He couldn’t help but let the bitterness edge into his voice. This was a dark betrayal to him. The Queen had no reason to think him anything but the most loyal of servants. No reason she knew of anyhow.
Caprice was at his side and too overwhelmed. True fear had begun pulsing through her veins, but his sly daughter stood up tall and proud despite it all. “Then I will have faith that my husband and I conceived,” she said, adding on brazenly, “we certainly attempted enough times.”
The Arbiter looked until that point like he’d had about enough of the Duke’s anger, but the lewd declaration of Caprice made him stumble. Though both the doctor and Arbiter looked abashed by her declaration, and her father feigned it, the young man, however, snorted in derision. He didn’t believe her. How could that be? thought the Duke.
Clearing his throat, the Arbiter said, “In the meantime, the Queen urges both Houses to further their attempts at reconciliation.” Then the presence of the young man was finally made clear. “Viscount Beren Rensford, should the widow Rensford fail to give birth to a legitimate heir to House Rensford, the Queen shall discuss how to secure you as the new Head of a future House Rensford in negotiations with the lady Caprice and House Ellefor.”
The Duke was stunned. Who the hell was this young man to have gotten this shot at ruling such a major House?
“However,” stressed the Arbiter loudly. “In the meantime, it would please the Queen most greatly if both Houses set aside their issues, and made another great act of reconciliation such as the marriage of young Caprice.” He gave a confident smile, as representatives of both Houses looked displeased.
“What do you mean?” blurted out the Duke and Viscount, sparing each other a brief glare.
Caprice’s face betrayed her annoyance and disgust at the young man, and she threw her head back, nose in the air. Attempt at reconciliation, indeed.
The Arbiter looked between Caprice and the Viscount. “The Queen shall leave that up to the imaginations of both Houses,” he said softly. “However, it would please the Queen and the whole of the Realm to see another noble marriage between two once-feuding houses as a sign of continued cooperation.”
The Duke was without words.
Caprice’s face burned red, and she nearly lost her cool before she finally just burst into tears and fell to the floor. “I’m mourning!” she wailed, her body crumpled into itself.
The Duke comforted her, but couldn’t help but notice that the young Viscount himself looked rather bothered by the idea as well. The nerve! The offense against Caprice made him so angry he nearly launched across the room to strike him!
“Until such time as a conclusion can be reached,” broke in the Arbiter, “the lady Caprice and Viscount Rensford shall remain here on the manor grounds.” Suddenly the high security presence made sense to the Duke. “For the sake of fairness to all and to protect the future of both Houses, visitation shall be restricted until such time as a conclusion could be reached.”
Caprice’s head yanked up, and she glared at the Viscount. “Live with him?” Her voice was pitched high with disgust and outrage.
The Arbiter stiffened his spine and straightened his jacket. “So is the Queen’s judgement. Her Royal Doctor shall check up on the lady Caprice in due time,” he stated and headed towards the door with a bashful doctor in tow.
Chapter 19 – The Matron
Aleena awoke in the predawn to strange sounds. Though she’d fallen asleep with one of her Kron mates, the other on watch, she awoke alone. In the dark of the cabin she could hear their two growly voices, low and muttering coming from outside.
Still, the fair elf was rather adept at sneaking, and a dark smile curved her lips as she began moving silently towards the two Kron. She didn’t understand their sexual taboos, but found them fascinating nonetheless.
The fire was still going, and hadn’t been left untended for long though it was kept low. Aleena made her way across the floor in absolute silence as she neared the door, their voices coming through the hard wood.
She picked it up mid-sentence from Ramtok. “...better than being a lowly dreck.”
There was the sound of movement, perhaps one of them being shoved. “Shut up,” came Saghar’s response. “The Matriarch knows what she is doing. You’re just too dense to understand her ways. Elves are different, brother.”
A loud snort emanated from the larger Kron. “Didn’t feel so different when she was milkin’ me of my seed,” he replied with some sense of pride in his words. “Felt pretty damn good and right, in fact.”
Aleena didn’t want to bring any ill will towards them, to turn their relationship into something other than it was. She’d been cautious of their jealousy, of the potential to hurt the strong trio she made, and somehow taking them both at once had been the thing to do it.
Her fingers moved through her white hair, her body still as nude as it had been when she fell asleep, still feeling Ramtok’s cum between her inner thighs.
There was quiet for a moment, but then she heard Saghar move closer towards the door. “You keep tellin’ yourself that you’re a favourite. You’ll be in for a rude awakening, brother,” he said to
the larger Kron entering into the room as he was coming off his watch shift.
The elf couldn’t help but be amused at the similarities of their two peoples. So different in so many ways, yet petty jealousy and possessiveness still made the blood burn hot. She leaned against the wall, but no longer was she trying to hide.
“I don’t want this to hurt our likelihood of success,” she admonished in a soft voice.
The towering Kron looked to her sharply, and she realized it was the first time she’d caught Saghar off guard since they’d set out. He had always been uncannily aware of the goings-on around him, which had made him such an asset in the initial leg of their journey.
“Matriarch,” he murmured in surprise, shutting the door behind himself as he eyed her nude, pale form in the firelit room. He wore the simple white-fur kilt and cloak about his shoulders as usual, that hid so little of his chiselled physique. With some appreciation in his gaze he added, “Nothing gets past you, does it?”
“You’ll remember I asked about jealousy,” she said as she took a step towards him. “I didn’t want to be the cause of any.” Her body was lovingly caressed by the small fire, and the reddish-orange hue licked against her flesh. It made her small breasts seem more prominent, but more so, it highlighted the small of her waist and the roundness of her thighs and hips. She was a small woman, but the voluptuousness of her rear was something not many elves could claim.
Saghar was staring, but at last he broke his gaze and pulled off his fur cloak, casting it aside. “It is complicated, Matriarch,” he said to her, his broad chest, less muscled than his brothers but still so hard, so strong, all bare before her eyes, its green-grey tone mixed with orange from the flames as he strode into the room a bit deeper. “No Kron woman would do what you did to me. Except maybe in mockery. How could I predict?”
“Mockery?” Aleena asked, confused. “Fuck, takes me more work to do that well than it does to screw well.” She rolled her eyes up a bit and took a step towards him. “So what do I do to make things better between you two?”
