Authors: Kira Morgana
“Through a Guard post, past a Vampire infested Graveyard and a torture chamber?” Julissa shook her head. “This place has clearly not been cleansed the way it was represented to us. I want to take the shortest route to the harp and get out of here quickly, preferably before the creatures have finished dealing with the turncoat.”
“The lady is right.” Joran said.
Virrinel shot his blood brother a disgusted look. Joran shrugged.
“Shall we get on with this?” Qin-Dar sighed. She moved off ahead of the group, neutralising an alarm trap before Julissa was aware it existed. “Put those masks on that we packed, please.”
The rest of the party did as they were told, fastening the red cloth across the lower half of their faces.
“Gas trap?” Joran asked, his voice muffled by the fabric.
Qin-Dar nodded. “My horn purifies the air around me, but you three wouldn’t survive longer than a few seconds. Wait here; it’s easier to disarm the mechanism of this type.” The light from the torches glinted off her horn as it grew larger.
She moved out into the centre of the hallway, deliberately treading heavily onto the trigger slab. There was a click. Just in front of her the floor opened and a huge canister rose into the air, spinning and ejecting a green, glowing gas so that it filled the area around Qin-Dar.
The cleric slipped her holy blade out from its sheath again, paused for a moment, counting in elvish then plunged the dagger into a red nodule on the top of the canister. The gas died away as the canister stopped spinning.
“Is it safe now?” Julissa said as she strode forward.
Qin-Dar turned toward her. “This trap is neutralised, but… wait, don’t go any further forward!”
Julissa frowned and shook her head. “I haven’t got time for this.” She stepped past the gas trap and another click echoed through the corridor.
“Lady Julissa!” Joran lunged forward, his hand outstretched toward her as the floor behind the gas trap disappeared out from under the bard’s boots.
Virrinel scrambled past the mage and by throwing himself down on the ground amidst the dissipating green gas he managed to grab Julissa’s hand. “Now why are you being so reckless?” he snapped, looking down past her at the gleaming spikes that populated the trap’s floor. “You could have ended up as a pincushion.”
Julissa looked down at the tall thin barbs just below her feet and gasped, throwing her other hand up and grasping hold of Virrinel’s furry arm. “I’m not sure. I’ve just had this overwhelming need to get the harp… get me out of here!” her feet scrabbled at the smooth, polished walls of the pit.
“It’s taking all my strength to just hold you up. Stop moving.” Virrinel grunted.
Qin-Dar knelt beside the autochthon, sighing. “Hold onto her, Ser knight. Joran, can you hold my other arm to balance me while I help Virrinel to pull Julissa back up?”
Joran gripped the cleric’s arm.
I half expected her to have a hoof instead of a hand,
he mused as her hand curled around his wrist to lock the grip. Bracing himself, he leaned back a little as Qin-Dar reached down, grabbed the back of Julissa’s tunic and hauled her up.
As soon as the bard’s feet were back on solid ground, she scrambled back against the wall. “I don’t know what came over me.”
Qin-Dar let go of her and Joran. “You’re behaving as badly as you did when you were a filly, child. Let me find the traps before we lose you to one that isn’t as easy to rescue you from.”
Virrinel clambered back up onto his feet. “Well said.”
Julissa looked at Joran. “Well?”
“Well what?” he shrugged as he adjusted the fall of his robe.
“Haven’t you got anything to say?”
“I felt that they had already covered it, my lady.”
Julissa shook her head. “Oh all right. Qin-Dar, lead the way.”
The Guard Post at the entrance to the Training Room, reeked.
“Must have been Poison Demons in here.” Joran grinned at the look on Julissa’s face as the smell reached her delicate elven nose.
“That’s a strong smell,” Qin-Dar commented as she picked her way across the floor, the stonework pitted with massive craters that threatened to trip the unwary. “Come, there are no traps here.”
Virrinel held his breath as they skirted the platform and cubicle that usually held the guard.
“Are you all right, brother?” Joran asked as Virrinel took a deep breath of the relatively clean air on the other side of the door.
“I’m fine. Just clearing my lungs,” Virrinel told him.
Julissa attempted to push past the men, but Virrinel held her back.
“I go in first this time, my Lady Champion.”
Julissa’s face dropped.
“Now you see here, you big ball of fur. This is my quest so I go first.” She pushed his arm away and slipped around him to find Qin-Dar on the other side.
“What’s wrong, Julissa?” the cleric enquired. “You seem overwrought.”
“I just want to get the harp and get out of here,” the bard snapped, disappearing through the training room door.
* * *
Tavia wasn’t sure exactly what had happened. The last thing she remembered clearly, she had been standing in front of the most beautiful statue that had ever graced a temple.
The sheer manliness of the god, the detailed painting of the white marble bringing to life a slim, strong figure clad in leather with ropes wound around his limbs, had mesmerised her.
The statue’s skin had been painted a very pale green, but it was the sheer beauty of the face depicted that took her breath away. Red curls tumbled around a sharply chiselled face, with high cheekbones under eyes of gleaming gold.
She had felt her libido rising and moved forward toward the sculpture, but then the over the top erotic scenes depicted on the walls of the tiny temple had stopped any nascent sexual thought she might have been having about the effigy’s erection.
The voice had called her to look up into the cold metallic gaze of the statue and everything else had been lost in a blur of pleasurable sensation.
I don’t think I’ve lost that much control around a male since… the last visit to The Emerald Phallus in Jira; Hezan was with me that time as I recall and we imbibed a potion that the Pleasure House Keeper insisted would keep the two of us capable of anything for two days.
She sighed as a wave of lust rippled through her body.
I wish he hadn’t left me that day. I would have walked through fire to be with him. I do remember vowing my soul to Slaanesh. Maybe I should have resisted more, but it felt so good to let go.
She dropped the point of her sword, its slim blade making a whistling sound which made the few creatures alive around her flinch. She took a deep breath and a poison demon nearby fainted as her scanty armour barely restrained a cleavage which seemed far too ample to be hers.
I feel so powerful. Is this the blessing of Slaanesh, my mother was always going on about? I never listened to her when she went off on her Dreamroot fuelled rambles about the gods. Was that statue back there Him? Or just his image?
“Fall back!” the command echoed through the passageways.
Tavia raised her sword back to guard position as a figure in a long blood red cloak moved through the retreating creatures. The hood of the robe hid the figure’s face, but bright golden eyes glinted beneath the fabric.
“What part of the Under City do you come from?” the figure demanded.
That voice is familiar. Where have I heard it before?
Tavia tilted her head to one side. “Under City? Never been there. Who is it that demands information of a Cavalier without giving his name in the courtesy required by all?”
There was a pause.
“I am one who has been sent to bring you peace, Daughter of Slaanesh.” The robed figure told her.
Is it that obvious that I’ve been recruited? Has something changed about me?
Tavia waved the tip of her blade between them. “I will need more than that before I trust anyone in this place.”
“Then I shall give you reason to trust me.” The figure said as it turned, throwing out its arms. “
Rágaiter.”
The incantation rolled out into the air of the dungeon, echoing multiple times as it bounded off of the enclosing walls.
A soft grey mist wound its way from the fingers of the figure in thin tendrils, inserting itself into any available orifice of the creatures still surrounding Tavia. Then with a whisper, the mist disappeared into the creatures.
Tavia watched dumbfounded as the creatures around them began to bleed, vital fluids of all colours pouring from every orifice. The poison demons were the worst, their grey-green blood gushing forth from their mouths, the smell causing a pale green fog to gather above the carcases as they deflated.
Blood Magic. It’s Blood Magic and far stronger than any other mage I have ever come across… except…
her thought faltered as the figure turned back, snapped its fingers and levitated across the fog to land on the guard platform beside her. Then it pushed its hood back.
Tavia stared. “Hezan!”
* * *
The Training room was empty. Julissa strode through the rows of training dummies and weight areas with barely a glance. Virrinel dashed past, sword drawn and fangs bared. Joran followed with Qin-Dar at a more sedate pace, the cleric looking paler by the second.
“We’re getting close to the heart of evil in this place,” Qin-Dar gasped and stumbled. “I’m not sure how much further I can go.” She stopped to catch her breath.
Julissa stopped as well, her concern for her friend overriding the urge to find the harp.
“You can’t stay here,
Poikaerea
. The creatures could come back at any minute.”
Joran produced a vial of white liquid.
“Here, take this. It may help.”
“A shield potion? Thank you.” Qin-Dar nodded and smiled before she swallowed the contents and passed the vial back to him. A pale white glow surrounded her body and she sighed contentedly. After a few moments the cleric stretched and smiled. “Much better. Shall we carry on?”
* * *
“After we parted in Jira, I travelled around Elysia. I found so many wonderful things to experience that I almost didn’t complete my training. However, I finished and completed The Dedication.”
Hezan paused and opened the door in front of them.
“You dedicated yourself to Kaela Mensha? I thought you weren’t going to do that, that you were only studying Blood Magic in order to be able to counter it.” She stepped through the thick steel door into what could only be described as a Treasure Vault.
“I decided to go through with it. The Dark Gods are merely the other side of Human Nature. There is nothing intrinsically evil about it.” Hezan smiled. “Besides, during the Dedication, I realised that there was more to be gained from being a Blood Mage than just the knowledge.”
Tavia stared at the riches around her. In the corner of the treasure room, the walls glittered with gemstones and numerous gremlins chanted softly as they dug the stones from the rock.
Another set of gremlins shaped the stones, then others gathered up the gems and any sizeable shards, distributing them amongst the piles of treasure filling the room.
“It certainly pays well,” she managed.
“Do you remember when we met? The Galivorian Pleasure House where you had decided to take training in the art of seduction?” his eyes drifted across her body and Tavia felt herself blush.
“I remember. You were my best customer.” She smiled shyly at him.
“Well, what I didn’t tell you at the time was that I’d already been recruited by I’Mor Barad. That was the beginning of my journey into the darker side of mage lore.” Hezan waved one hand around the room at the piles of treasure. “I visit a dungeon once a month to gather my pay. I have accounts with all the Thieves Guilds across the Heart Kingdoms. Every so often I visit each one and deposit a little bit more.” Hezan stooped, scooping up a handful of brilliantly sparkling diamonds. “About this much, in fact.” He slipped the handful into his belt pouch and smiled. “I’m the richest man in Franier and Valdier.”
“Not the richest one in Quargard then?” Tavia teased him.
“That would be the Dark Lord and I do not dare his wrath by surpassing him.”
“You have an easier time of it than I,” Tavia lamented.
“Harradine is a hard master?” Hezan slipped one arm around her waist familiarly.
Tavia leaned into the comfort of his strong body.
“Harradine is a King and a Man. He thinks of nothing except his own gain and luxury,” she snorted. “Indeed, if he hadn’t decided that he needed a throne of Elfwood instead of the stone and gold one his forefathers left to him, this whole quest would never have happened.”
Hezan laughed. “’Tis not his doing. Lord Jarsken is custodian of the Alethdin Dungeon and has been manipulating the High King for some considerable time.”
Tavia stepped away from the mage.
“Jarsken, the Duke of Alethdin? Is the High King in danger from him?”
“Harradine is in the middle of a border skirmish with the Elves. How much more in danger could he be?”