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Category:
Fantasy & Science Fiction › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
3
Views:
740
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Chapter One : Horizons
Chapter One: Horizons
Still no sex, people. If you're in that much of a hurry, move ahead to chapter three. Just know that you'll be missing some important plot points!
Warnings: Fluff! Fluuuuuuff! Oh, god, the fluff is so fluffy in its fluffified fluffiness!
Random writing panic: ...it's going slow, isn't it? It's slow. The character development isn't strong enough, and the story's going too slow. Augh! I swear, it'll get better! I'll get better! Don't throw rocks at me!
A great big thank you goes out to Justin for helping me with the editing, and for all of his great advice. Without him, this story would have remained a prologue for another six months.
It took me over an hour to realize this chapter was over after I finished it tonight. I kept thinking I'd missed something, but upon three re-readings, I found it was complete. Heh. Sorry for the wait.
Years passed slowly for Kelleyn and Kita. Every day was full of training and studying, and often they were too tired for their dinners. Tiras'del and Helenay would make them eat it anyway, however, and so the two thrived under their care. Kita, now fifty, was no longer as thin as he had been five years before, and Kelleyn, now twelve, was growing too quickly for the seamstresses of Orathin Keep to keep up with her. Her clothes were constantly being let out, but she maintained a slim figure that was now showing the beginnings of an hour glass shape.
Under Hela's guidance, Kelleyn had become as polite and sweet as a Lady in their home and as raucous and dangerous as a seasoned sailor on the practice grounds. The old woman had been thrilled to sight the mage gift within the young girl (which ended up being the reason for her kidnapping in the first place). To a mage with practiced sight, the gift showed as a pale green aura around the heart, and Hela was pleased to see that Kelleyn's aura was particularly strong. She began training the girl immediately, and after only a week, Kelleyn mastered the Mind Arts. She could move objects with a mere thought (light ones, though, for she was still young), start small fires such as lighting a candle, and carry out full mental conversations with Hela. The latter seemed to be Kelleyn's favorite. Now, the instruction had slowed, and for several years, Kelleyn had been learning basic cantrips and form. It usually took two decades for a mage to earn her robes, but Kelleyn would be done in just over one. Helenay suspected her to be a future Wizard.
Kita had started sword training under Tiras'del. While Tiras's methods were usually a two-handed, crushing offense, he resorted to a style of Shel'Adin swordplay in which to train Kita. The style involved using the opponent's strength and weight against him. It involved fluid movements that looked something like a dance and a great deal of running. At first, Tiras'del had scoffed at the methods, but once Kita had been in training for a few months, he took the boy on using his style. Despite being a begginner, Kita managed to get Tiras off his feet more than once. The boy had the touch. Tiras'del was sparing in his compliments, though, giving them only when Kita seemed discouraged or irritated with himself. Because of that, Kita was modest about his swordplay and did not use his newfound skills to pick fights. “The talented hawk hides his talons.”, Tiras'del constantly told him.
With the aide of the elderly couple, Kita and Kelleyn were quickly developing into bright and talented young people. Unfortunately, the keep was faring poorly. Year after year, the land around them saw less rain, and crops were suffering because of it. The once green fields around the keep had turned to yellow, and still less and less rain fell. Once, as the four sat around at dinner (Kita and Kelleyn were the last two orphans in the home), Kelleyn asked Helenay why she didn't just summon up a storm. Helenay sighed and answered in a tired voice, “Because, even if I did have such power, the results would be disastrous. Weather is impossible to control, even for the strongest of wizards. It is a non-issue, however, because I don't have that power. I can only act on weather that is already brewing.”
Helenay would urge rain clouds along, and add a little of her own energy to them to see that they came to drenching downpours, but that was the best she could do, and such weather was rare. Even the back-up irrigation system was failing. Tiras'del knew that, if the next year did not provide more rain, he would be forced to make a deal with northern traders in order to feed the whole keep. As it was, rations were slim.
Still, the home was a happy one. Kelleyn spent every morning in her first days memorizing every inch of the place. If she had any complaints about being taken from her uncle, they fled the moment she saw the luxury she'd be living in. Tiras'del and Helenay's home boasted two huge bedrooms that, now no longer holding orphans, became Kita and Kelleyn's. The third bedroom belonged to Tiras and Hela, as they had no urge to move their things. The dining hall was large as well, big enough to fit the four of them and twenty servants with elbow room to spare. It had a system of indoor plumbing, which Kelleyn found amazing. She knew that some of the wealthier houses in the city had these systems, but she had never seen them for herself. The floors were of a rich, dark mohogany, and the stone walls were hung with colorful tapestries depicting the daily life of the Keep. Kelleyn later discovered the Helenay had designed the tapestries herself. Every outer wall boasted a window, even the bathing room.
The last room was Kelleyn's favorite. It had been designed to host several people at once in order to make nightly baths go quicker, and so the actual tub was a sunken hole in the middle of the room, about ten feet across and two feet deep. Kelleyn was little enough that she could almost swim across it. One of her favorite activities after a long day of training was crawling into the bath and floating in scalding hot water.
Part of Kita's training included the picking of magical locks, which Helenay guided him in. She had several set up with minor spells that would do things like blind him temporarily, deafen him temporarily or sieze all of his muscles so that he would lie on the ground, unable to move, until Hela lifted the curse. She assured him that many magical locks could be far worse. When this part of his training was over, she gifted him with ten potions that were designed to dispel lock cantrips. With these gifts, Helenay also taught him how to mix the potions that she gave him.
By the time Kelleyn turned fifteen, she found herself watching her friend with new eyes. She started to watch him practicing with Tiras'del more and more often, and often she found herself focusing on the graceful play of muscle beneath Kita's soft fur. At night, she guiltily dreamed of having that fur pressed against herself. She began to catch Kita staring at her more and more. Finally, Helenay pulled her aside one night. In the private chambers she shared with Tiras'del, Hela sat the girl down on a well-used, old couch.
“You're beginning to notice a few things about Kita you didn't before.” Helenay began, her voice warm with amusement.
Kelleyn felt herself blush, but she nodded a confirmation to Helenay's words. “Yes.” Her voice sounded very small to her own ears.
“Well, you're becoming a young woman, and I wager it won't be long before the two of you begin to talk about what you're noticing in each other. There are just a few things you need to know first...”
The next two hours were pure hell for Kelleyn. Helenay described to her several different forms of birth control. The one she recommend was a potent mixture of herbs to be imbibed every night except for the nights during Kell's moon flow. She taught Kelleyn how to mix these herbs and how to brew them into a nightly tea, which Kell found almost pleasant to taste once she added a bit of honey. If Tiras'del or Kita noticed her suddenly drinking tea every night, neither of them said anything.
Kita did, however, know exactly what the tea was for. He'd had a similar talk of his own with Tiras'del, and the man had described the mix. Having lived on the streets, Kita was already experienced with sex, but no one had ever told him there were ways to prevent a pregnancy. He'd always assumed girls just knew what they were doing. Despite his experience with girls, he found he had no idea how to talk to Kelleyn. As humans aged much faster than Shel'Adin, he and Kell were nearly the same age, as far as growth and maturity was concerned. He would reach his age of adulthood only one year before Kell would reach hers.
One night, as Kell was sipping her nightly tea on an upstairs balcony in their home, Kita approached her.
“Kelleyn...,” he murmured in a voice that had nearly lost its accent.
Kell turned to face him with a soft smile. “Hey, Kita.” Her expression sobered when she saw the serious look in his eyes. “What is it?”
Kita leaned sideways against the balcony so that he could look at her as he spoke. He shook his head to toss his long, golden hair over his shoulder. She turned to face the moon hanging behind them, and, his breath caught in his throat. He'd never noticed how black her hair was, falling in thick curls to the small of her back. She pulled it back from the temples to the back of her head, where she bound it with a large, black-velvet ribbon. Her normally bright, blue eyes caught the moonlight and seemed to glow for a moment. He breathed in deeply as he remembered the pink color of her cheeks, a testament to the activity filled life they lived. Mage training wasn't the only training she received, and to prove it, she had a toned body with muscles that just barely showed beneath her soft skin.
The Shel'Adin quickly looked to his feet. “I thought we could take a walk outside.” Outside usually meant out of the keep. The two of them had often travelled to a river that ran on the keep's eastern side. In the years past, its banks had grown considerably steeper from the drought, but it was still a lovely place, especially at night. “And talk.” He added, trying his best to keep his voice from cracking.
“Of course...” Kelleyn replied. She could feel her pulse beginning to quicken already at the prospect of a moonlit walk with Shel'Adin. She'd been reading a few of Hela's bardic tale collections, and the more romantic songs often involved such things. So, when Kita took her hand to lead her back into the keep and out into the night air, she didn't try and stop him.
The river, though not as deep as it once had been, was still deep enough for the two of them to swim. Once clothes were shed to undergarments, the two of them fell into their old patterns of friendship and easily relaxed. An old understanding had grown up between them, and they each took comfort in it. The summer-warmed water felt good against their skin, and the warm air kept the chill off of them as they lay on the river banks to dry after their playful swimming.
“Do you think they'll come looking for us?” Kelleyn asked after a few moments of silence.
Kita shrugged, “Who knows? Does it matter?” He no longer extended his 'r's, but there was the slightest of trills to them. The noise sent excitement through Kelleyn.
“I suppose not...” She rolled to her side and was surprised to find that Kita was just a little over a foot away. “Kita, what do you want to do after your training is complete?”
Kita was quiet for a moment. Just as Kelleyn began to fear that she'd offended him with the question, he answered in a soft, somewhat sad voice, “I want to go home.” He sat up and rested his arms on bent knees, heels digging into the ground. “I want to return home a great swordman and earn a place among my people again. It is never done, you know. Once you leave, you are exiled... But I was so young when I decided to leave. So foolish... But, if I return a great man, I know they'll accept me.” The longing in his voice nearly brought tears to Kelleyn's eyes.
The young mage sat up and moved a little closer to him, resting a hand on his arm. She could feel warmth through his golden fur, and she had to fight to suppress a shiver. Suddenly, her body felt cold, and she could feel her underclothes sticking to her. She was very aware of the fact that her hair was so wet that it hung lankly in her face. Quickly, Kelleyn tried her best to finger-comb her hair into some semblance of order. Kita lifted a hand and took her wrist to stop her. “What do you want to do?” he asked, his voice betraying his amusement.
Kelleyn looked out over the hill beyond them. The yellowed grass seemed less stark in the night, and the world seemed to glow with the moonlight. “I don't know.” She admitted, biting her lip. “I don't know what I want to do. I suppose I'll try and find a position at the mage school. Once my training with Helenay is complete, I'll be able to teach there. The Windsong Institute is always hiring.”
“Don't you want to be a great war hero?” Kita asked, his eyes widening with surprise at her answer.
Kelleyn shrugged and pursed her lips. “No.” She answered, sounding a little surprised at the answer herself. “No, I don't. Not that I'll run away if there is a war, but I don't care anything about being great. If you're great, people never leave you alone. I just want to live simply somewhere, the way Hela does.”
“But Helenay's great.” Kita reminded her. “She helped Rashmir win wars, and she lives simply. Hardly anyone ever rides out here to ask her for anything, and when they do, it's usually advice.”
Kelleyn nodded slowly, resting her head on her friend's shoulder as she mulled this over. “I suppose you're right. But then again, Hela's aging. Perhaps she isn't able to go riding off on adventures anymore.”
Kita smiled cryptically. “Somehow, Kell, I doubt that.” He leaned over then and kissed her tenderly on the lips, putting their years of friendship into the feelings behind it. He was pleased when he felt Kelleyn's lips responding, pressing back against his own shyly but with conviction. The kiss inevitably led to other things, and soon, the two were making love. Knowing that Kell was a virgin, Kita was gentle. He was experienced enough to make her first time quite memorable, and indeed it would be. When they were finished, they lay together under the cover of the stars for nearly an hour, just taking comfort in their closeness and the knowledge that this experience wouldn't change their friendship. Finally, Kita kissed Kelleyn on the forehead and stood up. He helped her to her feet, the two dressed, and they headed back to the keep, arm in arm.
Elsewhere, times were not nearly as pleasant. The highlord sat at the head of a long table in her council room, paying more attention to the scenery of the place than she was to the actual debate taking place between two of her chancellors. The room was rectangular in shape and about twenty five feet long. In the center of the room was placed a long table with a rich tablecloth running down its center. Scrolls covered the table now, and it was being shaken every few seconds as an angry chancellor slammed his fist upon it. It was an inner room, and so there were no windows, adding to the rather drab pallor of the room. Only one painting decorated its gray, stone walls, and that was of the last Highlord, Dugan, sitting upon his throne with a scepter in hand. Aside from that, there were merely a few sconces in the walls to illuminate the otherwise bleak room in candle light.
The candle light made it as bright as day, but Highlord Ashela felt her eyes drooping all the same. She let her gaze flow to the end of the table and the cause of this new argument between two of her fattest councilors. At the end of the table sat three red-robed figures, their hoods pulled up so high that their yellow eyes were a faint glow somewhere behind their noses. They had the faces of a lizard's, and their broad, flat mouths seemed to be grinning. The sight of it sent a shiver down Ashela's spine. She'd heard that some found these creatures attractive, but she certainly couldn't see it. They had the bodies of people, aside from their large, spiked tails. From the looks of the back of their cloaks, those spikes carried up their spines, pointing straight out to a foot long in some places. They were rigid, as well, and Ashela imagined they could easily kill a man.
These Gremelk were not in her kingdom to kill, however. In fact, in Ashela's time and in her father's time as Highlord, the Gremelk had been peaceful. Now and again, a minor spat would break out between them and the Shel'Adin, but Rasden usually acted as a mediator. The Shel'Adin were positioned between the Gremelk and Rasden, and as the Shel refused to let the Gremelk through their land for trade, the lizard people were forced to sail down to Rasden's ports. It was good that the Shel refused to trade with them. The Gremelk were artisans of cloth, and the materials they produced were so fine that the most fashionable of nobles rarely wore anything else. Tapestries were made of the stuff as well. The Gremelk called it silk, and it was made naturally by little worms indigenous to Hreth'Gemal, the Gremelk homeland. The Gremelk refused to trade the worms, giving them quite a monopoly on the silk trade.
Aside from silk, the Gremelk were also excellent hunters. They traded beautiful skins of white bears and large cats that lived in the mountains north of Hreth'Gemal. Also, pungent spices were a specialty of the Gremelk, and it seemed that all the best cooks in Rasden couldn't live without Gremelk spices in their pantries.
In spite of the fact that they were behind the greatest trends in Rasden, the Gremelk rarely visited the city. What few did venture in were often treated with a great deal of respect and wonderment. Perhaps that was their reasoning for never travelling to Rasden – though they were excellent cooks, fabric makers, hunters and warriors, they were a humble people. To have such fuss made of them probably made them quite uncomfortable. To a Gremelk, hubris was the ultimate sin.
At last, Ashela couldn't take anymore bickering. She rested her hands lightly on the table, barely moving, but even that slight gesture was enough to catch the attention of everyone at the table. Even the Gremelk ceased in grinning long enough to afford her a look of respect. It took quite a woman to command so loud and influential a group of men as well as Ashela did. She cleared her throat politely and finally, in a soft voice, said, “Necromancy may be our only hope.”
The three figures leaned forward just slightly, but Ashela caught it. She'd been training in diplomacy since she was a girl of fourteen hovering about her Father's elbow, and now that she was in her fifty's, the skill was only sharper. She stood slowly, leaving her hands on the table as she rose. She lifted her chin and rose her voice enough to carry it across the room and to cause a slight echo in the hall. “This drought has gone on for nearly a decade. Our people our dying, and our streets are full of low class criminals that are only taking up much needed space. They are a menace to our good and lawful citizens. Resorting to blood magic to clear the drought is the only way I see out of this. We simply don't have enough high trained wizards to pull off weather spells here, and I can assure you that the wizards of the desert holding, Shteroth, won't be jumping up to aid us.” She paused long enough to adjust the simple circlet she wore, a symbol of her authority. She also wore a long, white robe that was belted with a golden cord. She believed in simplicity.
“Should we not sacrifice a few of our lesser denizens for the benefit of our hard working people? Or would you gentlemen prefer we allow them slave away in their dying fields only to starve to death after weeks of suffering?” She looked around the room, her expression calm but cold as she took her seat again. “No, I don't think any of you want that. Besides, my noble councilors, it is very possible that this drought is magical in nature.”
Every person in the room, human and lizard alike, stared at her. The faces of the Gremelk showed triumph while the faces of her advisors were mixtures of outrage, fear and resignation. Ashela knew she had won. She met their faces with an expression of unwavering certainty, knowing that if she showed any weakness now, her councilors would leap on her like hungry dogs on raw meat. She held the look and met every single eye in the room, knowing damn well that she had just sentenced nearly a quarter of her citizens to death.
Across an ocean of sand in the strange and distant county of Shteroth, King Ramon sat before his own council. The four wizards from the Windsong Institute in Rasden had arrived in the cover of darkness the night before, just as they had left their city. They were joined by twenty of his own wizards. Wearing the purple robes of the Windsong wizards, they were a colorful contrast to the grey robes of his own wizards. He stroked his great beard as he peered over them, barely managing to keep a smirk off his face. The drought was killing Rashmir, and soon her ports would be Ramon's to control. The Gremelk would not care which humans they were trading with, as long as those humans could offer them tobacco and liquor. King Ramon allowed himself a moment of private gloating. Rashmir would be his.
Ramon was a portly man in his fourties, with black hair and beard that were streaked with gray. He often dressed in rich, splendidly colored robes, but very few of them were silk. Tonight, he was dressed in his military garb – a slimming, brown surcoat over a darker brown tunic, and camel leather breeches that were dyed black. His chest was adorned with medals and ribbons, some of which he had earned before his kingship and some of which denoted his rank. He wore no crown. All Ramon needed to convey who he was were his strong personality and his commanding manner.
The kingdom of Shteroth dominated all of the Duneland, which was little more than a vast desert. The only real economy of the place was Shteroth's famous alchemist. In the fables told of the strange land, the alchemists were able to turn glass to gold. That much was untrue, though Ramon had seen a mage perform such a trick. The alchemists were brewers of poisons and their antidotes chiefly. Their clients were assassins from all over the world, even Rashmir itself. Aside from alchemy, Shteroth was famous for its horses. It was quite fashionable to mount a Stherothian steed, and in that way, Ramon had managed to make Rashmir suffer. He'd stopped trading the excellent horses to them over a decade ago, leaving the country to make due with its own paltry breeds.
Ramon smiled brilliantly to the men at the table. Even in his fifties, he was handsome, if not a bit thicker in waist. “Gentlemen.” He nodded to everyone at the table, letting his smile broaden. “I am very pleased with the results of our work so far. Soon, Rashmir will be ours.” Applause broke out in the small chamber and, as if on cue, servants came forth with wine for Ramon's honored guests from Rasden. Truly, without these traitors, he could never assure his victory.
Still no sex, people. If you're in that much of a hurry, move ahead to chapter three. Just know that you'll be missing some important plot points!
Warnings: Fluff! Fluuuuuuff! Oh, god, the fluff is so fluffy in its fluffified fluffiness!
Random writing panic: ...it's going slow, isn't it? It's slow. The character development isn't strong enough, and the story's going too slow. Augh! I swear, it'll get better! I'll get better! Don't throw rocks at me!
A great big thank you goes out to Justin for helping me with the editing, and for all of his great advice. Without him, this story would have remained a prologue for another six months.
It took me over an hour to realize this chapter was over after I finished it tonight. I kept thinking I'd missed something, but upon three re-readings, I found it was complete. Heh. Sorry for the wait.
Years passed slowly for Kelleyn and Kita. Every day was full of training and studying, and often they were too tired for their dinners. Tiras'del and Helenay would make them eat it anyway, however, and so the two thrived under their care. Kita, now fifty, was no longer as thin as he had been five years before, and Kelleyn, now twelve, was growing too quickly for the seamstresses of Orathin Keep to keep up with her. Her clothes were constantly being let out, but she maintained a slim figure that was now showing the beginnings of an hour glass shape.
Under Hela's guidance, Kelleyn had become as polite and sweet as a Lady in their home and as raucous and dangerous as a seasoned sailor on the practice grounds. The old woman had been thrilled to sight the mage gift within the young girl (which ended up being the reason for her kidnapping in the first place). To a mage with practiced sight, the gift showed as a pale green aura around the heart, and Hela was pleased to see that Kelleyn's aura was particularly strong. She began training the girl immediately, and after only a week, Kelleyn mastered the Mind Arts. She could move objects with a mere thought (light ones, though, for she was still young), start small fires such as lighting a candle, and carry out full mental conversations with Hela. The latter seemed to be Kelleyn's favorite. Now, the instruction had slowed, and for several years, Kelleyn had been learning basic cantrips and form. It usually took two decades for a mage to earn her robes, but Kelleyn would be done in just over one. Helenay suspected her to be a future Wizard.
Kita had started sword training under Tiras'del. While Tiras's methods were usually a two-handed, crushing offense, he resorted to a style of Shel'Adin swordplay in which to train Kita. The style involved using the opponent's strength and weight against him. It involved fluid movements that looked something like a dance and a great deal of running. At first, Tiras'del had scoffed at the methods, but once Kita had been in training for a few months, he took the boy on using his style. Despite being a begginner, Kita managed to get Tiras off his feet more than once. The boy had the touch. Tiras'del was sparing in his compliments, though, giving them only when Kita seemed discouraged or irritated with himself. Because of that, Kita was modest about his swordplay and did not use his newfound skills to pick fights. “The talented hawk hides his talons.”, Tiras'del constantly told him.
With the aide of the elderly couple, Kita and Kelleyn were quickly developing into bright and talented young people. Unfortunately, the keep was faring poorly. Year after year, the land around them saw less rain, and crops were suffering because of it. The once green fields around the keep had turned to yellow, and still less and less rain fell. Once, as the four sat around at dinner (Kita and Kelleyn were the last two orphans in the home), Kelleyn asked Helenay why she didn't just summon up a storm. Helenay sighed and answered in a tired voice, “Because, even if I did have such power, the results would be disastrous. Weather is impossible to control, even for the strongest of wizards. It is a non-issue, however, because I don't have that power. I can only act on weather that is already brewing.”
Helenay would urge rain clouds along, and add a little of her own energy to them to see that they came to drenching downpours, but that was the best she could do, and such weather was rare. Even the back-up irrigation system was failing. Tiras'del knew that, if the next year did not provide more rain, he would be forced to make a deal with northern traders in order to feed the whole keep. As it was, rations were slim.
Still, the home was a happy one. Kelleyn spent every morning in her first days memorizing every inch of the place. If she had any complaints about being taken from her uncle, they fled the moment she saw the luxury she'd be living in. Tiras'del and Helenay's home boasted two huge bedrooms that, now no longer holding orphans, became Kita and Kelleyn's. The third bedroom belonged to Tiras and Hela, as they had no urge to move their things. The dining hall was large as well, big enough to fit the four of them and twenty servants with elbow room to spare. It had a system of indoor plumbing, which Kelleyn found amazing. She knew that some of the wealthier houses in the city had these systems, but she had never seen them for herself. The floors were of a rich, dark mohogany, and the stone walls were hung with colorful tapestries depicting the daily life of the Keep. Kelleyn later discovered the Helenay had designed the tapestries herself. Every outer wall boasted a window, even the bathing room.
The last room was Kelleyn's favorite. It had been designed to host several people at once in order to make nightly baths go quicker, and so the actual tub was a sunken hole in the middle of the room, about ten feet across and two feet deep. Kelleyn was little enough that she could almost swim across it. One of her favorite activities after a long day of training was crawling into the bath and floating in scalding hot water.
Part of Kita's training included the picking of magical locks, which Helenay guided him in. She had several set up with minor spells that would do things like blind him temporarily, deafen him temporarily or sieze all of his muscles so that he would lie on the ground, unable to move, until Hela lifted the curse. She assured him that many magical locks could be far worse. When this part of his training was over, she gifted him with ten potions that were designed to dispel lock cantrips. With these gifts, Helenay also taught him how to mix the potions that she gave him.
By the time Kelleyn turned fifteen, she found herself watching her friend with new eyes. She started to watch him practicing with Tiras'del more and more often, and often she found herself focusing on the graceful play of muscle beneath Kita's soft fur. At night, she guiltily dreamed of having that fur pressed against herself. She began to catch Kita staring at her more and more. Finally, Helenay pulled her aside one night. In the private chambers she shared with Tiras'del, Hela sat the girl down on a well-used, old couch.
“You're beginning to notice a few things about Kita you didn't before.” Helenay began, her voice warm with amusement.
Kelleyn felt herself blush, but she nodded a confirmation to Helenay's words. “Yes.” Her voice sounded very small to her own ears.
“Well, you're becoming a young woman, and I wager it won't be long before the two of you begin to talk about what you're noticing in each other. There are just a few things you need to know first...”
The next two hours were pure hell for Kelleyn. Helenay described to her several different forms of birth control. The one she recommend was a potent mixture of herbs to be imbibed every night except for the nights during Kell's moon flow. She taught Kelleyn how to mix these herbs and how to brew them into a nightly tea, which Kell found almost pleasant to taste once she added a bit of honey. If Tiras'del or Kita noticed her suddenly drinking tea every night, neither of them said anything.
Kita did, however, know exactly what the tea was for. He'd had a similar talk of his own with Tiras'del, and the man had described the mix. Having lived on the streets, Kita was already experienced with sex, but no one had ever told him there were ways to prevent a pregnancy. He'd always assumed girls just knew what they were doing. Despite his experience with girls, he found he had no idea how to talk to Kelleyn. As humans aged much faster than Shel'Adin, he and Kell were nearly the same age, as far as growth and maturity was concerned. He would reach his age of adulthood only one year before Kell would reach hers.
One night, as Kell was sipping her nightly tea on an upstairs balcony in their home, Kita approached her.
“Kelleyn...,” he murmured in a voice that had nearly lost its accent.
Kell turned to face him with a soft smile. “Hey, Kita.” Her expression sobered when she saw the serious look in his eyes. “What is it?”
Kita leaned sideways against the balcony so that he could look at her as he spoke. He shook his head to toss his long, golden hair over his shoulder. She turned to face the moon hanging behind them, and, his breath caught in his throat. He'd never noticed how black her hair was, falling in thick curls to the small of her back. She pulled it back from the temples to the back of her head, where she bound it with a large, black-velvet ribbon. Her normally bright, blue eyes caught the moonlight and seemed to glow for a moment. He breathed in deeply as he remembered the pink color of her cheeks, a testament to the activity filled life they lived. Mage training wasn't the only training she received, and to prove it, she had a toned body with muscles that just barely showed beneath her soft skin.
The Shel'Adin quickly looked to his feet. “I thought we could take a walk outside.” Outside usually meant out of the keep. The two of them had often travelled to a river that ran on the keep's eastern side. In the years past, its banks had grown considerably steeper from the drought, but it was still a lovely place, especially at night. “And talk.” He added, trying his best to keep his voice from cracking.
“Of course...” Kelleyn replied. She could feel her pulse beginning to quicken already at the prospect of a moonlit walk with Shel'Adin. She'd been reading a few of Hela's bardic tale collections, and the more romantic songs often involved such things. So, when Kita took her hand to lead her back into the keep and out into the night air, she didn't try and stop him.
The river, though not as deep as it once had been, was still deep enough for the two of them to swim. Once clothes were shed to undergarments, the two of them fell into their old patterns of friendship and easily relaxed. An old understanding had grown up between them, and they each took comfort in it. The summer-warmed water felt good against their skin, and the warm air kept the chill off of them as they lay on the river banks to dry after their playful swimming.
“Do you think they'll come looking for us?” Kelleyn asked after a few moments of silence.
Kita shrugged, “Who knows? Does it matter?” He no longer extended his 'r's, but there was the slightest of trills to them. The noise sent excitement through Kelleyn.
“I suppose not...” She rolled to her side and was surprised to find that Kita was just a little over a foot away. “Kita, what do you want to do after your training is complete?”
Kita was quiet for a moment. Just as Kelleyn began to fear that she'd offended him with the question, he answered in a soft, somewhat sad voice, “I want to go home.” He sat up and rested his arms on bent knees, heels digging into the ground. “I want to return home a great swordman and earn a place among my people again. It is never done, you know. Once you leave, you are exiled... But I was so young when I decided to leave. So foolish... But, if I return a great man, I know they'll accept me.” The longing in his voice nearly brought tears to Kelleyn's eyes.
The young mage sat up and moved a little closer to him, resting a hand on his arm. She could feel warmth through his golden fur, and she had to fight to suppress a shiver. Suddenly, her body felt cold, and she could feel her underclothes sticking to her. She was very aware of the fact that her hair was so wet that it hung lankly in her face. Quickly, Kelleyn tried her best to finger-comb her hair into some semblance of order. Kita lifted a hand and took her wrist to stop her. “What do you want to do?” he asked, his voice betraying his amusement.
Kelleyn looked out over the hill beyond them. The yellowed grass seemed less stark in the night, and the world seemed to glow with the moonlight. “I don't know.” She admitted, biting her lip. “I don't know what I want to do. I suppose I'll try and find a position at the mage school. Once my training with Helenay is complete, I'll be able to teach there. The Windsong Institute is always hiring.”
“Don't you want to be a great war hero?” Kita asked, his eyes widening with surprise at her answer.
Kelleyn shrugged and pursed her lips. “No.” She answered, sounding a little surprised at the answer herself. “No, I don't. Not that I'll run away if there is a war, but I don't care anything about being great. If you're great, people never leave you alone. I just want to live simply somewhere, the way Hela does.”
“But Helenay's great.” Kita reminded her. “She helped Rashmir win wars, and she lives simply. Hardly anyone ever rides out here to ask her for anything, and when they do, it's usually advice.”
Kelleyn nodded slowly, resting her head on her friend's shoulder as she mulled this over. “I suppose you're right. But then again, Hela's aging. Perhaps she isn't able to go riding off on adventures anymore.”
Kita smiled cryptically. “Somehow, Kell, I doubt that.” He leaned over then and kissed her tenderly on the lips, putting their years of friendship into the feelings behind it. He was pleased when he felt Kelleyn's lips responding, pressing back against his own shyly but with conviction. The kiss inevitably led to other things, and soon, the two were making love. Knowing that Kell was a virgin, Kita was gentle. He was experienced enough to make her first time quite memorable, and indeed it would be. When they were finished, they lay together under the cover of the stars for nearly an hour, just taking comfort in their closeness and the knowledge that this experience wouldn't change their friendship. Finally, Kita kissed Kelleyn on the forehead and stood up. He helped her to her feet, the two dressed, and they headed back to the keep, arm in arm.
Elsewhere, times were not nearly as pleasant. The highlord sat at the head of a long table in her council room, paying more attention to the scenery of the place than she was to the actual debate taking place between two of her chancellors. The room was rectangular in shape and about twenty five feet long. In the center of the room was placed a long table with a rich tablecloth running down its center. Scrolls covered the table now, and it was being shaken every few seconds as an angry chancellor slammed his fist upon it. It was an inner room, and so there were no windows, adding to the rather drab pallor of the room. Only one painting decorated its gray, stone walls, and that was of the last Highlord, Dugan, sitting upon his throne with a scepter in hand. Aside from that, there were merely a few sconces in the walls to illuminate the otherwise bleak room in candle light.
The candle light made it as bright as day, but Highlord Ashela felt her eyes drooping all the same. She let her gaze flow to the end of the table and the cause of this new argument between two of her fattest councilors. At the end of the table sat three red-robed figures, their hoods pulled up so high that their yellow eyes were a faint glow somewhere behind their noses. They had the faces of a lizard's, and their broad, flat mouths seemed to be grinning. The sight of it sent a shiver down Ashela's spine. She'd heard that some found these creatures attractive, but she certainly couldn't see it. They had the bodies of people, aside from their large, spiked tails. From the looks of the back of their cloaks, those spikes carried up their spines, pointing straight out to a foot long in some places. They were rigid, as well, and Ashela imagined they could easily kill a man.
These Gremelk were not in her kingdom to kill, however. In fact, in Ashela's time and in her father's time as Highlord, the Gremelk had been peaceful. Now and again, a minor spat would break out between them and the Shel'Adin, but Rasden usually acted as a mediator. The Shel'Adin were positioned between the Gremelk and Rasden, and as the Shel refused to let the Gremelk through their land for trade, the lizard people were forced to sail down to Rasden's ports. It was good that the Shel refused to trade with them. The Gremelk were artisans of cloth, and the materials they produced were so fine that the most fashionable of nobles rarely wore anything else. Tapestries were made of the stuff as well. The Gremelk called it silk, and it was made naturally by little worms indigenous to Hreth'Gemal, the Gremelk homeland. The Gremelk refused to trade the worms, giving them quite a monopoly on the silk trade.
Aside from silk, the Gremelk were also excellent hunters. They traded beautiful skins of white bears and large cats that lived in the mountains north of Hreth'Gemal. Also, pungent spices were a specialty of the Gremelk, and it seemed that all the best cooks in Rasden couldn't live without Gremelk spices in their pantries.
In spite of the fact that they were behind the greatest trends in Rasden, the Gremelk rarely visited the city. What few did venture in were often treated with a great deal of respect and wonderment. Perhaps that was their reasoning for never travelling to Rasden – though they were excellent cooks, fabric makers, hunters and warriors, they were a humble people. To have such fuss made of them probably made them quite uncomfortable. To a Gremelk, hubris was the ultimate sin.
At last, Ashela couldn't take anymore bickering. She rested her hands lightly on the table, barely moving, but even that slight gesture was enough to catch the attention of everyone at the table. Even the Gremelk ceased in grinning long enough to afford her a look of respect. It took quite a woman to command so loud and influential a group of men as well as Ashela did. She cleared her throat politely and finally, in a soft voice, said, “Necromancy may be our only hope.”
The three figures leaned forward just slightly, but Ashela caught it. She'd been training in diplomacy since she was a girl of fourteen hovering about her Father's elbow, and now that she was in her fifty's, the skill was only sharper. She stood slowly, leaving her hands on the table as she rose. She lifted her chin and rose her voice enough to carry it across the room and to cause a slight echo in the hall. “This drought has gone on for nearly a decade. Our people our dying, and our streets are full of low class criminals that are only taking up much needed space. They are a menace to our good and lawful citizens. Resorting to blood magic to clear the drought is the only way I see out of this. We simply don't have enough high trained wizards to pull off weather spells here, and I can assure you that the wizards of the desert holding, Shteroth, won't be jumping up to aid us.” She paused long enough to adjust the simple circlet she wore, a symbol of her authority. She also wore a long, white robe that was belted with a golden cord. She believed in simplicity.
“Should we not sacrifice a few of our lesser denizens for the benefit of our hard working people? Or would you gentlemen prefer we allow them slave away in their dying fields only to starve to death after weeks of suffering?” She looked around the room, her expression calm but cold as she took her seat again. “No, I don't think any of you want that. Besides, my noble councilors, it is very possible that this drought is magical in nature.”
Every person in the room, human and lizard alike, stared at her. The faces of the Gremelk showed triumph while the faces of her advisors were mixtures of outrage, fear and resignation. Ashela knew she had won. She met their faces with an expression of unwavering certainty, knowing that if she showed any weakness now, her councilors would leap on her like hungry dogs on raw meat. She held the look and met every single eye in the room, knowing damn well that she had just sentenced nearly a quarter of her citizens to death.
Across an ocean of sand in the strange and distant county of Shteroth, King Ramon sat before his own council. The four wizards from the Windsong Institute in Rasden had arrived in the cover of darkness the night before, just as they had left their city. They were joined by twenty of his own wizards. Wearing the purple robes of the Windsong wizards, they were a colorful contrast to the grey robes of his own wizards. He stroked his great beard as he peered over them, barely managing to keep a smirk off his face. The drought was killing Rashmir, and soon her ports would be Ramon's to control. The Gremelk would not care which humans they were trading with, as long as those humans could offer them tobacco and liquor. King Ramon allowed himself a moment of private gloating. Rashmir would be his.
Ramon was a portly man in his fourties, with black hair and beard that were streaked with gray. He often dressed in rich, splendidly colored robes, but very few of them were silk. Tonight, he was dressed in his military garb – a slimming, brown surcoat over a darker brown tunic, and camel leather breeches that were dyed black. His chest was adorned with medals and ribbons, some of which he had earned before his kingship and some of which denoted his rank. He wore no crown. All Ramon needed to convey who he was were his strong personality and his commanding manner.
The kingdom of Shteroth dominated all of the Duneland, which was little more than a vast desert. The only real economy of the place was Shteroth's famous alchemist. In the fables told of the strange land, the alchemists were able to turn glass to gold. That much was untrue, though Ramon had seen a mage perform such a trick. The alchemists were brewers of poisons and their antidotes chiefly. Their clients were assassins from all over the world, even Rashmir itself. Aside from alchemy, Shteroth was famous for its horses. It was quite fashionable to mount a Stherothian steed, and in that way, Ramon had managed to make Rashmir suffer. He'd stopped trading the excellent horses to them over a decade ago, leaving the country to make due with its own paltry breeds.
Ramon smiled brilliantly to the men at the table. Even in his fifties, he was handsome, if not a bit thicker in waist. “Gentlemen.” He nodded to everyone at the table, letting his smile broaden. “I am very pleased with the results of our work so far. Soon, Rashmir will be ours.” Applause broke out in the small chamber and, as if on cue, servants came forth with wine for Ramon's honored guests from Rasden. Truly, without these traitors, he could never assure his victory.