Lord of the West

Chapter 6

The siege of Rhayd


The day had passed swiftly, there was no time for sleep, not time to rest as they had made the town secure. Daen's wound had been fairly minor, but the shock of the situation left her numb. She knew that at some point she would have to face up to what she had done, and somehow reconcile herself with it, reconcile herself with emotions and fears she had denied, but for a while she had been too tired to feel. That was a mercy, for otherwise her traitorous mind played the death of the one imperial knight over and over in her head until she felt so sick that she could taste the bile in the back of her throat. No now all she could do was move, to act; she had no room for personal thoughts, no room for anything but the task at hand.

Daen sometimes could feel Lord Darcia on the outskirts of her mind. She knew that for him it was like standing in a crowd of dancers, he caught sight of her sometimes, a flash of colour before she disappeared back in to the multitude of voices like a fish under water. She was purposefully keeping him out of her mind, she did not want him in there, and she wanted to be alone to work through her own mess, her own pain. She was also a little angry at him for being in her mind all this time without telling her, it was a monumental breach of privacy!

Lord Darcia was relentless however. She had been hurt; he needed to know how badly, he needed to know by whom, he needed to know where she was; he needed to get to her. He called to her; he begged, pleaded and raged to let him touch her mind with his. His intensity frightened her, as did her own desire to simply just let him wash over her with his dominating love. It made her realise that he had always been a shadow in her mind, now that he was not there she felt bereft of the contact.

It was torturing him not knowing and it was that that eventually swayed her. She could not resist his coxing and demanding for long, not when he was at his most seductive, she was exhausted and his whole iron will was bent to finding her. She gave in; it was useless to fight her dark lord and herself at the same time.

When at last she let him find her she still held herself apart. But he could feel her pain even through the silence, and broke past all her defences. Lord Darcia enveloped her with warmth, with his posessive love even as he took from her all the information that he needed whether she would give it to him or no. She also realised what a light touch he had been using on her untill now, how he had never before read her mind. “Little one.” He soothed her when she would protest. “Little one, you are in pain, why did you not call for me?”

He took the sharp edged memory’s of the night before and held them apart from her some how. “You don’t own all the problems in the world.” Daen had argued.

“Stubborn little one, you always make it so hard for yourself.” He teased her, though she was in no mood for teasing. She felt that intellectually Lord Darcia understood this, but such were his feelings that he could not leave her alone in her misery; it was his right to be there for her, to care for her, to protect her, to be her armour from the world. She felt his determination, and for a little while she let herself be comforted by his presence, letting herself sink to the sleep she so desperately needed his voice like a soft whisper in her ear, “I am coming little one, hold on.”

Daen had awoken as darkness began to fall; alone in her mind once more, she had slept a few hours at least. “Lord Darcia you take far too many liberties.” She thought to herself and went to stand on the keep’s ramparts in a rare moment of rest bite looking out at the amassing army beyond the town’s palisades and ditches the sun setting behind them. Beneath her the towns folk herded their sheep, cattle, children, elderly relatives and trundled valuables in through the castle gates and then in to the keep, the only stone building in Rhayd save a small temple“I have sent a message to Lord Darcia. And to Bala. The garrison here is very small, by the sounds of it most of their men are with Lord Darcia in the south.” Captain Vespa said when she found her.

“Darcia knows where we are.” Daen admitted. “He is coming now with part of his army.”

“How, how could he possibly know? There aren’t any messenger birds here?”

Daen smiled like a child with a secret. “Magic.” The girl laughed at the sour look that Vespa shot her. “I let him touch my mind again. I let him know where we are and what is going on. I don’t think that Bala will come and Lord Darcia is deeply entrenched in the south.” Daen said miserably. “I think we may just be delaying the inevitable. It could take weeks for help to come and I don’t think we have the time. So I have given myself a splitting headache for nothing.”

“That is not entirely true. Lord Darcia has made the ride to the south in just two days.” Vespa said. “He force marched his knights along the grate north road. Though I didn’t know him then so it may have been an exaggeration.”

“Lord Darcia doesn’t exaggerate.” Daen said softly. “How long do you think it will take for him to come?”

“A week perhaps.” Vespa shrugged.

Daen crouched down by the wall, resting on her haunches. Vespa sank down beside her, one leg stretched out before her. Daen lolled her head back to press against the comforting solidarity of the rough stone behind her. She stared up at the sky and the sun now set the night was deep, the sky was deeper, fathomless, as teaming multitudes of stars decorated the endless dark blue. She took a deep breath of the cool mountain air, holding it within her for a moment before releasing it along with her tension. “Well now what?” Daen asked.

“Now we wait.” Vespa answered with some finality. “We wait and see what the Imperials do and act accordingly.”

“Wait.” Daen almost laughed. They fell silent for a little while, Daen digesting what Vespa had just said. “I have never waited before. Normally in situations like this I run. That’s what my uncle Rahim always told me to do, run fast, run hard, and run long.” This time she did laugh. “He also said that I would never get away. No one ever gets away.”

“But you did get away.”

“No, I didn’t.” Daen sighed. “I’m still running.”

“Well perhaps this is the place you will stop running.”

“Make a stand?”

“We all have to someday.” Vespa said. There was something fatalistic about it, but the words rang true. It was time to stop, to believe in something or someone. She was tired, her thoughts striped to the bone and Vespa found herself speaking aloud before she could curb herself. “Do you mean to have children with him?”

The blunt personal question had the young woman’s green eyes snapping up to the older woman’s face, but she did not see any mocking, and Daen wondered if the question was really meant for her at all so she did not snap at the older woman. “I don’t know I never considered it before. Do you with Veione?”

“How did you…” Vespa spluttered, but then her gaze dissipated as she looked inwards. “I always thought that it would be an easy choice, but I’m not sure, and I think that I am running out of time to decide. To have children means giving up this and I don’t think I can.”

"Your still young yet."

"So i feel, even through i know it is not so. If i were a village girl they would be whispers about me by now."

Listening Daen realised that she really was only at the very start of her journey, not even twenty two summers she felt as though she had life in front of her for the first time since leaving Nheam. That the world had not ended, only it was biger place. That was why when she thought that she was going to die it stung more because she had more to lose. She told Vespa this, that fate would take care of having children, that there was no point worrying about it. The Capatin seemed to take heart at this. “Perhaps I should go and try to get some sleep.” Daen said yawning wide the cool night air getting to her. “Though tonight I don’t think I will sleep much.”

Vespa nodded, she understood. Vespa remembered her first encounter with life and death at the edge of the blade, life changing didn’t cover it, Vespa did not think that she was ever going to get past it, she had been seventeen, more girl than woman. It was the first time that Veione had ever held her. He had left her alone still trying to be brave a sword in her hand, a still warm body at her feet, and she had felt nothing not right then. Men speak of feeling power, but for Vespa there had only been horror, the horror of something that was impossible to undo. No one could have known what she was feeling, her face was an emotionless mask, but he had known and later he had gone to her when they were quite alone and held her close, he didn’t say anything, and she had cried, all the emotions she had locked up being purged from her with the saline of her tears until she felt empty and curiously light.




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Captain Vespa sat astride her horse looking out to where the Imperial troops were forming up. They had set up during the day the rest of their force joining the advanced guard. They were perhaps four hundred strong. Vespa knew exactly how many men she had, not enough. There were the handfull of knights that Daen had recruited from Bala, and perhaps another thirty from the closest forts. There were twelve men at arms already at Rhayd but the main bulk of Rhayd’s men had gone with its lord to join Lord Darcia in the south. Vespa had twenty two of her scouts, but scouts were not warriors, oh they could fight, but they preferred a more hit and run style.


The town’s people too had armed themselves, old men, women, even children. They used spears, axes, hunting bows, scythes, and butchers knifes anything that could conceivably become a weapon they would use. Vespa had been dubious about their value in battle but conceded to allow the more able among them to join in the front line when Daen had insisted. “For who,” The sybilla had said, “will fight the hardest when the time comes. This is their home after all.”


Daen was sitting beside her now on her little chestnut mare newly decked out in armour. The girl had courage, and she could take a knock or to Vespa had to admit that much and respect it. Here they stood on the parapet banks in front of the town walls with only deep ditches and wooden spikes between them and the overwhelming force and the only thing in the girl’s eyes was determination. “No more running.” Vespa said under her breath, today she had something to prove to herself.


Like the breakers on a beach before a wave they did not flinch as the Imperial army now off their horses began to charge. The town’s folk looked alarmed and Vespa hoped to the Sisters that they had the stomach to stand. The Imperil knights were rushing at them now, running across the field. Daen let out a cry like a hawk and those with bows let lose there arrows. They bounced uselessly off the Imperial armour, only a hand full of her scouts and Daen herself managed to hit anything vital. Certainly there wasn’t enough damage done to stop them.

Vespa fought down the rising panic as the Imperial troops reached the ditches with ladders at the ready. Vespa waved her hand forwards and hoped to the gods that her plan worked. Her men and the town’s folk began to lob small ceramic pots of burning oil and resin from the pine trees at the attackers. The pots smashed on impact and immediate the screams of the terrified men could be heard as the flames licked through even the thickest of plate mail. Daen seeing this working then ordered that bottled of the strong mountain sprits also be thrown on the invaders to then light with flaming arrows. The town’s people were perhaps not as pleased about this notion as Daen was, but complied and it worked with reasonable successes.


The lines of Imperil troops suffered a shock when their front line broke many of their men running back through the lines in blind panic, crying, begging and screaming in terror, on fire and nothing it would seem could put the flames out. Daen admitted on the next morning that the smell of the poor wretches flesh burning and their cries had hunted her dreams. Vespa to had felt sick to her stomach watching the ordeal, but she had not shown her disgust for the task and hoped that if it was horrible to them then the Imperial troops would suffer a damage to their moral for Vespa had no illusions of having won just yet. They were still vastly outnumbered and that was only the first attack. They did not have long to watch as the next wave came and this time in more numbers and they soon found themselves fighting hand to hand.

Daen in the mean time was working her unusual brand of magic. The young sybilla was able to slip inside the minds of some of the imperial troops and strike fear in to their hearts, playing on their own uncertainties and terrors. None of them went running screaming from the field but their attacks certainly lacked bite and the defending knights had far less trouble turning them away then they should have had. Vespa had heard of people who could read a person’s mind by touching them and even controlling it, with her demon sword one day Vespa herself hoped to be able to master such as skill as it was rumoured that Lord Darcia had. However Daen could do this without even touching a person, and that made Vespa very nervous. She needn’t have worried for Daen found this one of the most abhorrent things that she had ever done, and had necessity not demanded it she would have never even contemplated using her powers to such an end. It soon became apparent however was that even with the magical intervention they were fighting a losing battle and captain Vespa ordered the men back to the town.

The town gates were closed and for a moment the defenders drew a sigh of relief. It was not to last long as the Imperial force soon renewed it’s attack, but with their fire pots, arrows, bricks and anything else that could be thrown many were beaten back and those who did managed to scale the walls with ladders soon found themselves put to the sword by Marchadian guards men, who with a life time of experience soon sent them to the ground below. And it was a long drop. The sybilla stood alone, she sent out waves of fear and despair, premonitions of horror to come, making many of the stackers think the wall unassailable. Her own men stood away from her out of respect and uneasiness, Daen was glad of this for that way the did not see the tears that streamed down her face.

On the second day the weary defenders waited for dawns braking with dread. Few had slept well, many had lain awake listening for the sounds of undermining or the horns of battle. When the sun rose Vespa accompanied Daen on to the ramparts to look out at the imperil camp. “Perhaps they will just sit and wait for us to be starved out.” Daen said hopefully.

“I doubt that.” Vespa replied, “They will know as well as we do that Lord Darcia will eventually send help.”

“Not if they think he is pinned down in the south.”

“They will try again.” The captain said with some resignation. “Even if they did not this town is not supplied for a siege. We could last a week and then we would have to starve.”

“Is it really that bad?”

“Last year the harvest was bad.” Vespa explained. “These are hard times. Normally when that would happen we would get Imperial grain. That is why Lord Darcia went to the Imperial city last autumn, to get imperial grain.”

“Did he get it?”

“What do you think?”

Daen let herself smile crookedly, “He always gets what he wants.” She was about to ask some more questions when some movement caught her eye. “Look over there, what by the god’s is that?”

Vespa looked to where the young woman was pointing. The Imperial’s were moving something. Two teams of twelve dray horses were making steady progress towards them. Vespa narrowed her eyes to try to see what they were pulling, what ever it was it must have been very heavy for the horses pulling it had to strain in to their collars. The captain suddenly remembered a rumour that she had herd and as the teams drew closer she realised to her horror what the cart horses pulled. “Calverin.”

“What?”

“Calverin. I have never seen one before but Timor and Veione have told me about them. It’s a new weapon. It is like Timor’s fire works; the fire powder inside those iron tubes will throw stones like a siege engine.”

“It looks like they are stuck in the mud.” Daen noted.

Vespa nodded trying to remember everything that Timor had told her about the unfamiliar weapon but coming up blank. “Let’s hope they stay there and never get in range if they are anything like Timor’s explosives they are capable of a grate deal of damage.”

There seemed nothing they could do as once again the Imperial force mounted an attack upon their walls. There was no time to send out a force to destroy the grate iron cannon. All their efforts were once again taken up with keeping the besiegers from the palisade walls. Sometime mid morning there was a deep boom like the crash of thunder only sharper. A portion of one of the grate wooden doors was suddenly missing, blown away in a cloud of splinters and acrid smoke. Some of the knights fell to the floor, others still stood looking around and up at the sky expecting thunder clouds. When as second blow came panic broke out.

“Imperial black magic!”

“Demons!”

“Stop this at one.” Shouted Daen, standing upon a gate tower, small and terrible. “Look!” She demanded pointing an imperious finger at the broken gate.

The Imperial knights broke through the sagging town gate and the defenders soon found there attentions taken up with the necessity to fight to survival. Now that there was a breach Vespa realised that trying to hold the town was useless, there only hope now was to retreat to the stone keep. They beet a fighting retreat, and Daen had been right for the towns folk fought in a lion hearted way.

Daen on her mare clattered through the narrow streets up to the Captain who was ordering men to retreat from holding the small western gate. “Burn that gate!” Daen said quietly.

“What, that is foolish!”

“Lord Darcia comes! He will need a way to get in!” Daen said simply, her eyes challenging anyone to dispute her.

Vespa met her look for look and then sighed. “This is madness.” She shook her head but then turned and shouted, “Burn it!”

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“Master.” Bherith hissed solicitly in his mind, the demon offering him it’s power like a lover offering their mouth. It was so very tempting.

“No.” Lord Darcia replied. Though whether it was for Bherith or for himself he did not know.

“But your mate.” His demon insisted once more reminding him of the tightening of his body every time he thought of the young woman, the savage, demanding, relentless ache he felt when she was not near. The fear of her falling in to another’s hands. His deep desire to protect her. "What use is defending your teritory if you have no mate to share it with, if there are ofspring to fill it with?"

“I will settle this in the way of man.” Darcia all but snarled.

“Suit your self master.” Bherith mentally shrugged.

Lord Darcia was well aware that he was more dangerous now then he had ever been. Power like his needed control and the less emotion he felt the grater his restraint. Now he was a seething mass of emotions, new emotions that complicated his world. Since boyhood he had been totally in control of himself, since he had inherited the mental of Duke of Marchadia he had gained control of all around him bit by bit by careful planning and decisive action. He had a cool head, ice water for blood, a heart of stone. But now he was not the master of his own emotions, fear for Daen’s life, his love for her twined with that, the outrage that they would threaten his mother, and above all he felt a burning and all consuming rage.

He could not afford to dwell on his passion, he was a possessive man by nature, protective beyond measure, and deadly in his rages. Long practice of strict discipline upon himself now came in to play but he knew that it was a façade of civilisation that was all to ready to crack and reveal the beast that dwelt within him.

For the hour it took him to choose the men he wanted to take with him and inform the Captains of his sudden departure he did not touch his sword. He would not even look at it choosing to stay out of his tent least he be tempted by it’s power, instead he applied his keen mind to the logistics of his task.

“I go to Rhayd.” Lord Darcia informed Kef tersely for the second time. He was swiftly losing patience as he saddled up Per.

“But why Rhayd of all palaces?” Veione asked scratching his head.

“A force of four hundred Imperil knights are laying siege to it.”

Kef looked incredulous. “Now why by the sisters would they do that, Rhayd is nothing more than a small Burr town with a stone keep?!”

“My mother is there.” Lord Darcia replied, his voice without infection, but anger lurked below like the strong currents of a deep river. “And Daen.”

Understanding glimmered in his captains eyes. “Ah, well that settles it Rhayd it is then.”


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“When they use those cannons on our walls we will be in big trouble.” Vespa stated.”

“But these are stout walls.” The castle steward protested. “They are nearly four foot wide in some places.”

“And that means nothing.” Vespa growled. “If the roomers are true the Calvarin can blast right through them.”

Daen was sat quietly through the argument, the dowager duchess was opposite from her in the widow seat happily plucking at a lyre. Daen let it sooth her. There was a pressure in the air, heaviness. If suggestion had not succeeded in making everyone’s tempers short, then the charge in the air would. The situation was beginning to seem helpless, the Imperial’s would soon have their cannons in position and the walls would mean nothing. They would be captured. The others still argued fruitlessly.

“If they brake in will fight our way clear.” Daen suddenly said, growing fed up with the argument.

“That would be suicide!”

“It would be better than sitting around and waiting to be captured.” Daen replied her green eyes snapped up to the faces of the astonished company.

Even Vespa was a little taken back. She looked at the girl as if she had never seen her before. Here was the Nhemian in the girl, the captain had wondered when her breeding would tell. The Nhemians were not only feared for there skills but also their relentlessness. A Nhemian would gladly fight against huge odds for there cause, fearing not even death. Better to die than be captured was their maxim. Vespa had glimpsed that steal in the girl once before, when Daen had pinned her to the floor, and threatened to kill her.

“It has not yet come to that.” The dowager interrupted, pausing in her harping.

“No it hasn’t.” Vespa agreed. “But I suggest we all pray that this storm brakes soon. If it rains then they won’t be able to use the guns, not if the powder gets wet.”

They parted then, going to do what they could. Vespa was not holding out much hope, luck didn’t seem to be on their side at the moment and one of the only things that she had learned from Veione’s gambling was not to bet against the odds. She had spent some time looking out over the ramparts to where the Imperils were setting up the Cannon, the horses drawing them ever closer. She had ordered her men to shoot the dray animals that pulled them, but they were out of range. She could have sent a raid to go and destroy them, but how do you destroy something of solid iron? There were not even enough men for a raid, many were wounded from two days of fighting, all were exhausted.

She set about helping move some barrels, enjoying the way her strong body bore the work. Proving she was still strong, not helpless, not week. The imperials would come when they came until then there was no sense in worrying about it. It was as she was bent over that something cold hit the back of her neck. It came again, she swatted at it, water. Standing up she turned her face up only to have a rain drop strike her eye. Drop after drop it fell until it was a torrential down poor. A low rumble of thunder echoed in the air and Vespa found herself laughing.

Vespa opened her eyes, and a lone figure stood upon the castle tower, their cloak being whipped around them. The captain almost smiled and she climbed the steps going to thank the young sybilla. Occasionally the girl had her uses. The sybilla had her eyes closed her brow furrowed as if she was listening to something very intently.. Vespa began to grow restless. “What are you doing?”

“Sushh.” Daen hushed her, “I’m trying to concentrate.”

Vespa scowled and moved away watching the girl with hope and scepticism not sure which she felt the most. As a young girl she would have dismissed stories of magic as simple fantasy, but she had seen more now, things that she could not explain, things that could not fit in her nice ordered view of the world. Vespa was not sure what she had expected but this was not it, she watched for all the signs of visions, the girl’s eyes roiling in her head, speaking in tongues, even a fit perhaps. Daen did none of these things. Time passed and Vespa’s attention wondered to watching the shifting storm clouds that only grew darker.

Daen had had a clever plan. If Lord Darcia could call a storm down to stop her from escaping him, then he could do it again. Daen had been right and Lord Darcia was glad to help, Bherith more so. He had warned her of the dangers, but had agreed. Daen however was not satisfied with this alone; she had her own part to play. The thunder seemed to be growing closer, so close that she felt it reverberate in her limbs. The charge was growing, she could feel it in the sky, her whole body was vibrating with it, just as she resonated with Lord Darcia’s, his power and Bherith’s. Thunder roared above her, and the tension that had been building now released, above her lightning flashed in the sky and hit the ground below them.

Vespa had been watching the Imperial solders taking cover from the rain, the next moment she was near blinded as lightning hit the closest cannon. The grate iron gun rang brokenly like a creaked bell, and idea it did split in two. She stood awestruck until there came a soft thud from behind her and when she turned the girl was flat out on the floor. Vespa ran to her side. “Daen!” She called and petted her cheek. Perhaps she had lost more blood than she had let on Daen was pale and her eyes were wide and unseeing. However she realised that her evaluation was terribly wrong as Vespa realised that Daen was not cold, she was burning, breathing. The captain would have been lying if she had said that she had not been afraid, this was way out of her of experience. Perhaps it was what was meant to happen? Panicking a little Vespa shook the younger woman, “Wake up Daen for Daers sake don’t die!” The girl still lay as one dead, Vespa not knowing any other solution slapped the girl hard across the cheek, and much to her surprise it had the desired effect as Daen gasped like one coming from deep water and shudder in to consciousness. “Oh thank the Goddess’s!”

“Cold.” Daen stuttered between chattering teeth. “I knew there is a reason I don’t meddle with magic like this.”

“What happened?” Vespa asked as she put her cloak about the girls shoulder’s and passed her a flask. “Drink this it will warm you.”

Daen took a swig and promptly choked on it. “What….erh that was horrible!”

Vespa took a swig of the fiery liquid. “The best spirits that the Marchadian’s have to offer, it’s good stuff. Puts hairs on your chest.”

“I don’t want hairs on my chest.” Daen sniffed indignantly. She then groaned. “Oh my head.”

“So what happened?” Vespa prompted her again.

“Lord Darcia summoned a storm with Bherith. And then I decided to use magic to call down lightning using my connection to Lord Dracia and his sword. But I used my own spirit energy to control it. I know it was dangerous”

“You think?” Vespa exclaimed. “Did you know that you had died for a moment there?” Vespa asked after a moment. “It was one of the scariest things that I have ever seen.”

Daen apparently had not known that she had died and looked at the captain in shock. “Really?”

“You weren’t breathing, and your heart had stopped. I’m not kidding if you ever do that to me again I will kick your ass from here to Sidanna.”

“Don’t worry I wont. I feel like death.” Daen replied whole heartedly. “Like I have a fever or something. Everything aches.” Vespa’s relief was short lived as the girl was obviously far from well. From deathly cold, now her skin was burning, and her eyes fluttered closed. Vespa managed to stagger the limp sybilla inside and down the spiral stair case, terrified that she was going to fall, terrified of what the young woman’s sudden weakness, and flushed skin heralded.

Vespa deposited Daen in a bed and summoned the dowager and the priestesses explaining to them what she thought had happened. The priestesses were as baffled by the young woman’s condition as the scout captain was. Lady Cyrus however took one look at the girl and said, “Controlling power like that takes a large tole.” Lord Darcia’s mother sat on the edge of the bed and with a reluctant bare hand smoothed down the girl’s cheek. “Ah, so it is like that then. We need to take her back outside in the rain.”

The scout captain was dubious, if it was an infection from her wound that was giving the young woman a fever then having her out in the cold and wet was not going to make it better. The priestess’s however were already moving the young woman out to a small balcony that overlooked the small herb garden and sun court.

“What is wrong with her?” Vesper asked.

Lady Cyrus bit her lip wondering how to explain. “I expect that Daen managed to control a lightning bolt by using the spirits to help her. However the sudden release of power probably jolted her spirit out of her body. Somehow my son and Bherith have become her spiritual anchor to this world. It must have happened at her awakening.”

“I don’t understand.”

“When you are jolted out of your body like that, your body knows it had died. When your spirit returns it then to knows, and it craves life, it desire’s sensation and closeness…”

“Say no more.” Vespa waved her hand, “I get it, we are giving her a shower to cool off.”

“Not quiet.” The dowager smiled oddly.


Daen was confused and more than just a little disorientated. She felt heat in her body, an all consuming fire, even as the rain beet down upon her but its coolness only added to the gathering heat. She wished that some one would take her clothing off for her skin was so sensitive that she could barley stand it. Hands were on her body again the same female hands that had dragged her back out in to the torrential down pour. She was striped down to just her thin shirt before they let her slip to the floor.

Bherith was in the rain, he was in the wind, the charge of the air, and Lord Darcia was with him; washing over her skin, running down her cleavage in caressing rivulets, roiling over her lips. Her need for her Dark lord was as elemental as the storm itself. Lord Darcia’s voice was rich and warm in her mind full of male amusement. “If I had known that you ached this badly for me little one I would have come sooner. What happened?” He asked, full of concern. “You disappeared.”

Daen moaned, she did not want his concern, she needed something quiet different. Her mind was feverish, she knew that something was not right with her but all she could think about was how his hand would feel sliding up her leg.

“Daen is something wrong?”

“Help, I need...” She whimpered, she needed to feel his body covering hers. She needed the moment where his throbbing length rubbed at the entrance to her body before sliding in like a sword to a sheath right to the hilt.

“Your thoughts are scattered, are you alright?” Darcia asked urgently. Daen moaned in frustration, she didn’t know how to ask him for what she wanted. She felt him draw away, to confer with Bherith. “Daen you foolish, foolish girl. I think I see now.” His mind was a haze of erotic desires and she willingly melded with him. He pictured for her the velvet of his tongue licking up her neck, and then down her breasts to draw one single erect peek in to his molten mouth, just scraping them with his sharp eye teeth.

“Where are you?” She asked.

“Not close enough.” He admitted, “I I’m riding, and right now I have to be careful that my cloak doesn’t fall back.”

Daen raw to the minds of others knew the moment when the others around her had left her.

“Where are you?” He said innocently, but she could feel the smirk.

“Outside somewhere.”

“I know that, I can feel your body when I concentrate little one. picture me kissing you over and over.” He encouraged her, his voice mesmerising, sinful, “Or ask that you think of me standing out with you in the storm, the rain beating down upon our naked bodies as I bring you close, as I lift you up and slide in to you as you wrap your legs about my body. I feel your need little one, should I ask you to touch yourself right now, would you like that?”

Daen bit her lip to stifle a moan.

“Touch yourself for me little one and feel my eyes like fingers running over you.” He commanded. Daen didn’t need to be told twice. The overflowing desire in her body was making her insides physically hurt as tension built through her. Her hand found the curls that guarded her most intimate flesh. “That’s right little one spread your petals so that the rain can spill down over you.”

Daen was not sure if she was imagining it or not but the rain that pelted over her body seemed to have a more caressing quality than any other rain, it ran teasingly over her throbbing and over sensitised skin, tickling her desire even as she rubbed herself with nimble fingers. She arched up missing the strength of her lord’s body caging her in, pinning her down, dominating her, shielding her even as she opened up to him. There was the ghost of his touch in the wind, in the water, in the air that surrounded her itself. It was not enough, and she opened her mind up wider, inviting him in, willing him to take possession of her very soul, instate with desire, so wanting that she felt that she was going mad. “I will not take advantage of you in that way,” He said, much to her disappointment. But before she could voice her protest he drew her in to his mind.

It was dark, and more turbulent than the storm that raged around her. She was swept away in the current of his lust, he was on fire along with her, and he felt the same emptiness. Fear for her safety, determination that he would keep her safe and hunger, so much hunger all lived within him. His desire was deeper, darker and more dangerous than she had even known his will alone brought her to a peek, releasing her from the fever that had taken over her body but only binding her closer to him.





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