Welcome to the first installment of FREE FICTION FRIDAYS here at "A Little Something... Wicked"! Hopefully you'll enjoy this piece, which was inspired by the creator of our new writers' group, Andrew Q. Gordon. He's a fantasy buff much like I am, and when he invited me to be a part of this new venture, I couldn't think of any better way to start than with a new fantasy M/M adventure.
Enough talk. On to... The Forest Lord
****
The streets of
Chasz’Chalolvir sparkled wetly in the early hours. The magic that kept time for
the underground city and its inhabitants washed the roof of the caverns with
iridescent color. The swirling patterns of blue, green, pink, and violet
traveled a path identical to the triune suns above ground, fading away at
nightfall to be consistently renewed the following dawn. As T’Riss led Nath,
his mechanical mount, along the road still wet from the sanitation engineers’
daily scrubbing, the tangy, bittersweet aroma of the rangpur soap they used
stung the insides of his nose. He supposed he should be thankful that at least
some things never changed. A slight sound drew his attention.
“If you continue to struggle,
I’ll truss you so tight you won’t feel your own ass cheeks twitch.”
The bounty currently thrown
across his saddle who had been flopping like a lake trout out of water abruptly
ceased at T’Riss’s comment. The fool hadn’t been much of a problem until they
got to the gates of Chasz’Chalolvir. Now he was behaving more like an imp from
out of the nine hells than one renegade war mage from the Warriors’ Guild.
Part of T’Riss understood how
the poor bastard felt. He despised returning to the city of his birth and
ruination, even when it was absolutely necessary as it was today. For as much
as the drow prided themselves on change and keeping up with the latest
technology of the surface world, the city of Chasz’Chalolvir was ever a place
of pain and degradation for T’Riss. He wished only to deposit his bounty at the
Justice Hall, collect his fee, and return to his home in the distant Div’eari
Forest.
He missed Zak and knew his
heartmate would be worried about him; he’d been gone nearly two moon cycles on
this bounty. Once T’Riss got within two days of Chasz’Chalolvir they dared not
risk communicating by magic. Too many of House Rilyn-Tlar could intercept such
messages, which they would undoubtedly twist before passing on. Better to go
without communicating than risk sending tainted messages to each other.
T’Riss fought to retain his
stoicism and turned right at the apothecary. In the distance he could see the
splendor and majesty of the Azure Palace, the temple to the drow moon goddess,
Lune. T’Riss didn’t consider himself to be overly religious, but every time he
caught his first glimpse of that magnificent structure upon his return to this
city, peace and calm flooded his body. He sighed, shook his head, and urged the
mechanical stallion forward.
The Justice Hall stood among
the other buildings dedicated to governing Chasz’Chalolvir, all of which were
easily distinguishable due to their glassy black obsidian finish. T’Riss left
Nath by the shining black steeds the deputies rode but did not power him down;
on more than one occasion he had needed to leave the Hall at a flat gallop. He
lifted his bounty from the saddle and tossed the wanted male over his shoulder.
The mage, who was bound and gagged in suppressive restraints, whipped from side
to side, tightening his bindings.
“Stop it,” T’Riss chided.
“You’re only making it worse.”
T’Riss carried his bounty up
the stairs and through the doors. He bypassed the front desks with a simple nod
at the two armed guards, who took one look at him, his weapons, and the brands
on his face, and never moved from their post. T’Riss would’ve laughed, but
there was nothing funny about the situation. The Chasz’Chalolvir deputies
despised hunters. They wouldn’t have pissed in his mouth if his tongue was on
fire.
The lifts were ahead, all six
of them ready to carry visitors up or down to any level of the Justice Hall.
T’Riss eschewed them, turning to his left and heading for the stairs. If asked,
he’d say he didn’t want to risk having to fight anyone in such a small,
confined space, and that lifts were too dangerous, with too many inherent
possibilities for problems in hauling bounties. He preferred the good,
old-fashioned stairs where he had a clear view of the space around him and
plenty of room to throw down if he had to fight or grapple.
Not that he intended to do
anything but turn this joker over to the Chasz’Chalolvir Sheriff and collect
his final fee. T’Riss trudged up the stairs, the male slowly getting heavier
the more stairs he climbed. T’Riss bit back the sigh that was a breath away from
passing from his lips. A hundred years earlier he could’ve carried two males the
length of these stairs without noticing their weight. Perhaps Zak was right;
perhaps he needed to let other hunters take the more dangerous warrants.
Finally he reached the fifth
floor and strode down the hall, his grip on the male easy. His bounty was no
longer doing the floppy fish. T’Riss knew what that meant and thumbed his
katana free so that he could draw his sword without issue. Twenty yards from
the warrant desk, the male made his move.
As far as escape attempts
went, it was one of the weaker ones T’Riss had witnessed over the years. The
male used his bound hands to gain purchase on T’Riss’s sword belt and
jackknifed forward, over T’Riss’s shoulder. Had he used magic at that point,
T’Riss might have actually had to chase him, but he didn’t. He attempted to
free his feet and found himself staring down the long sharp edge of T’Riss’s
blade.
“You would be wise, mage, to
play dead before I render you that way permanently.”
The male stared at T’Riss for
several long seconds before lying down on the glossy ebon floor and closing his
eyes. T’Riss’s dagger was a blur, leaving a thin, three-inch slash on the
male’s hand before anybody in the hallway even realized the hunter had drawn a
second blade. T’Riss sheathed the dagger as the male gurgled and convulsed,
foam flecking his lips and the floor around him. T’Riss heard shouting and
ignored it, bending to check the male’s suppressive restraints as his feet
pattered softly against the floor.
“He is worthless dead,
Unmentionable.”
T’Riss straightened and
turned to look at the Sheriff. “You know me better than that.”
“He is not, as he looks,
poisoned?”
“Merely drugged. It will wear
off.”
“Twelve years this one evaded
capture.”
“Then you should’ve contacted
me eleven years and twelve moon cycles ago.”
The Sheriff stood for a
moment staring at T’Riss and then quite suddenly laughed. “Bring him to the warrant desk and collect
your fee. I have something for you.”
T’Riss nodded. The Sheriff
always had something for him.
* * * *
In the one hundred
thirty-seven years since Alybreena, Matron Mother of Chasz’Chalolvir, named him
Unmentionable, T’Riss couldn’t remember feeling as furious as he did leaving
the Justice Hall. Only a lifetime of practice at masking his emotions kept them
locked down, and despite that, he knew by the way the halls cleared as he
stormed through them that he wasn’t entirely successful.
He passed the magical
records’ room fast enough that his waist-length white hair whipped behind him.
Yet he still managed to hear a scandalized female voice. “…the Unmentionable
from House Riz-LiNeer. For Lune’s sake, don’t look at him!”
T’Riss almost smirked. Good
to know he was still notorious. After today his notoriety would no doubt become
legend.
The front doors blew open,
thrown by the force of his anger, and he walked out into what passed for
daylight in Chasz’Chalolvir. The roof of the underground cavern was a riot of
pink and violet streaked with green. T’Riss looked up, snorted in disgust, and went
over to Nath. He freed the reigns with a quick jerk and mounted up with one
easy hop. He quickly scanned his surroundings to be sure he was in no immediate
jeopardy, and then closed his eyes and concentrated on his heartmate bond with
Zakn’yl. The spell he had not sensed blocking their bond quivered, then
shattered. Sure enough, Zak wasn’t at their home in the Div’eari Forest.
Zakn’yl Arken-A’te, war mage
and his heartmate, was in the Azure Palace here in Chasz’Chalolvir.
T’Riss bit back a roar of
rage. With expert precision he whirled the mechanical mount in a nearly full
turn and rode for the palace gates.
* * * *
The entrance leading to the
Azure Palace was enormous. Three great archways carved from blue quartz gilded
with silver and set with moonstones looked out over the Great Plaza. The
largest center archway was considered the general entrance and was for the
penitent masses. A smaller archway with significantly more
gilding stood to the right for the priestesses of Lune, including the Matron Mother. T’Riss,
as an Unmentionable, wasn’t permitted to step through either of these archways.
He was relegated to the smallest entrance, the one on the far left which
everyone else utilized, including any surface dwellers or trespassers brought
before the Matron Mother.
Plain compared to the other
two, the third archway had simple silver wings on either side of the arch and a
single, perfectly round moonstone set at the very top of the arch. Only when
one stood directly below the moonstone was the jagged crack in it visible.
Resembling a lightning strike or a tree branch, the cleft in the stone ran
diagonally from top to bottom and bisected the entire gem: a perfect
imperfection. As T’Riss stormed through the archway, the moonstone and the
crevice in it glowed for a split second before again going dark.
The Azure Palace was full of
drow, male and female, young and old, noble and common. T’Riss ignored them. He
clutched the summons the Sheriff gave him in his right hand, his eyes fixed straight
ahead. More than one individual gasped and turned away or fled from him; from
the instant he entered the temple a steady flow of whispers reached his ears,
like the buzz of an angry hornets’ nest. T’Riss ignored that, too. His matebond
with Zakn’yl was a steady, pounding hum in his veins, a constant tingle that
spread across his skin and made him feel tight and itchy.
He bypassed the ritual rooms,
the religious instruction areas, and crossed over from the section of the
building that housed the temple into the true Azure Palace: the home of the
Matron Mother, Alybreena Yas’kah Mel-virr. Royal guardswomen immediately
attempted to halt his forward progress, but T’Riss thrust the summons paper at
them and continued on. Likewise, when the Azure Veil, the quartet of Mistress-Priestesses
assigned to guard and protect the Matron Mother, moved menacingly into his
path, T’Riss flung the summons at them. He snatched it back as he plowed past
them on his way through the double doors they guarded. He was getting closer
and closer to Zak, and he sensed his mate’s distress. Once again absolute fury
boiled through T’Riss and he remembered his vow, recalling with distinct
clarity the words he spoke regarding these very circumstances.
At last T’Riss stood before
the Matron Mother’s private chambers. Without a word, the Mistress-Priestess in
attendance opened the door for him and T’Riss strode through. Instead of
finding Zak inside as he expected, all he discovered was Alybreena. The Matron
Mother of Chasz’Chalolvir lounged on her receiving throne attended by Jhulryna
Rilyn-Tlar, a Priestess of Lune and specialist in herbal lore. T’Riss struggled
not to draw steel. Had he his way, he would’ve destroyed House Rilyn-Tlar,
killed every miserable member of the House, razed it to the ground, and then
salted the scorched earth where it once stood.
“Greetings, Unmentionable.”
Alybreena’s voice was a sick, low purr that vibrated against his eardrums and
made him nauseous. “I see you could not resist my summons.”
“Where is Zakn’yl
Arken-A’te?” The temperature in the room dropped with the chill in his voice,
and T’Riss reminded himself to maintain control.
“Unharmed,” the Matron Mother
replied, an infuriating smile on her face. “Safe, I assure you, and untouched.”
“Why should I accept your
word?”
“Do what you will.” Alybreena
motioned to the female at the doors, and with a flick of her fingers trays of
food and beverages appeared as the doors closed and magically bolted. “Only
this time know that I am sincere in my offer to you.”
“What offer?” T’Riss barely
contained his rage. “You’ve made no offer. You kidnapped my mate!”
Alybreena’s shrug was
eloquent. Jhulryna fetched a cup of strong Stygian tea from the engraved silver
serving tray and brought it to the queen. She sipped it and smiled at the
female. “Thank you, Jhul.” She returned her attention to T’Riss. “As I was
saying…”
“Produce Zakn’yl now.”
“Listen carefully,
Unmentionable,” Alybreena said. “I shan’t repeat myself.”
Something in the drow queen’s
tone brought T’Riss up short. He bit back his retort and listened.
“As you make your home in the
Div’eari Forest, you are familiar with the neighboring Adintana Forest. For six
centuries that swath of land has been neutral ground, a place where human, elf,
and drow could travel between all lands and go unmolested. In the last three
moons, thirteen souls have been claimed within its borders.”
“By whom?” T’Riss’s sharply
arched white brows arrowed inward.
“That is the problem.” Alybreena set her tea cup down. “Nobody
knows. The humans and elves held a council to which we were not invited and
determined that the drow were responsible, that we broke a treaty held
inviolate for over half a millennia. Even now they prepare for war.”
“What do I care? You have
named me Unmentionable to my own kind. I have no home. I have been denied
everything due a male of our race.”
Alybreena’s red eyes flared
with the power and strength of her magic and then locked with T’Riss’s pale
lavender eyes, still so angry that they too glowed. “And what would you do to
change all of that?”
T’Riss froze, his body going
tight as a drawn bowstring. “What are you offering?”
“Hunt whatever is taking
lives in Adintana Forest.” Alybreena purred her commands in her soft, sultry
voice. “Prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that it is not a dark elf. Bring the
true killer to justice, and do so before the humans and elves make war upon us.
Accomplish these things, and I will reinstate your Name.”
A long moment of silence
followed, and then T’Riss started to laugh. He laughed long and hard, the
guffaws rolling out of him in a continuous steady stream of mirth that brought
tears to his eyes. His reaction was obviously not what the Matron Mother
anticipated. She looked less than the pleased.
T’Riss finally got control of
his laughter and wiped his eyes. He shook his head and looked at the Matron
Mother. “Even if I believed that you would do such a thing, which I do not, you
would never have needed to kidnap Zakn’yl for a simple hunt.”
Alybreena stood. For a female
she was quite tall, nearly six feet, her hair an ancient, antique white curtain
held back from her face by a solid platinum diadem set with black diamonds. She
eyed T’Riss coolly.
“You are correct. We have
already sent two hunters. Both have failed.”
“Who did you send?”
“That is of no import.”
“If you wish me to consider a
bounty that others have failed to bring in, it is of great import. Who did you
send?”
“Quar’aufein Ken-lyl.”
T’Riss shrugged. “I was not
aware his apprenticeship was complete.”
“It would have been, had he
returned.”
“So you sent a child.”
T’Riss’s derision was plain in his voice. “Who else?”
“When Quar failed to return,
his master went to Adintana to retrieve him.”
Blinking twice to hide his
surprise, T’Riss cocked his head. “I thought he trained with Raptor.”
The Matron Mother raised an
eyebrow as she met T’Riss’s gaze. “He did.”
“If Raptor failed to hunt
this creature then I will fare no better,” T’Riss murmured. “He was a far
better hunter than I.”
The Matron Mother had the
good grace not to smile at him. Instead she paced away and gave T’Riss her
back, the long lines of her dark violet spider silk gown alluring even to his
eyes. “I did not lure a hunter here. As you said, had I needed a hunter, I
could’ve had the Sheriff offer you a bounty.”
“You want me to lead a
raiding party.” He slowly shook his head, unconsciously backing up a step as
Alybreena turned and gazed at him, magic crackling in her long antique white
hair as it swung around her. A chill went down T’Riss’s spine. “I don’t do that
anymore.”
“I will reinstate your Name,” Alybreena said softly.
“No.”
Her red eyes burned as they
pinned him in place and she delivered her coup de grace. “I will release you
from your mating vows to Micariara.”
“I am no arisa.”
“You were the best
Chasz’Chalolvir ever knew. Lead a raid on the Adintana Forest. Bring to justice
whosoever would dishonor the drow.”
“And?” T’Riss whispered.
“I shall perform the matebond
ceremony for you and the Arken-A’te war mage myself.”
T’Riss sucked in a breath as
the room spun. Impossible! He had to be dreaming. The first rule of dealing
with demons, fey, and female drow was the same: if it seemed too good to be
true, then it was too good to be true.
T’Riss knew that maxim down to his marrow.
“Produce Zakn’yl. Now,”
T’Riss said.
The Matron Mother heaved a
sigh and raised her hands to the platinum diadem. Lightly touching her two
middle fingers to the large cabochon cut black diamonds set over her temples,
Alybreena closed her eyes and murmured a few brief words in ancient drow. The
air in the room thickened and grew heavy, wavering like heat rising off the
desert sands. T’Riss could smell his mate, the perfect combination of light,
sweet ginger and exotic coconut rum wafting up to set his body on fire, and
then like a mirage swirling up out of the heat, Zak appeared.
Like all members of House
Arken-A’te, Zakn’yl was small and delicate. He stood a mere five foot five to
T’Riss’s six foot four. Zak’s hair was a long fall of inky midnight silk, soft
as a raven’s wing, and blended perfectly against the sparkling obsidian
darkness of his skin. Fine-boned with a cupid’s bow mouth, Zak’s pale green
eyes shone like iridescent orbs in the low light of the room as he stood next
to Alybreena’s throne. When he saw T’Riss, those eyes instantly softened,
lowering in deference to his mate.
“My mate.” Zak’s voice rang
like a bell as T’Riss took two lunging steps toward him. Zak held his hand out
and minutely shook his head. T’Riss stopped dead in his tracks.
“What?” T’Riss asked, his
heart in his throat.
Zak looked at Alybreena, who
sipped from a fresh cup of hot, Stygian tea, a tiny smile crooking the left
side of her mouth.
“I spoke truth to you,
Unmentionable. Lead a raiding party to the Adintana Forest and I will do all
that I promised.”
T’Riss’s heart pounded
frantically. He ached to touch his mate, who was very obviously in distress.
“What have you done to my mate, you red-eyed bitch!”
The tiny smile slowly
overtook her entire face. “I’m afraid Zakn’yl fell prey to a nasty infection. I
shall be happy to cure him before the two of you recruit your raiding party.”
T’Riss’s entire body shook
with his rage. He remembered his vow: that if he and Zak were ever in the
presence of a high priestess he would speak the matebond ceremony words and
prove that ordination wasn’t required – only a true bond in the eyes of Lune
along with deep and abiding love. Zak read his mate’s intention, though.
“Please, my mate. She speaks
truth. I’m… unwell.”
T’Riss gazed at his mate, at
the only being in the universe who truly mattered. Even in his pain and
discomfort Zak was beautiful, and offered T’Riss the smile that never failed
to make his heart do handsprings. The two males stared at each other for a long
moment and though no words were spoken, plenty was said. Finally T’Riss
wrenched his eyes away and turned to Alybreena.
“You win. I claim my rights
as arisa.”
“Granted.” Alybreena’s eyes
blazed like two rubies. “Welcome back, T’Rissinns Riz-LiNeer.”
****
Thanks for reading! I know a picture's worth a thousand words, so here is the stunning artwork by an amazing DeviantArt artist known as Mavrosh that helped bring T'Rissins Riz-LiNeer to life.
Is it any wonder Alybreena loves to torment him?
More of The Forest Lord as FREE FICTION FRIDAYS continue! Comments, as always, are craved and appreciated, either here or at My Email Addy!
Also, because this piece is a piece in progress, your comments may have a distinct effect on how the story progresses. Aside from that, please visit our group home page and check out the other *AWESOME* authors who have written free fiction for your reading pleasure.
Be Well ~ Tux
