Date: Wed, 19 Jun 2013 16:25:20 +0000 From: Michael Offutt Subject: Chapter Two of "Black Dragon Rising" - Gay Science Fiction This story is protected under international and Pan-American copyright conventions. Please remember to donate to Nifty if you're financially able to do so. MY WEBSITE: http://slckismet.blogspot.com/p/books.html My email: kavrik@hotmail.com My art: http://slckismet.blogspot.com/p/my-artwork.html Forum discussion thread: http://slckismet.blogspot.com/p/discussion-board-for.html "Black Dragon Rising" is a dark fantasy medieval romance. "Black Dragon Rising" is the conclusion to "The Assassin's Apprentice" available right now on the Nifty Archive. For your convenience, I renamed it "The Nightshade's Apprentice" and have made it available for the Kindle. Details to download this ebook are at my website above. It has been re- edited for continuity and features great cover art. There are many story extras including a map and artwork at my website link above. ***** Chapter Two "What do they call this thing again?" Angelaria asks me. Her warm brown hair moves in the breeze. I lean against the trunk of a palm tree to finish eating my date before I answer; sugary delight infuses my mouth. "Luck said it's the Stairway to Heaven. It's beautiful, don't you think?" She smiles. "Yes. That's a good name for it too." She cranes her neck upward and uses her hand to keep the sun's glare from her eyes. I'm no mathematician, but I'd put its height to just over a mile. Beyond the crest, I see the snow-capped peaks of colossal mountains rising; they're blazing white amidst a deep blue sky. I wonder how cold it's going to be and check my pack to make sure I still have the sweater that I set out to dry last night. I look to my right and spot Talen making his way down to one of the pools lapping against the trail we've traversed for almost two and a half days. Dressed head to toe in spectacular green and black armor, I admire his lean and tall body. His killsuit boots leave interesting prints in the mud. The sun is hot, the mist cool, and the green of the forest presses against the river like a thick and lush blanket of life. I glance back at Angelaria. Even though we're a ways back from the base of the falls, the roar is still loud. I'm sure it will be deafening as we get closer. I put my helmet back on and raise the visor. I stare at the fish swimming around in the river. Some are huge trout, and I secretly wish I'd brought a fishing pole and some bait. Fish for dinner tonight would be wonderful, but aside from that, just the sport itself is fun. It's been years since I'd done it, and I've nothing but fond memories. The ever present burble made by the river as it rushes over smooth stones drowns the voices of the monkeys behind me. Water's like that: calming one moment and terrifying in another. Angelaria stares at me, but when I meet her eyes she averts her gaze. "It's a perfect morning," she says, stretching out her hands. I walk up behind her and gently fold my arms about her slender waist. She lets me. Some stray mist from the base of the falls caresses her face with almost invisible fingers. It leaves tiny droplets on the metal greaves, and they sparkle like fire diamonds. "You'll miss this when we're in the desert," she says. "Balsora is very dry. Caravans traversing the sands find mummies all the time. They're the remains of people who perished on the trek across the Anvil of the Suns." "I've never seen a mummy," I say. "My religion teaches that when we die, we need our bodies to throw a shadow of ourselves into the afterlife. And what happens to our corpse in life is still upon us in the afterlife, so we need to take care of our flesh." "What about natural age?" she asks with a slight turn of her head. "Does that factor into the shadow that your body casts from this world into the next?" "I don't think so," I say, "but I've never been dead. I think it just means that if we lose a limb or some other calamity befalls us, then we pay for it in the afterlife. And without a body, we have no physical representation of ourselves and wander disembodied through the outlands forever." I hear a scrambling noise to my right and drop my hands to my side. Talen hops onto a huge boulder about a hundred feet down from where I'm standing. He points toward the east; it's third sunrise. The painted sky, already bright, grows even more so. My eyes follow the bend of the river Morgoth through forest trees of emerald hue and verdant leaves of all shapes and sizes. It disappears over rapids and rocks almost a mile distant and around a bend in the canyon. The colors of the sky cascade off the surface in a million brilliant pinpoints of light. Talen gestures at me to come over to him. "One sec," I say to her. I race down the path and join him where he's perched. "Something catch your attention?" "Can you see that, or is it just me?" he asks, pointing to a line of trees a little ways down from where we are. I close my visor and magnify my vision through the glass by tapping the tip of my nose against the pad that sits in front of it. I count twenty misshapen black things darting between the trunks. "They're following the line of the ridge," I say. Whatever they are, I see they move quickly bounding over downed trees and onto the path that drops through a narrow gulley and onto the trail on which we stand. "No," Talen corrects me. "They're hunting us. Remember what Luck told us?" I nod, turning to face him. My visor unseals and retracts out of the way. "War ghuls?" "I'm afraid so," Talen states. "And a lot of them at that." "And here I thought we were on vacation..." I say this last part with heavy sarcasm, voice trailing off to a whisper. Just to make sure that it's not a pack of gorillas or some other kind of forest animal, I keep watch for a few seconds more. Most of the things negotiate the steep path with ease. However, one slips and falls into the river. It's a gaunt creature with bones pressing against its sun- blackened hide. Down its back runs a ridge of finger long spines. The eyes are mere coals of unholy blue white light. They rest in hollowed out scoops of bone beneath a reinforced brow ridge covered in tight leather. From between their teeth drools a thick yellow ichor. Footsteps on the path at my side alert me to Angelaria. She skids on a few pebbles. "We've got company," she says. "Talen just pointed them out. Let's make a break for the waterfall." Talen takes lead followed by Angelaria. I come up last, pausing to gauge the distance between our pursuers and me while the others run toward the plunge pool. I move the ferns out of the way and use the telescoping screen on the inside of my helmet. Several of the war ghuls stop and sniff the earth where our feet have made tracks along the shoreline. They can't see us yet, I think to myself. That means their vision is poor. After a few seconds, I rejoin my friends. I stop at the bottom of the falls. Even with my helmet on, the roar from all that water slamming into the plunge pool is akin to thunder; it cascades off the rocks to blast our ears with noise. Mist soaks everything; all three of us are drenched. Angelaria is by far the worse for wear as she's wearing actual clothes. But my cloak is drenched and tugs at my neck with its water-heavy weight. Talen points out steps carved into the rock. "It looks like the only way up. Who knew that the Stairway to Heaven was an actual stairway?!" I nod, signaling him to start the climb. He does. I marvel that at some point in the past, someone had to add these steps here, fashioning a ladder that ascends all the way to the summit. But it's incredibly steep; almost vertical. I begin the climb careful to wait for Angelaria to move first. She moves slowly, fingers finding difficult purchase on the slippery rocks. As we ascend, the stairs move away from the base of the waterfall to follow the natural slope of the box canyon that encloses the plunge pool. It threads into great cracks in the wall that are still wet from spray because they are sheltered from the three suns. "Are they still following us?" Talen asks in my helmet. "One sec," I say. I check behind me, peering carefully down past the bend of the rock wall. Far below, the first of the war ghuls approaches the base of the cliff. The mist from the cascading water makes their whole pack glisten. They sniff at the ground, but the water must be confusing them. I wonder how smart they are...if they'll figure out we started to climb the stairway. "I think we've lost them," I tell Talen through our helmets. "But we should keep going. It's dangerous to stop here." We start the climb again, moving a little slower because the war ghuls are no longer chasing us. It's just like Luck said. Something about the Stairway scares them. It's either that, or they can't track us worth a shit. We get to the top at about midday. "Let's rest for a while," I say. Talen passes out some lunch made from the last of our bread and some cooked chicken we bought at market three days earlier. I'm not hungry but force myself to eat. Talen hands out slices of juicy grapefruit. I take two slices from him and enjoy the burst of sugary pink flesh on my tongue. None of us has much to say. It's beautiful and much colder up here. From where I sit, I can see across the entire Mirimar all the way to the ocean. The jungle spreads out like a great crumpled tablecloth made of green thread to the very edge of the horizon. There, a blue line meets it head on. I ponder the course of events in the last week. Nothing I've seen could have prepared me for the face of a god, much less my god, and I've been a little out of sorts ever since. From the moment I saw him, I loved him. And I want to ask someone, "Isn't that strange?" I mean, who believes in instalove? It wasn't even that way with Talen and I. It took us more than three years to finally have sex, and I think those three years built up to a relationship that both of us find deeply fulfilling and wonderful. It makes me question: did I experience instalove with Tethyr? Or am I just confused? Is everything I feel for him just the result of having worshiped at his feet for years and secretly praying that he was real so much that when he finally did show his face, it felt like I'd blown my nutter? I've no fucking clue. These are the thoughts circling my head even as I watch the river flow past me and over the very edge of the world. "I wonder if there's gold here," Talen says to no one in particular. I look around the gorgeous meadow of green grass. A mile or so distant, granite peaks rise from the plateau. There are stands of evergreen trees everywhere and eagles soaring in the skies overhead. But nowhere do I see yellow. "I've heard that you can get gold by sifting it out of river beds and streams," he adds. "Oh there's probably a lot of gold in these mountains," Angelaria remarks. "Someone made that staircase for a reason. I'm guessing it's mountain dwarves judging by the tool marks I saw on the granite. And where there's mountain dwarves, you bet there's gold. Lots of it." "I don't see how you could get gold from water," I state. "If that were true then any seaport would be overflowing with money." Angelaria laughs. "Water, Kian, is extremely destructive. It carves and shapes the land and eventually wears things down. That canyon we came through was carved by the river Morgoth." I shake my head with incredulity. "Was not," I say. I hop to my feet and shake my legs. "My father told me that canyons were carved by the gods so that rivers would know where to go. Rivers that don't know where to go just become lakes." She smiles, and angles her head in a flirty way. "I'm not saying your father didn't know what he was talking about. Or maybe he just didn't know how to explain a concept as difficult to grasp as erosion, but that explanation is simply not true. Maybe he wanted to just make you smile. How old were you?" "Five, I think," I say. She nods. "Erosion is at work all around us. For example, in a few thousand years that waterfall back there might be just a common set of rapids." "You're kidding," Talen says. "Water can do that?" "Oh yes. In my country, we see the enormous effects of erosion. The capital, Mon Arcanos, lies in the center of a great lake, and we use magic to keep the seas calm so that they don't erode the beaches of the island or interfere with the floating bridges." "A sea you say? How big is your sea? Answer that and I'll tell you if I'd call it a sea." I wink and chuckle at Talen. Angelaria grins and taps her foot against my boot. "The Sea of Magic is two-hundred leagues across and almost round enough to be called a circle. It has one island at its center: the Isle of Milbar. It is divided into three sections, just like a three leaf clover. Each section is covered in a dome of transparent metal and each in turn is connected to the Ivory Tower of Milbar, god of magic and time. It rises two miles into the sky. You can see it from the shore of the Sea of Magic. It's quite beautiful." I swallow. "There's not enough magic in the world to do what you've described. To keep an entire ocean calm? Or to raise a building so high that it doesn't fall over with the slightest breath of wind? You're a liar." "Kian Lightfoot," Talen scolds me, "don't call a lady a liar." But I can see he's being snarky. I scowl at him. "She's telling lies." "I am not!" she says, kicking me in the shin. It doesn't hurt because of my armor. "How's it possible then?" I ask. "Is Milbar so powerful that he could calm the waters for two-hundred leagues in either direction?" "Yes," she utters. "But he isn't the one that does it. There are one-thousand archmagi in Mon Arcanos. They use the magic from the Pool of Arcanos, which resides beneath the senate hall at the base of Milbar's tower." I scowl at her this time. "W-what's an archmagi?" "A powerful wizard," Angelaria says. "They're a different order from the Witches of the Spoken Word and must rely upon spellcraft to accomplish what they need. It takes a lifetime of study but they draw their power directly from the weave itself, unlike the witches." "I've heard of the witches," Talen says. "At least a little. I hear they're extremely powerful, and that there aren't many left." Angelaria shakes her head. "You're right. Most of the powerful bloodlines were eradicated in the Great Thularumite Purge. You know, they're called the Witches of the Spoken Word because their magic comes from phrases that call upon the Guardians of Wynwrayth to act: the ancient fae and elementals that predate the young gods. The witches are trained to ask for favors in a secret language that's so complex, it takes years of study to master. There's a bond you see between the witches and the primeval guardians of the world, and that bond is nigh unbreakable. The witches can use magic where archmagi cannot, and in many cases, it's much more powerful because the source that it comes from predates the Pool of Arcanos, the source of magic for the new wizards who study in colleges around the world." "If I wanted a history lesson," I say to her, "I'd have stayed in school." "Look who's grumpy?" Talen asks. "I'm not grumpy," I say and slug him in the arm. Even though he's wearing armor, he feigns that it hurts. "Keep it up and I'll pop you one harder." "You should have stayed in school," Angelaria states, getting up from the grass. She brushes her leather leggings off. "I think you'd have liked it." I swallow, trying to think if she just gave me a compliment. "Why do you say that?" I ask. She tweaks my nose and I almost slam my visor shut. "Because you're smart and smart boys like to learn new things." My cheeks suddenly feel hot. She just called me smart! I look at Talen, beaming, and he rolls his eyes. "Don't let it go to that already fat head of yours. I've been telling you that you're smart for years now." "I know," I say, "but it's different when she says it." He grabs me by the crook of the arm. "Come on, boyfriend." We walk until evening, staying to the meadow that stretches on for leagues between the mountains. The plateau gently rises the whole way. Looking back, I can see over hundreds of copses of evergreen trees, mile long stretches of wild flowers, and myriad small ponds glittering under a sun-drenched sky. I've to admit, several times when I glance back I half expect to see war ghuls emerging onto the top of the Stairway. But each time I do, there's nothing there. The bend of the river takes us round a huge mountain peak where it meanders back and forth over waterlogged grass. The channel itself is deep and lined by lush spruce trees. Everywhere there are old logs covered with lichen and moss; Angelaria collects a handful of yellow, blue, and pink flowers. The falls are now three leagues behind us and out of view because of the mountains. However, the jungle still makes its presence known, sending forth a thick afternoon haze that forms into angry thunderclouds that crackle in the distance. They are alive with the sheets of lightning, but the storm is so far away that the day remains beautiful unto first sunset. In front of us lies a wall of mountains. Gods, the sight of them is humbling. Now that I'm in their shadow, I see how colossal the Icewall truly are. "Valion knights build fortresses in these alps?" I ask. "How is it even possible? It's so far from any port. Where would they get the machines and concrete?" "Yes," Talen says. "And there's stone and wood all around you. As for machines and ingredients like concrete, well there's more that lives in these mountains than you realize and Valion knights have many friends. You know they're not like Timeron knights. The very name is a combination of the virtues "valiant" and "lion-hearted." They're a colossal force of good, wear white armor, and practice honor and chivalry. Their god is Thomas, said to be the Lord of Winter. His skin is as pale as snow, his breath like hoarfrost. The knights worship him and his animal, the wolf, in their fortresses. Some say they can even transform into wolves and hunt with their god on especially cold nights. By day, the Valions take to the sky upon the backs of chrome dragons and fight the wickedness of those who follow the gods of evil." "Like Taleta?" I ask. "Yes," Talen says. "She's one of their worst enemies. You know, that story you heard back in Soulwarden in the Temple of Mohdehll is correct. That's how Taleta, Thomas and Tethyr are connected. It's really quite dysfunctional." "Thomas," Angelaria adds, "is also rumored to be so handsome that any woman who lays eyes upon him is taken with desire to bare his pups. He has the most godling children in the world...kids with silver eyes and hair with powerful immortal blood circulating in their veins. They say he fucks like a dog, preferring his women on all fours while he rams the thick of it into their maidenheads." "Maidenheads?" I ask. "They're virgins?" She shrugs. "Why would a god want a licked cupcake?" "A licked cupcake?" I shake my head. "Why indeed. Let's walk for another hour, and then find a place to camp. The gray and white of the mountain granite slopes on both sides of the valley is broken by large stands of aspen the further we ascend. The trees quake in the wind; it's a marvelous thing to hear and reminds me of the tinkle of wind chimes. I look beyond the meadow (whose end we're swiftly approaching) and spy the entrance to a canyon. It's there where I see drifts of clouds puffing up to float among the treetops. The mist lingers on the rocks and catches the play of sunlight just right so as to create a sparkle that catches the eye. Angelaria squeals with glee and breaks into a run. Puzzled, Talen and I attempt to chase her down. She's surprisingly fast given the uneven and somewhat soft ground. I do manage to catch her, but she doesn't slow to tell me why she's running so fast. After a few minutes, we arrive at a hot spring surrounded by limestone rock. I nearly have to extend my cibrian cleats to stop on time, and end up falling on my ass and skidding on damp grass almost to the edge. Behind me, Talen runs up, breathing heavy. "Could you guys have slowed down just a little?" "I was chasing her," I say. Angelaria throws up her arms. "Isn't this wonderful?" She grabs a hold of her clothes and starts ripping them off, tossing them to the side until she's completely naked. She tests the edge of the pool with her outstretched foot and when it doesn't burn her, she slips into the hot water, holding herself tenderly and then immersing her hair. After a minute, she takes out a bar of soap. "Hell," Talen says, kicking off his boots. "I haven't had a bath in days. Help me get my armor off, would you?" I laugh. "We all haven't had a bath in days." I oblige and when he's naked, he helps me get out of mine. "Exactly my point," he says, dropping my breastplate on the ground. Then he dives in. I think when I write my memoirs someday (and I do intend to write them) I shall begin with the statement: "If you've never bathed in a hot spring before, I have to tell you that life is simply not complete until you have." The water is very soft in a proper hot spring, and it lavishes your hair until it flows like silk thread between your fingers. This hot spring is perfect, and I feel my body unwind, my muscles unknot, and the tension flow out of me like magic. We stay there, playing with each other until the night emerges in full bloom to cover the heavens with a million stars. I don't think I've seen so many in my entire life even if I add them all up together. The mountains conceal the moon Mondath, but I detect its silvery touch on the meadow below us. Maybe it will make an appearance before long, but if it doesn't the night is still magical without it. Talen and I take the opportunity to shave, using mirrors from our thieves' kits. Mirrors come in useful to peer around corners and under doors. And because we're assassins, there's no small shortage of sharp things at hand. "It's so nice that we won't ever have hair growing from our ears," I say. Talen pauses to think about that. "I agree," he replies. "It's one of the least attractive things about old men. That and long nose hair. I hate that." "I dunno," Angelaria says, kicking back against the stones. Steam rises from her skin. "I think gray hair in moderation looks nice on a man. Sure, both of you are beautiful beyond reason with six pack abs and really nice skin, but there's more to life than being young forever. I think I want to grow old with someone." "Why on earth would you want to do that?" I ask. I'm not trying to be snarky. It's a legitimate question. Angelaria shrugs. "Growing old is a part of life. It teaches you things. And to grow old together with someone is kind of like holding hands and going on a long journey that has an end to it. If the journey you're on never ends, how do you know you won't tire of it in time? How could you ever appreciate it for anything other than its...vastness?" Talen shrugs. "I see her point," he says. "I'd grow old with you." I sigh. "I think it's time we all got out." Our feet are as wrinkled and pitted as prunes; it's funny how the skin on our hands and feet does that. Angelaria lays on my left and Talen on my right. We stretch on a bed of green moss that feels like plush velvet. It's so dark that I can make out few details...a shapely curve here, a tantalizing ridge there. Because I'm nineteen it's (of course) sufficient to arouse me. I turn into Talen and start caressing him with the little nibbles he likes, and I feel his swollen girth slip between my thighs. This is going to be a spectacular end to an interesting day. "Would you ever let me join?" Angelaria asks all of a sudden. By "join" I've no doubt she means a threesome. My philosophy is simple: the more the merrier right? But I'm not going to say that to Talen. I don't want him to get jealous. By admitting to myself that I may like more sexual partners is by no means an admission that I find him any less attractive than the first day I shagged him. In fact, I love him even more. But a third component might add a bit of change into the mix. Change is always healthy. So I don't answer her. Instead, I continue to pull on his lower lip with my own and breathe heat upon his tongue. I do open my eyes, and they're instantly held captive by Talen's own. I suppose he sees that I'm choosing to defer to him. After all, he's staring straight into my soul. He probably knows every secret I've ever kept. Talen kisses me on the forehead and then hugs me close. "What do you think?" he whispers in my ear. Dammit. "It's your decision," I answer back. Then I nibble on his sweaty neck. "Just know that if you say yes, I'll always love you first. And if you ever say otherwise, it stops right there and we go back to just me and you." I hold Talen as close to my body as I can. I can feel his heart beating through his chest. "I only need you to satisfy me," I say. "No one else." Talen turns his head slightly and looks at Angelaria; she's gently running her fingers down my back and I picture her sucking in her lower lip. "We might," he says. "I've to think about it." Angelaria puts her head back against the rock and opens her legs. It's a momentary distraction for me, so Talen takes over, licking my ears. Gods his tongue feels so slippery and smooth and warm. But I angle my eyes so that I can watch what she's doing. There's just enough light for me to see the dark bush there. I take my fingers and gently trace them across her skin, across the roundness of her breasts and the outline of her ribs. The trails my fingers leave raise small bumps against her skin. She lifts herself luxuriously from the moss, her body a slender silhouette. "Good, I was taking a poll for later. It's cold out though, and I'm dead tired." I press my eyes closed. "Bitch," I whisper. "Why does she do that?" Talen kisses me on the cheek, and I can't help but smile. "Because she can," he says. "And for the record, I'm not tired at all, and it's plenty warm out." I grin and continue to make out with him. It's surreal...almost dreamlike...as I lick his skin and explore his tight clean body. I'm reminded of the recurring dream of our lovemaking happening in some wooded glade and being watched by a hunter from the trees. If the dream were a premonition, then this is the moment it blossoms. Here I am in the forested highlands of the Icewall Mountains and Talen is underneath me and a thing (is it a creature of my imagination?) watches voyeuristically from the trees. I get my cock slippery with Jade Nuru and apply some generously to his sphincter. Then I thrust into him, my width causing some discomfort at first but quickly transforming to pure pleasure. Talen squirms, pants, stares back at me doing my business and chewing on his lower lip while I push his face into the moss in order to get a greater thrust. We change positions several times. After twenty minutes, he cums across his own stomach and the liquid resembles pearls in the moonlight. Then he grips me tight with his thighs, presses my chest to his, and with stickiness gluing us together I seed his guts. He cries and says, "I love you so much." "I love you too," I whisper. A wolf howls in the mountains. Talen's body quakes, and his long beautiful toes curl in the light of the now visible moon. We may be two separate men, but our souls are one. ***** I shall post Chapter Three next week. Please check my website for extras involved with this story. I'm drawing a picture of Talen in full color. I hope to have it up soon.