Marr
Copyright© 2024 by Pixy VI
Chapter 5
Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 5 - Marr is a young boy found to have magical ability. He is taken by the Mage Council to train to become a Mage. However, there is one slight problem, he doesn’t like being a Mage and he doesn’t particularly like magic or indeed Mages and would rather be back at his village just cutting down trees with his axe. No angry girls this time. Well, maybe…
Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft Magic Incest Brother Sister Light Bond
Marr woke. Waking in the morning with Adeena in his arms was one of the best feelings in the world. It was just a pity that he had to ruin it by getting up. Besides, Aisha would be in soon, bustling about. He smiled. Aisha had a habit of ‘tidying’ up his desk that Adeena had appropriated, and it drove her mad. She would complain about scrolls not being where she left them, and he would point out that Aisha was her idea, and then she would fume because she had no answer to that. It was glorious.
Adeena grumbled angrily as he disentangled himself from her clutches. He placed a palm momentarily against her cheek before heading to his armour stand.
The camp was up and awake. The masons had been busy overnight, and a line of stone was stacked in a horseshoe shape around what his sister had called it. The abutment. He headed to the communal campfire, picked up two bowls of something that tasted far better than it looked.
Back in their tent, he prodded the lump in their bed.
“Geroffgfheejdimm...” Marr pulled the blankets back. “Leave me alone...”
His sister had never been good at rising in the mornings. He handed her a bowl as Aisha entered. Marr suspected that she just moved stuff around to give the impression that she did something, but mostly ‘hid’ in their tent with her bairn. She still looked terrible, so Marr was content to let her hide until she fully recovered. He didn’t actually know what Aisha had done before being bedridden with her pregnancy. Adeena probably knew. She knew everything.
Adeena sat up with a groan.
“Rise and shine, sleepyhead. Big day ahead.” Whatever she had been about to say in response was ruined by a large yawn.
Marr handed over the two empty bowls to the squabbling children at the main cook fire, and headed towards the chasm, a still bleary-eyed Adeena stumbling along after him. He deviated slightly to where a journeyman mason stood guard, and he really was standing guard over three reeds pushed into the ground. Marr had done a small practice run the previous day of the idea Adeena had come up with a few days earlier. Her idea of a thick band of supporting air under the stone seemed to work.
The masons had watched attentively as Abeld attached to the masons had laid down stone upon stone on the invisible barrier. The ‘chasm’ had consisted of twenty feet of ground between two marks scratched out on the dirt. The stone arch had slowly spread out from one ‘side’ until it reached the ‘ground’ on the other side, and Marr had let the air dissipate.
The mock ‘bridge’ was only one block wide and the actual bridge would be twenty times that at least, to allow for two carts to pass in opposite directions. Some of the older, braver boys ran over it, proving its ability to stand on its own without support.
Kneeling, Marr contorted himself so that he could look along the tops of the reeds. Apparently, the tops all had to line up in a straight line, and the point they travelled to beyond was where the central keystone of the arch would be. He had made the mistake of asking one of the masons how they knew this and very quickly regretted the asking. The mason had not been easily dissuaded, and Marr had seriously considered kicking him into the ravine. The reeds were lined up at an angle to the bridge, and Marr put an air marker at the point beyond, before standing and heading back to the abutment. He peered across to the opposite side and moved his marker to be in line with the new perspective. All the masons and their Abeld watched and waited for his nod. He fixed his marker in its adjusted position and formed the invisible air bridge.
“Well, here goes...” Marr turned to Garake and nodded. Immediately Garake started shouting out commands in Ryadi, and the slaves raced to the piles of awaiting stone blocks.
There wasn’t a lot he could do, other than stand there keeping the air bridge in place.
“There is no way you could get me to do that...” Adeena stepped up to his side.
He agreed with her. The bridge was just three blocks wide, and a steady stream of Abeld walked up one side, placed their block down and returned via the other side. Each placed row brought the edge that little bit closer out into the ravine. Younger boys had formed a short chain and were handing down the stone from the piles to the Abeld at the foot of the Abutment.
Adeena had said the base of the cut-out abutment would be built up so that the top surface would mostly match that at the apex of the span. He was happy to defer to her knowledge on such matters.
By the time they had reached the middle, Marr was starting to have concerns. By the time they were three quarters of the distance, he was starting to panic.
The Abeld were tiring, slowing down, extending the build and the time he was going to need to support the bridge. He was now drawing heavily on Adeena. The fact that she was quiet and not launching verbal spears was an indication that she had concerns as well. He turned to look at her. She was exhausted, and the look she gave him was telling.
It was not often that he wished for Zun’s presence, but this was one of those times. Marr sat on the ground, trying to conserve his energy. He should have had stone carted to the other side. It would have been exhausting for the slaves, but the bridge, or at least the initial span, would have been done by now.
A bit late to think of that now.
Should he save everyone the extra work, tell the Abeld to vacate the bridge and just let it fall? It was probably going to collapse anyway, so he might as well save his energy. But that was giving up, and he was loath to give up. He would rather keel over with exhaustion first.
The Abeld were starting to wobble in their labours. Even as he watched, one placed his right foot not on the surface of the stone, but on the edge. His ankle turned, and he dropped his stone as he screamed and toppled over the side.
The stone landed on the bridge and stayed there. The slave plummeted to his death, screaming all the way. The rest of the slaves stopped watching the rapid descent.
It was a spur-of-the-moment decision. Marr thickened the air as he had for the bridge, but made it more like a thick porridge.
The slave hit the ground still at speed, and his screams stopped. There was a thump behind, and Marr turned to see Adeena slumped unconscious on the ground. One of the masons shouted out, and the line continued, the slaves gaining an energy burst from fear and adrenaline. Marr slowly turned to the watching Masons.
“No more accidents.” He growled through gritted teeth.
There was only twenty feet or so to go. Marr dug his fingernails into his palms. The distance was taking an eternity to close. He could hear a growl, and it took a moment to realise that he was the source. Worried looks were being sent his way by the masons. Ten feet. He could do this. He was going to do this. His vision wavered. The Abeld that were picking up stone to be laid were looking at him fearfully. They all knew what would happen, and what would happen to those on the bridge when he stopped supporting it.
Blackness was encroaching onto the edge of his vision. No Abeld were stepping onto the bridge. The last stones had been collected and only had to be placed. Now was not the time to fail. He focused on the last Abeld, who seemed to be morphing into people from Marr’s past. And then he became a mousakil.
The last three stones were dropped into place, and the slaves hastily scrambled onto the other side.
Marr let the weaves go, and there was a grating noise as all the stones bedded against their neighbour.
It didn’t collapse.
The fuck was he doing that again? He took in deep gulps of air as his vision slowly cleared. Garake cautiously approached.
“Garake. Split the stone to be laid, and cart it to the other side. Next time, we lay from both sides.”
“Yes Maji.”
“That bastard better stay up.” Marr wobbled to his feet and staggered over to Adeena. Not even the Abeld would willingly touch an Ajma. It was a godsend that his sister was so light. He lifted her up and carried her to their tent and the bed inside.
He dropped her harder than intended, but she was still out cold. He took off his armour and dropped it on the floor. He joined her and managed to pull the blanket over him before the darkness took over.
He wasn’t sure if it was the headache from hell, or the hunger pangs that woke him. It was night outside. He sat up, wincing at the pain that stabbed into his skull. Adeena was still in a deep sleep. His armour was no longer on the floor, but back on the stand. He could tell by the smell that someone had freshly oiled the leather.
The camp outside was quiet, so not evening then. He collected his armour from the stand and slipped it over his shoulders. His whole body ached as much as his head hurt. He collected his sheathed sword, pulled the tent flap back and stepped out into the night.
Now that he was fully awake, his hunger became ravenous. He made his way over to the communal cook fires. Two old Abeld were knitting ... something ... one look at him was all it took, and one collected a bowl and ladled some broth into it and handed it over with a spoon. Marr lifted the bowl to his lips and tipped the contents inside. It was hot, but his need was greater than the pain.
The two old Abeld said nothing as he refilled his bowl from the pot. He slowly spooned the contents into his mouth as he slowly walked through the camp. The Abeld had been busy and had restocked the stone at the abutment. The bridge itself still stood, which was a relief.
The Abeld had been busy in the afternoon. Stone lay freshly stacked next to the abutment, and he could see a hump that shouldn’t be there on the other side, illuminated by the moon. He wandered over.
“Maji.”
Marr returned the sentry’s acknowledgement with a nod. All the sentries were where they should be, and more importantly, they were awake.
“The Abeld were busy this afternoon, Tariq,” Marr remarked as he waved at the stone pile. Tariq gave him a funny look. “What?”
“You have been asleep for two days, Maji.”
“Have I?”
“Yes Maji.”
“I don’t feel like it.” The conversation was turning awkward fast, and he left Tariq to his duty.
His exhaustion returned quickly, and he headed back, placing his armour back on its stand properly this time. Sleep found him swiftly.
He woke to the sounds of a busy camp. Sun was streaming onto the canvas of the tent. Adeena was still sound asleep. This concerned him a little. More so, considering he was to blame.
He stepped outside and headed to a cook fire manned by two old female Abeld. He often wondered just how many of them he had, since it seemed, sometimes, like he never saw the same one twice. He collected two bowls, spotting Tariq.
“Tariq!” Tariq came running over, his armour buckles jingling.
“Yes Maji?”
“When did we last speak?”
“Errr, last night, Maji.”
“That’s a relief. Carry on.”
“Yes Maji.”
It took several prods to wake up his sister, who was every bit as grouchy as he was expecting.
“Can’t you let me sleep in...” She pulled the blanket over her head. Marr pulled it back off.
“You need to eat something.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Yes you do.”
“No, I bloody don’t. And my head is killing me.”
“You’ve been asleep for three days.”
There was a moment of silence, and Marr wondered if she had indeed gone back to sleep. Adeena rolled over and looked up at him, a bewildered expression on her face that was replaced by one of pain as her eyes met the sunlight coming through the canvas.
“What?”
“You’ve been asleep for three days.”
“The fuck I have.”
“Whatever. Eat this.” He handed over a bowl.
“Can I have water?”
Marr fetched a carafe of water and a wooden goblet. He poured the water for her and handed it over.
“Thanks.” She took a long drink, wiping the back of her hand across her lips. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Wow. Is the bridge still standing? Is it built?”
“It’s still standing, and no further work has been done to it.”
“I think half the stone should be carted to the other side before you do that again.”
“It’s already been done. Right, I’d better go show my face. Remind them all who is in charge.”
Whilst there was no activity on the bridge itself, and that three-wide span did look very vulnerable, there was a lot of activity nearby. Mostly it was chipping away at stone. The children were still pounding the chips into dust.
“Are you continuing, Maji?”
“Not today, Garake. I bit off way more than I could chew last time. Possibly tomorrow.”
“As you wish, Maji.”
“What happened to the Abeld who fell?”
“Broken arm, broken leg, broken ribs.”
“But alive?”
Garake just shrugged. The Abeld were beneath him.
The camp was fairly small, so it was easy enough to track the man down. He simply asked one of the many children, and a young boy was more than happy to take him, since it was an escape from his laborious tasks.
The man lay on the bare ground at the back of a long, shabby patchwork tent. Blankets neatly rolled up hinted that the tent would be full when the day’s work was finished. He didn’t look great, and breathing was obviously problematic for him.
Marr knelt next to the man, wanting to do something on his own for a change. He placed a palm on the man’s forehead and another against the man’s ankles, which were bound together. Closing his eyes, he focused on sending the stream between his hands.
He felt elated when he sensed the damage and started to repair it. He was actually doing something complicated by himself for a change. With the bones healed, he decided the smaller blood vessels in the tissue were still well beyond him. But it was progress. He stood.
“You are getting better.”
He looked round to see his sister quietly watching him.
“Still awake, I see?”
She stuck her tongue out at him in response.
The young boy was still there, crouching, watching him in awe.
“Have you not got work you should be doing?”
“Yes Maji!” The boy scampered off.
“I told Garake that I would continue with the bridge tomorrow.” Adeena simply nodded.
Everyone was watching him. Nothing like a little bit of pressure. He formed the air bridge. It was easier this time because he could anchor it to the existing stone bridge. He nodded to Garake, who shouted at the Abeld. He wasn’t sure how much he could stream, so he had told Garake to only lay two stones wide today, to see how he got on.
With the bridge being fed from both sides and with more room for the Abeld to move, progress was a lot faster. They finished by lunchtime. Marr considered going again after lunch, but decided that was probably pushing it, even though he hadn’t touched Adeena’s store of energy. Better to save his strength.
A quick half hour of training the men after the evening meal and he called it a day.
Adeena was still looking exhausted and happily wormed herself up against him as he idly caressed a breast. Gods, he loved touching her breasts. They seemed to fit so perfectly into his palms. He felt her nipples harden and one thing led to another...
Both of them were feeling a lot better the next morning, and Marr decided to go for three stones wide. They finished at roughly the same time as the previous day, and he felt about the same when it came to energy reserves. He wasn’t going to push it, though. He could probably manage more, but that would require the Abeld to keep pace, and they were struggling as it was.
After a few more days, the bottom layer was complete. The masons mixed the dust the children had been making with some other dust and water, smearing it between the first coarse and the second.
He had already cut all the stone they apparently required, so there wasn’t really much to do, other than look at the scenery. If looking into ravines was your sort of thing. For Marr, it wasn’t. So he made the command decision to pack up and head back to the wall, leaving his soldiers to look after themselves. He hoped the autonomy would work in their favour in the long run.
There were good sides to being back at the wall, and there were bad. The council was very high up on the ‘bad’ side. For a group of men that always clamoured for more independence, they were terribly bad with it when it came their way.
Nothing really seemed to have been done in his absence, and asking the soldiers he had left behind, he had learned that all the masters seemed to do was argue loudly amongst themselves. Apparently nothing could be done without a committee, and committees only seemed to exist so that no individual was capable of doing, or advising on, anything constructive.
Well, he was putting a stop to that right now. They had tasks and responsibilities, and they were going to start doing them.
After two weeks, he headed back to the bridge to see how things were progressing. The abutments that he had dug out were filled in, so now it was mostly a flat surface to and across the bridge. It did rise a little to a higher point in the middle, but the rise, and equivalent fall on the other side, was gentle.
He stayed for a few hours, mostly to show face, nod and make appreciative noises at what he hoped were the right moments, before heading back. At least it looked like they would get it finished before winter set in and the snows blocked the pass. The masons were allowing one laden cart at a time over the bridge, so the caravan that was due before the snows would find their journey a lot easier. And hopefully the bridge would entice more traders in the future.
Malink and the bundle of joy that was his other Ajma were due back in a few days. It was a shame, as he was rather enjoying the peaceful evenings and nights with just Adeena for company. He should be thankful that he had only the one other Ajma. Any more would probably be a nightmare.
There was excitement in the camp. The last caravan before winter set in and closed the pass had been spotted by sentries protecting the bridge builders at the gorge. The builders had sent one of the young male apprentices back with the news.
Adeena wasn’t sure what the point of doing so was, as they couldn’t do anything with the extra time. It wasn’t as if it was an invading army and the time could give them time to prepare. Though given the size of the garrison, the best thing they could do would be to run away.
Maybe she was just bitter that there was nothing of interest on the carts to her. It was going to be food, some tools, possibly some clothing.
A fat lot of use clothing would be for her. Though there might be some metal collar polish...
She snorted in dry, wry amusement. Fuck, she could do with some books to read. Something, anything, to shut her mind up. Or at least distract it.
The children screamed, shouted and ran full pelt amongst the arriving carts, annoying adults and oxen alike.
Adeena watched the merchants offload their wares along with the food supplies Salinad had sent to help tide them over winter until they became self-sufficient. Yes, there were tools. Yes, there were clothes, if you considered being dressed head to toe in a black sack, clothing.
Her lips curled in a wry smile. Mutanbi society deemed that women could only be in one of two states, naked or smothered literally head to toe in cloth. There was no in between.
Oh, that’s right. Ajma weren’t human, let alone female. How could I forget?
She caught the eye of the trader who supplied the artisans, headed over to him. Whilst rules were clear and simple and adhered to in the capital. This far out on the rim of ‘society’, people, especially traders, were a little more... ‘forgiving... ‘ Certainly more likely to turn an eye away from the many laws.
It didn’t make them any more polite, though. He stared at her in barely disguised contempt. Had ‘her’ Maji not been nearby, he probably would have thrown something at her. And that something was most likely to have come from the rear of one of the oxen.
“My Maji wishes to expand his knowledge and asks me to enquire if you would supply text and writing implements on your return next year?”
His demeanour instantly changed and softened. You didn’t last long as a trader if your morals were like stone and this one’s was long grass; his interest piqued by her command of his language when it was clear that she was not of Mutanbi birth.
“What,” Adeena continued “, would you accept in trade, for quality bound books, parchment or empty ledgers, quality ink - not cat piss- and decent nibs? Ink pots sensible, simple wooden or stone. No need for silver or the like. Think function rather than form. What would you take in return?”
The trader looked around. “It would have to match the goods in value, and it would have to fit in my cart.”
This could prove problematic.
The trader looked back down the valley. “I would take silks or good cloth, but.” They both knew the outpost had no such industry. At least, yet. Though realistically, probably never. It was most likely only ever going to be an agricultural economy. There was no way he was going to be hauling logs, fruit, fish or whatever they managed to farm back through the desert. “Have you gold, gems?”
“Not yet.” Though Adeena had heard about a few likely sites for gems from Syncully. They just hadn’t had the time to go exploring yet.
“Those would be acceptable.”
“I’ll,” Adeena paused, correcting herself. “The Maji will see what can be found in readiness for your return next year. If something can be found, then the Maji would be looking for a regular supplier.”
“I’m sure he would. What interest in texts does the Maji have?”
Adeena had a sudden mental image of her brother trying to read a scroll and had to stifle a smile.
“Ones that expand his knowledge of both the country and of Maji matters. Once he sees what you can acquire, he can refine his selections to make further purchases more in line with his tastes.”
“I will seek out the tomes he needs in readiness for my return.”
“Thank you. The Maji will look forward to your return.”
The Maji in question was heading back to their tent. Adeena knew that her brother was not a fan of clusters of people. Especially excitable, loud ones. There wasn’t much for her to see, or of interest in the wares of the remaining traders, so she followed Marr back to their tent. She could annoy him by trying to teach him a bit more Riyadi.
“Maji?”
Marr looked up from the piece of parchment he was not reading. His mind, as usual, was in a forest swinging an axe.
“Yes...” It was the sly, furtive-looking man. Marr struggled to remember the man’s name.
“Naras.” Came his sister’s quiet murmur from behind him, where she sat on the floor. She should, by rights, be kneeling in subservience. This far from the Sharam, Marr was happy to ignore Mutanbi traditions. Especially ones he considered to be stupid.
“Naras?”
“The latest shipment from Salinad,” Marr closed his eyes briefly; he was pretty sure where this was going, “Was half full of sand.” And there it was.
“You speak with the caravan boss?”
“Yes, Maji. They were ‘escorted’ to Nabilia, under the orders of Maji Siraj. There was an ‘issue’ with the barrels, which meant the contents had to be checked.”
“Of course there was. How bad is it?”
“This was the last shipment before winter, Maji”
Marr had no idea how much people ate, which was why, under Adeena’s advice, he had relegated the task to Naras, who seemed, in Marr’s eyes, a little obsessed with stores and their repeated counting.
“How will our current levels sustain us over winter?”
“If we set all the workers on reduced rations now and children on quarter, we should make Spring. A few children might succumb, but most should survive.”
Marr looked down at the parchment. Any excuse. He stood, pushing his simple stool back. “Show me.”
“Yes Maji!”
“Marr...” Adeena cautioned quietly. He ignored her and strode from the tent, Adeena following as her duty bade.
The caravan was half empty, the caravan’s drovers offloading barrels to the men Marr had given to Naras to command. All the men looked nervously at Marr as he strode towards them. The traders at their displays quickly picked up on the tension in the air, and along with their customers, turned to look at the obviously annoyed Maji. Marr pointed to one of the barrels still on a wagon.
“Open it!” No one moved. “Now!”
Naras called out in Riyadi, and Marr’s designated barrel was lifted down and the barrel lid hastily removed. Marr marched over to it and, lifting a booted foot, gave the top a hefty kick with the sole of his boot. The barrel tipped over, making Naras wince as grain spilt out onto the rocky ground. Marr kicked it again, making it roll. The grain changed colour as sand spilt out.
“Marr...” Adeena cautioned again.
The wagon master came over, supplanted himself on the ground in front of Marr, pleading for his and his men’s lives in Riyadi. Marr turned to Naras.
“Tell him to empty and turn his wagons round.” Marr looked up at the sun, gauging the hour. “We leave in ten minutes.”
Naras translated Marr’s words to the wagon master, who quickly leapt to his feet and shouted at his men.
The traders quickly closed their transactions, assembling their goods. Where the caravan went, they followed, relying on the caravan for joint safety in the desert.
“Naras?”
“Yes Maji?”
“Assemble every cart we have available, and I mean every one, and load them with any empty barrels we have. They either travel with us, or follow on, but they will follow.”
“Yes Maji.”
Adeena looked at the fire in her brother’s eyes, not that she needed to. She could read the anger in his mind through both the Zimam’s link to his ring and their own personal bond. He paused, his eyes unfocused, as he used a function of his Zimam rings he very rarely used. Zunaisha would be receiving a call that would send fire through her body until she was within a few feet of him. Ajma were supposed to stay within a few feet of their Maji at all times, but her brother seldom enforced it. Summon sent, he continued to their pavilion tent.
Inside, Marr went to the frame that held his armour, donning it with familiar ease.
“Shall I go and seek help to take the tent down?”
“No, Ads, it’s staying here. We are travelling light. Look out for something warm for yourself and Zun; your nights will be out in the open.”
“Maji?” Malink popped his head through the tent’s opening.
Buckling on his sword, Marr looked up. “Mal, assemble the men, our men, not the original garrison. Full kit and victuals for a week; have them load onto the wagons. Mousakil to be unridden until we need them. I want them fresh.”
“Yes Maji.” He quickly retreated, and Marr heard him shout out orders as Zun burst through the flap at a run, her face flushed, angry and in pain. She stared daggers at him. He ignored her, mind on other matters.
“Ads, keep her right.” Marr rolled up their bedding, collected his shield and strode from the tent.
“We are going on a trip,” Adeena said in clipped Riyadi “Pack your cloak, your bedding, and anything that you can comfortably carry that you think you will need for a week.” Adeena looked around the tent, collecting the strange bag from across the river, since it seemed to excel at keeping out water. She would wear her cloak; the bag would hold some books, pots of skin cream and Tragellis sap. A comb, since some habits never left.
Leaving the tent, Adeena headed to the wagons. She guessed that her brother would be in the vanguard and spotted their bedding in the lead cart. She added her items to the cart and went looking for Marr, knowing he would be needing a steadying hand and her Riyad translation skill.
Soldiers were arriving in armour and with bags slung over their shoulders; Marr was directing them to the wagons as the caravaneers loaded empty barrels back onto carts. Adeena approached and stood quietly behind him, her eyes taking in everything as she tried to think of the things he would need. A difficult task, as she didn’t know what his intentions were. She knew him well enough not to ask, as he doubtless knew himself.
Marr stopped one of his men, Boncuk.
“Not you, Bon. I need you here to look after the fort till I get back.”
Boncuk did not look pleased as his fellows climbed aboard the wagons.
Stepping from behind her brother, Adeena spoke quietly in Riyadi so as to avoid Boncuk making any mistakes with his own poor translation skills of Marina.