Chapter 3: Alchemical Solution

Thanks to b0b for beta reading this!

Journeyman Mage Faoril – The Free City of Baraconia, the Island of Birds

The guilt, shame, anger, disgust, and self-loathing metastasized in me and then exploded out of me in a jet of uncontrollable magic, feeding on the vast reserves of power I absorbed when I debased myself with the crew of the Golden Hunger.

The jet, a combination of all five elements, slammed into Thrak and threw my orc lover in a bellow of agony.

My heart stopped. Sparks trailed behind him. Bursts of reds, yellows, blues, and violets. He soared twenty feet before crashing to the inn’s courtyard with a heavy thud and rolled as a limp heap. His ax clattered on paving stones. He came to a rest on his side, one arm thrown over his body at an awkward angle. Steam rose from his flesh. Frost crusted his hair.

“No.” I clapped a hand over my mouth. “No, no, no.”

He didn’t move. I shook my head. Tears distorted my vision. They burned down my cheeks. Relaria howled in my mind, flung from Master Mage Yolun. She landed in the same unmoving heap. Dead.

My legs buckled. Collapsed.

I shivered. Sobs shook me. “No, no, no. Gods, no.”

This couldn’t be happening. I couldn’t have killed him. He was the strongest person I knew. Tough, powerful. He had survived an avalanche, fought an Erinyes with a broken arm. He had butchered an entire party of orc raiders. My spell couldn’t have killed him.

No. He had to live.

I crawled across the courtyard, not caring that the round paving stones bit into my knees. My vision blurred as the tears failed. Hiccupping sobs escaped my lips. I slowed as I neared him. A sudden terror seized me.

What if he were truly dead?

The steam rising off his still form thinned. Baraconia’s muggy heat melted the last of the frost riming his arm. I reached out for him, trembling. What did I do to him? How could I lose control of my magic?

I touched his arm. “Thrak.”

My words were a choking whisper. My fingers tried to grip him but lacked strength. Numbness gripped me. I tried to shake him. His bulk refused to move.

“Thrak.” My words were louder. My heart clenched. I killed him. “P-please, Thrak. D-d-on’t b-be d-d-dead.” Hiccups and sobs broke my speech.

Hopelessness seized me. I collapsed onto his body. I shook, sobbed, wailed my grief. I killed the man I loved. Snuffed out his life. I wasn’t an apprentice just learning to wield the elemental forces of the universe. I should have control. How did I lose it? Why was I such a failure as a mage?

Thrak. Relaria. The test.

Failure.

Useless.

A hand rubbed my tear-stained cheek. Fingers thick, calloused. I blinked away tears. Thrak moved beneath me. My breath caught as his finger wiped away a tear. His eyes stared into mine, dark-red. Alive.

I didn’t kill him.

More tears exploded from me. Thrak’s strong arms wrapped about me. He held me to his broad, scarred chest. I shook as I wept in relief. I didn’t kill him. The words chanted through my mind as only throat-tearing sobs escaped my mouth. I didn’t kill him.

“I’m sorry,” I choked out. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

I kept sobbing the words, clinging to him. He scooped me up in his arms. He was so strong. I nearly killed him. But I didn’t. My magic didn’t take another innocent life. He grabbed my discarded robes, stepping over the unconscious sailor who I had tried to prostitute myself to, and carried me into the inn. Wood creaked beneath him. Doors passed us. He opened one onto a small room. He placed me on a bed.

He stared at me with love.

How? How could he love something as terrible and filthy as me?

“What happened?”

His rumbling words demanded I speak. I owed him the truth. He deserved to know just how filthy and disgusting and horrid I was. Then he wouldn’t stare at me with love in his eyes. Then he would despise me.

Murderers always deserved to be despised.

What I did to Relaria spilled out. The fight with Yolun, my imprisonment in the ouroboros circle, and how the only tool I had at my disposal was my control over the lamia bard, Relaria. I made her my puppet, using the vile magic the Warlock Fireeyes had researched. I thought it was harmless. An easy solution to handling the bard, and then I didn’t see the perils to use her to break the circle and win my freedom.

Or to distract Yolun.

“H-he reacted instinctively,” I sobbed, my body tensing. I pictured Yolun standing in his black robes, Relaria creeping up on his back. The spells flew back and forth between us. I needed to tip the balance. I forced her to attack. “He defended himself and ... and...”

I stared up into Thrak’s face. “She died. I killed her. Murdered her. She had no control over her actions. She had to obey me. She was my slave.” I withdrew from Thrak. At any moment his eyes would harden. He would withdraw, abandon me. “I murdered her. I can still hear her scream. I wanted it to stop. I don’t want to feel anything. I needed to silence the screams. Replace them.”

“So you fucked every sailor on the ship?”

I closed my eyes and nodded. “I loved it. For hours I didn’t feel my guilt, only the pleasure of their cocks reaming my cunt and asshole. No sounds but groans, grunts, and the slap of flesh. I sucked on their dicks. I swallowed their cum. You saw me afterward. You saw how they soiled and used me. I was an object to them. Something to fuck over and over. And I loved it. I needed it.

“I needed it again. I needed to sell myself to those men. I needed—”

His arms were about me. It shocked me out of my words. He hugged me. Fiercely. Why? Why didn’t he flee me? I pressed my hands on his chest. I tried to push him back, to squirm out of his arms. But he wouldn’t let go.

“Thrak, no. I’m filthy.”

“You’re not. I love you.”

“No.” I sobbed again. “How? How can you love a murderer?”

“You made a mistake. You were desperate. You didn’t think she would die.”

“I should have known. We were throwing lethal magics at each other. He was trying to kill me. It was all I could do not to die. I had a choice. I could have surrendered, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to keep going, to succeed at the quest. And now ... now...”

His embrace grew. So tight. So fierce. “Why? I don’t understand. Why do you still love me?”

“I would always love you because of your heart. It’s so kind, so loving.”

I shook my head. “A loving heart wouldn’t have sent Relaria to her death. Only an evil, disgusting heart would.”

“Then why are you so broken up?”

I blinked. “What?”

“Do you think Fireeyes would have shed a single tear for Relaria? Do you think it would make him search his soul, to question his actions?”

“No. He’s evil. Callous. Heartless.”

“Everything you’re not. That’s why it hurts you so much. You made a mistake, one of the worst mistakes a person can make, and it’s destroying you because you are a good person. And that’s why I love you. Your passion, your goodness. You’re like Serisia. You see me as more than a barbarian because of your good heart.”

“I despised you at first. I thought you were a barbarian. And then ... I saw your pain.”

“And you wanted to soothe it.”

I nodded my head.

“I see your pain. Why are you surprised I want to do the same?”

I hugged him. I threw my arms about his neck. I pressed my face into his throat. I breathed in his primal, masculine musk. I became so aware of my naked breasts against his bare chest. My nipples hardened as they rubbed across his scarred flesh.

Last night I had lost myself in depraved pleasure, needing to be filled with filth and depravity, to soil myself. Now a desperate ache to be filled with something different—something better. Something I didn’t deserve, but Thrak offered to me anyways.

Love.

My lips found his. I kissed him with fierce desire. I moaned into his strong lips. I savored his rough hands stroking down my back to my ass. They gripped my butt-cheeks, clenching, pulling me into his kilt. My bare pussy rubbed into the rough fabric. His cock swelled beneath him.

I closed my eyes. Love radiated from his form, bleeding into mine along with his body’s warmth. Despite the muggy heat of the Baraconia day, I savored his warmth. My body drank it in as I undulated against him, grinding on his hard shaft.

My pussy grew wet and eager. My clit ached as it rubbed into the fabric of his kilt. He groaned into the kiss. His fingers clenched my ass. He was so big, so thick. I didn’t find what I truly needed with the sailors last night, and I wouldn’t have found it with the two sailors I sold my body to.

I needed this orc.

I shuddered as Thrak laid me out on the bed. He loomed over me. Huge, towering, powerful. His hands undid the belt holding up his kilt. It dropped off his body. His cock thrust towards me, thick and long, tip pierced by a bone ring. My hands reached out, pale on his swarthy shaft. I stroked him, loving the pleasure crossing his pierced face.

“Faoril,” he growled as he lowered himself to me, his woolly hair brushing my face as he buried his lips into my neck.

I groaned as he sucked at my flesh. His mouth was hungry. I shuddered beneath him, undulating, my pussy on fire. His hands stroked my sides, teasing me. I moaned, pressing my thighs together, relieving the itch at the tip of my clit.

And then he kissed lower. His large hands found my breasts, engulfing them. He squeezed them. My nipples ached. He wanted them pierced. I should do that for him. If there was any pain, Sophia could heal them. Silver rings glinting as they adorned my pink nipples.

“Thrak!” His name burst from my lips as he engulfed my nipple. I moaned. He nibbled and chewed. His lips were huge. He sucked as much of my tit into his mouth as he could, the areola and more. My nipple ached as he sucked. “Yes.”

His eyes flashed up at me, his pupils wide. His eyes were black pools but still burned. My fingers stroked through his thick hair. It was different than a human’s. Not soft and silky, but rough and thick. Like him.

His left hand engulfed most of my right tit. He squeezed it, his fingers sliding up until they found my nipple. He sucked harder on the left. I squirmed. The pleasure shot right down to my pussy. My juices flowed. My thighs grew sticky.

The pleasure built in my core.

My head tossed back and forth as he loved my breasts. His lips kissed over to my right nipple, and he sucked hard on it. My back arched, pressing my tit into his mouth while delight rippled through my body. My left nipple ached. His fingers found it. Teased it. Twisted it.

Sharp pain mixed with the pleasure. I loved it.

“Oh, Thrak,” I moaned, my voice husky as the pleasure built in my pussy. I pressed my thighs together. “A little more. I need a little more. Suck harder.”

He did. Incredible, sucking pressure tugged at my right nipple. Liquid moans escaped my lips. I squeezed my thighs harder together, putting as much pressure on my clit as I could. I only needed a little more—

I came.

“Thrak!”

It was wonderful to scream his name as I bucked and undulated on the bed. My legs shot apart. I wrapped them about his torso, humping my pussy into the rippling abs of his stomach. I groaned, embracing the stimulation as my pleasure washed through my body.

“Gods, Thrak,” I moaned, my head lolling.

It took me a few heartbeats to realize he had abandoned my tits to move south. His body slid down the bed. My pussy rubbed against his stomach than chest until his head nestled between my thighs. I bent my knees, my thighs flapping open and close around his head, brushing his cheeks, as he breathed on my juicy twat.

“What a lovely sight,” he growled. A finger stroked up my slit. My feet planted on the bed. My legs flexed, raising my ass from the sheets, keeping pace with his finger. I didn’t want it to end. “Such a succulent sight.”

“It taste better than it looks,” I moaned.

Thrak smiled at me. I smiled back. It was wonderful.

And then his mouth buried into my pussy and it grew even better.

My breasts jiggled, nipples hard and glistening. I humped into his mouth, using my legs to raise my hips up and down. I loved the hard feel of his piercings and the softer feel of his lips and tongue. His hands wrapped around my thighs, sliding up, caressing my stomach.

I gasped and squirmed when his finger probed my bellybutton. Ticklish delight joined the burning pleasure churned by his tongue. My clit throbbed every time he brushed it. He licked hard, lapping through my folds, driving me wild with delight.

“Oh, gods,” I panted. “Pater’s cock, yes. Eat my pussy. Mmm, I love it.”

“I love your moans.”

I smiled and shuddered. Pleasure washed through my body. I gripped my breasts. I squeezed them. My fingers slid up and found my nipples. I tugged and pulled on them. It was amazing. The bed creaked beneath me.

My juices flowed as my excitement built. I wanted another orgasm exploding through my body. My fingers twisted my nipples again. After they were pierced, I would tug on the rings. I bet it would feel so good.

“Keep moaning. Keep talking. Let me hear your passion, Faoril. Tell me how much you love this.”

His lips latched onto my aching clit. The bud throbbed as he sucked.

“Pater’s blessed cock, yes! I love that. Oh, Thrak, don’t stop sucking on my clit. Mmm, yes. Keep sucking. And nibble. I love it when you—” He nibbled. I squealed. “Oh, yes. That’s it. Ooh, my orc knows how to eat pussy. Oh, yes. That’s ... that’s...”

“Making you cum?” he asked between sucks.

I nodded my head. A low, growling moan escaped my lips. I shuddered and rose up on my elbows. I stared down at him, undulating my hips, purring my delight. My pussy clenched as the pleasure built in my depths.

“I’m going to cum so hard on your mouth. Slata’s cunt, yes. I love you, Thrak. Oh, gods. So good.”

His teeth nipped my clit.

My sensitive nub sparked with pleasure. I fell back on the bed screaming my bliss for the entire world to hear. I thrashed. The bed creaked. My juices flowed. Thrak drank. Stars fuzzed my eyes. My fingers pinched my nipples.

Joy and pleasure and delight consumed me.

Thrak loved me.

He loved me.

My back arched. My pussy spasmed. Thrak growled as he drank my juices. His hands squeezed my hips, holding me. He was so strong. I thrashed, but he kept my pussy glued to his mouth. He kept giving me pleasure.

And I embraced the waves of joy.

My head banged the headboard. I didn’t care. Too much bliss consumed my body. My legs shot out over his shoulders. My heels drummed on his back. I shot my hands down. I gripped his woolly hair. I held on for dear life as the pleasures washed through me, driving me to insensate bliss.

And then Thrak rose.

He was atop me. His weight comforting. I pressed my face into his chest. He was so tall, so big. His cock pressed at my pussy. The hard, bone piercing rubbed at my folds as he shifted, searching for my entrance.

And then he found it.

He was in me.

Filling me.

“Thrak!”

My pussy clenched on his thick cock. My toes curled. I locked my thighs around his waist as my pussy writhed. Pleasure rippled through me, the last moments of my orgasms. I hugged him, breathed in his scent, and gasped as he fucked me.

“Gewin’s mighty cock,” Thrak grunted as he drove his dick over and over into my molten depths. “So tight.”

“Yes, yes, fuck me,” I groaned. “Thrak!”

“Love you,” he growled.

The headboard banged into the wall. The bed creaked ominously. He fucked me so hard. Wood torqued and groaned. Despite the pleasure rippling out of my cunt, I feared the bed couldn’t withstand my orc’s passion.

But I could.

“Yes, yes, that’s it. Mmm, I need this. I need you in me, Thrak. Gods, yes.”

He grunted and growled. He sounded so fierce and barbaric. But I knew those sounds. The sounds of his pleasure. He enjoyed my body. He had given me such bliss, and now it was my turn to soothe him. I bucked and undulated. I groaned and gasped.

His cock slammed deep into me. Every thrust hard and powerful. My clit ached as it smashed into his pubic bone. My body shuddered. I drank in the bliss his dick churned. My fingernails clawed his back.

I moaned with the bed’s creaks. I gasped when his cock buried into my depths.

“Faoril,” he moaned. “My Faoril.”

“Yes, yours.” My lips kissed at his chest. I bit him as a surge of pleasure rippled out of my cunt.

He grunted. He could take a little bite. His hips thrust harder. Such rapture. I loved his hard thrusts. It ached my body wonderfully. I knew I would feel this all day tomorrow. A reminder that my orc fucked me hard.

My thighs gripped his hips. I humped into his thrusts. The slap of our flesh echoed through the room. My fingers bit into his flesh every time. I clawed his back, sharing my passion with him as I groaned into his chest.

“Gewin’s cock!” Thrak buried into me. “Faoril! Gods, yes!”

His heavy balls smacked my flesh. His cock erupted. The flood of his hot cum filled me. I shuddered. I squeezed my thighs tight about his waist as he spilled in me. Wonderful heat flooded through my body.

He loved me. He loved me.

Tears spilled from my eyes. I clutched him as I cried for Relaria again. And he held me. The guilt remained, but I wasn’t alone any longer. I wasn’t filth. I had Thrak. I clung to him as I mourned for the lamia bard.

Minx

It was strange being back in Baraconia, walking through the streets, passing halflings as they scurried about their business. Everyone was my height, more or less, once I left the docks behind. No big people I had to stare up at. It had been years since Fox, my older sister, and I fled Baraconia for Raratha.

We had been too bold in our thieving in Baraconia. So we stowed-away on a ship and made it to Raratha to start over, joining Spray’s crew. And again, Fox had wanted to be bold. She wanted to pull off the biggest robbery.

And it got her killed. Hung by the guards.

“I did it, sis,” I whispered. “I pulled it off. I hope you can see me.”

I bet she could, watching me from the Astral Realm. I bet she was thieving from the gods now.

Reminiscing about my childhood wasn’t why I walked the streets of Baraconia. I needed more alchemical supplies. Xera had used a few of my sleep bombs and sticky bombs when we broke into the Great Vault. I needed refills. I only hoped Rosaria’s shop was still open.

And I hope she had another item.

I still remembered my way through the chaotic warren and found the market square where Rosaria’s shop lay. The wooden sign hanging before her door looked the same, if more weathered and the black paint faded. It was a good sign. I marched across the square and reached the round door. It was nice to have a door knob at a proper height.

I entered the shop. My nose twitched at the pungent chemicals and my eyes burned. It even smelled the same. I moved through the shop, passing shelves covered in jars containing medicinal ointments or pouches full of various herbal teas.

Rosaria stepped out of the back, wearing a leather smock stained and singed, her round face framed by metallic-red hair cut short like a bowl had covered her head and someone had cut every lock that dangled past the dish’s edge. It looked self-inflicted. Rosaria wasn’t one to care about her appearance.

“How can I help you?” Rosaria asked, her tone brisk. “I ... Marianne?”

I winced. “Yes, but no one’s called me Marianne since I was six. You know that.”

Rosaria rolled her eyes. “I’m not calling you Minx. It is a stupid name.”

“It’s a perfect name,” I huffed, striding forward.

“So are you ending your exile from Baraconia? The authorities have long forgotten about your misdeeds.”

“Just passing through. On the trail of a big score.” I reached the counter. “But I need more supplies. I used up most of my sleep and sticky bombs. I could use a few more of those.”

Rosaria nodded.

“And I was wondering if you had any ointments for stimulating elves.”

Rosaria’s brows furrowed. “Stimulate ... Do you mean, drive them into heat?”

I nodded my head. “You were gnome trained, right? Surely the gnomes would have figured something out for themselves.”

“Gnomes have the opposite fertility cycle to an elf. They have their cocks except their three day heat when it reverts to a clitoris.” Rosaria frowned. “Why are you so interested?”

“Oh, well, I’m working with an elf and...” My cheeks tinged. “Well, in Raratha, I ran with a nixie thief boss and, well, I liked being around hermaphrodites. So I was hoping...”

“You could play with your elf when you like.” Rosaria tapped her cheek. “Well, I might be able to whip something up for you. It’ll be pricey.”

I grinned. I held back some of the treasure Xera and I stole from the Doge’s vault. Captain Thyrna got plenty. She wouldn’t miss a few baubles. Especially if she never knew we stole them. I pulled out a ring studded with pearls.

“That will cover everything,” Rosaria said, snatching it from my hand and tucking it into a pocket. “And is Lynette with you?”

I hadn’t heard my sister’s real name in years. “No, no.”

“Never thought I would see you two apart.”

I wanted to tell her what happened, but she was already bustling into the back. And it was easier not to. I turned my back and wiped at the tears budding at the corners of my eyes. I took a deep breath. Which was a mistake.

I coughed, the chemicals in the air burning my throat.

Xerathalasia

It was well past dark when Minx burst into the common room, a huge smile on her face. Thrak and Faoril had disappeared earlier, followed by Angela and Sophia. Chaun still played on stage, entrancing the crowd. The joy in his voice was apparent.

He loved to entertain.

I was considering spending the night with Chaun and enjoying a cock—his slight build and almost feminine face in his changeling form made him attractive to me. Unlike human males and Thrak, Chaun was almost feminine. I was too used to elven women and their cocks to find the average male interesting. Too much hair, too much muscles, too large bodies. Chaun was slim, his face even delicate. Just as I was about to go up and talk to him when Minx leaped onto the chair beside me, perching on it, her hands gripping the back.

“I bought something.”

“Oh?” I asked, my ears twitching.

“It’s really naughty.”

“So your alchemist was still around?”

Minx nodded her head, joy bursting on her bronze face, her metallic-red hair swaying about her shoulders. She had such big eyes for such a small creature. “I found everything I need, including a treat for you and me.”

I did want to enjoy a cock tonight—I could fuck Chaun without fear of pregnancy, so it wouldn’t be cheating on my wife—but Minx was so enthusiastic She had such passion bursting out of her small body. I couldn’t figure out where she put it or the large amount of food she could eat.

“Okay. What did you get?”

She pulled out a small, clay pot with a lid tied down with twine. “This. A mixture of red ginseng and rhodiola.”

“And it does what?”

Minx winked at me and hopped off her chair. She scampered across the common room and reached the door that led to the guest rooms. There she paused, flashed me another smile, and then darted out of sight. I smiled. It was fun to chase her. That was how we met. She led me on quite the adventure through Raratha. A fortunate coincidence that she pickpocketed Chaun.

But we were dealing with prophecy. Coincidence could be fate. The silent thief who steals more than gold.