Chapter 15: Dissolution

The last black-clad soldiers ducked into the portal and it shrunk, then closed silently behind them. Carver surveyed the devastated courtyard. A large pyre in the center was piled high with corpses. The flames illuminated the collapsed and scorched ruins of the compound’s smaller side buildings.

There was a drawn-out, low rumble near the compound’s edge. A few moments later, Marissa joined him. “I’ve patched the wall,” she announced. “It was a rather big hole but nothing a casting of Shape Earth couldn’t fix.” She flashed Carver a fleeting smile. “To be honest, I think the repaired section is now even better than before.”

“Not much for humility, is she?” Lilith asked, striding over the rubble-strewn battlefield. Her robe was tattered and blood-soaked, yet the skin underneath was coal-black and pristine. In passing, she brutally backhanded one of the slaves helping with the clean-up. The half-naked orc, arms laden with salvaged armor pieces, pierced the back of her head with a rebellious glare.

“Without us and our troops, your house would be a smoking crater and you’d be serving a pen full of goblins,” Marissa sweetly replied. “Xalyth told me about some of those initiation rites you put her through before ‘adopting’ her. No wonder she tried to sell you out.”

“About her ... Tanith wants to see you both in her quarters.”

“And she sent you to fetch us?” Carver raised an eyebrow. “Why not a servant?”

“I knew you’d be out here helping and I need to fetch someone else. You know what? Join me,” Lilith said. “My sister can play with herself for a while. Looks like you’re finished anyway.”

“Yes. My surviving men have returned to the Surface to heal and rest and Marissa has taken care of the breach in your wall.”

“Don’t forget to release the rest of our troops still enjoying your ... hospitality Above,” Lilith snarled.

“In time, as soon as our deal is done,” Carver said carefully. Changing the subject, he asked, “Where are we going?”

“Not far.” The stout dark elf extended her hands. “Hold on.”

Carver and Marissa took an elbow each. Lilith snapped a short phrase and a heartbeat later, they stood somewhere else. The room was small and mostly made from wood. To Carver, it looked like some kind of makeshift chapel. Banners depicting large, angular spider icons hung from the rafters and a heavy slab of obsidian stood at the back of the room. The coppery stench of spilled blood saturated the floorboards nearby. It was rather noisy around them. Shouted orders, the sounds of weapons on shields, occasional cracks of the whips seeped through the walls.

“This is some kind of training facility,” Carver observed. “Why the Teleport?”

“Because this place is tucked away from prying eyes in an otherwise hard to reach side cavern,” Lilith grumbled. “The last thing we need are some competitors poisoning our stock or some other daft intervention we can’t afford.”

“Speaking of intervention,” Marissa purred, caressing down Lilith’s spine. The plump dark elf stopped dead in her tracks. “Shortly before they died, one of the Xalaari women said something along the lines of ‘House Dree’vex no longer has the favor-”

“-of the Chaos Queen, yah,” Lilith spat. “Thanks to one of our sisters joining that Moon Maiden skank’s faith. Instead of withdrawing her blessings, the Queen should punish her, not us!”

“I’d call that highly effective motivation,” Carver said. “How are you going to restore your standing?”

“Ask Tanith. She’s much wiser than I am. But I have an inkling why she sent me here. Follow me.” Briskly, Lilith left the small chapel they had appeared in.

Beyond was a large, torch-lit courtyard. Dozens of orcs, ogres and minotaurs trained for battle. Dark elven instructors oversaw small groups, no more than five at a time as they practiced with axes, spears or simple, heavy rocks meant for throwing. Every mistake was quickly punished by insults or cracks of a whip. Around the perimeter, others toiled away at rail-mounted rocks or mechanical training dummies, honing their already prodigious strength and dexterity even further. The stench of sweat and blood hung heavy in the air.

“This looks rather ripe for a little mutiny,” Marissa observed. “How do you keep order here?”

“Easy. They have two choices – either work for us or die horribly. If they comply, they get ample food and the occasional piece of ass, plus as much bloodshed as they can handle. If they start trouble, they die. You’d be surprised at how docile these bruisers can be.”

“Do they do anything else besides kill people?” Marissa asked.

Lilith shot her a lewd grin. “Hankering for some bull-man cock?”

For the first time since he knew her, Carver caught Marissa blushing. “I haven’t thought about going that big, but ... hmmm.”

“Don’t give her any ideas,” Carver mildly admonished Lilith. “Knowing her, Marissa will beg me to hire one of your big boys for her amusement.”

“I’ll gladly gift you one, plus whatever gets you hard,” Lilith fixed Carver with a lusty grin. “Are you more an orc or goblin type?”

“Can’t say I have much experience with either,” he admitted. “What about other species?”

“Well, exotics like elves or humans are rather hard to come by. I think I have a serpentkind slut locked up somewhere. If she hasn’t committed honorable suicide by now.” Lilith threw a door wide. “Orcs, especially half-breeds, are strong and can last the whole night through. Goblins are tight. The first few times at least.” She made a rather obvious gesture with both hands and cackled viciously.

The room they were in now looked like a cross between training space and office. Torches illuminated a few sets of elaborate dark elven weaponry, slender swords, serrated daggers and angular bucklers, hanging from the walls while a sturdy desk stood besides a large, octagonal sand pit. Several doors led deeper into the complex.

“Qanthus? Where are you slacker?” Lilith yelled. Snarling, she crossed the room, throwing open doors at random.

The third door yielded results. There was pained squealing which suddenly stopped. A naked dark elf, skin crawling with acid-green tattoos of serpentine blades and skulls, left a writhing bundle on the sheets and stepped into the light. His icy-white braid stuck to his chest and he smelled of sweat and blood.

“Cousin! Nice to-” His greeting was cut short by a vicious haymaker thrown by Lilith. Like a sack of wet grain, he crumpled to the floor.

“Who’s he?” Carver wondered.

“Qanthus. Weapons master ... no, make that former weapons master of House Dree’vex.” Lilith shook out her wrist and peered into the room. “You conniving dickhead. That’s why you kept to yourself these past few days,” she hissed.

“What is it?” Carver asked, joining her at the door.

“Seems like he got his hands on a sweet halfling toy. The first one in years! And instead of gifting him to us, he’s breaking him in himself. If it weren’t for Tanith’s orders, I’d gut Qanthus here and now!” Lilith stormed into the room. The whimpering halfling scooted away from her, only to be harshly stopped by a length of chain around his ankle.

“Shh, shh. I’m not going to hurt you,” Lilith purred. She reached out her hand and touched the halfling’s sweat-drenched mop of golden locks. A gentle light enshrouded his head and he crumpled into the bloody sheets, out cold. Lilith turned to Carver. “Got a healing spell to spare? I burnt through mine during the battle.”

“Of course.” He joined her at the bed and gingerly touched the halfling’s shoulder while invoking a prayer to Desire. Healing energies flowed into the unconscious figure on the bed. “There. That should take care of his torn anus and broken fingers. Now what?”

“We take him and Qanthus back to the compound and prepare for the ceremony,” Lilith said. She picked up a key from a table nearby and tried the lock. The chain fell off the halfling’s ankle and she tossed him over her shoulder. “If you could deal with Qanthus, we’ll be out of here immediately. Lifegiver’s bollocks, I need a bath!”

Upon their arrival, they found the Dree’vex compound buzzing with activity. Several soldiers marched along the courtyard, swinging censers on long staves to and fro. Thick trails of fragrant incense almost managed to purge the stench of blood, fire and death still heavy in the courtyard. Other House guards watched over slaves frantically clearing the debris. Near the doors to the main building, a lone spearman stood, watching the commotion with an amused half-grin on his angular features.

“What are you leerin’ at?” Lilith snapped at him when they came into yelling distance.

The soldier saluted neatly. “Mistress Tanith posted me here to deliver a message,” he said, his grin nearly splitting his face in two. “It involves your curvy ass, the chapel and the moving of one to the other to prepare the sacrifices.”

“Watch your tongue or you’ll lose it,” Lilith snarled, invoking a spell. Her curved sword materialized between her fingers.

“Before you do, let me deliver the rest of the message. Lord Carver and his delightful cohort are to see Mistress Tanith in her quarters the second they return from wherever you dragged them off to.”

Marissa canceled the Flying Disc spell she had used to drag the unconscious forms of Qanthus and the halfling along. The limp bodies drifted gently to the floor.

Lilith raised her sword but the soldier still wasn’t done. “Also, you might want to spare me for a bit longer. Looks to me you’ll need someone to lug the body of my former boss around. Am I right or am I right?”

“Shut your gibbering mouth and start carrying,” Lilith hissed, cradling the unconscious halfling to her bosom. “And by the Fateweaver’s saggy tits, if I hear another word from you, you will lose your tongue!”

The soldier bent down and hoisted Qanthus’ body over his shoulder, his jaw working silently. But he seemed clever enough to know when not to push his luck any further. When he caught Carver’s gaze, he made a few quick gestures before falling in behind the briskly strutting Lilith.

“What did he say?” Marissa asked softly. “That was their sign language, wasn’t it?”

Carver nodded and entered the compound’s main building. “‘Tanith would be livid if he lost his tongue’ or thereabouts.”

“Heh. Not one for humility, that one,” Marissa quipped. “I’m amazed your Comprehension spell even works on gestures.”

“It seems my Mistress deems it wise to understand even the smaller nuances of our allies. Or rivals.” Carver exhaled slowly. “I’m growing tired of Dark Elven diplomacy.”

“Aww. Don’t be a spoilsport. Didn’t we have an awful lot of fun up until now?” Marissa clasped his elbow and hugged herself against his back. Her smile was like a small sunrise against his neck. “You are aware the tether is a two-way connection, right? I can feel you getting hard.”

“It’s a fun diversion but we shouldn’t let our carnal impulses get in the way of the grand plan.” He intercepted her hand before she could slip it into his robe. “Please remind me: Why are we here again?”

“To finally get our hands on the first Dragon Stone,” Marissa sighed, releasing her hold on him. She stopped a goblin maid. “Tanith’s quarters – where?”

The goblin curtsied then pointed toward the closest fork and a corridor curving up into the building’s bulging ‘abdomen.’

“Thank you,” Marissa purred.

The maid curtsied again then dashed into another corridor, muttering something even Carver’s spell couldn’t decipher. “Your Dark Elven is pretty good,” he observed. “Magic?”

Marissa laughed softly. “No. Too many nights with spicy writings. And a few flings with renegade dark elven mages. There’s one living in Storm Harbor’s Scholar’s Rack, a rather capable enchanter. Rather good in bed too, especially once another man is involved. Picked up a few bits and pieces. You have no idea how crazy they get once you shapeshift into their horny little sister.” She sniffed. “Hm, that smells familiar.” Marissa knocked at the closest door.

“Enter!” Tanith’s voice sounded surprisingly relaxed. Carver opened the door, blinking at the brightness coming from the room. A large candelabrum with eight arms, shaped like a descending spider, provided the brightest lights he had seen since the training facility. The spider’s abdomen was made from mesh and fragrant fumes wafted from it, the aroma of forbidden herbs and spices Carver knew quite well by now.

“I’m not sure if partaking in Ecstasy Ephemera is the wise thing to do at this time,” he dryly observed.

Steam rose from a large basin hewn into the stone floor. Tanith luxuriated in the water. A platter with fruit and drinks was in easy reach.

“It’s too small a dose to really lose control,” Tanith said, caressing a breast. “Please. Disrobe. Join me.” She made an inviting gesture. “I hope the ambiance is to your liking.”

Carver allowed himself a little smile. He was keenly aware that this meeting and how it was conducted was no mere coincidence. Tanith was using her body and the promise of more unbridled debauchery as a bargaining chip. He wondered what she wanted in return this time.

“I was hoping to wrap up our deal tonight. My realm has been left alone for too long already.”

He heard fabric rustle next to him and Marissa strode past him, her pale skin bathed in the golden glow of the candles. Before stepping into the basin, she respectfully bowed. “The invitation included me as well, did it not?”

“Absolutely,” Tanith purred. “Lord Carver ... Morgan. I insist. My ... no, our house’s debt to you can’t be repaid easily but I have to ask for a bit more of your patience. It is of the utmost importance that we perform the ceremony tonight. If we let too much time go by, the sacrifices won’t be fresh enough and we might incur even more of the Chaos Queen’s wrath.”

Carver stifled a sigh and undid the belt holding his robe together. “If you insist.” Maybe I should not be this lenient and allow her to dictate the pace of our negotiations, he thought. This better be worth another delay. If not, I might be inclined to call back the troops and level this place.

He disrobed completely and joined both women in the pool. Marissa had taken up position to Tanith’s left and Carver saw her pale hand on the coal-black thigh of their hostess.

“If time is of the essence, we should better not waste it with frivolities, Marissa,” he gently chided her.

“No sensible priestess lets a free fingering go to waste,” Tanith chuckled, leaning back against the basin’s wall. “I have a favor to ask of you,” she said, her dark eyes seeking Carver’s.

“Another one?” he wondered, taking a seat to Tanith’s right. Her hand snaked towards his crotch, finding him hard against his own wishes. “If this goes on, I could ask you to become my permanent vassal.” A quick smile took the threat from his words.

Tanith’s hand caressed along his length. “I wouldn’t mind seeing our bonds tighten. So far, your dealings with our house have been nothing but strokes of good luck. The first in quite a while I might add. Let us talk about it after the orgy.”

“Another orgy?” Carver raised an eyebrow.

Tanith took his hand and placed it atop her thigh. “First, we perform the sacrifices. Then, depending on how the Queen receives our gifts, we celebrate.”

Marissa gasped. Carver caught a glimpse of Tanith’s fingers on the sorceress’ hairless slit. Tanith leaned in and lavished Marissa’s mouth with a long, hungry kiss.

“And what if the sacrifices are rejected?” Carver asked.

The question seemed to sober up Tanith quite a bit. The dark elf sat up straight again. She even relinquished Carver’s cock. “I dearly hope they are not. That’s why I need your help. You remember what I said about Marissa killing our mother?”

“Of course. We won’t receive punishment for killing a Dark Elven priestess.” He blinked in surprise. “You would incur the Queen’s displeasure by sacrificing another priestess, even if she betrayed your house?”

“I’d rather not risk it. As Her name implies, our Mistress is rather unpredictable. So, as a fellow cleric, I would ask you to assist in the bloodletting.”

Carver froze, his fingers mere hair’s breadths away from Tanith’s sex. “I am not sure if my Mistress would tolerate me offering a sacrifice to another deity but her,” he mused.

“Then ask her,” Marissa whispered. “I’m sure Tanith and I will find something to do while you perform your auguries.” The raven-haired sorceress swung her leg over Tanith’s thigh and ground her pussy against it. “Isn’t that right, Lady Tanith?”

Carver slid away from the moaning and groping women and tried to concentrate, a task made that much more difficult by the aphrodisiac fumes and the writhing bodies in arm’s reach. Despite his earlier misgivings, he was aching to sink his raging hardness into a hot, sticky sheath or giving up his own-

“I see you are finally loosening up somewhat.”

Carver blinked. Opposite him, with hot, steaming water lapping at her breasts, sat Desire. All dark hair, bottomless eyes and a cruel mouth, now twisted in a playful smile.

“Mistress.” Carver bowed his head. “A pleasure, as always.”

“Finding allies in low places, eh?” Desire made a gesture towards Marissa and Tanith. The dark elven priestess sat on the lip of the basin, legs spread wide open, while Marissa hungrily ate her out. “I like your new second-in-command. A woman after my own heart. Once we are done, you should most definitely plunder her oyster. See how she’s begging for you?” A long, talon-like fingernail indicated Marissa’s snatch. The sorceress was eagerly fingering herself.

“You didn’t come all this way to counsel me on mating rituals, did you?” Carver asked, trying to shake the cobwebs from his mind. Did he imagine things or had the smoke gathered more substance? It seemed to undulate in arousing patterns.

“True. You wanted to know if you should assist in the ceremony.” Gone was Desire’s playful tone. “I can’t, in good conscience, allow you to waste a perfectly suitable sacrifice in another deity’s name. But if you consecrate the betrayer to me, you will most definitely incur the Chaos Queen’s wrath. There is nothing more egregious than uttering the name of another goddess once blood is spilled on an altar.”

“How am I to proceed then?” Carver wondered. “I don’t want to displease you, nor do I want to incur the wrath of the Eight-legged Schemer.”

“The solution to your problem is right in front of you, fingering her delicious nethers for our enjoyment.” Desire rose and water cascaded off her voluptuous body in glittering rivulets. “And Carver – once this amusing escapade is over, I expect you to resume your crusade once again. The Old Kingdom teeters ever closer to the brink of disaster.”

Carver growled. “I know. If it were for me...”

“You would be balls deep in Marissa’s cunt or ass by now,” Desire whispered, her lips brushing his burning ear. Long, spider-like fingers taunted his erection. “Tanith plays her own dirty little game. Don’t forget who is the senior partner in this relationship. Bind her to you.”

“Throwing in my lot with dark elves-”

“Will be a much wiser decision once you return to the Surface. There are events afoot which might surprise you. Now go or Marissa will be done before your majestic rod has even touched her beautiful tunnel.” One last squeeze, this time cupping his aching balls, and his dark mistress was gone.

The temptation was there, swaying right in front of him. Marissa practically held open her pale curtains for him. Above that, her rear entrance beckoned. Every fiber in his body yearned for him to impale her on his throbbing, rock-hard spear but that would not bring the clarity he needed right now. Instead, Carver climbed out of the basin and joined Tanith at its lip. The writhing Dark Elf eyed him curiously as he knelt down next to her.

“Do as your sister did to me,” he ordered, shoving his engorged length between her gasping lips. Tanith complied, digging her long, claw-like fingernails into his butt cheeks. The pain was a refreshing sensation, clearing his mind somewhat. The moment she pressed her thumb to his rectum he came, erupting like a shattered levee into her hungrily sucking mouth. Marissa’s gaze on him, her longing, her anguish at seeing his cock deep in another woman’s mouth, sent fresh waves of energy through him, prolonging his already prodigious climax. Tanith coughed, spewing seed onto the dark tiles before eagerly slurping him back between her lips.

Grinning fiendishly, Carver withdrew, finally able to muster rational thought again. He patted her cum-stained cheek. “If you want more, get it after the ceremony,” he taunted her before offering his still erect member to Marissa.

“I have need of you.”

With an almost feverish look in her eyes, Marissa claimed his rod and licked along it’s length. “Everything for you, Morgan,” she moaned. Her free hand splashed around between her thighs, churning both the water and her own pussy as she lapped at every drop of his seed Tanith hadn’t caught.

“Can you think straight? This is serious,” he growled, withdrawing.

Marissa moaned desperately. “Please ... fuck my mouth. Just for a bit?”

“You will get all the cock you want after the ceremony. Promise.”

“Really?”

Carver nodded. “If not mine, then those of Lilith and her cohorts.”

“Or mine,” Tanith promised. “Lilith isn’t the only one with that spell.” She looked at Carver. “Why the sudden change of heart?”

“I just had an epiphany,” Carver said. He exerted his Desire-given powers and conjured a bucket with cold water. Gritting his teeth, he upended the vessel over his head, rejoicing as the needle-sharp cold battered his body.

“You’re not thinking about sacrificing me, are you?” Marissa asked, with wide, pleading eyes.

Carver smiled gently and used handfuls of the bath water to mitigate the shivering. “No. I want you to plunge the dagger in Xalyth’s heart, praising the Spider Queen while doing so.” He sought Tanith’s gaze. “In your religion, every woman is a priestess, right?”

Tanith chewed on her lower lip. “That’s a very ... creative interpretation of our tenets.” A slow grin lit up her face. “But it might be exactly what we need right now.”

“We have gathered here tonight to praise our goddess, the almighty Chaos Queen!”

Tanith’s voice easily filled the whole of the subterranean chapel, located at the lowest point in the spiderlike building’s ‘abdomen.’ Fluorescent fungi growing in carefully tended ceiling beds provided just enough illumination to see by. And the vista before him caused even Carver’s innards to knot in apprehension. Two naked figures had been tied to the massive obsidian altar in the chapel’s center. Xalyth and Qanthus were wide awake but tied so skillfully that moving anything but their heads was impossible.

“You seem nervous,” Lilith observed. She wore a beautiful robe, seemingly made from brilliant green leaves festooned with golden seams and intricate stitching utterly at odds with the omnipresent spider iconography. Tanith wore a matching one, only hers was stitched with silver and orichalcon thread. Marissa, her hair tied into an impressive braid and wound around her head like a crown, looked almost plain in a gown made from translucent spider silk and adorned with metallic piping which looked like a spider hugging her from behind.

“I’m not keen on blood sacrifices,” Carver said. “They seem an unusually cruel way to appease a deity.”

“But they are so ... satisfying!” Lilith hissed into his ear. She grabbed his hand and threaded it under her robe. She was naked underneath – and noticeably excited. “There is no sweeter reward than the hot blood of someone who did you wrong gushing over your naked skin!”

Playing along, Carver curved his fingers inward, causing Lilith to grind her sex into his palm before he withdrew his hand. The plump Dark Elf shot him a disappointed look. “I have done despicable things. I raised the dead. I had my second-in-command butcher countless elves to power infernal rituals. But I don’t enjoy it.”

“Yet,” Lilith whispered, her hand invading his robe. “Give it enough time and you will. The power-”

“There is nothing powerful butchering a helpless opponent,” Carver snarled, keeping her greedy hand at bay. “My one and only goal is to unite the Old Kingdom, bring it back to its former glory and make sure justice is dispensed equally to those who deserve to be judged. Kingship is a bloody profession and many situations require ghastly decisions.”

Lilith snorted. “Fuck off with that ‘greater good’ bullshit. I know firsthand what kind of pervert you are, Carver.” She flapped her tongue at him. “I haven’t forgotten how hard you came when you made me choke on your cock.”

“Think what you will. I don’t have to justify myself to you,” he growled.

“You shouldn’t delude yourself either,” Lilith said mildly. “Once you admit it, things will become so much easier. Ah, it’s starting.”

“How do you know?”

Lilith pointed. “They are getting naked, that’s why. No one wants to spill blood over these ancient robes. I mean, they were made before The Fall.”

A small procession of slaves entered the chapel, led by the same half-orc woman who had been with Carver when he abused Lilith’s mouth. They carried a box which looked as ancient and elaborate as the robe Marissa just took off Tanith’s shoulders. The tall, slender Dark Elf had painted glowing symbols onto her skin, a mixture of hourglasses, skulls and spider shapes which, in the dim light of the chapel, turned her into a quasi-real specter. Marissa bore similar markings, although her pale skin diminished the effect somewhat.

The half-orc woman lit a large fire bowl in front of the altar. A chorus of hisses flared up as most dark elves in the room covered their eyes. Within a few moments though, the painful brightness was gone, replaced with the eerie glow of smoldering embers.

Naked, Tanith and Marissa tossed handfuls of herbs and petals into the bowl, causing a thick, undulating column of smoke to rise and pool under the ceiling. All around, the attendees began to chant, a dark, wordless hymn made from dissonant notes. There was an unsettling rhythm in the cadence, always off a beat or two, which only added to Carver’s feelings of unease. The worship of Desire was deeply personal, more a dialogue than a formal mass. Yet it was obvious that this ritual conjured a lot of power. Something ... someone was listening, just outside this reality and Carver could feel hungry anticipation ebb and flow between the off lines of the chant.

The slaves left, taking the robes and ritual paraphernalia with them, leaving only the half-orc behind. The slave carefully opened the ancient box. From within, she produced a purple cushion. On it, like slivers of utter blackness, rested two long, angular knives, their blades formed from four obsidian slices. The hand guards were fashioned in the image of a spider, each of the four hind legs terminating in one of the slivers while the front legs loosely hugged the grip.

Head bowed, the slave presented the cushion to Tanith who took one of the knives. The tall dark elf priestess bowed towards the fire bowl and kissed the weapon’s pommel.

“Is it usual that slaves handle such important relics?” Carver quietly asked. “Shouldn’t you be down there, assisting your precious sister?”

“There is such a thing as too many priestesses during a sacrifice,” Lilith admitted. “With your ... companion doing the honors, I excused myself and decided to keep you company instead.” Her hand slipped under Carver’s robe again. “Come on. Is the view really not to your liking? So much naked flesh...”

He clasped her hand and gently, but firmly, placed it on Lilith’s own thigh. “You know, you remind me of a former associate of mine. I’m sure you and he would have made a splendid team. I derive no pleasure form this barbarism.”

The half-orc presented the second dagger to Marissa. The sorceress eyed the weapon skeptically. Tanith aimed her blade at the half-orc’s bosom, mimicking a sharp stab. The blade stopped before breaking the slave’s skin and Tanith pressed a button on the weapon’s pommel. Hissing viciously, the four obsidian slivers fanned outward, revealing a short metal skewer hidden between them. Marissa repeated the motion, activating the mechanism as the blade stopped just before the slave’s chest. Somehow the slave managed not to flinch away from the deadly implements.

“You may leave,” Tanith said, waving dismissively. The half-orc retreated away from the altar, her skin pale and lips pressed into a tight line.