Chapter 9: Adrift

“You really need to work on your landing, Lishaka.” Chassari sat up and looked around. “And your aim.” They were in a narrow alley, the walls made from a rough stone. The air was heavy with the smell of salt and it was pleasantly warm, a stark contrast to the frosty elven woods they had left behind. From the mouth of the alley, Chassari could hear voices, talking animatedly.

“Ow, ow, ow,” Lishaka muttered, rolling onto her back. Her face was blood-streaked and her skin an unhealthy shade of pale green. “Everything hurts.”

“I wish I had a healing potion left,” Chassari said, gently helping the goblin into a sitting position. “Where are we?”

Lishaka looked around, furrowing her brow. “I was aiming for the ‘Dryad’ and hoping for the Tower. Thurguz needs to know that Rhys and Borna are still at the camp. Ow.” She clutched her head. “That last teleport was the one that broke the goblin. Ow.”

“I’m proud of you,” Chassari whispered, planting a kiss onto Lishaka’s forehead. “I have a feeling I’ve seen thisss place before.” She maneuvered Lishaka against a wall. “I’ll be right back.”

“Oh, I’m going nowhere, even if I wanted to,” Lishaka moaned. “This is worse than even what my own tribe did to me.” She looked Chassari up and down. “You don’t look too good yourself.”

“I know. Nothing a few days of ressst won’t cure, though.” She carefully made her way to the end of the alley – and recognition hit her like a warhammer out of the blue. The streets were wide and paved with large, square stone plates. The houses on either side were built in a curious mix of styles – some were built from tightly-fitted stone blocks, with slits for windows and a single doorway, while others were made from wood and oiled paper, with pagoda roofs and colorful lanterns hanging from beams. Humans, serpent-kind and half-dragons mixed in the street, garbed in colorful, richly embroidered robes or exotic, layered armor.

“Oh my,” Chassari whispered, bracing against the corner of the closest house. She looked around. Ah, there it is. A huge hill rose from the midst of the surrounding buildings, an artificial landmark crested by a large fortification. Even during the day, hundreds of lamps and lanterns were lit, bathing the building in a celestial glow. Gingerly shaking her head, Chassari returned to Lishaka’s side.

“You know where we are?” the goblin asked.

“I don’t know how you did it but we’re home. My home, that is.”

Lishaka’s eyes went wide. “The Luminous City?”

“Yesss.”

“Oh shit. I don’t think I can teleport us back to the tower right now.” The goblin raised a hand, fingers shaking. A single, tiny flame appeared in her palm. “Ouch!”

“Don’t ssstrain yourself any more. You need to ressst.”

“But Rhys-!”

Chassari bent low and picked up the feebly struggling goblin. Her body hurt in numerous places but she knew she needed to be strong, at least a little longer. “He’sss a clever boy. No way he’ll do anything ssstupid. Once we’re a bit less battered and bruised, I’ll sssend a messsage to Thurguz. There’sss a silver lining in all of this.”

“Huh? Which one?”

“Thisss isss my home. I have friendsss. Contactsss. Things would be much more difficult if you had ‘ported usss to, sssay, El-Abessin.” Chassari dragged her hurting body back to the mouth of the alley and onto the street. A moment later, there were quick steps coming closer. A wiry man, his skin a peculiar shade of bronze and with a long braid coming down his muscular back, stopped his hand-drawn carriage right next to her. The two-wheeled vehicle was basically a wide bench with a fabric roof bolted to one axle.

“Do you need transportation, revered one?” he asked.

Chassari smiled. It had been too long since she had heard the language of the Radiant Empire, that particular tongue filled with stilted constructs and – above all else – adoration for everything draconic or serpentine.

“Yes. If you would be so kind as to convey us to the Road of Gleaming Fangs. The large house with twin dragons on the gate.” Chassari gently placed Lishaka onto the bench in the carriage before sliding onto the seat next to her.

“As you wish, revered one,” the man said. He grasped the beams protruding from the front of the carriage and jogged off, almost effortlessly dragging the vehicle behind himself.

“You let a stranger haul you through the city?” Lishaka asked, fingering the hilt of her dagger.

Chassari grinned. “Rickshaws are a form of public transssport in the Luminousss City. Those who can’t afford their own palanquins or carriages use them often.” She giggled. “It’sss horribly improper for sssomeone with my ssstatus to use one but I’ve long ago learned that practicality trumps etiquette every time. And you need healing badly.”

“Where are we going?”

“Jussst wait.” Chassari curled her arm around Lishaka’s shoulder. “You’ll be amazed.” With her free hand, she plucked a small flask from her belt and handed it to the goblin. “Drink this.”

“Are you trying to fill me with booze?” Lishaka took the bottle and inspected it critically. “Not that I would mind that but shouldn’t we wait-”

Chassari placed a hand on Lishaka’s arm. “It’sss a useful concoction for a diplomat to have. You will underssstand everything ssspoken around you.”

“Oh.” Lishaka tossed back the flask’s content. “Now what?”

Chassari switched to her native tongue. “And when we’re at our dessstination, you shall receive all the care you need. Drinksss included.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

The rickshaw stopped in front of a massive black iron gate inlaid with golden, serpentine dragons. Two guards, wearing red armor and demonic-looking masks, hefted their long polearms menacingly. Chassari slipped from the bench and approached them. The men immediately saluted, their open palms crashing onto their lacquered breast plates.

“Mistress!” one of the guards exclaimed, his body folding double in a deep bow. “We didn’t receive word of your return. Where is your escort?”

Lishaka grinned. The potion worked flawlessly. I need to learn a spell for that, she thought, watching while Chassari dealt with the guards.

“At ease, Takumo. It’sss an ... unplanned visit in between assignmentsss. Kindly pay the good man and let Akane-san know that I have returned. On your way back, make a detour to the apothecary and fetch a ssstrong healing draught. My friend isss badly hurt.”

“At once, Mistress!” Another deep bow then the guard called Takumo hammered against the gate which groaned inward on giant hinges. Lishaka couldn’t believe her eyes. Beyond the doors was a space large enough to house Rhys’ entire village, with room to spare. She saw beautiful trees with colorful blossoms and several buildings, some as large as the inn, others more the size of shacks. But nothing here looked ramshackle or dilapidated.

Chassari returned to the rickshaw while the guard paid the driver with strange coin; round discs like Lishaka knew but they had square holes in the middle. They were cast from an alloy the goblin had never seen before, something green and shiny. Chassari gently plucked her off the bench and carried her beyond the gates which creaked shut behind her. They locked with a dull thud carrying an air of finality.

“Don’t tell me this is your home,” Lishaka said quietly. “It looks like a whole damn village – inside a town?”

Chassari hissed quietly. “My family hasss alwaysss been close to the court. My grandfather did something incredibly heroic or ssstupid, sssaving the current emperor’s father on the battlefield. In thanksss, we have been granted thisss manor and a title.”

Several people came running. Two of them were humans, carrying a chair with handles on its feet. Two more were serpent-kind like Chassari, only their scales were of a brilliant orange with a green and blue pattern along their head. They looked similar enough to be twins. Both had slender, curved blades tucked into the wide sashes around their waists.

The final being gave Lishaka pause. The body was that of a tall humanoid female. She wore a richly embroidered blue robe with lightning patterns which couldn’t hide her ample curves and long limbs. Any similarity with anything Lishaka had ever seen ended there because she had a pair of silvery wings sprouting from her shoulders, the thumb claws of which sat a good two feet over her head. Behind her a sinuous tail, which could give Borna a run for her money, hissed through the raked gravel. Most fascinating though was what grew between her shoulders - a long, slender neck atop which sat a dragon head, complete with a quartet of back-swept horns, a frill on either side of the head and a slender, triangular snout. Despite the reptilian appearance, a long, finely groomed mane of silver hair cascaded down from the crown of her skull. Crystal-blue eyes narrowed as Chassari drew nearer. Lishaka couldn’t tell if that was alarm or disapproval.

The humans carrying the chair reached them first. They carefully sat down the thing and eyed Chassari respectfully. The purple serpent-woman gently lowered Lishaka into the chair. “I won’t be long,” she whispered then turned to face the other arrivals. The orange serpentkind twins rushed and hugged her emphatically. “Mother!” they called, their voices too rough and low to be female. They bombarded Chassari with an onslaught of words. Chassari nodded and hugged each one in turn, whispering things. She seemed incredibly proud.

Lishaka closed her mouth. I ... didn’t know, she thought. Her head spun; if from all the new impressions, the sudden revelation of Chassari being a mother or pure fatigue, she didn’t know but it wasn’t a nice feeling. She clamped her hands around the chair’s armrests. The world seemed a little more real and her spinning head calmed down, at least for the moment.

Chassari kissed each of the orange twins on their cheeks and sent them scampering with loud slaps to their bottoms before dashing into the arms of the tall, silver-scaled dragon woman.

“Akane-san!” Chassari said, burying her face between the breasts of the taller woman. It was obvious that this Akane wasn’t too fond of that kind of treatment but she didn’t push Chassari away either. “It’s good to see you again,” Chassari added, holding the dragon-woman at arm’s length. “How long has it been?”

“Long enough that you seem to have lost all memory of how things are around here,” Akane replied stiffly. “Look at you – I have seen ronin in better dress and shape than you. And you bring a greenskin into your home? What would the ancestors think?”

Chassari bowed deeply. “Forgive my rashness, Akane-san. Thisss is Lishaka, a trusted friend of mine and valued battle companion. And asss to what the ancessstorsss would say ... Probably sssomething along the linesss of ‘We admire your ability to sssee past old, encrusssted habits and recognize the true strength of friendship.’ She needs help. At least a bath, a bed and sssome food. Other thingsss maybe too.” Chassari’s naughty grin was in full effect. “And finally, regarding my condition. Akane-san, how would you look if you had battled a force twenty times your ssstrength?”

The silver half-dragon took a step back and covered her mouth with a long-fingered, clawed hand. “Battle? I don’t understand. You were supposed to cultivate diplomatic relationships with that kawaruhito wizard over there. If the emperor hears about what that greenskin made you do... !”

Chassari sighed in exasperation. “Akane-san. You have been the soul of this house since Grandfather left us. You should know by now that no one can make me do anything against my will.”

The armored guard had returned, carrying a wooden case with elaborate inlays, mainly exotic petals Lishaka hadn’t seen before. Chassari claimed it and flipped open the lid, revealing a well-stocked kit with healing supplies. She handed Lishaka a sturdy metal flask. “Drink up, Lisha,” Chassari said. “Thisss will help.” She claimed a similar bottle and downed it in one go.

“Well, bottoms up.” Lishaka downed the contents of the bottle. It tasted even worse than the healing draughts back home but the effect was immediate. Her limbs felt less leaden and the constant, throbbing headache she had since awakening face-down in the alley receded to tolerable levels. Her nose righted itself with the disgusting noise of reshaping bones.

“But- ... but why?” Akane asked, her delicate features somewhere between incomprehension and anger.

“I have been asked by a friend if I wasss willing to help him fight evil.” Chassari simply said. “Now, I can tell you the whole ssstory once we’ve had a bit of rest. I take it my quartersss are ssstill spotlesss?”

Akane bowed stiffly. “I have them cleaned every day.”

“Sssplendid.”

“I should get a palanquin for you as well, Cha-chan,” Akane said, her tone much milder than before.

Chassari snorted, walking straight-backed besides the palanquin. “I’d rather die than be carried in my own house,” she said. A moment later, she slapped her hand over the arm of the carrier in front. “Not to the guesst house. My quartersss.”

Akane sighed. They walked towards and around the biggest building until they reached the back. Underneath large trees, shaded by thousands of fragile pink blossoms was a large pond. In the midst of it, connected to the surrounding garden by a slender wood bridge, was an island with another small building on it. Some kind of shrine? Lishaka wondered.

They stopped on a low terrace behind the house. The carriers gently lowered the palanquin in front of what looked like large sliding doors made out of wood and paper. Akane pushed them open, revealing a large, square room with few pieces of furniture. The floor was made from polished wooden boards, with some kind of reed mat on it. Low drawers were pushed against the walls, some with interesting sculptures on them, heavily featuring serpents or serpent-kind in convoluted tangles.

Most prominent was a large wardrobe made of the same black iron as the gates, inlaid with the twin dragons as well. Lishaka had seen a similar one in Chassari’s room back at the tower, filled to the brim with many exotic weapons and pieces of kit. Even groggy as she was, her fingers itched. She would dearly love to poke her head in and find out what all the things were. Chassari helped her out of the chair and guided her into the room, motioning her to sit on one of the mats. From another room, Akane brought two bundles which she unfurled into some kind of bedrolls, with sausage-like pillows and stitched covers. Then she opened another set of sliding doors, revealing a chamber made primarily from stone. A wide ramp curved into a low basin, with what looked like seats hewn from the floor. Akane knelt down and opened a metal spigot. Steaming hot water poured into the basin.

Chassari nudged Lishaka. “When I saw the water fountains at the tower, I wrote Akane about it. Looksss like she improved the design.”

“There’s an elemental stone in the system? Ingenious,” Lishaka said. “And what about cool water?”

“A second spigot, of course,” Akane said, screwing the hot water inlet shut and opening another. “I’ll get the servants.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Chassari said. “Jussst get Alheri and Thorn. And don’t forget the food, please.”

“As you wish.” Akane bowed stiffly. Lishaka noticed that she didn’t bow nearly as deeply as the gate guard had. With the sound of scales on wood, the half-dragon swept from the room.

Chassari rose and unceremoniously tore off her clothing. She dropped the empty quiver and bow, followed by her weapon and tool belts. The bodysuit, tattered from all the fighting, came away with a disgusting, sucking sound. Underneath the matte black material, Chassari’s once lustrous scales were battered and bruised, patches of them missing completely, revealing raw, white flesh underneath.

“Don’t ssstare,” Chassari whispered. “You saw how furious the fighting wasss.”

“But ... still! I can’t believe you’re even standing!”

“I’ve had worse,” Chassari said. “The good thing about these ssscales isss they act like a coat of armor. Without them, sssome of the hitsss I took would have been much more severe.” She knelt down next to Lishaka and helped the trembling goblin to her feet. “We’ll feel much better after a bath and some food.”

“Who are Alheri and Thorn?” Lishaka asked, struggling out of her robe. She hadn’t taken nearly as many hits as Chassari during the battle but she made up for it by having fallen into the mud much too often. Her once beautiful red-and-yellow robe was stained black with the soil from the camp. Naked, both women made their way to the bath. Lishaka probed the water with a toe. It was hot but not unpleasantly so. She slid down the ramp and claimed a seat. The water went right up to her chin. Chassari slid off the edge and sat down next to her, the water caressing the lower curve of her breasts.

Suddenly, there was a loud purring sound. Lishaka looked up. In the doorway connecting the bath with the chamber beyond were two people, both wearing short, sleeveless robes just going to their knees. One was a female, her skin a brilliant snow-white. No, wait. That’s ... fur? A pair of pointy cat ears sat on a roughly triangular skull, the features a bewitching mix of human and cat. A single gold ring pierced one ear and a golden collar went around her slender neck. A long, graceful tail curled around her ankle.

The other one was a male dark elf, his skull shaved save for a broad patch along the top and a long braid going past his butt. He wore a gold collar similar to the catgirl. In a graceful move, both shrugged out of their robes. They were naked underneath. The dark elf’s cock slowly rose as his eyes wandered over Chassari’s body. He was finely chiseled, with barely an ounce of unnecessary fat while the white catgirl was all purrs and smooth curves.

“Oh my,” Lishaka sighed.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want,” Chassari said, beckoning them closer, “but after the battle we had, I demand a bit of extra attention.”

Alheri claimed a tray full of jars and bottles from a side board and gracefully slid into the water while the dark elf took the long way around, allowing Lishaka a good view of his muscular back and rock-hard butt. A golden serpent was tattooed on his back, some kind of hooded snake with a surprisingly feminine face. The tip of the snake’s tail disappeared between his butt cheeks.

Lishaka giggled helplessly. “Chassari, I can barely move. But damn...” She licked her lips.

“Then allow me to at least cleanse you,” Thorn murmured into her ear. His lips nibbled at the sensitive tip, just beside one of her many flint shards. Goosebumps erupted all over her body. Lishaka closed her eyes. I hope you don’t mind, Rhyssie. She froze. That was ... a weird thought. Normally, goblins cared only for themselves. It was a necessary trait, part of their survival strategy. Everything for me. But her time at the tower, both with Chassari teaching her the ways of courtship and sex, and especially with Rhys and his talk of friendship and emotions ... that must have changed her way of thinking. She was actually pondering if fooling around with Thorn would hurt Rhys. He probably won’t mind, Lishaka thought. Chassari hadn’t been shy when she played with her, telling Lishaka how she had fucked Rhys’ ass in glorious detail. And the way Elara smelled when Rhys was around was kind of obvious too. Nah, he won’t mind. I’ll tell him all about it and we’ll fuck like rabbits afterwards.

Grinning, she opened her eyes. The dark elf still knelt next to her in the basin, patiently waiting for her approval, a wet sponge in his hand. Next to her, Chassari writhed on the edge of the basin, Alheri’s head between her thighs. The catgirl slurped enthusiastically at Chassari’s sex and pumped two fingers into the purple serpentkind’s butt.

“You may proceed,” Lishaka said, giggling. “Wash me real good, please. And be gentle about it.”

“By your command, Mistress.” He began by gently wiping away the blood spatters from her face before tending to her aching body. His hands were very soft and nimble as he swabbed at her shoulders and breasts, each stroke with his sponge or wash cloth seemingly taking an ache away. Eventually, he leaned in, cheekily licking one of her stiff nipples. Their eyes met. One of his snowy eyebrows arched in a silent question. Next to her, Chassari and Alheri had both left the basin, the purple serpent-woman writhing on top of the very wet catgirl, her head buried between Alheri’s strong thighs.

Lishaka snatched Thorn’s hand and guided it between her own thighs. “Be gentle,” she warned. His fingers were just that, gingerly exploring her folds and driving her up the walls in the process. Lishaka fished for his cock and found it impressively long and hard. Grinning, she played with it, stroking the black dong, teasing it with her talons. To her surprise, his reaction was swift and immediate, plastering thick ropes of his cream all over her chest and chin while his fingers played with her throbbing clit.

“My, that was quick,” Lishaka remarked, licking his tip with her pointed tongue. He tasted different than Rhys, sweeter somehow. She promised herself another helping when her eyes weren’t threatening to shut by themselves.

“My apologies,” Thorn said. “It’s been too long since someone grabbed a hold like that.”

“What, no fun with the kitty over there?”

“No fun involving sharp claws,” he said, leaning in and closing her mouth with a hungry kiss. He closed Lishaka’s fist around his cock again so that her nails dug into the skin. Two of his fingers invaded her, quickly but gently fucking her wet tunnel. A third caressed her anus, begging for entry. The alien sensation – apart from Chassari’s tongue, nothing but her own poop had ever been there – brought Lishaka to a very abrupt release. She clamped her thighs around his hand, her fingers leaving very deep marks on his meat. To her surprise, he came again, even fiercer than before. Lishaka didn’t even squeal.

“Thank you. So much,” Thorn gasped, gently fucking her hand. “Just say the word and I’ll make you the happiest goblin on this side of the Sword Divide.”

“You can bet your tasty ass on that,” Lishaka said. A sudden yawn hit her. The hot water, the thick, fruity fragrance of all the soapy ointments and her sudden climax rapidly caught up with her. “I ... I think I should leave the bath,” the goblin muttered, trying to keep her eyes open. Thorn’s strong arms were there, wrapping her trembling body into a fluffy towel. And suddenly, there was just darkness.

Carver paced along his war table, critically inspecting the numerous banners and chess pieces placed upon a large map of the Western Continent. The forces of the Old Kingdoms, represented by blue and white pennants, had been pulled back, mainly defending the four major cities. A large crescent of his red pennants surrounded the cities save for a large wedge in the northwest, between Eronwood and Stoneridge. Carver had most of his troops pulled from that region and sent them into the elven woods. He had more than enough farming villages under his control to completely dictate the prices for grain and livestock in the Four Cities, plus his hold on the southern coast, including Horvath Point and the other, smaller ports meant that any deliveries would end up in his storage silos anyway. By leaving a quarter of the farming villages seemingly unoccupied, he hoped to coax the Four Cities into dissent while they tried to divide the seemingly cheaper food amongst themselves. He knew already that some radicals in Lordehome’s Trader’s Guild were openly discussing marching armed troops to claim those villages instead of trying to liberate those Carver had under his thumb.

They can throw torches at each other for all I care. Once I have all four Dragon Stones – or even one of them – there will be nothing stopping me from claiming Orran’s throne for myself, Carver thought.

The Dragon Stones. Mystical elven relics used in their war against their oppressors, the legendary dragons of old. Each one was supposed to grant dominion over dragons, allowing the wielder to call upon and dominate dragons within reach. Also, each one was capable of stealing a particular draconic power and transfering it to the wielder. A shame we only know about the Stone of Flight. The Stone of Armor or Breath Attacks would be so much more useful but I’ll take what I can get.

Carver watched the pennants stationed in the elven woods through half-closed eyes. He had sent in excess of two thousand men into these woods to find information about the relics but so far only one lead had shown up. He dearly hoped Faedal’s sudden appearance there would not cause his blossoming dealings with House Dree’vex to spontaneously turn sour. Recently, his second-in-command had become restless.

One would think raping and eviscerating dozens of elves in preparation for the rituals would have sated his urges, Carver thought.

“Kierkov,” he said aloud.

The old herald, who had been quietly reading a book nearby, raised his head. “Sire?”

“I want you to prepare a letter.”

“To which effect, sire?”

“I think it is time we let Councilor Eramine know that the Trader’s Guild of Lordehome is planning to march through Eronwood’s sovereign territory to lay claim to their estates in the northwest. Send him and his wife my best regards and include a generous gift for his son. He should be close to finishing his knightly training. Maybe an enchanted blade.”

“I will see to it.”

“Also, let Duchess Silverhorn in Stoneridge know that Erronwood will move at least two companies of knights towards their borders for some unknown but less than honorable reason.”

“Do you want me to include a gift as well?”

A thin smile tugged at Carver’s lips. “Yes. Have Marissa craft a golden phallus for her. The poor Duchess will need all the diversions she can get in the near future. Don’t forget the red bow.”

“As you wish.”

A sharp rap at the door interrupted Carver’s thoughts.

“Enter!” he commanded.

A breathless guard sank to one knee and touched his insignia. “Mylord, excuse the interruption but there is a dark elven delegation demanding to see you.”

“Demanding?” Kierkov said. “No one demands-”

Carver silenced the herald with a gentle gesture. “How much of a delegation?” he asked.

“A big one, sire. Two horrid spider things in front, one with a screaming witch on its back. And she had at least a hundred warriors with her. Some big lads too.”

“We didn’t receive word of their coming?” Carver asked his herald.

Kierkov shook his head emphatically. “I may be a bit slow these days, sire, but I would never forget to mention such a war host heading our way.”

Carver sighed. “Well then. What banners were they flying?” he asked his soldier.

“Uh, banners? There was a lot of green. I don’t remember any special insignia. Dark elf stuff, spiderwebs and such, everywhere.”

An icy shiver of dread pearled down Carver’s back. “See to it their leaders are brought into the reception hall without delay.”

“What about their retinue?”

“East wing of the barracks. I’ll see to it they will be properly entertained and cared for. Tell Theus to put his men on high alert. I don’t want any nasty surprises.”

“Yes, at once.” The guard dashed from the room not even bothering to shut the door.

Carver moved to a mirror on the wall and waved his hand in a certain motion. His reflection vanished, replaced by the view of a crowded wizard’s laboratory. Opposite him, an alchemical workbench bubbled and rattled, multi-colored liquids moved through a dizzying array of tubes, bent glass contraptions and bulbs. Despite the noises, he could hear others, frantic kisses and the sound of flesh on flesh.

“Marissa,” he said. “I have need of you.”

The sounds of heated sex abated. A moment later, a hauntingly beautiful woman appeared in the mirror, her black curls a tangled mess. Her chin gleamed wetly and she didn’t bother to cover her heaving breasts. A golden amulet dangled between them, a book chased from a piece of solid gold inlaid with silvery runes.

“That would be a first,” the naked woman said, smirking. “I was just breaking in my newest apprentices.” Her hand wandered downwards, out of the mirror’s view.

“I am deeply sorry to deny you a few moments of carnal pleasure,” Carver said, unperturbed. “I need you to relay messages for me. There is a dark elven delegation at our doorstep. Have the kitchen send refreshments to the reception hall and make sure a few wenches and ample drink are available in the barracks.”