Chapter Seven

The people in Darreth’s solar all started to talk at the same time … a loud mixture of fear, hope and disbelief.

“Enough!” Orren shouted. “We have enough problems without us starting to squabble amongst ourselves. The way I see it, we have a two-pronged problem. The forthcoming battle with the Gorshons and Drogo, and then rescuing my sister. How we are going to accomplish this without showing our hand, I haven’t a clue. But I should tell you, my priority is to retrieve Orianne. Drogo has held her long enough.” He looked over at his elated mother. “Perhaps you could enlighten us on how Orianne is still alive after all these years.”

“It is a spell I taught the girls to use if they were ever taken. We had just found it in an arcane book of spells in the archives, and Orianne had started deciphering it. I never thought she had mastered it enough to cast the spell. To have her back after all this time … it’s a dream come true. Your father never stopped mourning her loss. We will be able to get her back, won’t we?” For a moment she was a mother asking, not a sorceress with a great gift.

“We wouldn’t be sorceresses of any worth if we couldn’t,” Syra said excitedly; her beloved aunt was alive and would be restored to them after such a long time.

“I have an idea,” Rhys said. “As a matter of fact I have two ideas.” Everyone in the room looked at him expectantly. “Jory and Micah are deep into Draken. We haven’t been linking because we didn’t want a telepath to pick up the link. If our new ally could get them to Orianne, then Una could drop the wards and they could all teleport out. We don’t have enough forces to stage battles on two fronts to defeat the Gorshon and Draken armies. We have two things in our favor; the Gorshons are unfamiliar with magic and they are a superstitious lot. If we find out what they fear most, with a good enhancer and an illusionist we could make it appear that a much larger army of their bogeyman is heading towards them.”

“That’s a rare gift. The only trained illusionist is about eighty and I don’t see him leaving his warm fire to face down the Gorshons,” Siri said. “Asha has a touch of that gift, but she never really trained it.”

“Oh, I think she trained enough on her own,” Darreth said dryly, looking at Syra, who met her grandmother’s penetrating stare with a grin.

It had Syra wondering just how much of Asha’s shenanigans Darreth was aware of. “If they are so unfamiliar with magic, we can conjure any illusion we choose.”

“Asha can ask Mikel which illusions to use against the Gorshons; the Nubrans have had more contact with them than the rest of us.” Orren added, warming to Rhys’ ideas. “What are we going to do about Drogo? It won’t be easy to get Orianne out if he has an inkling of what is about to happen.”

“Grandmother, he won’t be able to use the summoning stone, will he?”

“No. Franc says the scroll with the correct spell is still at the sanctuary and one is no good without the other.”

“Well, that excludes Drogo. We need the spell to release Orianne from the crystal,” Siri said.

“I’ll have to check to make sure, but I think it will have to be someone of her bloodline who speaks the incantation,” replied Darreth.

“I’ll go,” Orren volunteered.

“It’s not necessary; Una is of her blood and a sorceress. Sending in too many people might draw unwanted attention,” Darreth cautioned.

“We’ve never met the Gorshons in battle. What can we expect?” Syra asked Rhys, wanting to know everything about an enemy they knew next to nothing about.

“They’re big and stupid, but mean and relentless. The sheer size of them would give any soldier pause, but the trick is to do the unexpected,” Rhys informed her.

“How do you know so much about them?” Syra asked curiously.

“The last trip I took with my father was to the southern peninsula. It was just before my rite of passage and my talent had only just kicked in. I had never seen a swamp before and wanted to explore. Father forbade me from setting foot beyond the safety of the township.” Rhys smiled in remembrance of the more carefree days of his childhood. “On a dare from Micah I teleported in, met a big Gorshon who thought I’d make a fine prize. I barely made it out of the swamp. Good thing I was a slippery little bastard. I left my best shirt in his hand.”

“That’s not much help in bringing one down,” Syra shuddered with fear.

“If you kick them on the kneecap it will bring them down to eye level,” Orren tossed in, having had violent encounters with Gorshons a time or two. “Then whatever you’re going to do, do it quickly because you won’t get a second chance.” He paused and smiled a little wickedly. “Rhys, you will take the south to aid Mikel. I’ll secure Straith. Everyone else stand ready for the call to move your troops. Is there anything else anyone can think of?” Orren asked, his eyes sweeping the faces of the people in the room.

“Siri tells me that Straith is not warded. It would go a long way towards its protection if it were,” Darreth pointed out.

Orren nodded in agreement. “Agreed. Please consult with the other mentors and have the appropriate spells cast.”

“So now we wait.”

* * * *

Bane waited impatiently for the castle to settle down as it drew closer to midnight. He doubted that he’d be able to move freely through the dim corridors. The guards on patrol had been tripled on orders from Burus.

Drogo’s day had not started on a good note. He and Hodar had entered Bane’s dank, rat-infested cell to find the shackles hanging empty on the wall. He had flown into a rage; the unfortunate guard on duty had his skull slammed into the wall beside the offending chains by an infuriated Drogo. Troops were sent galloping through the countryside hunting for him. He was flattered by the size of the bounty Drogo placed on his head … twenty thousand gold pieces. Twice the amount on Rhys’ head. Drogo’s escalating wrath had the inhabitants of the castle scurrying out of his sight.

Frustrated, Drogo’s ire settled on Una, who had cast the spell to ward the castle. He was about to have her thrown into the same dungeon that had held Bane. Sorcha stopped him by pointing out that Bane had been granted the privilege of coming and going as he pleased, and that he’d probably figured out an escape route long ago. Prudently she refrained from reminding Drogo that it was he himself who had given Bane that freedom.

Slipping in and out of the shadows, he made his way slowly to Sorcha’s chambers. The door was slightly ajar. He slipped silently inside and secured it with the deadbolt.

“It took you long enough to get here,” Sorcha’s disembodied voice came out of the darkness. Light flared to life from a candelabrum, showing her sitting on a stool in the far corner of the room. Her cheek was sickly yellow, streaked with purple and green from the hard blow she had taken. The outline of the hand was still visible on her once pearly cheek.

“Who did this to you?” Bane whispered furiously, clenching his fists as a black fury threatened to consume him.

“Hodar. He thought he should have a little taste. I disagreed with him, hence the colorful face. There’s food on the table, and I’ve put some hard cheese and bread into that sack for you to take with you. Una and I think it would be best if you left the castle.”

“Not before I have Hodar’s head. Where’s Una? Let’s get Drogo’s downfall started.”

“She’s confined to her quarters under heavy guard. Drogo still thinks she had a hand in your escape.”

The defeat in her voice tore at him. “Let’s go.”

“Where? The castle is crawling with guards.”

“We’re going to Una’s chamber,” Bane said, unperturbed by her warning. Taking the candles, he stepped to the floor-to-ceiling mirror in the small alcove where she stored her clothes. He ran his fingers down the edge of the gold leaf frame to depress a concealed button, and it opened to reveal a darkened opening. “Come on, time’s a wasting,” he said before entering a narrow passageway, musty with disuse.

“One of these days we are going to have a discussion on how many rooms you have entered without the occupant knowing about it.” She followed him through a convoluted path he had no trouble unraveling.

“Are you suggesting that I have spied on you, my luscious Sorcha? Shame on you. You have enjoyed total privacy.” Stopping, he blew out the candles. Sorcha heard a snick, and a beam of light from a round hole lit up the small space they were standing in. Bane fitted his eye to the hole and looked through for what seemed like the longest time. Unhooking a latch, he pushed the wooden wall and it pivoted to let them into Una’s room. She sat tensely by the fire clutching her midriff. Relief flooded her face when she saw them.

“Here, you should need this now,” he said, handing her a small stone bottle.

Una drank a capful of the viscous liquid, relaxing as it soothed the acid churning in her stomach. “I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

“I always show up like a bad penny,” Bane answered, handing her two more bottles. “Keep those safe. The chances of getting you more before we get out of here are getting slimmer.”

Una nodded her thanks and went to a chest, where she buried the bottles beneath the false bottom. Then she dug through the contents and pulled out a bundle tied with a silken cord.

“This was your mother’s. She gave it to me two days before she was killed. It was to be yours if anything happened to her. I think she knew Fyona would try to harm her, but not that she’d be so cruel as to do away with her babe as well.”

With trembling hands, Bane took the threadbare parcel from her, untying the cord to reveal a rough-hewn wooden box. He didn’t know what he expected, but he felt curiously disappointed; as if the plainness of the box didn’t live up to the grand fantasies he had built around his long-dead mother. Inside were three small bags and four scrolls. Emptying the first bag into his palm, green fire from uncut stones filled his damp hand. The two other bags held moonstones and amber.

Picking up one of the scrolls, he saw it was a letter to the unborn child she sensed she wouldn’t get to know. Telling him of her love for Drax, whom she had defied her family to be with, and how much she wanted her child to be conceived in great love.

On the second scroll she wrote her bloodlines, to give him a family if she wasn’t there to take care of him. Spreading the fading parchment out on the table, he quickly memorized the names on the family tree. His mother was the first cousin of Sybella Sorren, mother of Rhys and his brothers. The two other scrolls were her will, leaving him a manor house in Sorren province, and her bond lines with Drax.

He was not the son of a concubine, but the issue of a legitimized bond. Well if that wasn’t a kick up the ladder, he didn’t know what was. He was the legitimate heir, Drogo had no claim.

“I didn’t know; your life could have been so different,” Una whispered. “Your mother was a beautiful young woman, she showed me a great deal of kindness during her brief time in Draken.

“I’m sorry she died so young, but the hardships I’ve endured have made me a survivor,” Bane said, his thirst for revenge fed by the loss of the girl taken from him before her time. “It’s almost midnight. Let’s set our plans into motion. I intend to deprive Drogo of his most precious possession.”

Sorcha recited the incantation over her scrying bowl, and the water cleared to show a ring of anxious faces.

“The players of the game are all here,” Bane recognized them.

“Before we go any further, I want some information from you.” Rhys said, not wasting any time on niceties. “Someone has been feeding you with our movements. I want to know who it is.”

“What will I get in return?”

“Bane, now is not the time,” Sorcha admonished, jabbing him hard in the ribs.

“Sorry, habit.” Unrepentant, he rubbed his aching side.

“You’re Bane?” The suspicion in Orren’s voice spoke volumes, as he recognized the name.

“Yes,” he replied, and gave them the one thing he knew would allay their concern over his trustworthiness. “As Drogo’s spymaster I know Lord Barrone thinks that the upstart Sorrens are getting above themselves. I also know about any shipment of goods you move along the border.” He flashed Orren a challenging grin, “This year’s vintage of your summer wine was particularly good.”

“You lie,” Orren defended his lifelong friend.

“How would I know that a rich vein of moonstones was found in Straith; that they were polished and ready for shipment? I also now know that your daughter and Sorren have a true bond, and not just a pairing, so you can assume they have a leak close to them too.”

“Why didn’t you stop Drogo from attacking Straith? If he knew I had bonded with an enhancer he wouldn’t have gone through with it.” Orren asked, trying to get some feel for the man they were dealing with.

“It didn’t suit my purposes. His troop losses were heavy at Straith, which was what I wanted.”

“So what does suit you?”

“You have my demands. I want the women out and help in deposing Drogo.”

“We can’t just unseat a reigning king, the law won’t allow it,” Orren protested.

“What if I provide you with proof that he’s not the first-born child of Drax Belandrake, and there is a legitimate heir?”

“That would negate his claim if the proof could be authenticated,” Darreth replied.

“I’ll get the proof to you. Drogo has decided to ride on Straith himself. It will take five days hard riding with so many men. I’d prefer to take the girl when he’s far enough away from Draken that he can’t return quickly. How do you intend to get her back to Syrren?”

“Two of my brothers are two leagues away from castle Draken. If you could get them into the castle they’d teleport you out. How do they contact you?” Rhys asked.

“On the outskirts of the settlement there’s a pub called the Pig’s Trough. The barkeep’s name is Peg; he’ll lead them to me. And just so you know, I am now more popular than you, Sorren. The bounty on my head is twice the one on yours, so they’ll have to be extra careful.”

“The Sorrens have had caution hammered into them,” Rhys answered, his black eyes warning Bane that he held him responsible for his brothers’ safety.

“As soon as Drogo rides out we’ll send word. Sorcha will make contact at midnight every night to let you know if there are any changes. If she doesn’t, try to contact Una.”

“That won’t be necessary once you are with my brothers, they can link with me at will.”

“Perfect. I’ll contact you through them as soon as we meet,” Bane said, bringing the meeting to a close.

*

The silence in Darreth’s solar was deafening as the assembled group stared at Orren’s pale face, watching him to come to terms with his closest friend’s betrayal.

“How do we find out if his boys are involved in this, especially Eric, his heir?” Orren spoke to the room at large, his voice gruff with emotion.

“It’s not our way, but considering the circumstances I’ll sanction it, I can do a subtle probe into his mind if you want me to,” Darreth offered,

“I don’t want you to, but it’s a necessary evil. To suddenly leave him out of our plans could tip our hand, so do what you must. I want to know how long it’s been going on, what he’s passed on to Drogo and anyone else involved.”

“Our little surprise for the Gorshons will be ineffective if Eric has an inkling of what our plans are. He’ll surely tell his father,” Rhys said.

“Maybe not. He and the twins have suddenly found the sanctuary interesting. They offered to deliver some things to Franc for me,” Darreth informed them. A hall full of beautiful girls was a temptation those randy boys would find hard to resist.

“Find a way to keep them there until we’ve found out to what extent Erno has undermined our plans,” Orren instructed. “If Eric is not caught up in this mess, we’ll tell him of his father’s duplicity. But for his sake, I’d ask you to keep this to ourselves.”

The other people in the room assented, leaving him and Siri in the room where they had welcomed the man they had once called friend.

*

Withdrawing from the bowl, Sorcha sagged. “It’s coming together, isn’t it?” Hope shone from her eyes.

“Yes, gather the things you hold dear and place them where you can be packed quickly,” Bane instructed the women. “I’ll be in touch as soon as I have the Sorrens. Sorcha, you need to get back to your chambers, and I need to make my way to the Pig’s Trough.” He went to the opening in the wall and paused.

“If either of you feel threatened in any way, get into the passage stay hidden there, I’ll find you. Put some supplies inside the entrance … food, blankets, and a torch.” He showed Una how to unlatch the door, then hustled Sorcha through.

Leaving Una, they returned to Sorcha’s room. Bane threw the food into the sack with the box which held his future, then turned to her with a lusty grin on his face. “Are you going to give me a soldier’s farewell, since am going off to battle, such as it is?”

She shook her head at his mercurial moods. She would soon be free of Drogo, and she was going to do something he would never permit as her first act of freedom. Sorcha unhooked the clasp holding up her gown and it fell in a puddle of gauze at her feet.

She stood proudly before him, palming her breasts, offering them to him. He took a step towards her but she stepped back, placing her leg on a stool, the lips of her pussy parted. The creamy pink core peeked at him through the silky black mat. Pinching her nipples, she pulled them out into hard cherry-red nuggets. Smoothing a hand down her body she widened her labia to fully expose the object of his lust. Scooping up a dollop of her creamy dew she ran a wet trail up the middle of her torso to stop at the base of her throat, where her pulse beat in cadence with his labored breathing.

“If you’re done killing me, I’ll just lie down now and give up the ghost, because the agony coming from my cock and balls is enough to do me in.”

“Do you want to die before you see this?” she taunted, falling back on her bed to spread her legs as wide as she could, giving him a full view of the treasure nestled between her thighs. Pulling apart her plump lips, she showed him her clit then extracted a phallus of jade from beneath a pillow. Sorcha ran it down the flattened length of her extended tongue, from the exaggeratedly large head to the fat twin stones at the base, leaving a coat of moisture on its surface. Fixing the head to the elastic mouth of her pussy, she pushed it in an inch.

“Don’t you wish you were there, right there?” she purred in a throaty voice, resting her feet flat on the satin covering her bed. She dropped her knees further apart, holding the hard object inside her with only feminine muscles. Cupping her breasts, she flicked one of her nipples with the pointed tip of her tongue.

She watched him as he stood at the end of her bed transfixed. “Are you going to stand there all night gawking?” Her question broke the trance that held him, and Bane moved purposely to the bed to keel between her thighs. He ripped the fake cock from her, and the suctioning sound it made as it left the hot cauldron of her had him shuddering in response. He replaced the fake phallus with the dome crowning his straining shaft, working it in and out for several strokes, forcibly making space for what was to follow the head.

Her green eyes mocked from behind lowered lids. “Are you going to play all night, big boy, or are we going to fuck?”

“How do you want it? Slow and easy, or hard and rough?” he panted through gritted teeth.

“Since you’re the one going off to war, the choice is yours,” she locked her ankles around his waist, he sank into her impatient pussy.

He fell into the tight folds of her inner core until the hair on their groins meshed. Groaning his gratification, he paused lodged in her, indulging himself for a long moment. Grasping the cheeks of her curvy ass, he speared her repeatedly, setting the rhythm that would eventually bring them to the point of delirium. Sorcha’s personal brand of liquor began to flow copiously, easing his way deeper and deeper into her. The precariousness of their lives filled their loving with urgency. They threw themselves wholeheartedly into their coupling, holding nothing back. The sound of slapping flesh, whimpers and murmurs echoed their determination to live a lifetime in the short time they had together.

Moving in harmony, Bane and Sorcha locked in amorous battle. With the continuous resheathing and withdrawing of his erection, he had Sorcha pleading for more of the pleasure-pain he shared with her.

“Bane … more please … deeper. Yes, right there.” She ground her clit against his groin, distracting herself with a secondary pleasure. Dropping her hips onto the bed he lowered himself onto her, and the weight of him only added to her pleasure. Her man was in, on and all over her. His intense involvement in their lovemaking was an aphrodisiac to her, spurring her to greater wantonness. She offered up a tingling nipple up for his enjoyment.

“Use your teeth,” Sorcha ordered. He latched onto her, and the pinpoints of pain radiating from her aureole heightened her arousal. Snaking her hand between their chests, she held his flat male nipple between two of her sharpened nails like a pincer. Bane convulsed with ecstasy and grew larger within her, as she knew he would.

“You like a small pain mixed in with pleasure; if we had time I’d show you how to mix the perfect brew,” she whispered in his ear, and her sweet breath had the hair on his neck standing on end. At fever pitch he pumped, his hips losing the rhythm that had kept them a step away from completion, and as they hurtled towards a senseless rapture it didn’t matter anymore.

“Give it to me now, Bane, give me your all,” she demanded fiercely as rapture came over her. His seed streamed up from his tightened balls to the slit atop the head of his cock, and it erupted into her.

Falling on top of her, he inhaled the sweaty aroma of her. He could have lain there content for the rest of his days.

“If we survive your mad plan we must do this again, but you’ve stayed longer than you should have as it is,” Sorcha pushed him off her, stood and walked to her bathing area.

“Drogo is ensconced in his hidden room, so the night is ours.”

“The night? Take a look through the window, my foolhardy lover,” she raised a black brow at his unusual inattentiveness.

He saw fading of the night giving way to the dawn. “Letting my guard down like that could get me drawn and quartered, but you’d be worth it.”

A rare smile touched Sorcha’s lips.

“I don’t remember ever seeing you smile,” Bane commented, captured by the beauty of her smile.

“I haven’t had much to smile about until now.” Drawing heated water, she handed him freshly milled soap and a soft towel to clean up. Watching him wash, she saw for the first time faded scars on his back; they stood out in pale stripes crisscrossing the length of his frame. She wanted to ask about them, but over time she had trained herself to not become involved in other people’s lives. It was less painful when they inevitably fell afoul of Drogo. Stepping into the wide shallow basin which served as her bathtub, she quickly washed away their combined emissions. Wiping away a trickle of pearly cum from the soft skin of her inner thigh, she felt the heat of Bane’s eyes on her.

“I know what’s running through that fevered brain of yours but you just put it aside; the rut you’re in is making you careless,” she said coldly, stopping him in his tracks.

“The afterglow didn’t last very long, did it?” Irritation at her sudden mood change made his relaxed state of mind evaporate.

“That’s for lovesick fools and dreamers; don’t mistake this for anything else.” She dressed quickly as if her clothing would protect her from his probing eyes. “You need to leave.”

“I’ll go for now, but this discussion is not over.” Gathering his few belongings, he shortly instructed her on how to open the mirror, his face hard with temper. He quickly disappeared down the passage without backward glance. She clamped down on her lower lip to still the trembling as she watched him go.