Intrepid Pawns Ch. 05

They squeaked unhappily. Faintly, Menta could hear them pleading for release, but the catgirl had no intention of obliging. Not when she was having so much fun! Instead, she concentrated her energies in the World Base.

The remaining green dust rose up in a miniature twister.

"Oh, the fun we're gonna have," Menta sang.

The blonde catgirl was perched up on a branch high above the forest floor. It had been hard to catch these few—the moth fairies knew better than to listen to her hypnotic voice. But sometimes a hunt called for brute force magic. They were Low Fey, like her, and vulnerable to a druidess's charms. What she wanted, she got.

She beamed at the fairies as they collapsed in a pile. They were beginning to moan now. Their eyes were heavy-lidded, and they licked their suddenly plusher green lips in hunger as they began to wriggle and writhe against one another.

"Always nice to have a little show," she whispered, "before the dessert."

Oh, she was looking forward to enjoying these three after the chase they'd given her.

At that moment, though, a strange smell reached her little button nose. A complex smell. The druidess froze. She cocked her head, raised her nose up, and sniffed.

Her catlike ears perked up, and her eyes widened. She let out a little purr of delight as she caught the smell of fresh honey. The purr grew more intensely pleasurable as she noticed, beneath the smell, a scent almost as intoxicating and far more unusual: Human musk. Human arousal.

She clapped her hands and squealed with excitement. "Oh, fun! New toys!"

The catgirl turned and sprung to the nearest other tree, making her way through the Western Evergreen. She had to find the others, and fast.

Oh, how the bee girls spoiled them, she thought, with a wicked grin.

~~~~

Brist's legs were beginning to give out from under him. They'd been walking for the entire day, now, and as twilight settled upon the Evergreen Forest, he could feel a much more basic sensual longing than sex taking over. He was tired. More than anything, now—more than all the Thriae in the world—he just wanted to lie down.

"Brist, you're slowing," he heard Yathi snap. "Keep up the pace!"

He looked up at her. The scout walked ten feet ahead of the rest of the team, facing straight ahead. He glared at her pert ass. "Yathi, do you really expect us to walk through the night?"

"Did you become a Knight of the City by whining constantly?" Yathi asked. "Because you've done naught but complain since we got here."

Brist felt his face heating up. "What? No, I haven't!"

"Yathi, lay off," Trys said. The blonde warrior walked alongside Brist at the group's rear, probably because she was the one carrying all the supplies. She looked as exhausted as Brist felt. "You're being ridiculous about this. We need to rest sooner or later."

"Rest when the duty is done, Trys," Yathi barked, sounding for all the world like a drill sergeant.

"So you keep saying," Ia complained. The pantsless knight put her hands on her hips. "Look, I'm all for making Brist suffer, but now I'm suffering. That's not okay!"

"Thanks, Ia," Brist said, rolling his eyes.

"You are welcome."

Yathi whirled on the group. "The Thriae are out there!" she hissed. "We're in a deathtrap forest! And you want to make camp?"

"Well, not really a deathtrap." Ia giggled. "More like a sextrap. Fey, y'know."

"Yathi, we can't walk all day and night," Trys said. Brist glanced over and nodded his agreement, and saw Ia doing the same. Trys's tone was as measured as always, but there was a terseness that seemed new. "We have to make camp sometime. I know people who've journeyed through the Evergreen, and I've never heard anyone say you can't stop to rest."

"Do you think the Thriae will stop to rest?" Yathi finally stopped walking and turned to face them. "Rest when the duty is done!"

"Oh, for the dead gods' sake!" Trys clutched her forehead, "Yathi, you're being... I've been trying to be patient, because I know you're going through a lot, but not sleeping is as liable to get us killed as anything Brist proposes. And yeah, actually, I think the Thriae will rest." She came to stand in front of Yathi, and cast her hands out as though setting a scene. "Thriae are sensual beings. 'The then for the dead, the now for the fey, the next for the demon.' They aren't going to push themselves or their bees to discomfort if they can help it."

Yathi visibly squirmed at the words 'sensual beings'. Brist swallowed and averted his eyes. He noticed that Ia and Trys didn't.

He tried not to judge them for that. Trys was an ex-mead addict, and Ia...Ia apparently had some baggage from the 'inoculation'. Even unafflicted, Brist had trouble not looking at Yathi. He always had. He was pretty sure a gay Cloistermage monk would struggle to avert his eyes from someone like Yathi. He had no right to judge.

It seemed like Yathi was yielding to group pressure, and Brist, feeling redundant (and not wanting to gang up on her), backed away from the group. Might as well start picking out a place for the tent, he thought, suddenly regretting that they had only managed to retain one tent—Trys's. That was going to be awkward.

At least they had one, though. This forest gave him the creeps. He didn't want to sleep exposed. Who knew what would find them while they slept?

He picked out a small area of grass next to the path and went to work, picking away rocks and plucking out thistles.

"Wonder if Yathi was like this before she got honeyed up?" Ia said, appearing in Brist's field of vision as he reached toward a cluster of large purple thistles that sort of reminded him of artichokes. He jumped. Ia had a smug look on her face.

"Now you're being an ass," he said curtly, wrapping both hands on the largest of the green stalks. He grimaced, feeling slight prickles brush his skin, but it didn't feel like there were any real thorns. He gave a tug. The thistle held firm.

"Aah, I'm just calling it like it is." Ia snorted. She reached down and yanked one of the thistles out of the earth, showing almost no effort in doing so. Six remained. "Gods, Brist, you're weak as fuck."

"I'm a mage, not a brawler!" he snapped, glaring at the thistle. Its vibrant purple inflorescence was quite beautiful, and looked very soft. Slightly curious, he ran his fingers over it. The little flowers within the thistle were surprisingly prickly, and he jerked his hand away, thinking he had cut himself. But his hand was clear. "Maybe instead of mocking me, like you always do, you could put that youthful energy into helping."

"Eh." Ia leaned back against the tree trunk. Brist only saw her out of the corner of his eye, but she seemed slightly miffed. "I was gonna, but then I remembered you're a pretentious twat. So have fun getting pricked, prick."

"You're such a child," he muttered. Again, he tried to yank on the flower, and again it held firm. It barely even shifted. It must have deeper roots, he reasoned.

"You're, what a year older than me?"

"Yes, you're very immature for your age." That had almost been a quip. Brist was slightly proud of himself.

He studied the bloom. It had a slight spiral pattern in the color of the flowers. It was quite pretty, though he was still planning to kill it. He tried to focus on the task, and not get annoyed at Ia's constant harassment. That's what she wants, he told himself, staring at the purple flower.

"This coming from a guy who can't look at me without getting a boner."

And just like that, his efforts failed. His eyes widened. He tore his face from the thistles and looked up at Ia, feeling his face heating up. "You—don't flatter yourself!"

"Oh, come on." Ia smiled and rolled her eyes, giving a languid shrug. She had been without pants ever since the escape from the Thriae, and her red panties were on plain display. 'Casualties of war,' she'd said. Her dark, spike hair hung in messy knots around her cute face. She wasn't exactly clean, but there was a rugged beauty to her that she at that moment seemed keenly aware of. She tossed the hair with a hand. "I've seen you blushing. Don't think that having skin that dark keeps me from noticing. I see all."

Brist swallowed. He was starting to sweat, and he hoped it wasn't obvious. He didn't want to be attracted to Ia. She was infuriating. She was childish. "D-did you consider," he said, mind racing, "that I'm like that because we're in a party with Yathi?"

Ia stopped stretching. Her eyes narrowed to slits. "Oh, what dragonshit is this."

"Have you seen her?" Brist hissed.

He was counting on Yathi's argument with Trys to keep from being overheard. Nearby, Yathi seemed to finally be powering down as Trys explained to her—in a very, very brittle tone—the consequences of exhaustion. At least, he hoped Yathi was done arguing, because Trys sounded about ready to snap otherwise.

"And her—I mean, at least she bathes!" he went on. "And wears shoes!" He knew he was being an ass on multiple levels, but damn it, Ia had been an ass all day, and he couldn't let her think—let her know—

"They're prisons for feet!" Ia snapped, looking stung.

Brist dropped his gaze, worried that his eyes would tell her too much. "And you're weird," he muttered, carefully studying the flower to avoid Ia's gaze. "Weird, and gross, and...I don't think anyone would—"

He was never able to say what he didn't think anyone would do, because at that moment, Ia tackled him. She bore him to the ground and grabbed his arms, wrestling him away from the crystals he sought to grab. She glared at him. "You arrogant bitch," she hissed. "I should just—just kick your ass, and—"

Brist's struggles slowed for a moment. He realized that Ia's face had gone as red as her panties. There seemed to be a look of real hurt in her eyes.

In that moment, Ia put him in a headlock.

"Oh, for fuck's sake! You fucking morons!"

Brist had never heard Trys angry before, and as one, he and Ia froze. One hand grabbed him by the collar, as another wrapped around Ia's wrist. The hands yanked the two apart in a single motion. Trys stood over them, glaring daggers. "What the hell is wrong with you two?"

"This—" Ia writhed like a python, but the grip on her wrist appeared to be as solid as steel. "This asshole—"

"Ia, are you an actual child?" Trys snarled, and Ia went still. Brist felt his heart plummet. There was real alarm in her eyes. Evidently, she'd never seen Trys mad, either. "Are you a ret—are you a—you are a fucking idiot!"

Ia said nothing. Neither did Brist. Trys shook them both, as if trying to startle them into compliance. "You've been acting like a little brat this entire mission! You know it might be your fault the Thriae caught us by surprise back there? You know it might be your fault Okino's getting his brain scrubbed right now?"

Ia swallowed, and still said nothing. Brist bit his upper lip. "Um, Try—"

Trys didn't even seem to hear him. Her eyes were blazing. "I've been putting up with your idiocy because I thought, maybe, there was enough sense to be worth it! Because I felt bad for you!" She rolled her eyes. "Oh, she's a kid, I told myself." She pushed both Brist and Yathi away. Brist's head fell directly next to two of the thistles, while Ia landed in the middle of the little clearing. Ia fell on her rear and didn't move. She just kept staring up at the warrior. "But no! Our captain is effectively dead and here you are, fucking around with the one member of the unit besides me who's been able to keep his head about everything!"

I don't know if I'd go that far, Brist thought, wringing his hands. He sat up and looked across at the large purple blossoms.

"And I have had it!" Trys smacked her hands together. "I've learned to meditate to deal with seduction, with honey, with torture, with the worst tests of our will fey, demon and humans have been able to come up with, but apparently a little welp who got into the knighthood by fucking her superiors—basically a step off from a fey, really—" She turned away, visibly holding more insults in. Her eyes bulged, and with an almost feral cry, she reached down and ripped two of the thistles out of the earth and threw them away. Now there were four.

She stood there a moment, leaning over the remaining blooms, breathing heavily. Her breaths slowly regularized, then took on a rhythm, and Brist realized she was starting to meditate again.

Brist swallowed. His mouth tasted gummy and stagnant—he needed a drink more than anything else. He looked out of the corner of his eye at Ia, who still looked stunned. He stared at the flower.

Its petals seemed to move slightly.

Next to him, Trys sat down crosslegged, continuing the breathing exercises. She seemed to be studying one of the thistles as well. It was calming, Brist thought. He needed calm right now.

"That was loud," he heard Yathi say, her voice as curt and critical as ever. He felt a pang of annoyance, but tried not to say anything in response. It wasn't a good idea to confront right now. He needed to calm down, and watch, as the little flowers of the thistle bloom began to stir with the wind.

"Nobody cares, Yathi," Trys said, sounding tired. "Nobody cares. Ia can shed a goddamn... tear once in a while. The world will... continue to spin."

Spin. It was funny how the little spiral patterns seemed to spin in the breeze. Brist focused on them, trying to tune out what the others were saying.

He hated conflict, in truth. He always had. He wished Ia hadn't had to be so difficult to him. It would have been nice to have someone closer to his age he could trust in the party. Instead, she had mocked and messed with him at every turn. He didn't understand her at all.

He could feel himself starting to get annoyed again, and he tried to tune it all out and concentrate on not thinking about it. On not thinking about anything. The thistle was a good conduit for that. He reached forward absently, running his hand over the prickly stem. He gave a little tug, but it didn't budge.

"I'm not crying," Ia said at last, her voice somewhat muffled. Brist could almost tune her out, but not quite. "You're the one who's too emotional." Her tone was mulish, hurt. She was retreating into a safe way to speak with people. So much difficulty. So much easier to just concentrate on something calmer, Brist thought. "And Brist, seriously, you still can't pull those things out? It's not that hard. Even Trys could do it. It's easy."

"Yeah..." Out of the corner of his eye, Brist saw Trys running her hand over the stem as well. There seemed to be a number of very small cuts on her hand, strangely enough. She seemed to tug slightly, but the plant didn't budge. "Easy..."

Easy. It was so easy to slip away. Brist watched as the petals' spiral seemed to move more deliberately now. So it wasn't the wind. He stared at it in wonder. It was so easy to get lost in the spirals. So easy to slip away.

"Gods..." Ia let out a harsh laugh. "Wish I could do that. Just meditate. Just forget how scared I am, how angry I am, how... how fucking horny I am. All the time. But I can't, Trys. We're not all fucking perfect like you."

"Mm." Brist heard Trys mumble something, but he couldn't make it out. He slid his hand over the stalk again. He could swear his hand had some slight bits of blood on it, but he hadn't felt anything cutting him. He leaned close and smelled the flower. It smelled slightly bittersweet, like a grapefruit.

"Hey." Ia sounded puzzled. "Brist. Trys."

"Mm?" Brist tilted his head, but didn't look away. He heard Trys make a similar sound. The flowers had begun to open and close a little. The spirals continued, now accentuated by dozens of little shifting petals. It was almost... hypnotic.

"What are those flowers doing? Get a grip." Something moved in front of Brist's vision, but it didn't matter. He could still see the flower. And when the something left his vision, the flower was there again. "Hey! Yathi!"

Ia's voice was so distant. Just whispery white noise now. Brist felt himself slowly smiling. He'd been so stressed out a moment ago. There was no need for that. He just needed to be calm. Calm and pliant. Pliant and sleepy. Sleepy and... and...

"Weak," he heard Trys whisper, and he smiled wider. Yes. Calm. Pliant. Sleepy. Weak. It was so much easier. He watched the hypnotic blossom. It felt so good to concentrate on the flower. It was hard to concentrate on anything else with the flowers moving so steadily. He counted silently. Each tiny bloom stayed open for exactly two seconds, and closed for exactly one second, but they weren't doing it in synchronicity, which led to a complex series of openings and closings. So fascinating. So easy to watch.

Ia shouted something else, and Brist was vaguely conscious of rapid footsteps coming toward them. "... won't budge anymore!" he heard her say. Something pushed at him, but he resisted it, holding onto the stalk. His hands were beginning to tingle. "... their hands!"

The flowers began to close again. Brist watched them curiously. Something was happening. He felt a dull vibration in the stem he clutched.

The footsteps stopped, and then Yathi shouted something and dove toward them.

At that moment, the thistle blooms opened and released clouds of pale yellow pollen. Before he could even think, Brist breathed in.

The wizard felt his heart fluttering. His lungs felt for a moment very dry, and he started to cough. He heard Yathi, Ia and Trys coughing, too.

He blinked. Leaned back, at least tearing his eyes from the thistle flower. Next to him, Trys was also blinking rapidly. It looked like Yathi had caught some of it as well, because her eyelids were fluttering. Her knees seemed to be buckling slightly. "Guys...guys...oh my fucking god..."

The arousal hit Brist like a tidal wave of fire. It was overpowering—too much, too fast, and far too little will left to even comprehend it, much less fight it. He suddenly needed...needed...

... to fuck. His eyes widened. Before he knew it, he was pulling his robes off. "F-fuck," he whispered. He heard Trys moaning next to him, and turned to look at her. The beautiful blonde warrior's mouth was open, and she was gasping for breath.

She stared at him, eyes full of need. "This... this..."

Ia was coughing like mad as they both turned to Yathi. The gorgeous dark-haired woman's face had gone pale. Her fingers were slowly crawling towards her pants buckle. "Have to..." she breathed, shuddering. "Have to... fight it..."

Brist's fingers wrapped around his manhood. He stared at Yathi and started to stroke himself. "Can't," he rasped.

"Too good," Trys moaned, and he heard her beginning to masturbate. They stared at Yathi, who trembled at their lusty stares. He stroked his cock faster, more desperately. He had to come. Had to fuck. Had to come.

"Guys!Guys!"

At that moment, the flowers began to open and close again.

Brist's ministrations slowed slightly, regularized, as the flowers drew his eyes back. He saw Yathi's and Trys's eyes lock on them as well, and their mouths fell open in blissful slumber as the blooms lulled them back into hypnosis. He fought for only a second longer. Ia's voice echoed in his head. He felt her tugging on his arm, but weakly. It felt so good to watch the flowers and pleasure himself.

He was so calm. So pliant and calm and dumb. So calm and dumb and needy and sleepy and pliant and... and...

Open and close. Open and close. He felt a beatific smile settle on his face as he leaned closer and breathed deep.