Raska Tales: One Small Gift

"Rolyen-"

"Drop it, Visseny," he commanded.

The sorceress blinked at his sudden change in tone. The audacity of his order and the show of irritation taking over his features. She wouldn't have it. Not without a chance, at the very least, to present an argument to counter his steadfast intent on denying himself a chance at living.

Electrical energy surged from her fingertips to send his body convulsing with a cascade of pain and seizing muscles. He was left helpless under her hand as the power of her element wreaked havoc upon his every physical nerve. A strained scream escaped him as his chest tightened around his lungs and choked out his air.

And then it was done. With small arcs darting between her fingertips, she drew her hand away from his chest where a red imprint remained. In the next instant, he lurched forward and grabbed onto her arm with both hands. He was gasping for each breath through searing lungs even as she remained unharmed.

"Why did you do that?!" he wheezed as she placed her free hand over the one straining to keep a grip on her wrist. With a shake of the head, she casually peeled off the offending grip as he lacked the strength to fight her.

"You speak of pain being what you know best, so I will commune with you in a manner which you understand. Let suffering in the flesh devour the burden on your soul."

She entwined her fingers with his, and his eyes widened before he braced. A second wave of lightning magics poured from her body into his, reigniting his agony with the crackling power wielded by the sky itself.

"You say you have wrought untold pain with your sin and have not yet redeemed yourself... Have you never gazed into a mirror?" she questioned before ending his electrical torture. Eyes locked with those of the seething, groaning warrior, she asked in a tone fit for interrogation, "How many centuries have passed since that day?"

A scowl lowered his brow as his gaze narrowed. The moment he attempted to break her new grasp over his hand was the instant he felt her magic begin to build up enough to bring the hairs on his arm to stand on end. A grumble echoing in his throat, he answered, "One hundred, eighty seve- no, ninety-four years. Six years shy of two centuries, now."

"Yet you still burden the weight of a past that has long since fallen behind you. You lay in the rain even as the sheltered hearth stands in sight. You bear the scars from the lives you have saved and even lay with a sorceress who would not have survived without you."

His eyes slipped a moment to her chest, provoking a red tint on her cheeks even as her features remained authoritarian. There was a tingle in his wrist, and his eyes lifted to contest with hers as he twisted his hand from her grasp and took hold of her forearm. While his magic did not carry the force of an element behind it, it did grant him the ability to retaliate against her in kind. With the right chants, he could damage her as severely as he could with a body at full strength.

But he wouldn't. Couldn't.

His grips on her arms released and pulled away as he fell limp upon the bedding. Muscles throughout his body that were still recovering from the shock could finally relax as her magic's presence receded. That dangerous touch of hers gently massaging the red mark it left on his chest.

"I know my past," she stated, tone softening. "Of the protection I provided innocents in dire times and the wisdom granted to those who needed it most. How many others could you say you have saved, who in turn saved another? A hundred? A thousand? If not forgiveness, Rolyen, accept the path you walk is a road to redemption. And if you can't..."

She ran her hand over the tattooed ship on his rib cage. "Then turn on your heel, sail that great ocean, and fall on your knees before that distant empire for conviction. Waste all your heroics on finding your justice at the end of their headsman's axe."

He kept silent as she held her stern composure. The crackling fire in the hearth offering the only source of sound between them beyond his raspy breaths. But then his hands moved over the one she still held against his chest as it swelled with breath to speak.

"Where I come from, the royal line is said to descend from the goddess Calia. That she took the form of a being of two sexes to grant a betrayed queen a child as virtuous and fair as she. And the son she bore began a line of god touched children that built an Empire of a thousand years. It is because of this that I cannot forgive myself."

Touching his fingers to the tattooed sun on his chest, he continued, "Because I killed a child of the Sun herself. Stole a blade crafted in the forge of her palace and quenched in her own sweat. No amount of good deeds will ever amend that sin. No amount of pain you induce will ever burn that guilt from me."

Visseny swallowed as a tear formed in his eye, slipping free of its duct and tracing down the side of his head into his disheveled hair. She reached up to cup his cheek and leaned in toward him. Her lips touching to his forehead as he held his breath.

"You'll always be my hero, Rolyen Dashblade. If Calia herself descended from the Blazing Throne to judge you, I'd stand by your side. If Moitri rose from the depths to pull you into the Nether, I'd fight her for every step. If that empire crossed the world to kill you, I'd defend you to the end. Because I love you, Rolyen."

His breathing paused a moment. The grasp he held on the hand still pressed against his chest tightening. His evergreen eyes lifted to meet hers with a shimmer within them telling of a dam ready to burst. Before he could offer a response, though, she moved in to kiss him proper. Lips meeting and refusing to break as she shifted herself and threw one leg over him.

"Don't say if you love me back," she ordered the moment their faces parted, earning her a perplexed look from the warrior. "I've had years to decide, and you've just woken up and met who I've become."

His cock twitching underneath her sex as she leaned over him, he replied, "And if I find myself ready to answer?"

Pressing her lower lips against his shaft to coax it back to full mast, she answered, "Then tell me in the morning. Tonight... show me that voraciousness you boast about. Let me welcome you back to the world my way."

............

Visseny's eyes opened to the warm morning light shining on her face through the front windows of the inn. Her sudden stirring causing the arm wrapped around her to pull her tighter against His chest. Lifting her head from the crook of his neck, she lazily looked to his placid face as he gazed up into the ceiling.

"Good morning," she whispered.

"A beautiful morning," he replied, taking on a sly grin while shifting his attention to her. "I've been waiting for you to wake."

"Have you?" A smirk crept onto her face as she laid her head back down on his chest. "Not long, I hope."

"Long enough to think on your words last night."

Listening to the soft thumps of his heartbeat, she stroked the side of his scarred chest and took in his scent. Sex and sweat still clung to his skin to form an erotic musk that invigorated her body and mind with the memories of the previous night. Closing her eyes while her legs squeezed together, she asked, "Which words?"

His heart spiked a little, his chest rose beneath her and then fell with a sigh. "Where you spoke on forgiveness and redemption. About the path I walk."

A spark of hope lit within her. She couldn't help but smile as she snuggled up against him. "What have you decided? Sir Dashblade?"

His hug went lax, his voice soft as he stated. "I am returning home to face justice."

Both of her eyes shot open, and she pushed against his chest to sit up. A lump fought its way up in her throat as she looked for any sign of a joke, but his smile had faded off into something far more apologetic. Words escaped her as he sat up beside her and opened his arms to her in an offer she didn't hesitate in accepting.

Pulled in close against his chest with her breath growing raspy, she fought to keep control of her emotions even as he rubbed the small of her back.

"I do not wish to live in fear of the Head Hunters from my homeland. To keep killing them as they trickle in from across the sea. I want to return what rightfully belongs to the royal family and do my best to make what amends I can for stealing their son from them. And in this quest, I want you to come with me."

Her eyes opened, mouth slightly agape. Nerves steeling against the new fluttering in her belly, she said, "I will. I will come with you," her voice shaky as she squeezed onto him. "I won't lose you again."

She felt his hot breath against her neck as he breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Visseny. Perhaps with your testimony, and our goddess' blessing, I can find the forgiveness you want for me and become somebody who can stay in your life."

Sniffling and drawing back from him, Visseny gazed upon her Elven warrior as his melancholy gave way a determined smile, sincere and genuine. His chest puffed up with confidence as he moved to wipe away the tears that threatened to run down her face. Entwining her hands with his, she leaned in toward him in invitation. Without a word, he accepted brought his lips to hers in a deep kiss that couldn't last long enough.

When their mouths finally parted, she breathed deep to compose herself and asked, "Do you have the sword?"

He shook his head. "No, but it is safe in a place known only to me."

Nodding as she accepted this answer, she probed, "May I ask where?"

"Seven, maybe eight weeks ride east from here. It's across the Empire in the eastern valley." One of his hands traced down her back, taking hold of her hip. "Only the path leading to it won't be passable until late summer. We have time."

Her mind wandering to all the potential adventure or trouble one could encounter on such a journey, the dangers and chances for heroism, the sorceress grinned and kissed her warrior again.

"Let's make every day count. One small gift at a time."

...

Stepping back from the waters of a fountain housed in a golden basin, an Elven woman gave a grin and turned on her heel. Letting the image of the warrior and sorceress lovers fade from the liquid surface. A long sigh escaped her as she walked barefoot over the porcelain tiles of a vast hall lined with columns of marble reaching up to open sky above. Approaching a dais upon which sat a golden throne draped in veils of white cloth and gold-stitched silks.

Ascending the steps to her seat of power, young men and women of a dozen different races stepped forth from the sides to kneel for her. Many offering their lusted gazes to her bronzed skin covered only by small belts of cloth that did little to hide her form. With only the slightest sway, the areola of her generous bust or the folds of her silky pink sex flashed to these loyal subjects. More modesty was granted by the hair flowing elegantly behind her in waves of platinum blonde that ended around her sensuous hips.

Taking her seat upon the soft cushion of her throne, she immediately parted her legs and rest to the side on one arm. A moment later, she had a wicked smile bearing white teeth as a human male dropped to his knees before her and leaned in toward her inner thighs. There he kissed her soft skin only a hand-width away from her sex as a vibrant Neko woman came to kiss the cloth over her left breast. In moments, more hands came to caress and please her, while those who could not reach began to please each other.

Lips matched, orifices were penetrated, breasts and sexes were pleasured. Race, body, gender, none in this place minded these things as they descended upon each other. All their attentions focused on sharing the joy they themselves were given.

Yet even as that talented tongue delved into her sex, the woman on the throne kept her mind elsewhere. The careful attentions given to her for pleasure falling by the wayside as she thought of the Elf that had ended her grandchild of several greats. The centuries old pain still so fresh in her ancient heart.

Return to the Kingdom you once called home, Rolyan, she thought, running her fingers through the hair of the man who now lapped at her labia. I shall wait for you there to decide if you keep the magic gifted by wielding my children's sword, and decide the final price for you to pay for your acts in its theft.

As the first hints of a climax tingled within her, she let her thoughts linger on the sorceress that had lain with him. Her words to him as the couple shared their bodies within her domain of passion. In this an idea began to form.

Pushing the handsome face away from her glistening petals, she rose from her throne and approached a couple only a few steps away. There, the young woman suckling her lover's cock narrowed her eyes with a hint of excitement at the approaching form and spread her legs in welcome. With a stroke of her sex, the Goddess cooed as a throbbing member, comparable to any wielded by a male of a mortal race, erupted from her groin.

Stroking it only once to unleash a dribble of a clear, viscous fluid, she knelt down behind the eager female and straddled the back of her thighs. With the head of her newly grown shaft pressed to a dripping hole, it took the prodding of heat against her cheek to shift her attention. Only a hand-width away was the man who had been kissing her sex, now standing with his cock presented before her face.

Grinning at the boldness, she happily took him into her mouth, tongue coasting along the length while she thrust her own into a hungering cunt.

I am love, Rolyan, but I am justice. And I will have my due.