“But by lowering or depleting your quenru through enchanting you do,” finished Jessica. “So you lose your Second Life if your quenru is weakened. Isn’t there a way to replenish what you’ve lost?”
“You can gain additional quenru by training the body and mind, but other than that,” he shrugged. “Mortals are not meant to use quenru. You are supposed to hone it as best you can before death, thus increasing your standing when you reach the spiritual realm.”
“But spiritual beings need to be worshiped—” she started.
He moved a pillow to support his back as leaned against the wall of the cabin. “Once in a god’s or goddess’s realm, they supply you with what you need to survive.”
“I see. All right, I understand some of what happened at Larin. You used quenru to heal me which in turn weakened your vessel. But what was all that with the Shield of Yonil?” she said, moving her hand to where the dagger had struck her; the only betrayal of the emotions she hid.
He couldn’t help but miss the girl who gave him hugs in the nude. “Ironically, whether by accident or not, when a mortal uses quenru in an enchantment, it becomes something else entirely. I don’t fully understand the process, but it seems the combination of mortal magic with quenru somehow refines the quenru used. It becomes a thousand fold more powerful. Of course, due to the minute nature of mortal quenru, it does not even compare to the power wielded by spiritual beings. But it has provided me with a convenient resource.”
Her brow furrowed. “I’m not sure I follow.”
He sighed. “You see, unlike the gods, I have never had a mortal form of my own. Instead, I had to seal myself inside a mortal child to enter this realm, which incidentally was not as simple as I make it sound. Once my vessel was born, I manipulated its growth to as close to physical perfection as it was capable of. But I was never meant for the mortal realm. My power immediately began devouring it. I don’t even need to use my quenru. My mortal vessel is being weakened simply because I am occupying it. In mortal terms, I have effectively been dying since the moment of my birth; which is true for all mortal beings I suppose,” he added ruefully.
“That’s why you only accept magical objects as payment,” she said softly to herself.
He gave a doleful sigh. “In the beginning, I devoured any and everything I could to keep the deterioration at bay. My discovery of refined quenru was by complete happenstance.”
Jessica silently stood up, walked over, and mounted him. She stared down at his amused face. “Why did you risk so much for me when your very existence is so fragile?”
He gave a slight chuckle before turning reflective. “Why, indeed? From the first moment I saw you in that inn, there was something about you that drew my attention. You are beautiful, but it was something else, something new; so I grew curious. But somewhere along the way, curiosity became fascination, and when you were dying in my arms . . . I realised fascination had become something else entirely,” he paused, as if unsure what to say next. “I do not regret saving you.”
She kissed him and felt his hands run over her tight-fitting, dark red leggings. She sat back up drawing his hands to the spot where he had healed her, before guiding them to the buttons. Slowly, he undid each button, letting the front of the snug top fall open, exposing her small but full breasts. He lightly caressed them, and she felt a quiver of pleasure run down her spine.
Despite his occupation, his hands were soft as they gently ran over her nipples. She leaned forward and kissed him again, frantically unbuttoning his tunic. He sat up as she pulled it off him, running his hands slowly up her back before kissing her neck. Lightly, he made little patterns on her neck with his tongue. There was a loving warmth as her breasts pushed against his exposed chest; she gently pushed him back just enough so they could kiss. It was long and deep, and they were both breathing heavily as she reached down and unlaced his trousers.
She attempted to stand on the bed in the cramped little cabin and began to unlace her own leggings. “Please help me with these infernal things.”
He grabbed the sides and pulled them down in a single motion. She hastily kicked them aside and slowly lowered herself onto him. She was aching to have him inside her, and by the way his member was throbbing, she was sure he felt the same. There was a moment’s resistance before he slipped inside her. She moaned and he kissed her neck and shoulder lightly as she started to move, slowly at first, but steadily increasing her momentum as his hands guided her hips. They were one, and for the first time in her life, she experienced ecstasy.
Killmar stood and
walked over to the door, looking back at Jessica’s sleeping form before exiting. Their lovemaking always left her incredibly spent, and he was sure, had he been mortal, he would be sleeping beside her. The captain stood on deck as always, barking orders as if it were a war galleon, not a small single-mast cargo vessel.
He turned to Killmar as he approached. “Ah, you’re alive. I have not seen you for days. Would’ve thought you dead for sure if not for the sounds,” he winked.
Killmar smiled. He had come to like the scruffy barrel-chested captain. “Morning to you as well, Ren. Any problems?”
Ren motioned for him to follow as he went to the bow, staring out over the still, open water. The Ximizu was a great lake that spanned throughout most of the Empire and was commonly referred to as the Emerald Sea. “Octriva has blessed our voyage, we’ve had nothing but good weather since we cast off.” He looked at the sky. “And it doesn’t seem like it will change anytime soon.”
Killmar recalled the erratic water goddess. “Are you a devote believer in Octriva?”
The old captain laughed, and it pierced the quiet morning air like a spear. “Have you ever met a sailor who didn’t seem to moonlight as a cleric of Octriva?”
“I suppose not,” he admitted.
Ren turned back to the green-blue water as if there was something enormously interesting out there. “But our mistress can be mighty fickle at the best of times. I have often thought myself blessed one moment and cursed the next.”
He grinned. “You know your goddess well.” There was a moment of silence as he turned and walked away, but the Old Seadog’s commands filled the air by the time he reached the sterncastle.
Jessica sleepily opened her eyes as she heard the cabin door close.
He walked over and sat on the bed. “Slept well?”
The blanket glided off her naked form as she sat up to lean against him. “Only until you left.”
He unlaced his boots and pushed her down on the bed, propping himself over her. Her cheeks turned slightly rosy as his gaze moved down her body, drinking in the sight.
She noticed a slight trembling in his arms. “Is something wrong?”
He lowered himself onto her and started to lightly kiss her shoulder, working his way to her ear. “Your beauty is enough to enslave mortal men.”
“Only mortal men?” she teased. “My heart desires something far beyond mere mortals.” He laughed and she kissed him. They seemed to have formed a special bond now that she knew his past; it was something strong and profound, much like what she could remember of the relationship between her parents.
He lay next to her and, running his fingers over her exposed skin, finally stopping over the dark purple star-like birthmark in the crease of her right leg. “What do you know of the origins of the Raeon birthmark?”
She shrugged. “Not much, just that our founder made some sort of bargain with the Keepers that protected Evershade from being swallowed up by the Creeping Green as long as a Raeon ruled in Mistveil. If family lore is to be believed, the birthmark was proof of the covenant.”
“You don’t think it’s true?”
“What does it matter? True or not, it doesn’t change the fact that Evershade was stolen from my family! I’m sure the thieves have a very legitimatising story of their own by now,” she said bitterly.
He stared at the all too familiar mark as he said almost absently, “I may not know the details of this pact your ancestor made, but the Creeping Green is called so for a reason. Vegetation grows at an accelerated pace near its Keepers, and the torgons are an unforgiving people. Any logging from their jungle would be punished severely.”
Jessica didn’t know why she was surprised that he knew the elusive Keepers by name; she still found it hard to accept that he witnessed the birth of creation. All she knew of the torgons was what she had learned from a scroll she stole from her father’s safe when she was ten. She had not understood most of what was written, but she still clearly remembered the sketches of the feathered snake-men. To this day, she didn’t regret stealing the scroll, despite the beating her father had given her upon discovering its absence. “My father had always been strict, but our people were allowed to log from the jungle.”
“That more than anything proves that there is some fact in what you consider wholly fiction. I’d wager that the Creeping Green has now overgrown most of what was once Evershade.”
During her time as a slave, she had made peace with the fact that she’d never see her homeland again, but that didn’t stop her heart from craving vengeance. She found perverse delight at the idea of Evershade being worthless to those who stole it. “In any case, it does not matter. All those loyal to my family are dead. The Raeon line will end with me.”
“How can you be so sure no one is looking for you?” he asked genuinely curious.
“The attack on Mistveil happened on my father’s birthday, did you know that?” He indicated he did not and she continued. “Every man, woman, and child of Raeon blood attended the celebration that day, as well as most of my father’s vassals. It must seem utterly foolish to you now, but we had been at peace with all our neighbours for nearly two generations, and so we didn’t fear an attack. A fatal error it turned out. That night, I woke up to screaming voices, the streets overrun with masked murderers. Our guards tried their best to protect us, but they were hopelessly outnumbered. My father ordered my brothers to take me and the rest of the children and flee through a hidden escape tunnel, while he and the other men held back the attackers as long as they could. Both my brothers were incredibly talented swordsmen, but by the time we reached the tunnel, only my eldest brother and I, along with two other children, remained. The masked murders seemed to be everywhere and without number.
She took on a distant look, as if she was recounting someone else’s past. “We fled through the tunnel only to be ambushed on the other side. My brother was wounded but managed to escape with me. Gods, there was so much blood. I was nine at the time and had never really left the confines of the palace, so I am not sure how long we were hiding from our pursuers, but it felt like days. We eventually found a caravan. They spoke a strange language, so what was discussed still eludes me, but I do remember my brother seemed desperate in his pleas with the master of the group. When he finally reached some sort of accord with them, I was put in the back of a canopied wagon with many other children by an unusually tall man who quickly closed and locked the cage it concealed.”
She moved her hand to the welted skin on her right shoulder as tears ran down her face. “I’ll never forget what my brother said to me before just simply slumping to the ground.
Please don’t hate me, Jess
.
This is the only way to keep our line alive.
It is impossible to know what agreement my brother had made with the caravan master, but the man kept me as his personal servant until my thirteenth year. During that time, he had treated me fairly; I was given food three times a day and forbidden to any of the caravan’s men.”
Killmar found himself seething with rage. He was no stranger to the cruelties of mortals, but it had never bothered him as much as it did now. He suppressed the urge to stop her from finishing her narration and continued to listen in silence.
“I was eventually sold to a Zinoxian noble, Duke Jonathan vi Descrinal. I was so naïve and strong willed back then. When my new master sent for me that night, I tried to explain who I was, however, his interests were elsewhere. When I resisted, he tried to take me by force. There was a struggle, and he ended up with a quill in his left eye. Looking back now, that was perhaps the worst mistake I made in my life,” she said with a deep sadness as she turned her face from the man who had unknowingly helped her heal wounds she had thought beyond mending. “To punish me, the Duke gave me to his men. The City Watch garrisoned more than a thousand men. They . . . took their time. At first, I tried to take my life several times, but I was always either stopped or nursed back to health after which I’d be severely beaten.
“Four years later, the Duke gave me to Cale, the Running Bastard’s innkeeper, as a reward for a service rendered. It was a relief, because despite his perversions, he was at least only one man.” She turned back to Killmar, now weeping. “For nine years, I was a slave. For nine years, no one came to save me. There is no one looking for me. My family has long been forgotten. I thought myself a woman soiled beyond saving, until the day I saw you. There was something about you, a sense of power that told me that if I stayed close to you, I might just regain some of what I had lost.”
Killmar made a mental note to visit this Duke Jonathan vi Descrinal and his City Watch as he took her face in his hands. “I can’t change what was done to you, but I can ensure that no one ever hurts you again. I . . .”
She stared into his golden eyes as he seemed to search for the right thing to say, and she was again struck by how hopelessly in love she was.
“I will make you happy,” he said at last, and she kissed him.
Ren knocked on
the cabin door nervously. “Killmar! Killmar, wake up!”
The door swung open, revealing his nude frame. “What is it?”
Ren swallowed hard at his passenger’s aggressive tone. “An admiral of the Eranian Empire demands to see you.”
Killmar turned starboard and saw a three-mast Eranian war galleon had boarded their ship, dwarfing the poor vessel. “I see. Tell them to wait.”