Demon Child Ch. 11

Klektor shook his head, stepping back, trying to joke, "I just washed the dirt of that place from my skin. Let another go in my place." Yet Aylanna could sense a wavering in Klektor's spirit. He had found something in the dark tunnels that he did not want to face again.

To Aylanna's surprise, it was once more Tim'kah that led the way into the darkness. Without hesitation, he dropped to his belly and wormed his way into the dark crevice. Soon, he backed out and reported, "Rubble fills the passage almost to the ceiling, and the way is narrow but seems to extend far into the rock. I will need a lamp," the young warrior looked thoughtful, "and a length of rope." A shallow stone bowl was filled with oil and a wick lit, the tiny yellow flame guttering in the restless wind. The young warrior tied the rope to his belt and dived back into the darkness.

Slowly, the length of rope uncoiled a few feet at a time. When nearly all of the coils had disappeared, Tim'kah shouted back, his excited voice echoing out of the tunnel, "It opens up, and there is a large room. There are images upon the walls, fantastic images." Jhardron was the second to crawl into the darkness, quickly followed by a carefully chosen cadre of a half dozen eager volunteers.

Aylanna sat watching the opening, listening to the faint echoes of voices filtering back. It seemed like the assault on her mind had weakened and the feelings of fatigue and disorientation had disappeared. Yet she was careful to avoid the temptation to recreate the images of her dream in her head again, choosing patience over magic. The corner of her mouth twisted up wryly, imagining tying the rope hobbles around this part of her spirit, forcing it to learn to take the small measured steps. One of the lessons she had learned while the ropes had been around her ankles, she was forced to think ahead, to take the time to plan her every movement. She had become calmer in spirit, more graceful and deliberate in motion, and to her surprise in many ways more productive. Softly, she repeated the words of her Khan, "A warrior must learn to keep her emotions in check. A warrior must be patient."

She sat waiting, her ears listening intently for any clue of the returning warriors. The camp fires crackled and hissed, flickering in the wind. The crashing waves had once again resumed their pounding assault on the land, surging closer to the cliff. As she listened, Aylanna wondered at this ebb and flow of the sea, retreating and then advancing, harboring a small fear that perhaps this time it would not stop in its invasion, surging up and finally conquering this empty, abandoned place, pulling it down into its grey green depths. She thought about the spirits on the wind and contemplated the possibility that the spirits of the drowned might drift lost in the dim light under the restless waves. Sometimes, the murmur of the water carried the same tones of the whispers she heard on the wind.

It was nearly dark when the warriors began to emerge from the hole she had found at the base of the cliff, dragging along with them several bags of objects. Their scramble through the narrow passage had smeared them with mud. Again, the explorers were met with curious questions.

Jhardron held up a hand, "We will speak of this around the fire tonight."

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Jhardron spoke to the gathered warriors around the fires, "The entry was narrow, but the rooms beyond were less fouled and more artifacts were strewn about."

"The first room was large and appeared to be a gathering room of some sort. There were many images engraved and painted upon the walls of this room. They showed demons in battle with other demons. There was much broken crockery but we did manage to find many intact pieces. They are decorated with the same images as those upon the walls. They tell a tale of the people that once lived here. We did find many other small things, stone figurines, and beads."

Opening one bag, he pulled out a few pieces of the pottery, the smooth black surfaces of the bowls and cups heavily decorated with stylized images of warriors and what Aylanna instantly recognized as ships. At the bottom of another bag were several handfuls of faceted iridescent stone beads.

The Khan spoke in a very definite voice, "The pottery will be the Aga's share. The beads are small payment for our time, but this mission was never about finding riches." His words made Aylanna tip her head in confusion, not sure exactly what he was speaking of, but then each warrior stepped forward in turn, from highest to lowest rank and took a few beads from the pile. When they had finished, only about a dozen beads lay loose in the bottom of one of the ancient pottery bowls.

It seemed like all the warriors were looking toward her, and then Bow Master Harnum gave her a sharp nudge between her shoulder blades. "All riders have a right to a share, meager as it is. Step up girl."

As Aylanna quickly leaned down and without really looking took one of the beads, she realized that there was an aura of disappointment among the warriors. They had been hoping for something richer, a treasure. Carefully gripping her bead in her hand, she stepped back.

Jhardron addressed the group again, "Our Khan has always been curious about stories of the sea and demon cities of the north. He will be pleased with our discoveries. The Twisted Dagger has stepped into the myth and brings back to him evidence of the truth behind the legends. Each of you will have tales to tell around the campfire for a lifetime." Raising a brow he joked, "I think this might even surpass some of Kwal'kek's fairy tales." A roar of laughter rose up around the fire.

Aylanna sat up late staring into the coals of the camp fire, listening to the roar of the waves, avoiding sleep, and Jhardron pulled her to one side and once again peered into her face, gauging her state. "Ha'akh, how are you feeling?"

Well aware that he was speaking of disturbance she was experiencing earlier, Aylanna gazed up at him seriously, "I feel better, my Khan. No longer do the images of my dream push at me." She swallowed, her mouth suddenly going dry as she put into words her fears. "But I feel some fear of falling asleep again. When I sleep, it seems like I have no defense."

Once again smoothing the wayward strands of her hair, he pulled her toward his sleeping pad, "Come lay with me again. If you are disturbed in the night I will wake you and do battle with your assailant." Aylanna could not help but smile at his words and yawning, she let him pull her close, turning her on her side facing away from him, pressing against her backside. She let her head rest on his arm and closed her eyes.

Aylanna did not know how long she had slept when the images of dark tunnels and the frightening sounds of approaching battle began to intrude. The compulsion to flee rose up and then Jhardron's hands on her body pulled her awareness to other things. Her skirts were up around her waist and his fingers were caressing her belly, stroking and tugging gently at the curls between her legs. A tiny soft moan of surprise rose up and his breath in her ear was a soft hushing murmur, "A warrior who fights in the night must learn the skill of engaging in battle silently." As his fingers delved deeper, spreading her tender lower lips, setting her loins aflame, Aylanna covered her mouth with her hands, trembling and jerking in silence. Her eyes were wide and she stared into the fading embers of the fire. All the forms laying about the camp were still but she could see the form of one warrior seated, facing out, alert and listening to the night.

The teasing fingers slowed and then became still, still lodged in their warm damp nest and to her surprise, Aylanna felt the need for sleep drag her down into the darkness again. Twice more in the night, she found herself pulled awake by his touch, stirring up the goddess magic within her.

The third and final time, she sighed as she felt his jhambar, awake and insistent, insinuating its way into her from behind. A stifled gurgle of pent up excitement rose up in her throat and she trapped it behind her sealed lips. His fingers persisted in their slow sinuous dance, worming deep in the cleft of her venya, his jhambar lodged deep and subtly grinding in the shuddering and contracting embrace of her venya.

Jhardron's voice was the softest rumble in her ear, "The courtesans call this 'the lazy man's embrace' or sometimes just the 'lazy snake'". He chuckled softly as she trembled and jerked in response to his touches, "Little demon, you are pierced to the heart by my snake, but I think he is not so much lazy as perhaps a stealthy beast seeking out his lair."

Aylanna's whole body was tense and trembling with pent up magic and as she began to convulse with panshasham his hand come up and covered her mouth, filling her nostrils with the pungent scent of her passion. She could feel the sheath of her venya flutter around his hard shaft and then sensed his rush of sensation as he pressed deep and left his offering.

She lay still, trapped in the warmth of his embrace, his jhambar still hiding in the dark lair it had found between her legs, savoring the sweet tingles that the traveled through her body. Jhardron had indeed chased away the ghosts that had haunted the night. She felt ultimately safe and curiously weightless. A long satisfied sigh, so deep that it made her shudder a little shook through her.

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Thank you for taking the time to read my story.

This story contains many words from the language of the Bak culture that I have created. The meaning of most of these words is easily inferred from their context. A ha'akh is the lowest rank of female slave assigned to serve a regiment of warriors.

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I would like to join my friend Dweaver999 in asking for your good thoughts for our missing editor Dani. I would like to thank my good friend who prefers to remain anonymous for volunteering to help me with editing this chapter.

xantu