Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 53

As she did so, she caught a whisper of Lostariel's voice in the next room murmuring for the guard to lay back. After some shuffling about she cooed 'Good, good,' in a voice Felicia had never heard, reminding her once again about how different they truly were; if she were to draw a comparison she'd have likened herself to the plains coyote– a hunter and an opportunist that was never afraid to do something for the sheer joy of it; Lostariel on the other hand? She was a Siren if ever there was.

Sirens were dangerous nocturnal hunters as big as any northern wolf and twice as heavy by pure muscle. But it was their calls, their hauntingly human cries for help that attracted many an unwary hunter to their doom: the beasts would prowl in the darkness echoing the cries- male and female- that had been let out by the plains walkers shortly before their own deaths. Luring ever more victims to its unforgiving, powerful jaws. Felicia rose slowly as she crept to the edge of the open bedroom, perched at the lip, she considered briefly how she might subdue the Siren. It was a man's job, usually; women hunters were urged to ride away as fast as possible, but in this instance? She had a feeling she knew this particular hunter's habits.

"That's it." Lostariel purred throatily.

The guard murmured in a haze of drunken lust. "Mmh, by gods but you're a lovely little tart, aren't you, Jessica?" A solid 'smack' cracked the air; flesh on flesh. "You're a bad girl, aren't you?"

"Mph!" She spoke in a sharper, slightly breathy tone. Gods, was she actually enjoying this? "I'm many things, but what will I be for you, hm?"

"Mmm. . ."

"Shh. Don't tell me. . ." Another bit of rustling. "Let me tell you." Silence followed for some seconds before Lostariel purred a gentle 'That's it. . .'

Curious, Felicia peeked. What she saw sent her heart soaring into her throat and her stomach plunging; the short assassin had her skirt rumpled about her waist, pinched to her hips by her elbows while her hands worked through the man's hair. Her powerful thighs bristled with goosebumps in the chilly room, though one would never know it by the way she leaned forward to press her nether lips to his mouth. He had no idea, he couldn't possibly know the danger he was in– it apparently didn't occur to him that the woman's legs were so firm and trim. . . .pressed so hard to his face, she couldn't blame him. Her scent, her taste, her touch and her demand were intoxicating–

Then there was that thrill of envy roiling deep inside. How dare she do such a thing knowing Felicia would wonder. It dug at her but the more she stood there, the more of it she began to understand. The guard's pants were down around his ankles and being sprawled out as he was, he had no leverage to use to escape except for his size. Then came the dagger. Lostariel released his head and reached up behind her head, sliding the blade from a sheath she'd concealed under her blouse.

"Mmmm, that's it. . ." She purred reassuringly. "Oh, my aren't you eager?" Her voice disguised the sound of the blade being freed.

What the hell was she going to do?

"Now," Lostariel said softly as she adjusted her weight and pinched his elbows beneath her knees. "That's it, lay back and show me what you want. Hm? Mmh- good, good."

From her position Felicia had a perfect view of the mess he'd made on the floor with his release, she could already see him getting hard again, though; spurred on by the quickening attentions of his partner, each roll of her holdable hips brought a subtle pulse in his cock, causing it to bob up- rising to firm attention ready for the next round.

Lostariel put a hand over his face, covering his eyes the way she often did with Felicia. At first it seemed normal until the purple eyed killer looked right at Felicia. The blade in her free hand, she was brining it up to hold the tip against the back of her hand. Dangerously close to her inner thighs. All it would take was a swift motion one way or the other and a life would end– she'd deliberately put herself in that position, knowing full well what it implied and what would happen if he threw a fit. They locked eyes and for a moment Felicia imagined her transmitting all kinds of vulgar suggestions about where the girl belonged– anywhere but here– and demanding something from her. But after a moment she glanced back at his pants and then Felicia, the implication vaguely clear.

Felicia mouthed 'Don't kill him' to which Lostariel rolled her eyes as well as her hips. A subtle shade of crimson warmed her cheeks as she eyed Felicia but in her eyes, in her eyes was a forgone conclusion as to how this would play out. At Felicia's second demand she chuffed out a sigh. They both knew Felicia being there meant she could upset the balance of their encounter, as it was the moment she touched the guard, she'd lose all surprise and initiative.

But it was what had to be done.

She crept up to the foot of the bed, kneeling down while the grating sound of Lostariel's fake passion started to fill the air with renewed vigor. The foot board was part of the frame of the bed, split by a thin gap big enough to ease a finger between– perfect for the plan brewing in her mind. Maybe an overstatement, really, she sat there staring at the wood while the sound of Lostariel's forced sigh echoed between her ears. The idea. The sight of this man– no. It wasn't his fault. It was Lostariel's. It was Felicia's.

Sure they were friends, but if she was this willing to go looking for someone else, a man at that, to satisfy her? It meant Felicia was doing something wrong. Lostariel had demanded her supplication and all but forced herself on the young plains walker, but in truth she didn't mind. After all, it'd been her choice to make the first move, knowing full well it might go somewhere unexpected. But then she'd somehow given up herself to her friend's selfishness; this would have to be fixed. Yes. Fixed.

Gods dammit, was she some kind of idiot?

Felicia peeked up over the edge, waited until she was positive no one was looking and then carefully unstrung the guard's belt from his trousers. She fed it through one slot after another to ease up the slack. Careful. Slow. Deliberate. Working between Lostariel's increasingly shorter gasps and fervent grinding. The soft moans, rising and falling gave the girl the cover she needed, soon she had the belt free; she immediately looped it around the foot board and laced it under his pants, feeding it up into the square buckle. All it'd take would be her pulling back to really secure it.

She hesitantly leaned forwards and tapped Lostariel's shoulder twice. She looked back, nodded approval and then to Felicia's surprised, leaned over and kissed her. At the girl's surprised expression she lofted a brow. She was blushing more, her elf touched cheeks and sharp, exotic lines more alluring in that moment than if she'd been dressed in the finest silks. Felicia lowered her gaze, suddenly feeling very stupid for her jealousy. It wasn't like they were declared lovers or anything. . . .were they?

Felicia dampened her lips and went to kiss her back but somewhere in the mix the guard had gotten restless or maybe he'd sensed Felicia's presence. He drew back– both women looked down to him in time to see him register the deadly blade right over his face. His eyes widened and he went to kick. Felicia took the brunt of it right in the gut. She crumpled down against his shins, and yanked on the belt. She fought for every breath she could get, only dimly aware of Lostariel and the man fighting now.

It was fortunate that she had enough of the trousers tied up to suppress some of his power, maybe enough to keep her from throwing up, but gods damned did her stomach try to escape. Lostariel's voice was hard and unforgiving as she leaned forward to keep the man pinned. "Move and you will paint my skin with your blood."

He tried to shout and Lostariel put the blade in his mouth. That stopped him cold.

"Not. One. Word."

By this time Felicia's breath was making a valiant effort to find her lungs again, she managed, barely and blearily, to yank on the belt and drop her weight from the bed for extra leverage. "Focus." Once done she wrapped the slack around the bottom board and tied it as best she could with tears streaming. She laid there for several seconds, doubled over and panting, trying to force new air in and get her bearings. Lostariel had trained her to deal with discomfort, but it'd never been so direct, not like this.

"I said stop." Lostariel said atop the bed. "I have questions," gone was all of her joviality as easily as someone had doused a candle. The play was over, the curtain had fallen and it was time to count the cost. For someone Felicia thought of as a hardened killer, she was remarkably tender, though. "Answer to my satisfaction and I may let you live. Understand?" A beat. "Good."

The assassin continued. "You've taken our equipment, where is it?"

The guard was quiet for a moment, Felicia did her best to right herself and climb to a seat at the foot of the bed. This lead her to pushing herself further, as she had in her training, she couldn't show Lostariel weakness now. Especially now. "Relax. Get up. Now. Good. . . .good, deep breath." The guard and the plains walker looked to one another with Lostariel between them. He heaved a defeated sigh before turning his gaze to the woman with the blade to his face.

"Shouldda known–"

"You have five words." Lostariel said firmly as she took the blade to his lips. "I can make this last quite a while. . ."

"Hey-" Felicia started. The guard kicked a foot out to test the limits of his bonds. At that she grabbed his foot. "Please, just answer her and we'll be gone. You can say you got attacked and no one'll be the wiser– everyone wins, right?"

Lostariel leaned forward with her palm resting on the man's forehead. "She is forgiving, asking for mercy even after your men whipped her and threatened to break her on the rack to get to me." She waited a beat for it to sink in and while Felicia couldn't see his face through the veil of Lostariel's hair, she imagined the man taking in a gasp. "She is forgiving. I am not. . . .do we understand one another?"

"H- The Sheriff."

"What about the Sheriff?"

"He has your things. A- we were under orders to look for you and the Engineer woman, N- No one expected you'd come through here." He swallowed. "We've heard stories."

Lostariel chuffed a half-hearted laugh. "Then why did you let me seduce you?"

"I- I didn't think it was you!" He swallowed. "S- We were looking for a blonde woman–"

"She's dead." Lostariel said flatly. "I am the new Ace of Diamonds."

The man squirmed. Felicia tensed as it began to click– these men had certain expectations of her behavior and now that it was out the proverbial window, he didn't know what to make of her. Felicia swallowed. "No she's not. I am."

Lostariel glanced back ever so slightly without letting the man out of her vision.

She tried. Really, really hard, to sound convincing and dangerous. It was a joke, or would have been in any sane circle. However, she did have information her mentor didn't, information that'd keep them mysterious and as omniscient as the name apparently was. "Tell me about the Sheriff's guest. Why shouldn't they be disturbed?"

That earned a grunt. Lostariel pushed on him. "You heard her."

"I can't talk about that—"

"I asked you a question." Felicia said.

"N- No!" He shouted. As Lostariel pulled back her hair arched back to reveal the beginnings of her handiwork; she was dragging the flat of her blade across the side of his mouth, turning it already to the edge. "NononoIcan't!"

"Please, make this easy on all of us!" Felicia pleaded. "Don't let her do this!"

"I CAN'T."

Lostariel punched him in the nose. "Shut. Up."

As he thrashed under her she started to cut. Felicia dived for the hand, held it along with the older woman's gaze. "No."

Her eyes narrowed slightly, cold as pillar ice.

"No." Felicia reasserted.

They stared at one another for a split second and then as one, looked to the man and said, "Why not?"

"They don't tell us anything! I don't know! Please I–"

Lostariel pulled herself free from Felicia's grip. "All right, fine, something else: You're filtering mercenaries through here, paying them in Nightshade. Why?"

"I-"

"Ten words or less."

He looked to Felicia for some kind of refuge. She hugged her arms under her generous breasts and waited, doing her best stoic impression with a sinking feeling gnawing at the pit of her stomach. Something told her she had an idea where this was headed and she didn't like it one bit. . .

"Ten words." Lostariel repeated.

"There's a war brewing in Estan. Some new noble's court formed– we just handle the money!"

Felicia almost asked where or what Estan was but her companion was already filling in the blanks even as she turned her blade over. "The Free States are autonomous, they have been for centuries, why would they submit to a single council?"

"I don't know! Whoever it is has been working fast, though, they're putting a lot of money in a lot of pockets and spreading it around the world–"

"But some of them won't play nice with the Court?"

He nodded emphatically. "That's right. That's right! The Court wants more bodies in armor to keep the northerners in line." He shifted his weight under his captor. "Some upstart Duke in the north lands wouldn't bend a knee so they're going to press on 'em. I swear, that's all I know. . ."

"Good, very good." Lostariel dotted his forehead. "That wasn't so hard, was it?" To Felicia she added, "Where do we find this Sheriff?"

The girl looked to the guard. "Y- Yes, where?"

"At the top of the hill. . ." The answer rolled smoothly from his tongue. Relief evident.

Maybe too quickly. Lostariel seemed to form her own opinion on it in an instant; she had her blade to his jugular in the blink of an eye. "What awaits us there? How many guards?"

He winced. "I don't know! I never go! M– he and his guest. At least!"

Guest.

Guest. . . .like the old man's daughter? Felicia's heart sank. "Oh gods."

"What?"

"I– I think I know who his 'guest' is."

"That eliminates the need for him then." Lostariel raised her blade.

Felicia didn't hesitate. She dove for her hands. As usual, however, her mentor was too quick; she pivoted and rocked back, shoved when Felicia was in front of her so the girl toppled across their captive's face. Once there she leaned on the girl and told her firmly, "stay."

It was ridiculous, sprawled out like an idiot over a man she didn't even know. But she'd saved his life, hadn't she? She looked back as Lostariel stabbed one of the pillows and then tore it up to make strips of fabric. She then used these to tie his hands to the headboard. At the quizzical look Felicia gave her she stared back as though the girl had lost her mind.

Further proof positive Lostariel defied all expectations. As Felicia recovered herself, she muttered. "I thought you were going to kill him. . ."

"The less you think, the more you'll understand." She retorted as she stuffed the guard's mouth full of scrap cloth. "Scream and I will. Understand?"

He nodded.

To Felicia she said, "It seems we've a hill to climb. You up for it?"

"I haven't given up yet, have I?"

The woman's purple eyes flit over her, scrutinizing. "Let's go, then."

#

They took their time, kept to the shadows and crawled more often than they walked through the thicket of trees that surrounded the estate; the hike to the crest of the mound took most of the evening, some of which they spent planning. Lostariel was meticulous and while she probably would've been betraying her own mantra of 'be flexible' she did it with Felicia in mind. She went over details of movement and how to climb as though she was teaching the plains walker something fresh and not about to march them into the jaws of death.

It was reassuring. Felicia had been allowed to sit in on meetings with the warriors when they were planning expeditions into enemy territory, most of their planning involved keeping the hunters free from harassment by other tribes. A lot of what they'd discussed had the same kind of connotations Lostariel's planning did. They were going to be okay.

As they climbed up the southern face of the mound, taking advantage of the diffused lighting; the clouds were thick and suffused with the purple tint of rain and lightning to come. It was a welcoming, familiar nuance that Felicia had come to miss in the east. This far southwest, however it seemed to be a recurring norm. It was safe.

As safe as lightning could get, anyway.

The two women prowled up the hill until they came to a low cobble wall that acted as a fence around the three story estate. Rows of iron barred windows faced the outside world with errant flickers of light peeking through the closed curtains inside giving the place an air of a fortress rather than a home. Every window they could see had a similar fortification and for a moment Felicia wondered if they'd have to go in the main doors.

That was until Lostariel pointed at the deck on the second floor overlooking a messy but vibrant flower garden below. A set of bars flanked either side of the doors but there was no actual barrier where the glass pane was. They shared a skeptical glance and Felicia mimed a bear trap snapping shut.

This earned her a smile and a slight nod.

If not there, though. . .

Lostariel split them up and they spread out to opposite sides of the estate along the thin edge of woods to a half way point where they had a full view of the front courtyard and the side of the building. More of the same waited for them; the owner liked their plants and had gone to great lengths to fill the courtyard with explosions of blue daisies and teal- at least by night light- orchids, some of them easily identifiable as flowers taken from the plains of Mawik. Nothing edible, though; just a big plot of useless space full of pretty flowers.

Pretty flowers and rough shod cobble paths that followed no logic she could interpret. They punctuated the difference between the lazy walls and the barred windows like a transition from the unkempt to the secure. Maybe that was the whole point. As she pondered that over a figure passed one of the windows on the third floor, casting a shadow over the curtains. It stopped momentarily and then passed by once more. She couldn't tell what kind of person had made it; thick or thin, male or female, but they didn't seem to be in a hurry. . . .that was probably a good sign. It seemed like the only one she had at the moment.

Once reunited, she explained her findings to Lostariel in short whispers with as few words as possible.

"I found the stable," Lostariel murmured. "And an egress."

Felicia tilted her head. "A what?"

"An exit."

"Oh. . ."

Without another word and only a little 'come here' gesture the assassin was up and moving with her protégé in tow. She lead them to the enclosed stables along the side of the building, slipped in and she kept them crouched through the central isle– Felicia found out why when she heard someone snoring in one of the pens. There was no sign of her horse, despite the fact that most of the animals kept there looked as though they could've been useful trail animals. Mundane but strong and well fed.

Lostariel held up a hand. Something was moving ahead of them. A guard clad in chainmail with a metal breastplate over it. He walked by the stable's open rear door on a path towards the house. He didn't look in a hurry or frazzled, but something in his gait made him seem imposing, ready at a moment's notice to deal with any threat.