Outlander Ch. 10

Rynech's unit consisted of himself and two female agents. His primary mission was to locate worthy targets, then get them alone with one of his girls so they could perform the succubus blood magic that would bind the target to the girl.

Once bound, the target was compelled to obey the agent in every way, provided the agent kept a fresh supply of the target's semen inside her. Succubus agents were well-trained in the art of sex. Rynech felt no sympathy for his targets, even if they essentially became puppets. After all, they got fantastic sex every few days... until they were no longer useful.

Girls with the magical talent and disposition to become succubi were rare, and Rynech knew better than to waste an agent on just anyone. Snaring a high-value target could lead to advancement. Choosing a target poorly, on the other hand, often led to a demotion, or worse.

He hated this assignment mostly because of the loss of his true form. The transformation itself was painful, but what he despised most was this weak and ugly human shell. He hated the pale skin of his human face. He missed his own red complexion in the mirror, and could not get used to having a smooth forehead where his lustrous black horns should be. Not being able to taste the air with his forked tongue, and having to walk around without the added balance that a tail provided was disconcerting to say the least.

The only thing that made this job bearable was the way human women seemed to find his adopted shape appealing. He rarely had trouble finding one willing to spread her legs. He'd learned that pussy felt just as good packaged in the white or dark skin of human women as it did in the red of a Karokai female.

Rynech liked to troll for potential targets in the taverns located in the Middens. It was a good place to find the occasional nobleman slumming or a politician looking for the embrace of a woman other than his wife's. Men like these were the type that his masters wanted control of, and when the targets were looking for mischief, his agents did their jobs so much more efficiently.

He liked to arrive early and get settled at a good table before the taverns got too busy. A carefully chosen table meant that he could easily scan the customers as they came in. He had picked the Broken Pot for tonight's hunt, but to his dismay, the best table for his purposes was already occupied by a rather large, stupid-looking gentleman with missing front teeth. With a shrug, he led his two agents, Urniri and Belynn, to the table next to the one occupied by the big oafish-looking man.

He sent Urniri to the bar for drinks and watched her appreciatively as she returned, drawing men's eyes like moths to a flame. Her long, curly red hair framed a lovely face made striking by the green of her eyes. Most men, however, were so mesmerized by her voluptuous breasts that her lovely countenance went mostly under-appreciated.

Belynn was equally beautiful, though she had shorter, dark hair and a lithe, athletic build that promised adventure in the bedroom. Rynech knew that if a man needed to be seduced, then Urniri or Belynn could get the job done.

Urniri bent over as she set their drinks on the table, and her round rear end caught the attention of the big oafish man at the next table. He stopped the incessant muttering that had steadily been irritating Rynech and gaped in silence at her lovely bottom before returning to his drink and his babbling. It seemed even Urniri's ample charms could only temporarily distract him.

"Aramon-damned Outlander," the oaf muttered, and Rynech froze.

It had been less than two weeks since Rynech had been instructed through the blood stone to keep an ear out for any talk of an Outlander. He hadn't even known what an Outlander was at the time. He'd been unaware that a human prophecy foretold of an Outlander helping them defeat Karak's children.

As luck would have it, the big man, whose name Rynech learned was Monch, was just dying to unload his grievances on a sympathetic ear. With the offer of a drink and a good look at Urniri's cleavage, Monch welcomed them to his table.

By the time Rynech ordered their third round of ale, Monch had regaled them with the fantastical tale of the evil Outlander and how he had poisoned the crew of the Arabella against the heroic Monch. In bitter tones, he described how the whole crew, who were once his admirers, had turned against him because only he could see the true malevolence that lurked beneath the skin of the fiendish Outlander.

Rynech was practically shivering with glee. Surely getting an agent close to the Outlander himself would be worthy of advancement. Monch had been practically drooling on Urniri all night. Rynech was about to give her the signal to proceed when Monch suddenly stiffened and hunkered down to hide his face.

"What is it?" Rynech asked and cast his eyes in the direction Monch had been looking.

"The lad that just came in," Monch said. "He's Sub-Lieutenant Terrell Andales. His father is the first officer on the Arabella. They'll have my innards if they find out I've deserted." He shrank even more as though he could hide behind his mug of ale.

Rynech almost giggled as he watched the young man stride up to the bar and order a drink. He could barely contain his excitement. Surely Karak was smiling upon him this day. An officer was a much better catch than Monch, and here was the son of the first officer to boot. His promotion was all but guaranteed.

"Don't worry, my friend," he said to Monch. "Urniri knows where you can hide until it's safe." He nodded to Urniri, who smirked in acknowledgment.

She slid out of her chair and put herself between Monch and his view of Terell. "You poor man," she cooed as she pulled him close so his head could rest on her breast. She kissed the top of his head. "I will take care of you. Come with me."

Rynech stifled his amusement at the lust and gratitude on Monch's face. Urniri led him out into the street while Terrel was busy downing shots at the bar, oblivious and uncaring as to what was going on behind him.

"He's yours," Rynech said to Belynn indicating the young officer. "Give us a thirty-minute head start, then bring him to us."

"Very well," Belynn said as she cast an appraising eye on her new target. "At least he's pretty."

"If you say so," Rynech replied before getting up to follow Urniri and Monch out into the street.

He followed them at a discreet distance. He watched with some pride as Urniri worked the big man like a professional. She walked near him, letting her hand brush his. Each subtle brush of her body against Monch's side was heightening his excitement, and when Urniri feigned a chill, the big man was all too happy to put his arm around her. Monch was practically in love by the time they traversed the three blocks to the house Rynech had rented.

He waited patiently across the street as Monch kissed and pawed at Urniri outside the door before she led him inside.

After a short wait, Rynech approached the door and quietly slipped inside. He moved silently down the hall toward Urniri's room. He paused when he heard her giggle, then crept up to her partially open door. He peeked inside just in time to see her ease the big man onto the floor, where the lout promptly started snoring.

Urniri quickly closed the hidden compartment on her ring before wiping any remaining dream powder off her finger on Monch's shirt. Amazing stuff, that dream powder. Once inhaled or tasted, the powder rendered its victim instantly unconscious for up to half an hour.

Rynech strode into the room. "Good work," he said.

"Do you really want to waste me on this?" she asked and gestured at Monch's comatose figure with disgust.

"Not if Belynn brings the officer," he answered. "Now help me get this heavy bastard tied up. We don't have much time."

"What are we going to do with him?" Urniri asked.

Rynech smirked. "No use wasting a chicken or a rat when we have all the blood we'll need for the magic right here."

**********

The High Priestess's study seemed quite wondrous to Emma. Rosewood bookshelves carved with intricate thorns and vines lined two whole walls from floor to ceiling. The sculptural details were almost as impressive as the wealth of knowledge contained in the tomes that lined the shelves. In fact, she couldn't recall the last time she'd seen so many books in one place since she quit teaching at the Covenant University.

Even more striking than the books was the life-sized portrait of Virginia Dare that dominated the room from its vantage point above the fireplace. As Emma stood before the portrait in reverence of the great lady, it seemed as though the warmth she felt from the small fire was a blessing washing over her from the founder of the Order herself.

"May God bless you, great lady," Emma whispered. "And may you rest eternally at peace in the arms of Lord Aramon." She made the sign of the rock over her heart.

Outwardly, Emma appeared calm as she waited for the High Priestess to appear, but inside she was very troubled. She strongly disagreed with the way the Covenant house appeared to be run, but lacked the authority to do anything more than what she already had. What's more, the Grand Sorceress could make life very difficult for Emma if she took offense to her meddling.

She would have to tread very carefully. She decided to make her report as duty demanded then excuse herself as quickly as possible. The faster she could get out of here and back to the Arabella the better.

Emma turned from the portrait when Sarafella swept into the room. Behind the Grand Sorceress came the same Adept who had led Emma to the study. The younger woman bore a delicate tea set on a heavy silver platter. Steam and the aroma of freshly brewed tea wafted from the porcelain teapot.

"Grand Sorceress," Emma said before she dropped a curtsy.

"Emma." Sarafella's tone was all business. "It has been a long time. Please sit and share some tea." She gestured toward two floral, cushioned chairs positioned on either side of the small tea table on which the Adept had set the platter.

"Thank you, Grand Sorceress." Emma took the closest chair while Sarafella took the other. It was not lost on Emma that Sarafella did not give her permission to use her first name as custom dictated for witches of their rank in an informal setting.

Neither woman spoke as the Adept set out two cups and carefully poured the hot liquid. Emma sipped the tea and nodded her thanks to the young Adept as the girl stepped back from the table.

"Thank you, Chara," Sarafella said in dismissal. The Adept quickly moved some distance away and stood attentively, ready to refill the their cups as needed.

"I hear there was some excitement at the gate," Sarafella said, eyeing Emma over her cup as she sipped her tea.

"Nothing too serious, Grand Sorceress," Emma answered carefully before sipping her own tea.

"Still, I thank you for your assistance in the matter," Sarafella said with false gratitude. "You know how these young girls can get distracted from their duties."

"You're welcome, Grand Sorceress," Emma said.

Sarafella gave her a cool smile. "Still, I find that whenever someone visits a new place, they should take a little time to see how things are done before taking actions that may upset plans that are in motion."

The words were delivered in polite tones, but Emma clearly heard Sarafella's veiled threat. I don't like you coming in here and throwing your weight around. If you do it again, there will be consequences.

"I understand, Grand Sorceress," Emma said humbly, her head bowed.

"You may call me Sarafella." Having made her point, the Grand Sorceress's tone became more friendly.

"Thank you, Sarafella," Emma said.

"So, tell me. What brings you here, Emma?" she asked.

Emma took a deep breath before speaking. "An Outlander came through the portal on Franeer Island. We have him aboard my husband's ship. I formally request that you send a bird to the Matriarch to inform her that we are in route to Panaar to deliver the Outlander to the King."

Sarafella sat frozen, her teacup raised halfway to her lips. "Is this a jest?" she finally asked.

"It is no jest," Emma said simply.

Sarafella sat stunned. Her mind spun with the possibilities. The long-awaited Outlander was destined to do great things, to be at the center of momentous events. If she attached herself to him in some way, as an advisor perhaps or even as a lover, she could gain immense stature. Thoughts of grandeur whirled in her mind until she noticed that she still held her teacup and hastily set it down.

"Chara," Sarafella called to the attending Adept. "Have a bird sent to the Citadel to inform the Matriarch that the Outlander of prophecy has arrived. Tell her that I will personally deliver him to the King in Panaar."

Emma was startled. "You will be coming with us?" she asked as the Adept hurried out.

"Yes. I and my handmaidens, Chara and Vina." Sarafella said. "You will return to your ship and make preparations for our arrival."

"But what of the Chapter house?" Emma protested. The thought of sharing the ship's small confines with a witch who outranked her was unwelcome.

"Sorceress Elva will see to the Chapter house while I am gone. Now —"

She fell silent as her other handmaiden scurried into the study followed closely by Ava, her two sea dog escorts, and a skinny man with a blue, conical-shaped hat on his head.

"I'm very sorry," the handmaiden said. "They claim it's important."

"It's all right, Vina," Sarafella said. She gestured the young woman aside and focused on Ava. "What is it?"

Ava dropped a quick curtsy to the Grand Sorceress then turned to her mother. "This man has an urgent message from Father and someone named Farthen," she said.

Emma's eyes widened in surprise at the mention of her old friend. She hadn't seen nor spoken to him since she had chosen Garek despite Farthen's confession of love all those years ago. She hadn't known that Garek still visited him whenever they were in Antyor.

"Go ahead," she said with a slight tremor in her voice.

The skinny man shuffled forward, snatched his ridiculous blue hat off his head, and gave an awkward bow. "I was told to tell you that Kron and Piet live on in our hearts so you would know the message came from your husband," he said.

Emma's heart skipped the way it always did at the mention of her dead sons. "Yes, yes," she said, and nodded for him to continue.

"Package compromised. Snake belly threat. Depart tomorrow. Return to the ship." Then after a pause he added, "That was it."

Everyone was silent for a moment until Emma said, "Thank you, good man." She reached for her coin purse.

The messenger held up his hand to stop her. "No need, Sorceress. Farthen sends his regards." With a respectful nod at the Grand Sorceress, the messenger turned and left.

"This changes things," Sarafella said. "We can't allow the Outlander to fall into the hands of the Aramonic Priesthood."

"What are you going to do?" Emma asked.

"Defend him at all costs, of course," she said, then turned to Vina. "Summon everyone to the courtyard. We're going to the docks."

As her handmaiden scurried out of the room, Sarafella quivered in her seat, barely able to contain her excitement. What an eventful day this had turned out to be. There was so much that had to be done to prepare for her departure tomorrow.

Her musings soon returned to her other guest who remained hidden away, and she felt a pang of regret. Her sex moistened at the memory of Relion's tongue on her clit, of his cock slipping into her pussy.

Regretfully, she banished him from her mind. News of the Outlander had ended any chance of an evening of pleasure. She wondered if the Outlander would be pleasing to the eye and if he would be a good lover. She so looked forward to finding out.

**********

Jack stared at the Governor's back with no little trepidation.

After confiscating their weapons, their captors had led them covertly through the back alleys and byways of the city until they reached a side gate that opened to a courtyard filled with men of the City Watch. A short walk through the Governor's castle had taken them to an audience chamber.

They'd been standing in the chamber for some time, while their host paid them no mind. Jack was feeling disconcerted at being ignored. He glanced questioningly at Garek, but the Captain only shrugged.

Kairn and Grelik remained in the hallway outside with the rest of their escort. Only Lieutenant Lasko stood in the chamber with them. He stayed a few paces behind Jack and Garek, with his hand resting on his sword hilt.

Duke Darst Atanris, Governor of Antyor, stood with his hands clasped behind his back as he looked out over the city through the lone window. He was a shade under six feet tall, with close-cropped black hair except for a hint of iron-gray at the temples. He wasn't dressed in finery but wore a brown, wool-blended shirt and breeches designed for practicality over court fashion. Jack got the distinct impression that the bastard sword the Governor wore on his hip was not there just for show, and that the Governor knew how to use it well.

"What am I to do?" the Governor said suddenly. He turned and looked at them.

Jack didn't know what to say so he followed Garek's example and remained silent.

"That is the question that plagues me," he said. "What do I do in the predicament I find myself in?" He pointed at a small table on which lay two small parchments. Both documents were still curled in the shape of the message tubes that the birds had carried them in. "I have two conflicting messages about you from Panaar."

Jack glanced nervously at the small parchments, keenly aware that his fate may hinge on what was written upon them. He had the urge to snatch them up and read them, but it would have been a futile exercise. This world's written language was still indecipherable to him. What do they say? Damn it!

"The first one," the Governor said as though he had heard Jack's thoughts, "is from the King. It says that you, Garek Liaman, are a traitor. You are accused of murdering the gatekeeper and kidnapping the Outlander. It says you are in league with the Karokai and are to be apprehended and turned over to the Swords of Aramon and their Aramonic priest masters."

"And the second?" Garek asked, finally speaking.

"The second is from Chael Dovangi, the Captain of the King's Sentinels."

"What does it say?" Jack asked, unable to contain himself.

The Governor looked startled when Jack spoke and eyed him with an expression that Jack couldn't read. "It says," he answered, "that Chancellor Vallen is using his powers to control the King's mind. Dovangi claims that the King's Sentinels have been replaced and can no longer protect the King. He says that the Aramonic Priests are orchestrating a coup and that our new King is nothing but a figurehead."

"I don't know what's happening in the Capital, but that matches what we have heard from Farthen," Garek said. "And I give you my word, I am no traitor." He delivered that last statement as though daring anyone to dispute him.

"I know who you are Garek Liaman, and I know that King Roadan trusted you," the Governor said as he stared into the distance. "I fought with your sons at Danaab. My own son is buried with yours near there. I know what you've sacrificed in the fight against the Karokai."

The Governor finally turned to face Garek. "I don't believe for a second that you would betray us to the bastards that killed our sons." The two men exchanged a look that only men who have borne such a loss would understand.

"Will you help us then?" Garek asked.

The Governor regarded Garek with an unreadable expression. "There are three thousand Swords of Aramon camped just east of the city," he said. "I have around three hundred City Watchmen to oppose them, but the Watch are peacekeepers, not soldiers."