The Apostate Ch. 02

"Aye, a drow and a northman," one of the dancers at the Moonstone Mask said to Iliara. The elf was wearing a fine gown of blue velvet and an ivory mask trimmed with decorative blue stones and small white feathers. The dancer was similarly outfitted, though clearly a very prominent entertainer. She wore a shimmering pearlescent gown of shimmerweave that was so daring and revealing that it was hardly a gown at all. Large breasts and sleek thighs were readily apparent, save for a scant modicum of decency offered by her clothing. Her mask covered the left half of her face in an opalescent metal that shimmered to match her gown. Rich auburn hair framed the other half of her head, pulled over from the top. The sides of her head were shaved smooth and decorated with fluid, almost elvish looking script tattooed onto the skin.

"When was the last time you saw them?" Iliara asked in her melodious voice. She could see the woman shift nervously, though the movement was very well-hidden by an adjustment of her very unruly gown. "I assure you, Lura and Hammer are very dear friends of mine. We came to this city together several years ago."

"As you say," the woman said, smiling warmly at the elf. Iliara's green eyes bored into the courtesan's, immune to her charms at the moment. "They departed yesterday evening," she admitted finally. "Didn't say much of a good-bye, just smiled and waved as they walked out the door."

"You're certain they won't be back?" Iliara asked.

"As certain as I can be," she replied impatiently. "Listen, we're known for our discretion here. I've told you all you're going to get, Lady Elf. Now, can I interest you in some carnal diversion?"

Iliara scowled slightly, gave the woman a once-over, and shook her head. "Another time," she said. "Not that I'm not interested, just...pressing matters. You understand."

"Of course," the woman said, twirling off to a newly arrived officer of the Neverwinter militia.

Iliara sighed.

About an hour later, Cyra met her in front of the Mask, wearing the same irritated expression.

"I haven't been this frustrated in a long time, and I fear no amount of cunnilingus can ease it," the red-skinned woman said. Drax was not at her side, as she was hesitant to bring the beast into the city. Rather, it was out hunting and frolicking in Neverwinter Wood, a mental link between the two keeping them equally alert of any trouble.

"Don't be so sure," Iliara said flirtatiously, though her heart wasn't in the sentiment. "Lura and Hammer are more thorough than this. I hate to think something fell might have become them, but whatever the cause of their departure, we should make an effort to locate them."

"Agreed," Cyra said. "Let's ask the guards at the gate."

Iliara nodded. Arm in arm, they left the Moonstone Mask and made their way to the edge of town.

*****

"Aye, a drow and a barbarian. Big son of a bitch, that one," the guard said, nodding. "Would've loved his sword on the wall when the dead were assaulting it."

"Or anywhere else, for that matter," his cohort said. Both were of middling age and slightly overweight, with greasy helm-cuts and scraggly beards. Iliara turned her nose up at them, but Cyra had been more personable to try and get information. Of course, they were both eyeing Iliara up and down. Her leathers were flattering her athletic figure, and her soft-looking lips gleamed with promise—just not for the guardsmen.

"They left yestereve?" Cyra confirmed, and the guards nodded.

"I thought I overheard something about the Underdark. Perhaps they got a job going to Gauntlgrym or somesuch," the first guard said, but Cyra felt something in her gut screaming against that reasoning.

"Thank you very much," she said, turning to consult the elf at her side.

"You got something to offer in return for our helpfulness?" the guard asked. Cyra looked over her shoulder to see him eyeing the curve of her ass.

"Why yes, I do," she purred, stepping slowly toward the guard. He looked excitedely at his comrade, then reached out to touch the red-skinned woman's hip. She swatted his hand away. "A bit of advice." She put her hand to his cheek, and in a very slow, very soft, very serious voice, said, "If you ever touch me again...I'll kill you."

The blood drained from the man's face as flames licked at her irises.

"Was that necessary?" the elf asked as they made haste away from the gate.

"Are you complaining?" Cyra countered.

"Not at all. But was it necessary?"

Cyra smirked. "Not at all."

"So what's the play?"

"Head for Gauntlgrym," the dragonspawn woman said. "I see no other option. They're looking for trouble, no doubt."

"Do you fear for them?" Iliara asked, putting a hand on her lover's elbow to stop her.

Cyra smiled. "Not at all. Hammer is a more than capable warrior, and Lura has wormed her way out of more trouble than I've seen in a lifetime. I just want to be sure."

Iliara smiled, put a hand on her lover's face, their respective pigments contrasting starkly as she leaned up to kiss her lips. "Let's make haste, then."

*****

Solafein and Lirafey had been back within the confines of Gauntlgrym for several hours, well into the daylight, when Szinvyr returned. He'd gained two strangers and lost one scout. Lirafey stepped in front of Solafein to address the swordmage as he led the lovely, red-clad female and her hulking, massive male counterpart past several patrols and guardsmen.

"Szinvyr," she said. "Where is Amalzar. Who are these two?"

"Amalzar is dead," Szinvyr said. "This is Luriia Torvirr and her consort, Calavyr."

"Priestess?" she asked.

"High Priestess," Luriia said authoritatively. "And you should be addressing me directly,Priestess.From your knees."

"I see only a female drow that travels with a male as her only companion," Lirafey said venomously.

"Kneel!" Luriia commanded, magic filling her voice with compulsion as her crimson whip came lashing out at Lirafey. It struck her across the face, and both she and Solafein found their knees without hesitation. "I am Luriia Torvirr, of House Torvirr, Twenty-Fourth House of Menzoberranzan, High Priestess and First Daughter of Matron Torvirr. Who in Lolth's name are you?"

"Lirafey Mourlefey," she said into the floor. "The male is Solafein Auvryan, Secondboy of House Auvryan. Forgive our ignorance, Lady Torvirr. We patrolled with Szinvyr and Amalzar."

"Your ignorance will not be tolerated for long. Stand and address me like the priestess you claim to be, Lirafey of House Mourlefey. Thirty-second House, yes?"

"Thirty-third," she said, humbled.

"Ah," Luriia said as if it did not matter. "And what did your patrol encounter to split the four of you up?"

"It was near dawn, the end of our patrol. We returned here to avoid the sunlight."

"Szinvyr and Amazlar did not deem in necessary to return. Had you been there, you might have prevented the loss of your scout."

"He was a male," Lirafey said, confused.

"He was an asset. No matter how worthless he is in our society, he performs a function in your party, and you let him die," Luriia said, ire in her voice.

"It won't happen again," Lirafey said. "How did he meet his end?"

"He attacked me," Luriia said simply, gauging Lirafey's reaction. It was appropriately surprised. "My warrior killed him in short order. Perhaps I overstated his worth," she added with a smirk. Lirafey bowed her head.

"As you say, mistress. How can we serve you now? And...if I may ask, why have we never seen you before, and where did you come from?"

"My consort and I have been at work in Neverwinter and the Silver Marches forming a web of power and intelligence among the surfacers," Luriia said. "More than that is not your concern. Now, shall you show us to our quarters?"

Lirafey nodded curtly, smoothing her robe with her hands as she obediently led Luriia and Hammer through the winding tunnels into the living area of Gauntlgrym. Having never ventured into this region of the former dwarven citadel, they were quite at a disadvantage. It was never a comforting feeling to be at the tender mercies of a drow priestess and her cohorts.

"Someone higher ranking will want to debrief you," Lirafey said as she approached a barren door of iron. It looked like a jail cell to Hammer's eyes. "You should get your rest."

Lura smiled sweetly at the priestess as she waited on her to open the door. Lirafey did as was expected, though not without a sigh of irritation. Within the chamber was a wide bed—wide enough for Lura and her large companion—a soft carpet, plenty of pillows, a desk with a magical glowball, and the usual accoutrement of the hedonistic drow. She smiled a small smile.

"Come, Calavyr. I'm sure we can find something other than rest to pass the time," she said, her hand on Hammer's wrist possessively. She had no intention of making love to the man-turned-drow, but was instead marking her claim on him as a male as much for his safety as anything else. With the protection of a high priestess, lesser males would be disinclined to assassinate him and lesser females would be less interested in coupling with him. Truly, there were some dense enough to risk the ire of a high priestess if the prize seemed worth the effort.

No plan was fool proof.

"We will be on our way to Menzoberranzan when we awaken. If someone wishes to debrief us, they had better do so quickly," Lura said to Lirafey, who nodded and quickly walked away, Solafein in tow.

When they'd wandered far enough away, Solafein stopped. Lirafey turned to regard him, irritation on her brow.

"Did you see the way magic emanated from the male?" Solafein asked.

"Of course I did," Lirafey said. "I don't keep spells like that on us for nothing."

"I'm suspicious of him," Solafein said.

"Of course you are, you are drow," Lirafey said with a smirk, almost laughing at the silly statement. "He emanated magic no differently than you do. He's magically armed and armored, no different than you."

"As you say," Solafein said, not convinced.

Lirafey sighed in exasperation. "Fine, Solafein. We will spy on them and see what we may. We need a wizard."

Solafein rolled his eyes. "I was afraid you'd say that. Must we useherthough?"

"She's bound to my service," Lirafey said, smirking. "So yes. Deal with it."

The pair wandered deeper into the residential corridors of Gauntlgrym, where drow who had been living here since the beginning resided, and knocked on the door etched with arcane runes and glyphs of warding. The door opened almost immediately and laying in the center of the room, naked and sweating, was Shandra Auvryana. She was no priestess, she was barely noble, and she was invaluable to Lirafey. The woman had been taken captive in battle, bound to Lirafey personally as a servant until the end of her life.

Normally, such an arrangement was fraught with dissension, hatred, and grudging acceptance. But Shandra had thrown herself wholly at Lirafey's mercy. She submitted wholly. Mind, body, and craft. Mostly bodily, but her skill at divination was quite useful at times.

"Mistress!" Shandra squealed, sitting up from the floor. Her breasts were much larger than most drow, her hair cropped short to her shoulders. She was a little doughy for the elven species, but no less lovely in her dark way. She drove her knees into the floor, falling face first to the ground before her mistress.

Ass up in the air, Solafein couldn't help but smirk a little. That is, until the simpering began, and he remembered why he couldn't stand the drow sorceress.

"Make her stop," Solafein muttered, but Lirafey seemed to be enjoying herself as the sorceress lavished praise on the priestess.

"It's a nice contrast from being spoken down to by that old hag," Lirafey mused.

That stopped Shandra's groveling, the drow turning her face up at her mistress. Glittering piercings studded her eyebrows, nose, and lips. "Who?" the sorceress asked, outraged that her mistress had been angered.

"Not your concern," Solafein snapped.

"Male!" the sorceress snapped, but Solafein drew a sword to silence her.

"Enough, consort," Lirafey said to Solafein, and he sheathed his sword. "And you," she said to Shandra. "You know he is my lover. Treat him with respect. You a servant, remember?"

"Forgive me, Mistress," the sorceress said, bowing down again. "How can I serve you?"

"I wish to spy on some new arrivals," Lirafey said.

"The high priestess Luriia Torviir and her warrior, Calavyr," Shandra said sagely.

"I'm not surprised you know already," Lira said flatly. "What else do you know?"

"Powerful magic guides them," Shandra said, nodding quickly. "Divine magic."

"Lolth?" Lirafey found herself asking instinctively.

"Not for me to know," Shandra said. She looked up at Lirafey, blinking mismatched eyes at her mistress. "Apologies."

"Well enough," Lira said, putting a hand on the elf's short hair. Shandra nuzzled her palm with a smile. "Scry her."

Shandra nodded. "Please disrobe," she said to her mistress and Solafein.

Grumbling, the male did as he was bade before Lirafey bade him do so. Both were naked in short order and sitting on the floor with Shandra, who brought over a dull black bowl filled with water. She put one hand between her thighs and began rubbing. She drew on magic that flowed through her, dipping her other hand into the bowl until it became foggy, her magic taking hold.

The Weave responded to her gentle, lover's touch, and the cloudy water cleared and took on a reflective sheen that showed Luriia and Calavyr holding each other in the bed provided for them.

Shandra moaned softly, frigging herself while Lirafey and Solafein watched the two lovers sleep.

"Well, this is boring," he said flatly.

"It doesn't have to be," Shandra said in a throaty purr, fingers thrust firmly up into her dripping quim.

Solafein looked at her sidelong, and his irritation melting away as the drow's large breasts undulated with her mounting pleasure.

"Go," Lirafey said. "Orgasms keep her docile."

The male stood, his cock hanging flaccid from his hips. The magic in effect, Shandra no longer needed to tend the bowl. Lirafey observed as the sorceress put her hands to the male's hips and took his cock into her mouth, sucking firmly on it, stretching it and beckoning blood to fill his organ.

"You taste like her still," she purred when she broke her liplock on his cock. He grunted and put his fingers through her short white hair. His other hand holding his cock aloft as it grew, he pushed her face back down his member. The last place his cock had been was Lirafey's ass. He grinned as her throat gripped the head of his shaft, her tongue lashing around the length of the obsidian flesh.

Solafein was in complete control of the situation. His hand held her hair while he pushed her mouth up and down his cock, his other hand holding the base of his shaft to make sure it stayed in her mouth until it reached full erection.

Right about...now.

To his surprise, the sorceress showed a measure of ambition and batted both his hands away. She grabbed him by the firm muscles of his buttocks and shoved him toward her, impaling her throat with his fully erect cock. He laughed at the sorceress, who's magic seemed to be fueled by her own arousal.

"I know I hate this woman," Solafein said to an oblivious Lirafey, "but Lolth's fanged cunt she gives an amazingzurla."

The sorceress glared up at him, but the welling moisture in her eyes from stifling a gag every time she throated him made it look almost comical. He tapped her on the cheeks with his palm. Well, slapped her on the cheeks. The fire in her eyes amused him. But what truly pleased him was the sudden surge of eagerness she seemed to develop from the treatment.

"She's a proper masochist, isn't she?" he asked Lirafey. Again, the priestess ignored him.

Solafein glanced over at her and saw she was wrist deep in her own orifice, eyes half-lidded, nipples hard as adamantite. Within the bowl, Luriia was grinding her asshole up and down Calavyr's massive cock. Solafein almost deflated when he saw the size of the thing going up the high priestess's backside.

"By Lolth," he breathed.

Shandra, chagrined at losing Solafein's attention, thrust a cunt-moistened finger right into his ass. He jumped, his cock plowing unceremoniously into her throat, and a torrent of cum poured right down her gullet as she curled her finger against his trigger.

"Pay attention," she said in a hoarse voice. Drool coated her chin as she stroked his cock. "Your mistress gave you an order. Orgasms keep me docile. Give me orgasms."

He could feel magical vigor coursing right into his cock, keeping it hard. His testes were on overdrive, and he suddenly felt as if he'd not cum in weeks. Grabbing Shandra by the hair, he threw her onto her back, then tossed her onto her stomach. He mashed her face down onto the damp stone floor and drove his cock straight down into her sopping, messy cunt.

He pressed her cheeks into the floor, scraping them slightly as he began to drive straight down into her with all the force he and gravity could muster. With his other hand, he grasped her hair and yanked it back sharply. She howled in pain and in pleasure as his cock ravaged her cunt.

Meanwhile, Lirafey was thoroughly caught up in her voyeuristic pleasure. The scrying bowl held an overhead view of the room housing Calavyr and Luriia, but the high priestess was leaning back far enough from the reclining male warrior that she could very visibly see her anus stretched around his glistening, throbbing cock. As if by extension of her thought, the magic in the bowl zoomed closer to the action. She could see every droplet of sweat on the priestess's breasts, every striation and vein on the warrior's torso. Every vein on his cock as it disappeared and reappeared from her asshole.

She could almost hear in her head the sounds of passion the female was shouting at the ceiling, the wet sound of flesh colliding with flesh, the sound of her ass sliding up and down his cock. It was all so much for her. Her hand was fully inside her cunny. No great feat, considering how small her hands truly were and how wet she was. It was as if her battle-captive's erotic magic had infected her entire body.

Then, all of a sudden, Luriia locked eyes with the spying priestess. She knew without question that whatever magic was colluding with those two had informed the high priestess of the voyeur on the other side of the magical window. To her surprise, though, Luriia only grinned, bit her lip, and closed her eyes as she lost herself in what could only be described as a cataclysmic, paralyzing orgasm. She shuddered violently, her pussy flowing with arousal as her warrior finished himself inside her asshole.

"By Lolth," the priestess said, removing her hand to strum her clit to orgasm.

She collapsed almost immediately afterward, leaving Solafein to the ravaging he was giving Shandra.

*****

The next morning, Lura and Hammer awoke without assistance from their drow hosts. Quietly and quickly, they dressed, repacked what they had taken from their packs, and made ready for the road deeper underground.

Lura's red robe was as thin and gauzy and clung to her feminine shape as any proper high priestess's should, revealing all her natural assets and leaving the bare minimum to the imagination, thanks to the magical protection provided by the armor.

Hammer was dressed just as he was the day previous, his specially crafted armor sheathing him perfectly. Sword within easy reach as always, he, too, was prepared for their journey.

When they opened the door to peak out and observe their surroundings, they were greeted by Lirafey's smiling face, Solafein's scowl, and the soft features of a female they had not seen before.