The Apostate Ch. 06

*****

Cyra and Iliara had returned to their apartment and had not left for anything save food and water. The couple had spent too much time away from their intimate chamber. It wasn't anything like the opulence Lura had managed to seduce her way into, but then, they never needed any of that. The assassin had lived off of far less, and Cyra was simply happy to be with her mate.

Short of an occasional visit from her sister, Lidia, Cyra had been content with a completely uneventful several tendays. But eventually they both grew a bit stir-crazy.

"I need something else," Iliara said, her body naked, sweat running in rivulets all over her athletic, muscular frame. What little body fat the elf had previously held had melted off from a lack of sufficient sustenance and the near constant state of fucking she and Cyra had been engaged in.

"I'm not sure what else we can do," said Cyra. She'd just unlocked Iliara from the restraints they'd built into the bed, and was taking off an elaborate harness, the black, rubbery, studded cock jutting from the harness at her loins falling with a splat to the ground. "I've just about exhausted my repertoire of ideas!"

"I don't mean that," Iliara said, sighing. "Though I would be interested to see how deeply that repertoire went. I mean...I want a job."

"A job?" Cyra asked, incredulous. "What kind of job?"

"I don't know," the former assassin said, shrugging. Her small breasts bounced cutely on her chest in the movement, and Cyra couldn't suppress a smirk as they jiggled slightly. Her own large breasts were coated with oil and sweat, and her thicker, more powerful body stood over the elf as she wrapped her arms around the slender beauty.

"You could be a dancer," Cyra said, nibbling at her neck. "A perfect specimen as you twirling around poles in the Moonstone Mask...I'd never leave."

Iliara giggled, but twisted out of her lover's embrace and gave her a serious look, hands on her hips. Naked, she didn't give off a serious aura, but Cyra paid attention. She knew better than to discount Iliara's willpower.

"I long for steel in my hands again," she said, looking over their bed, where her daggers were mounted on the wall. "I long for purpose, to put my skill to work."

"We just left the Underdark—"

"Where we were held captive," she snapped, glowering. "It is not the same."

"Then what do you propose, walk right to the City Guard and ask for a job?" Cyra asked.

"There have to be criminals that need capturing," Iliara said, pondering the thought. "We'd make fine watchladies."

Her smirk was infections, and Cyra nodded after mulling it over. "And if they try to cover that gorgeous figure in plate mail?" the half-dragon asked with a grin.

"They'd never," she said with a silky voice. "It's settled?"

"Aye," Cyra said, sitting back on the edge of the bed as Iliara leapt for her, straddling her and riding her down to the mattress.

*****

Lidia Lovedrake had never been keen on hiding the truth of her appearance. Soaring high over Neverwinter Wood, her body clad in only shiny black scales that cupped her breasts and bottom, arms and thighs, kness and elbows, and with wings both black and scaly, the horned woman was one with the air. She reveled in the sky for much of the time she had been back, never wanting to touch the ground again for fear that the Underdark would swallow her up again.

But she had to land here and there, and the half-dragon had visited Vath often to relieve her more carnal urges. Such was not the case now, her broad, strong wings carrying her down into the boughs of Neverwinter Wood, swerving around trees with precision borne of decades of practice. The half-dragon alit on the ground, sniffing the air and looking around. Vath was nearby, she knew, and expected the half-orc to be wrist deep in herself by the scent.

She meandered around for a moment, then heard a wet sound, a grunt, then a sigh. She smirked and marched loudly through the autumn leaves on the ground. Vath stirred, her naked body coming up in a whirl, axes at the ready. Lidia bit her lip when she saw the naked, wet form of the muscular half-orc standing before her, sweaty and with a heaving chest. The ranger immediately relaxed, a grin on her face.

"You missed it," she said. "Already finished."

"I didn't come here for that," Lidia said. "I'm flying to be with my mother in Cormyr."

Vath's smile waned, her body seeming to go flaccid right before Lidia's eyes. "You're leaving," she said, more than asked, and Lidia nodded.

"Would that I could carry you there," she said. "I've grown fond of you these last days."

"Likewise," the half-orc said, her demeanor hardening. "It has been a pleasure knowing you, Lidia Lovedrake."

Lidia, surprising herself, felt as though she'd been slapped in the face at Vath's brusqueness. Her brow furrowed and she scowled, not realizing it. Vath softened at the expression and came forward quickly, embracing the half-dragon, kissing and nuzzling her neck. "We could buy horses," Lidia whispered to the half-orc, and Vath pulled away immediately.

"Why?" she asked.

"Because I want you to be with me," Lidia said flatly, as though that went without saying.

"But for how long? How long until your fancy wears out?" Vath asked, folding her arms defensively.

"That seems an unreasonable question," the half-dragon said.

"You ask me to leave my home on a whim, trusting that you will keep an interest in me long enough to warrant such a journey," Vath said.

"Don't come as my lover," Lidia said. "Come as my friend, and companion, which we surely are. I'm not trying to make a bride of you, Vath. I am trying to bring a dear friend with me on a long journey, which will hold great fun and adventure for both of us. I can certainly care for myself, but I would much rather do so with you by my side."

Vath mulled that over for a moment. "A friend?" she asked, arching a brow.

"With benefits?" Lidia asked, at once hopefully and tentative.

Vath's smile grew wide and eager. "Indeed," she said, surging forward to crush Lidia in a great hug, their tongues sparring immediately.

"Cormyr is a long journey. To Baldur's Gate by sea, then by land eastward," Lidia said, breathing hard into Vath's mouth as they embraced.

"I'll ride you all the way there," Vath said, shoving the half-dragon against a tree and hiking her long, pale leg up around her own muscular hip. Lidia gasped, feeling her wings spread wide against the tree, her leg pulling the half-orc in tight. They both grinned wide, Vath's muscular thigh jammed into Lidia's sex.

"It will be a good journey."

*****

Lirafey pulled her cloak tight around her body, warding off an early snow that had blown in from the North Sword Coast. Her breath froze before her face, and she didn't think all the fires in Luskan could warm her frozen bones. That was not any real concern to the drow elf, though, as she pushed into One-Eyed Jax, a well-known tavern in Luskan. She pulled her hood off, and pale skin greeted the customers as they looked at the pretty, new arrival. Ignoring many of the leering faces of lecherous wretches, she climbed the stairs to her rented room.

Shandra awaited her, basking in magical warmth, her nude body sprawled out on a fine bed. Just as she had been when they'd finished their lovemaking. The drow, thicker than average, was the definition of voluptuous, her breasts parting down the middle of her chest as she laid there, in Reverie.

"Wake up," Lira said, tossing a ball of snow at the sorceress. Oh, how she howled! The frozen ball splattered on her soft skin, covering her stomach with ice that melted into frigid water atop her skin.

"Bitch!" she snapped, nearly leaping off the bed and wicking away the water with her hands. "What was that for?" she asked as Lira removed her cloak—and thus the disguise the magical garment conveyed—revealing the fine clothing she'd worn to her meeting with a certain mercenary leader and her true, onyx skin. She walked with a hitch as she hung it up on a coat rack. "You fucked him, didn't you?"

"More like he fucked me," she said. "Rumor is that he's fucking a couple of bronze dragons, too, so I feel quite honored."

Shandra gave a chortle. "Lizard-dung," she said. "But good for you. What news?"

"We've got a job," she said, "and you won't believe it."

"I might," the sorceress said.

"We're to open conversation with Matron Mother Umra'loth Baensek, as agents of Bregan D'aerth. For the purpose of selling draconic artifacts," Lirafey said, making a point to emphasize that last little bit.

"I'm sorry, what?" Shandra asked.

"Still doubt he's fucking coppers?" Lira asked, smirking. "Here. Apparently, this mirror is attuned to an identical one in House Baensek. Matron Umra'loth's private chambers, most likely."

The item was a simple rectangular mirror, rimmed in silver and encrusted with amethysts. It seemed ordinary enough, if not exquisitely made, but to Shandra's arcane senses, it hummed with magic.

"When?" the sorceress asked, pulling on a simple bath robe.

"At earliest convenience," Lirafey said, shrugging. Her black velvet blouse shimmered in the magical lights Shandra had conjured, and the fine, tight leggings she wore hugged her shapely thighs. A broad, leather sword belt, centered with a mithril buckle, held her mace, and her shield rested on the floor beneath the bed. It was too conspicuous for her mission that night.

"Now, then," Shandra said. "And after, I want to taste you."

"Deal," Lira said, removing her belt as Shandra attuned herself to the mirror.

Shandra held the mirror out in front of her, then gasped as it left her grasp, hovering before the two females. The glass misted over, grew increasingly dark, and then cleared as two violet-glowing slits appeared in the darkness.

"You are my contacts?" a voice that could not have been Matron Mother Baensek said through the mirror. The voice was all around them, it seemed.

"We are. Lirafey and Shandra," Lira said formally.

"Good, good," the voice said, and the darkness melted away, revealing a darkly beautiful, angular face. The two drow in Luskan were shocked to see deep violet hair hanging from this woman's face, though, for such a color was wholly unusual among the Matrons of Menzoberranzan. "My Secondboy Calavyr will travel between Menzoberranzan and Luskan, ferrying coin for you and your boss and artifacts for me. Understood?"

"Yes, Matron Mother," Lirafey said. "Where shall we meet? Jax?"

"Is that what he's calling it?" Matron Baensek asked, a smirk on her lips. "Cute. But no, it will not be there. Too conspicuous. Your handler will have the location. Check with him in a tenday, and my son will arrive with your first payment one day after that."

"Understood," Shandra said, surprising Lira by speaking up. Matron Baensek nodded, and her mirror began to mist over.

But not before she turned away, affording Lira and Shandra both a view of her bare breasts, shapely bottom—and a pair of enormous, violet wings, stretching at least a dozen feet wide.

"Was that..." Lira asked, eyes and jaw wide.

"Don't ask," a male's voice said behind them.

Darkness fell over the room.

Shandra giggled.

Neither slept a wink that night.

*****

Allumethystia soared over the skies of Cormyr, her golden eyes piercing the distance and surveying the ground below. Her kind, so accustomed to the Underdark and the deepest, darkest caverns, were natural explorers, though they generally preferred plumbing the secrets of the deepest, darkest holes. Allumethystia had discovered a fondness for the surface world, particularly the night sky and its million, million twinkling stars. Such was it now, flying so high that the chill of the night would have frozen mortal bones.

Cormyr, she thought, might be fun. Court intrigue, a place to work her influence, exerting herself over mortals by the dozens, all seemed to be particularly attractive to her. She thought of her sister, Umethystra, and how she had built her own sphere of influence, and was a bit jealous. Her kind were quite skilled at influencing mortals, whether by their own conniving cunning, or by their psionic-like magic. She wondered what sort of fortune she might build on the surface—and if she even wanted to.

"It's worth trying once in my centuries," she mused to herself. She wasn't ancient in the sense that the mightiest living dragons were ancient—indeed, they had lived a thousand years longer than she had, on average. But she was old, she was massive, and she was mighty. She thought of her daughters, missed them, but knew they would be fine. Cyra was particularly capable, having surrounded herself with powerful allies. Lidia...well, she expected that one to show up at her doorstep before the year was out. She'd never been long without her mother, and Allumethystia sometimes wondered if she'd coddled the girl too much.

A great sigh escaped her maw, crackling with violet, arcane energy that whorled around her sleek figure. "There," she decided, the King's Forest sprawled out below her. She started her descent, cloaking herself in invisibility as she descended, and landed gracefully, knocking over nary a tree.

Sniffing the air, the invisible dragon detected the scent of elf and man nearby. Extending her draconic senses, she realized it was a pair...man and woman. She could smell leather and steel, as well, and figured them to be hunters, soldiers, or that sort of ilk. So Allumethystia did what she'd spent countless decades doing: she imagined the form she wished to talk, built every detail in her vast intellect, and willed herself to shapeshift into that form. Bones cracked, scales sloughed off and disappeared, horns withdrew into a head that lost its serpentine shape in favor for that of a frightened woman.

Black hair fell over naked shoulders, large, full breasts rested atop her visible ribcage, and her stomach sunk in, baring hipbones. She looked malnourished, skinny, and afraid. She rubbed some dirt over her body, through her hair, and over her face, then ran toward the elf and man, working up a good sweat on the way.

She found them—and almost laughed delighted surprise—against a tree, rutting. They noticed her at the same time, and both men disengaged quickly, clothing themselves as she said, "Milords!" in a frightful, relieved voice. "Milords, oh milords!"

Allumethystria fell forward, landing before them and crawling weakly. "I've been lost for so long in this frightful forest, I ne'er thought I'd see another face again!"

But she received no warmth from them. The roughly lifted her up, examined her. "Trespassing in the King's Forest is against the law," the man said, and sure enough, he wore a Purple Dragon insignia on his cloak. "Punishable by death, if memory serves."

"Indeed," the elf said. "How did you come to be in this forest?"

The way he looked at her made Allumethysria wonder if her magic had, for the first time in recent memory, failed to properly disguise her. But she was relieved when he answered his own question. "You were running from the west. Do you have any idea that you're in Cormyr?"

"No, my lord," she said softly, seeming very near to crying.

"Gods, man," the elf said. "She's escaped from bandits, or some such. Ran halfway across the Forest. We need to get her to Dhedluk."

The man nodded, and Allumethystria contained her glee at her success.

"What's your name, girl?" the man asked. "And where are your clothes?"

"Alluva," she said, choking on the word for effect. "They were taken from me."

"Raped?" the man asked, and she shook her head positive. The more sympathy she could garner, the better.

They rushed her off to Dhedluk, a small timber town in the forest—the only town in the forest, she knew.

"Where are you from?" the man asked, and Alluva simply went limp. She heard the elf scolding the man.

"She's been through a lot. Let's get her to town, clean her up, and get her fed before we question her. Might be that we can find these bandits and bring them to justice," the elf said.

"Aye," the man replied. "Then we're going to fuck."

"Of course," the elf said, and they both laughed.

Alluva laughed, too, but silently and internally as they carried her through the forest.

She wondered how long it would take her to bring the village completely under her control.

It would be a good winter.