black magic bits. round three.
Nov. 28th, 2007 01:30 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maderrUm. Apologies to Goblin, b/c I have not yet had her fix her characters -- Zaede and Teryn. I keep putting this story off b/c Teryn esp. is hard for me to nail x_x
Anyway. This is the stuff I think almost no one has seen.
“Rakken!” Ambrose called out as he rode into the field. He frowned when no reply came forth. Bringing his horse to a stop, he slid off and again called out. His breath misted in the chilly late fall air, and he pulled his cloak more tightly around him. “Rakken!”
Arms wrapped around his waist and Ambrose laughed as he turned around, his own arms going immediately to twine around Rakken’s neck as he lifted his face for a kiss that the demon immediately gave. “There you are,” he said when they finally broke apart.
“I am never far away,” Rakken said in amusement. “You should not be out here. It’s far too cold to be playing about in the fields.”
Ambrose tugged Rakken’s head down to steal another kiss, always hungry for the taste and feel of his demon. Months had passed, and still it felt illicit to think that he had a demon lover. Wrong but oh so right. “You’ll keep me warm.”
Rakken smiled faintly. “As you wish.”
“I brought spiced wine, a few treats from the kitchens.” Ambrose smiled and moved to fetch the items from his bags. “It’s the start of festivities. The King has given everyone at the palace three whole days off, on rotations. He said to run off and spend it with our loved ones.”
A shadow passed over Rakken’s face, and Ambrose knew the same shadow was in his own eyes. Though they’d never said anything, an agreement ran between them to enjoy what they had while it lasted – for they were not foolish enough to think it would last forever. “Speaking of cold, how do you plan to survive the snow? It will be upon us any day now.”
“I will manage,” Rakken said with a shrug. Ambrose let it be; he had learned when to press questions and when to give up. He handed off the jug of wine as Rakken approached, then clasped his free hand and let Rakken lead them to the oak. The ground had been cleared of all debris, and a blanket Ambrose had left behind several visits ago was spread out.
Ambrose sat down with a groan, stretching his legs out and finally just falling over to lie on his back. “It is nice not to be moving. I swear in revenge for the three days, the High Paladin worked everyone three times as hard. I think he was trying to ensure I wouldn’t be able to move.”
“Perhaps he senses it is nearly time you took a province of your own,” Rakken said as he stretched out alongside Ambrose, the heat of his body immediately banishing the cold.
Ambrose reached up to stroke the edge of one carefully folded wing, slowly working his way up to stroke over the scars on Rakken’s head and face. “I doubt it. I’ve felt no compulsion to go anywhere but here. The High Paladin too says it seems I am not meant to leave the castle. Whatever the Goddess intends for me…” he gave an awkward shrug, “I do not think it involves me leaving.”
The arm lying across his chest tightened, and they fell into silence, content simply to hold each other.
“So what treats did you sneak from the kitchen?” Rakken asked some time later.
Ambrose laughed softly. “Some of that chocolate stuff you like so much.” The sound that rumbled from Rakken’s chest would have been a pleased purr had the demon been a cat. “Cinnamon bread for me. A few other things, I forget now. I had to work quickly. Nothing is more frightening than being caught stealing by the head cook. Should I fetch something for you?”
Rakken levered himself up and shifted to brace his arms on either side of Ambrose. “I’ve a different treat in mind at the moment.”
“It’s awfully cold to be playing,” Ambrose teased.
“I’ll keep you warm,” Rakken murmured before he took Ambrose’s mouth in a hungry kiss, hands moving to undo the fastenings of his cloak, pushing up his short tunic in search of skin.
Ambrose shivered at the contrast of warm fingers and cold air.
“So fine…” Rakken murmured softly, as if talking to himself.
Letting his own hands explore, Ambrose let his legs fall open so that Rakken could settle between them. “Even if I’m no longer innocent?” he asked, barely getting the question out before knowing hands made him groan, his body begging silently for more.
Rakken laughed softly, an affectionate rather than a mocking sound. “Now you smell like me. I prefer it.” He bent his head to nip and lick at Ambrose’s throat. "Pretty Paladin," he said, voice husky. "So very fine, and all mine."
"Yours," Ambrose repeated softly, staring into Rakken's eyes as the demon pulled back. He splayed his fingers across Rakken's chest, feeling the tight muscles, the smooth scars, running his hands up until they curled around those fine, broad shoulders, just the simple act of touching Rakken enough to make him shudder.
How, he'd wondered a thousand times. How had he lived so long without this? The only other time he'd felt such a rightness was the day the Goddess herself had blessed him. Too young, they'd all said, though Her will was not to be questioned.
He remembered the day so clearly, his first kill, slaughtering the demon who had dared to try and destroy one of Her sanctuaries. She had blessed him, Her power and will rushing through him, guiding his hand, giving him the strength needed to save the sanctuary and all who dwelt within. That day, he'd finally felt whole.
Until Rakken had shown him there was one more piece missing.
He tugged on Rakken's shoulders, pulling the demon down, kissing him softly, moaning low when Rakken took control of it. The kiss was hard, thorough, and left Ambrose aching. Even the cold, sharp air around them could not penetrate the heat of his demon, the fire that seemed to burn white-hot between them. He opened his mouth to take the kiss deeper, hungry for all that Rakken gave him, never sated.
Kneading the broad shoulders, loving the way the muscles bunched and rippled at his touch, because of him, he then slid his hands over and down Rakken's back, scoring the demon's skin lightly with his nails, pressing hard at the sensitive skin where wings met back, arching up as the touch made Rakken jerk, thrust. He spread his legs wider, cradling his demon between them, moving to wrap his arms around Rakken's neck and hold him close.
"Ambrose…" Rakken whispered his name, a reverence to the husky tone that made Ambrose shiver. Warm lips traced his jaw, his cheek, teeth lightly testing his earlobe. "How did a failure such as I wind up with you in my arms?"
Turning his head, Ambrose took a kiss, feeling the warmth of it to his bones, hotter than even the happiness of the Goddess which pulsed in his chest. "Never a failure," he said. "Does this feel like failure to you?"
"No, Paladin," Rakken said. Ambrose's breath hitched as a hand pressed against his hard length, Rakken's legs stretching his own even wider, leaving Ambrose feeling vulnerable and safe all at once. "It feels too good to be true…"
Ambrose shook his head and loosed his arms from Rakken's neck to slide them down his back, along his sides, finally cupping the demon's ass and jerking so they were pressed together, both left gasping. "It is true, demon." He laughed softly and tilted his chin, begging silently for a kiss, wanting Rakken to give it.
Though the shadows in his eyes did not vanish completely, as Ambrose knew they ever lingered in his own, Rakken's smile was genuine as he leaned down to kiss him. "But not good?" he said with a teasing laugh, claws stroking lightly over the tight fabric still trapping Ambrose's heat.
"Demon!" Ambrose hissed, bucking.
Rakken's laughter spilled into their kiss as he continued the exquisite torture.
Koray sat silently before the campfire, nibbling absently at his dinner, not quite certain how to feel.
The last time he'd had company around a campfire, he had been under training. Necromancers had no choice, really, but to live solitary lives. They were too few to work together for longer than it took to share their skills. Occasionally they were drawn together to cooperate on the banishment of a particularly nasty spirit…but spending time with one another only emphasized the miserable lives they led.
From the moment he'd been deemed strong enough to survive on his own, he'd sat around campfires alone. Often he had not even bothered – what had he to fear from the dark?
He sighed as raucous laughter broke into his thoughts, shifting slightly to glare at the source of it – several knights gathered around Sorin, who was telling some tale which vastly amused his soldiers.
Koray frowned as another Paladin settled a hand on Sorin's shoulder and said something else to make him smile. Setting down his tea, he gathered his robes and stalked away from the fire, into the cool dark of the surrounding forest.
It sounded for a moment like Sorin called his name, but Koray ignored him and moved deeper into the woods, until he was well away from the noise which had suddenly begun to irk him.
Whispering softly, he called up a ball of violet light, giving him just enough by which to see.
He had walked perhaps a dozen more paces when he began to shiver slightly, and a tangle of emotions brushed against his senses. Koray drew a sharp breath. This…to feel such emotions so strongly…they ran so deep, love and sadness, hope and fear.
Quickening his pace, brightening his orb of light, he strode the forest as the emanations grew stronger. The dark and silence grew heavier, thicker, and Koray feared for a moment he was only getting himself completely lost when he abruptly spilled into a small clearing.
Startled, he stood at the edge of the forest and simply looked.
It was small – a stream cut the small clearing in half, the moonlight reflected in it, only adding to the eeriness. Set slightly back from the far bank was a giant oak, and Koray gasped softly to realize he had seen that oak before.
He slipped his hand into his robe and pulled out the ruby, which was glowing softly.
In the weak images he had glimpsed, this clearing had been much larger. Over time, he supposed, the forest had swallowed most of it up. The oak…the oak had not changed at all.
Barely realizing he was moving, Koray crossed the clearing and waded through the shallow stream. The ruby glowed bright as he reached the oak, and he only absently felt the tears on his cheeks as he rested his hand on the trunk of the tree.
The ruby flared, and Koray gasped as he could suddenly see the pale, silvery figures standing so close to him beneath the great oak.
Not the same as ghosts, not quite. Their remains were here, he knew that from simply being able to sense and see this much – but the demon's soul was in the ruby. If his theory was correct, the sword itself would contain the Paladin's soul.
So these were…memories, summoned perhaps by the ruby's presence in this place.
Tears fell harder as he watched, a small handful of images that lasted only a moment each – but they only confirmed what he had already figured out. The demon and the Paladin had been in love.
Never had he seen something so surreal. The demon was tall, dark and heavily scared. His wings…Koray knew some demons had them, but he had never seen one himself. Anyone other than a holy knight who saw such a powerful demon tended not to live to tell the tale.
As fierce as he looked, he was nothing but gentle as he held the smaller Paladin. Koray had never seen such a kiss as the one they exchanged. It hurt, and stupidly Koray thought of that moment several days ago, as he and Sorin had been preparing for the ceremony. Over and over again he'd turned the moment in his mind, miserably unable to forget it. It had almost seemed…and it was…unsettling…to realize that he'd wanted…
The sound of a branch snapping jerked him from his thoughts, the weak images vanishing as his concentration broke.
"Koray?"
He stood silently as Sorin crossed the clearing to join him beneath the oak. "Are there ghosts here?" Sorin asked, frowning as he took in Koray's face.
Realizing Sorin could see he'd been crying, Koray hastily wiped the remaining tears from his cheeks. "Not exactly," he replied, and slowly explained.
"I wish I could see," Sorin said when he had finished. "I suppose there is no way to manage that, however, if it's only a memory rather than a proper ghost."
Koray nodded.
"Why did you wander off?" Sorin asked into the silence that fell.
"To get away from the noise," Koray said shortly, hand falling slowly away from the trunk of the tree. "I had not intended to come this far, but I felt…" He motioned to the place the images had been.
Sorin moved closer and Koray looked up, frowning at the way he almost seemed to loom. "Koray…"
It was the same soft tone he'd used before, and Koray once again did not know what it meant, what he was supposed to do. Calloused fingers stroked his cheek and though part of him wanted badly to pull away, Koray found he couldn't.
He drew a sharp, startled breath as Sorin's mouth covered his, and started to move away, panicked – but arms fastened suddenly around his waist, and Koray distantly remembered the way Sorin had carried him through the halls—
So this was what it was like to be kissed. Why was Sorin kissing him? Koray tried to pull away again, even as he realized his stupid hands were holding tight, and then Sorin was holding his head, tilting it just so and Koray wondered if that soft sound came from him. He really hoped not, but Sorin's lips were warm, his mouth hot, and he tasted every so faintly of honey.
When the kiss finally broke, Koray realized his hands were holding fast to Sorin's shoulders. "You—why—" He was cut off by another kiss, and this time responding was far easier than he thought it should be, and as many times as he'd been this close to Sorin while they slept, somehow now it was completely different.
He slowly opened his eyes, Sorin's face just visible in the light of the moon and his violet orb. His stupid, traitorous hands were now in Sorin's hair, and Koray realized he had no idea what was going on. "Sorin…"
Sorin chuckled softly and brushed another soft kiss across his lips. "Koray. I'm surprised you haven't pushed me away yet."
"That would send up both toppling," Koray replied, slowly letting go of his grip on Sorin's hair, but standing too close to completely withdraw because those damned arms were wrapped around him. "Let me go."
"If I did that, I might not get to kiss you again," Sorin said.
Koray frowned, not quite certain what to say. His mind seemed to be failing him, which only annoyed him further. "Why are you doing this?"
"I doubt you'd believe a word I say," Sorin replied. "Anyway, I'd probably just say it wrong."
A smile twitched at Koray's mouth, because both statements were true. "Sorin…"
That warm, honey-flavored mouth took his again, and he really wished Sorin would stop it because he could get used to kisses the same way he'd stupidly gotten used to sleeping next to Sorin.
The High Paladin was kissing him, and that was something the High Paladin would not feel obligated to do. Right? Koray wished he could make sense of it all, but Sorin was always confusing and his kisses were only more so.
When the kiss finally broke, he still could not think of anything to say.
Sorin started to speak instead, but whatever he'd been about to say was abruptly cut off by the sound of raucous laughter – that was all too familiar.
Koray could not believe it, glaring in the general direction of the laughter. Of all people, how in the Lady's name had Zaede come to be here? At such an hour of the night, no less.
Soft laughter washed over him, close to his ear, and Koray shivered despite himself. Sorin went abruptly still, then fingers stroked lightly across the small of Koray's back, and he dug his fingers into Sorin's tunic as the touch extracted more shivers.
"Koray…" Sorin whispered his name, voice husky, breaths warm against Koray's ear and he could not keep from shivering anew even as he silently cursed himself.
His thoughts all skittered away though as teeth bit gently at his earlobe, the arms around his waist tightening again. He turned to snarl at Sorin, but found his mouth once more claimed, and that odd whimpering sigh had not come from him. Definitely not
Was this how the Paladin had felt when the demon held him?
Koray gasped as he thought of those two, and how they had felt about each other—
Zaede's laughter once more cut through the night, distant but sharp, and Koray for once was faintly grateful to the aggravating man.
"Come," Sorin said with a sigh. "We had best see what Zaede is doing here, and how much trouble he has caused since we last saw him.
They left the clearing, walking back toward camp guided by his violet light. Thoughts turning over and over in his head, Koray did not realize until they'd left the forest behind that Sorin held fast to his hand. He attempted to tug free, but Sorin's grip only tightened.
Koray scowled and tugged again, a sharp remark on his lips, but as he looked up to deliver it, his eyes landed instead on—
He shouted a long string of furious curses and yanked his hand free, all but bolting toward the figure standing close to Zaede before the camp fire.
The boy looked just barely old enough to be considered a man, yet his hair was almost completely white. He snatched the young necromancer close and glared at Zaede. "I don't what you and your stupidity have done, Paladin," he hissed, "but if you're in any way responsible for the abuse my brother has suffered I will cut off—"
"He didn't do it," the boy said before Zaede could start shouting. His pale eyes were wide as he stared at Koray. "You're a necromancer."
Koray scowled. "Yes. Why is your hair so prematurely white? Did you encounter more ghosts than you can handle?"
The young man flushed and looked down. "I can't handle even one ghost."
"Who trained you?" Koray asked sharply. "No necromancer would have left a novice alone if he could not handle a single ghost."
"No one trained me," the young man said nervously, but with a frown on his face.
Movement from the corner of his eye briefly drew Koray's attention, and he saw Neikirk and Cerant had come from their tent. Neikirk wore his look of fierce concentration, his violet eye almost glowing, focused on the white-haired necromancer. "He is marked for necromancy, but also for alchemy," he said, and shifted his gaze to Koray.
They shared a look. Koray turned back to the young man. "What is your name?"
"Teryn," the young man said quietly.
Sorin stepped in before Koray could say more. "We need to sit down and talk properly."
"My tent," Cerant said, and turned to lead the way, and the group – even Zaede – was quiet until they all were settled. "Zaede, what are you doing here?"
Anyway. This is the stuff I think almost no one has seen.
“Rakken!” Ambrose called out as he rode into the field. He frowned when no reply came forth. Bringing his horse to a stop, he slid off and again called out. His breath misted in the chilly late fall air, and he pulled his cloak more tightly around him. “Rakken!”
Arms wrapped around his waist and Ambrose laughed as he turned around, his own arms going immediately to twine around Rakken’s neck as he lifted his face for a kiss that the demon immediately gave. “There you are,” he said when they finally broke apart.
“I am never far away,” Rakken said in amusement. “You should not be out here. It’s far too cold to be playing about in the fields.”
Ambrose tugged Rakken’s head down to steal another kiss, always hungry for the taste and feel of his demon. Months had passed, and still it felt illicit to think that he had a demon lover. Wrong but oh so right. “You’ll keep me warm.”
Rakken smiled faintly. “As you wish.”
“I brought spiced wine, a few treats from the kitchens.” Ambrose smiled and moved to fetch the items from his bags. “It’s the start of festivities. The King has given everyone at the palace three whole days off, on rotations. He said to run off and spend it with our loved ones.”
A shadow passed over Rakken’s face, and Ambrose knew the same shadow was in his own eyes. Though they’d never said anything, an agreement ran between them to enjoy what they had while it lasted – for they were not foolish enough to think it would last forever. “Speaking of cold, how do you plan to survive the snow? It will be upon us any day now.”
“I will manage,” Rakken said with a shrug. Ambrose let it be; he had learned when to press questions and when to give up. He handed off the jug of wine as Rakken approached, then clasped his free hand and let Rakken lead them to the oak. The ground had been cleared of all debris, and a blanket Ambrose had left behind several visits ago was spread out.
Ambrose sat down with a groan, stretching his legs out and finally just falling over to lie on his back. “It is nice not to be moving. I swear in revenge for the three days, the High Paladin worked everyone three times as hard. I think he was trying to ensure I wouldn’t be able to move.”
“Perhaps he senses it is nearly time you took a province of your own,” Rakken said as he stretched out alongside Ambrose, the heat of his body immediately banishing the cold.
Ambrose reached up to stroke the edge of one carefully folded wing, slowly working his way up to stroke over the scars on Rakken’s head and face. “I doubt it. I’ve felt no compulsion to go anywhere but here. The High Paladin too says it seems I am not meant to leave the castle. Whatever the Goddess intends for me…” he gave an awkward shrug, “I do not think it involves me leaving.”
The arm lying across his chest tightened, and they fell into silence, content simply to hold each other.
“So what treats did you sneak from the kitchen?” Rakken asked some time later.
Ambrose laughed softly. “Some of that chocolate stuff you like so much.” The sound that rumbled from Rakken’s chest would have been a pleased purr had the demon been a cat. “Cinnamon bread for me. A few other things, I forget now. I had to work quickly. Nothing is more frightening than being caught stealing by the head cook. Should I fetch something for you?”
Rakken levered himself up and shifted to brace his arms on either side of Ambrose. “I’ve a different treat in mind at the moment.”
“It’s awfully cold to be playing,” Ambrose teased.
“I’ll keep you warm,” Rakken murmured before he took Ambrose’s mouth in a hungry kiss, hands moving to undo the fastenings of his cloak, pushing up his short tunic in search of skin.
Ambrose shivered at the contrast of warm fingers and cold air.
“So fine…” Rakken murmured softly, as if talking to himself.
Letting his own hands explore, Ambrose let his legs fall open so that Rakken could settle between them. “Even if I’m no longer innocent?” he asked, barely getting the question out before knowing hands made him groan, his body begging silently for more.
Rakken laughed softly, an affectionate rather than a mocking sound. “Now you smell like me. I prefer it.” He bent his head to nip and lick at Ambrose’s throat. "Pretty Paladin," he said, voice husky. "So very fine, and all mine."
"Yours," Ambrose repeated softly, staring into Rakken's eyes as the demon pulled back. He splayed his fingers across Rakken's chest, feeling the tight muscles, the smooth scars, running his hands up until they curled around those fine, broad shoulders, just the simple act of touching Rakken enough to make him shudder.
How, he'd wondered a thousand times. How had he lived so long without this? The only other time he'd felt such a rightness was the day the Goddess herself had blessed him. Too young, they'd all said, though Her will was not to be questioned.
He remembered the day so clearly, his first kill, slaughtering the demon who had dared to try and destroy one of Her sanctuaries. She had blessed him, Her power and will rushing through him, guiding his hand, giving him the strength needed to save the sanctuary and all who dwelt within. That day, he'd finally felt whole.
Until Rakken had shown him there was one more piece missing.
He tugged on Rakken's shoulders, pulling the demon down, kissing him softly, moaning low when Rakken took control of it. The kiss was hard, thorough, and left Ambrose aching. Even the cold, sharp air around them could not penetrate the heat of his demon, the fire that seemed to burn white-hot between them. He opened his mouth to take the kiss deeper, hungry for all that Rakken gave him, never sated.
Kneading the broad shoulders, loving the way the muscles bunched and rippled at his touch, because of him, he then slid his hands over and down Rakken's back, scoring the demon's skin lightly with his nails, pressing hard at the sensitive skin where wings met back, arching up as the touch made Rakken jerk, thrust. He spread his legs wider, cradling his demon between them, moving to wrap his arms around Rakken's neck and hold him close.
"Ambrose…" Rakken whispered his name, a reverence to the husky tone that made Ambrose shiver. Warm lips traced his jaw, his cheek, teeth lightly testing his earlobe. "How did a failure such as I wind up with you in my arms?"
Turning his head, Ambrose took a kiss, feeling the warmth of it to his bones, hotter than even the happiness of the Goddess which pulsed in his chest. "Never a failure," he said. "Does this feel like failure to you?"
"No, Paladin," Rakken said. Ambrose's breath hitched as a hand pressed against his hard length, Rakken's legs stretching his own even wider, leaving Ambrose feeling vulnerable and safe all at once. "It feels too good to be true…"
Ambrose shook his head and loosed his arms from Rakken's neck to slide them down his back, along his sides, finally cupping the demon's ass and jerking so they were pressed together, both left gasping. "It is true, demon." He laughed softly and tilted his chin, begging silently for a kiss, wanting Rakken to give it.
Though the shadows in his eyes did not vanish completely, as Ambrose knew they ever lingered in his own, Rakken's smile was genuine as he leaned down to kiss him. "But not good?" he said with a teasing laugh, claws stroking lightly over the tight fabric still trapping Ambrose's heat.
"Demon!" Ambrose hissed, bucking.
Rakken's laughter spilled into their kiss as he continued the exquisite torture.
Koray sat silently before the campfire, nibbling absently at his dinner, not quite certain how to feel.
The last time he'd had company around a campfire, he had been under training. Necromancers had no choice, really, but to live solitary lives. They were too few to work together for longer than it took to share their skills. Occasionally they were drawn together to cooperate on the banishment of a particularly nasty spirit…but spending time with one another only emphasized the miserable lives they led.
From the moment he'd been deemed strong enough to survive on his own, he'd sat around campfires alone. Often he had not even bothered – what had he to fear from the dark?
He sighed as raucous laughter broke into his thoughts, shifting slightly to glare at the source of it – several knights gathered around Sorin, who was telling some tale which vastly amused his soldiers.
Koray frowned as another Paladin settled a hand on Sorin's shoulder and said something else to make him smile. Setting down his tea, he gathered his robes and stalked away from the fire, into the cool dark of the surrounding forest.
It sounded for a moment like Sorin called his name, but Koray ignored him and moved deeper into the woods, until he was well away from the noise which had suddenly begun to irk him.
Whispering softly, he called up a ball of violet light, giving him just enough by which to see.
He had walked perhaps a dozen more paces when he began to shiver slightly, and a tangle of emotions brushed against his senses. Koray drew a sharp breath. This…to feel such emotions so strongly…they ran so deep, love and sadness, hope and fear.
Quickening his pace, brightening his orb of light, he strode the forest as the emanations grew stronger. The dark and silence grew heavier, thicker, and Koray feared for a moment he was only getting himself completely lost when he abruptly spilled into a small clearing.
Startled, he stood at the edge of the forest and simply looked.
It was small – a stream cut the small clearing in half, the moonlight reflected in it, only adding to the eeriness. Set slightly back from the far bank was a giant oak, and Koray gasped softly to realize he had seen that oak before.
He slipped his hand into his robe and pulled out the ruby, which was glowing softly.
In the weak images he had glimpsed, this clearing had been much larger. Over time, he supposed, the forest had swallowed most of it up. The oak…the oak had not changed at all.
Barely realizing he was moving, Koray crossed the clearing and waded through the shallow stream. The ruby glowed bright as he reached the oak, and he only absently felt the tears on his cheeks as he rested his hand on the trunk of the tree.
The ruby flared, and Koray gasped as he could suddenly see the pale, silvery figures standing so close to him beneath the great oak.
Not the same as ghosts, not quite. Their remains were here, he knew that from simply being able to sense and see this much – but the demon's soul was in the ruby. If his theory was correct, the sword itself would contain the Paladin's soul.
So these were…memories, summoned perhaps by the ruby's presence in this place.
Tears fell harder as he watched, a small handful of images that lasted only a moment each – but they only confirmed what he had already figured out. The demon and the Paladin had been in love.
Never had he seen something so surreal. The demon was tall, dark and heavily scared. His wings…Koray knew some demons had them, but he had never seen one himself. Anyone other than a holy knight who saw such a powerful demon tended not to live to tell the tale.
As fierce as he looked, he was nothing but gentle as he held the smaller Paladin. Koray had never seen such a kiss as the one they exchanged. It hurt, and stupidly Koray thought of that moment several days ago, as he and Sorin had been preparing for the ceremony. Over and over again he'd turned the moment in his mind, miserably unable to forget it. It had almost seemed…and it was…unsettling…to realize that he'd wanted…
The sound of a branch snapping jerked him from his thoughts, the weak images vanishing as his concentration broke.
"Koray?"
He stood silently as Sorin crossed the clearing to join him beneath the oak. "Are there ghosts here?" Sorin asked, frowning as he took in Koray's face.
Realizing Sorin could see he'd been crying, Koray hastily wiped the remaining tears from his cheeks. "Not exactly," he replied, and slowly explained.
"I wish I could see," Sorin said when he had finished. "I suppose there is no way to manage that, however, if it's only a memory rather than a proper ghost."
Koray nodded.
"Why did you wander off?" Sorin asked into the silence that fell.
"To get away from the noise," Koray said shortly, hand falling slowly away from the trunk of the tree. "I had not intended to come this far, but I felt…" He motioned to the place the images had been.
Sorin moved closer and Koray looked up, frowning at the way he almost seemed to loom. "Koray…"
It was the same soft tone he'd used before, and Koray once again did not know what it meant, what he was supposed to do. Calloused fingers stroked his cheek and though part of him wanted badly to pull away, Koray found he couldn't.
He drew a sharp, startled breath as Sorin's mouth covered his, and started to move away, panicked – but arms fastened suddenly around his waist, and Koray distantly remembered the way Sorin had carried him through the halls—
So this was what it was like to be kissed. Why was Sorin kissing him? Koray tried to pull away again, even as he realized his stupid hands were holding tight, and then Sorin was holding his head, tilting it just so and Koray wondered if that soft sound came from him. He really hoped not, but Sorin's lips were warm, his mouth hot, and he tasted every so faintly of honey.
When the kiss finally broke, Koray realized his hands were holding fast to Sorin's shoulders. "You—why—" He was cut off by another kiss, and this time responding was far easier than he thought it should be, and as many times as he'd been this close to Sorin while they slept, somehow now it was completely different.
He slowly opened his eyes, Sorin's face just visible in the light of the moon and his violet orb. His stupid, traitorous hands were now in Sorin's hair, and Koray realized he had no idea what was going on. "Sorin…"
Sorin chuckled softly and brushed another soft kiss across his lips. "Koray. I'm surprised you haven't pushed me away yet."
"That would send up both toppling," Koray replied, slowly letting go of his grip on Sorin's hair, but standing too close to completely withdraw because those damned arms were wrapped around him. "Let me go."
"If I did that, I might not get to kiss you again," Sorin said.
Koray frowned, not quite certain what to say. His mind seemed to be failing him, which only annoyed him further. "Why are you doing this?"
"I doubt you'd believe a word I say," Sorin replied. "Anyway, I'd probably just say it wrong."
A smile twitched at Koray's mouth, because both statements were true. "Sorin…"
That warm, honey-flavored mouth took his again, and he really wished Sorin would stop it because he could get used to kisses the same way he'd stupidly gotten used to sleeping next to Sorin.
The High Paladin was kissing him, and that was something the High Paladin would not feel obligated to do. Right? Koray wished he could make sense of it all, but Sorin was always confusing and his kisses were only more so.
When the kiss finally broke, he still could not think of anything to say.
Sorin started to speak instead, but whatever he'd been about to say was abruptly cut off by the sound of raucous laughter – that was all too familiar.
Koray could not believe it, glaring in the general direction of the laughter. Of all people, how in the Lady's name had Zaede come to be here? At such an hour of the night, no less.
Soft laughter washed over him, close to his ear, and Koray shivered despite himself. Sorin went abruptly still, then fingers stroked lightly across the small of Koray's back, and he dug his fingers into Sorin's tunic as the touch extracted more shivers.
"Koray…" Sorin whispered his name, voice husky, breaths warm against Koray's ear and he could not keep from shivering anew even as he silently cursed himself.
His thoughts all skittered away though as teeth bit gently at his earlobe, the arms around his waist tightening again. He turned to snarl at Sorin, but found his mouth once more claimed, and that odd whimpering sigh had not come from him. Definitely not
Was this how the Paladin had felt when the demon held him?
Koray gasped as he thought of those two, and how they had felt about each other—
Zaede's laughter once more cut through the night, distant but sharp, and Koray for once was faintly grateful to the aggravating man.
"Come," Sorin said with a sigh. "We had best see what Zaede is doing here, and how much trouble he has caused since we last saw him.
They left the clearing, walking back toward camp guided by his violet light. Thoughts turning over and over in his head, Koray did not realize until they'd left the forest behind that Sorin held fast to his hand. He attempted to tug free, but Sorin's grip only tightened.
Koray scowled and tugged again, a sharp remark on his lips, but as he looked up to deliver it, his eyes landed instead on—
He shouted a long string of furious curses and yanked his hand free, all but bolting toward the figure standing close to Zaede before the camp fire.
The boy looked just barely old enough to be considered a man, yet his hair was almost completely white. He snatched the young necromancer close and glared at Zaede. "I don't what you and your stupidity have done, Paladin," he hissed, "but if you're in any way responsible for the abuse my brother has suffered I will cut off—"
"He didn't do it," the boy said before Zaede could start shouting. His pale eyes were wide as he stared at Koray. "You're a necromancer."
Koray scowled. "Yes. Why is your hair so prematurely white? Did you encounter more ghosts than you can handle?"
The young man flushed and looked down. "I can't handle even one ghost."
"Who trained you?" Koray asked sharply. "No necromancer would have left a novice alone if he could not handle a single ghost."
"No one trained me," the young man said nervously, but with a frown on his face.
Movement from the corner of his eye briefly drew Koray's attention, and he saw Neikirk and Cerant had come from their tent. Neikirk wore his look of fierce concentration, his violet eye almost glowing, focused on the white-haired necromancer. "He is marked for necromancy, but also for alchemy," he said, and shifted his gaze to Koray.
They shared a look. Koray turned back to the young man. "What is your name?"
"Teryn," the young man said quietly.
Sorin stepped in before Koray could say more. "We need to sit down and talk properly."
"My tent," Cerant said, and turned to lead the way, and the group – even Zaede – was quiet until they all were settled. "Zaede, what are you doing here?"
