Soul of the Sorcerer - Part Three: Daughter of the Dragon (20 page)

An hour later, the sisters and friends sat around the large table in the third floor lounge; a veritable feast spread on the table cloth before them. There was much banter between the sisters and many a jest made at the expense of Edala and Lloyd.

Back at home, in England, this type of event would have ended up with the photo album coming out with baby and toddler pictures at the fore.

Edala, it seemed, cared a lot less about it than Lloyd. In fact he was a little concerned that she had hardly taken her eyes off of him, since she had sat opposite. She also had a red blush about her head and neck and stared at him with an intensity, which reminded Lloyd of a cat eyeing its prey!

Fortunately, Umaia had been free with her wine and ale, and no one else had noticed the sexual tension down their end of the table.

Within an hour, both Bethany and Themisia had drunk just a little too much and Allen volunteered to carry each to their room. As at Daria, there was a particular fondness when he carried the woozy Bethany; the redhead briefly opened her eyes to kiss him on the cheek, “Thank you my soldier” she said, before the two of them vanished. Themisia had watched them with a drunken smile and when the young man scooped her up into his arms, she too kissed him on the cheek “Thank you Bethany’s soldier” she added.

Lloyd took this as a cue to head to bed. He wished he could drag Edala with him then and there, but Maria’s knowing gaze locked with his and so he made his excuses and fled.

It took another hour before the house both darkened and quietened and Lloyd contemplated how he could sneak down to see his love. Her intense gaze had awoken long buried desires, and in his aroused state, he found it hard not to recall his brief encounter with Wendy Walsh months ago. A sudden creak startled him, and he sat up as a diminutive silhouette eased its way into his room pulling the door to behind it.

“Edala?”

“Shhhhh!” she whispered creeping over to his bed and sitting on the edge. She then put her hand in her pocket and retrieved a match to light the candles on his bedside cabinet.

She was wearing a long sleeved night shirt, which covered to just above her knees; the top three buttons were undone teasing him with just the tiniest glimpse of her cleavage.

“Not a word Lloyd Brook!” she whispered and then reached as quietly as she could for his shaving kit which sat on a nearby dressing table. There was also a small porcelain washing bowl, into which she put a little water. She made the shaving brush damp and lathered it up with the soap from the kit. She then pushed Lloyd back against the headrest of the bed, and knelt astride his right leg so that her knee brushed against his groin; he was glad that he had kept his underwear on to sleep. The feel of her soft skin against his was almost too much to bear, but he was completely under her spell; and could only watch with growing anticipation as she foamed up his beard and began the slow, teasing, process of shaving it off. It did not take long for her concentration tongue to appear, my God how he loved her!

“Shhh!” she commanded when he went to say as much.

Slowly, but surely, scrape by scrape, his months of beard growth began to collect in the bowl, until finally revealing his smooth chin. When she had finished, Edala climbed off him, to place the bowl and blade on the dressing table and fetch a towel.

She then straddled him again and began to wipe the remaining foam from his face; each time she removed a bit, she gently kissed the spot she had cleared until finally, after what felt an excruciating long time for Lloyd, she gently sought out his lips with hers. It had been so long since they had last kissed, just hours ago, that Lloyd had forgotten how soft and lovely her lips were. Their kissing became more hungry, more passionate. Lloyd’s hands fumbled at the buttons on her shirt until it opened, revealing her toned stomach and cleavage. However, each side of the shirt did not move past her breasts. These remained hidden and as such, just aroused him even more. He gently ran his hands up her thighs and over her panties, working their way up each side of the shirt until he found her breasts, her nipples reacted to his touch.

She now climbed off of him and pulled down his underwear. She then lay beside him and took off her own.

“Do it!” she commanded in a whisper. He was going to say “
are you sure?”
but there was not a hint of doubt in her voice.

He kissed her again, on the lips, and moved on top of her; it was at this point that he actually felt grateful to Wendy Walsh, because he now knew exactly what to do. He first used his right hand to feel between her legs; the feeling of her wetness on his fingers was almost a sensation too far. He then, ever so carefully, and with gentleness, entered the girl that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

As he penetrated her, Edala’s face registered a little discomfort for a second or two, but this soon passed and as he entered her deeper and deeper her eyes dilated with pleasure.

“Quiet as mice!” she whispered lifting her head to kiss him. Their bodies gyrated against each other for about thirty seconds before it was all, inevitably, too much for Lloyd, and he had to bite his hand to stop himself from groaning loudly as he could hold back no longer.

He kissed her again before carefully rolling to lie beside her; she smiled at him and placed her head on his shoulder and they both lay quietly for several minutes.

“My Father is going to kill me!” she whispered.

“Only after he has killed me, or my Mum has” Lloyd added, kissing her hair.

“Oh, by the Lord Creator, your Mother will skin me” she said with a worried smile, moving her head off of his shoulder to rest upon the pillows. As she did this her night shirt dropped open to reveal one of her breasts and Lloyd began to feel the early signs of arousal.

“Oh well, in for a penny in for a pound” he said moving across to take her exposed nipple in his mouth.

“That sounds a little bit like our saying no tin bit without an Earl” she whispered stroking her hand through his hair while he pleasured her, a thought suddenly occurred to her; “Lloyd, open your air portal and merge it with mine” she commanded pulling her own air portal into existence.

He lifted his head from her breast and obliged, their portals gently merged and the explosion of excitement caused a little gasp from each of them. This time Edala pushed Lloyd to the bed and straddled him working her way up his legs, before finally easing him within her, with an intensity which was indescribable.

A feeling of becoming one overcame them, on both a physical and mental level; time seemed to slow and neither would be able to tell the other how long they had made love for, only that it was a special experience they would treasure for the rest of their lives.

When finally both of them had finished, Edala climbed, almost weakly, off of Lloyd, kissed him one last time and crept out the way she came, underwear held in hand.

She tiptoed down the dark stairs and along the passage to the room she shared with Bethany. A candle burned by both of their beds and her friends flame red hair could be seen glowing in the candlelight.

On another day, with her senses not so addled by the encounter she had just had with Lloyd, her sixth sense may have warned her that she and Bethany were not alone in the room.  The first she knew that they were not, was when a big ebony hand clenched her mouth shut and she found herself pushed down, back first, onto her bed. Her eyes widened in shock as the Ebony Being’s features changed to one of lust as his well-muscled thigh brushed against her still wet groin; she tried to bite his hand and scratched at him frantically as his eyes flickered from white to black.

Amy’s scream was ripped from her mouth by a blast of wind, as Ingemar plummeted at high speed towards the long rocky valley leading up to Arrenloft School of Magic, Mystery and Meditation.

At the last moment, about thirty feet before crashing into the floor, he pulled up and thrust his wings together in front of him with great power; the force of air hastily broke their fall, but Ingemar still made contact with the floor with an impact which would have killed a man. Fortunately his great hind legs flexed on landing and dampened all of the remaining inertia. Amy’s hair, however, flew forward adding to the disaster caused by the buffeting wind during the flight from Dragonmight.

“What was that all about?” she said, trying her best to restore some semblance of normality to her tangled hair.

“I do not wish to visit the Monks in Dragon Form. In fact, I have never had contact with them when they knew who I was and I would prefer that they continue to regard me with some level of awe and respect. I really don’t want them thinking they can just come a knocking on my doors at Dragonmount to study me” he said, totally deadpan.

Amy nodded and was glad to drop to terra firma from the mighty dragon’s back; she studied him with the eyes of a scientist as he morphed into the form of the fully clothed Arden.

“I have absolutely no idea how you do that” she said, shaking her head in disbelief. Arden smiled at her coyly “Not even that clever Sorcerer son of yours could work out how I do this.”

The two of them then made their way as quickly as possible towards the school in the distance.

“Shit, I wasn’t too worried about my husband, before I saw that!” Amy said, as her heart wrenched at the site of the twisted and wrecked gates and the cracked stonework which had once supported them.

“STOP RIGHT THERE!” a voice commanded from the top right hand side of the wall, near the gate.

Amy responded to the voice before Arden could; “My name is Amy Brook friend of Brother Kenelm and wife of Master Darrion, this here is my manservant Arden.”

“Manservant?” Arden whispered, raising one eyebrow.

“It was the first thing I could think off” Amy said flatly, her concern for Darrion overriding any thought of a witty jibe at the Dragon-Man.

“You and your servant may pass” the voice replied. As Amy and Arden approached the gates they could see a young monk and two apprentices on guard duty.

“You will find your husband in the visitor’s quarters under guard” the young monk gestured as they passed. Amy nodded and headed towards the outer ring of the main school complex, which housed the visitor rooms.

“This way” she said, failing to conceal the concern in her voice.

“Being under guard is never a good thing,” Arden said “I wish I had brought my axe.”

The inner school buildings, comprising the outer ring of accommodation and the inner three storey tower, similar to a jelly mould, had no signs of the damage on the outside. Once inside the ring of accommodation, it did not take long to find the room which was Darrion’s temporary prison; as a monk and a master sat outside on guard, they both rose to their feet as the two new arrivals approached.  Each eyed Amy warily, she had forgotten that the jeans and white t-shirt she was currently wearing would look a little strange to them.

“I’ve come to see my husband Master Darrion!” she demanded.

“Amy?” his excited voice came from the room and the guard turned quickly to catch the enthusiastic Master before he could leave the door frame.

He eased back from the guard, who was not quick enough from stopping the air master’s diminutive wife from flying past him into the loving arms of her husband.

“I was starting to fear the worst!” she said, pulling her head away to gaze up at his face, mascara stained tears marking her cheeks.

A great sadness suddenly came into his eyes and he gently pushed her away from his arms and slumped onto the bed.

“I have done a terrible thing” he started to explain; continuing then to tell the full tale of the disaster, which had happened, when he had attacked the Mordja possessed form of Brother Justin.

When Darrion had finished Arden sighed, “I for one will not blame you for your decision, my friend; but convincing a gathering of monks and mages of this, who have never fought Daemen like we have, is going to be challenging at the very least.”

“When is this trial going to happen?” Amy asked her forlorn husband.

“Brother Kenneth is being sworn in as the new lead brother as we speak. His first role, in post, will be to oversee the
Synedrion
, so it will not be long now. At that moment footsteps sounded in the door, “Friend Amy! Friend Arden! I am glad to see you, but wish it was under better circumstances.”

“As do I my friend, I trust it will not be me slapping you on this occasion?” Arden replied.

“I hope not friend Arden, I am on Darrion’s side at all times, and we have stood together in many a tricky situation in our past.”

“I really need to sit you two down and discuss in detail, all of your exploits up until Darrion came to our world to find Lloyd?” Amy said with a smile, her first since arriving.

“Trust me you don’t my love” Darrion also managed a smile.

“Are you ready friend Darrion? My brothers and the mages are waiting.”

Darrion nodded and took his wife’s hand to follow Kenelm to the gathering area, where his trial would be heard. Behind them walked the huge form of Arden, eclipsing by some margin, the monk and Master, who were following behind.

The gathering area, which was most frequently used for dining...and of course was the scene of the crime…, had been rearranged.  The tables had been stacked out of the way at the side of the room and the benches, currently without occupants, arranged in a concentric series of semi circles, creating a simple amphitheatre for the unusual event about to unfold. Darrion and his entourage, other than Kenelm, were directed to a bench on the front left, before an unseen bell tolled and the residents of the school began to file in and fill every available bench. Finally the door behind the raised head-table opened, and the most senior monks and mages appeared and began to take their seats, one of which was left vacant for Kenelm.

“I hope it all goes well my friend” he said leaning close so that only Amy and Darrion could hear; he then made his way to the head table and sat on Brother Kenneth’s left, while High Master Rhodalie sat on his right. In Brother Kenneth’s left hand was the remains of the shattered staff of Arren, without its head and with twelve inches missing from its shaft. It was not the imposing artefact for ceremonies it had once been; tradition however, dictated its use, and the lead monk made his best effort to bang the foot of the staff onto the floor to command silence.

“My friends we are called together today in this
synedrion,
at a time of great tragedy. What has happened recently, starting with the murder of lead brother Nial, and culminating in the terrible deaths we have suffered just days ago, has shaken me to the core.

Today we need to decide whether Master Darrion, here, has committed a terrible crime or whether, in fact, the murder of our friends and colleagues at his hands, was a justified act of sacrifice, to protect us from a greater evil” the lead brother paused for a moment.

“High Master Rhodalie is to present the case for unjustified murder. Master Darrion, who will present the case to justify your actions?”

Darrion stood up from the bench “My dear brothers and fellow mages, I did wish to represent myself, but my long-time friend, Brother Kenelm, has volunteered” he said this with a thankful smile at the monk and then returned to his seat.

“The floor is yours my brother” Kenneth said, gesturing for Kenelm to continue. The toned monk, with perhaps just a few more silver streaks in his hair than he had a year ago, stood and walked around to the front of the table and stopped at the centre of the stone platform upon which it sat. This was his stage and his audience looked on attentively.

“My friends, you all know me; and I know for many of you, that I maybe jest a touch too much, and certainly womanize too much” he grinned and several chuckles started from the benches on Kenelm’s left before quickly making their way, Mexican wave style, across to the benches behind Darrion. Arden too chuckled in his deep laugh, making several nearby apprentices eye him in surprise; although he was huge for a man, the laugh came from a much bigger soul.

“Yes I am a jester; but what we are deciding now, is no joke. The sights I have beheld on my travels, would freeze the laugh out of the bravest of warriors” the monk paused for a moment, as the chuckles died to a silence, in which the proverbial pin could be heard to drop; he then continued pacing slowly from one side of the stage to the other, ensuring he engaged with the entire audience.

“I have seen the Daemen and fought them, but I have never killed one with these!” he said lifting his hands up, “or with any weapon a mere monk like me can wield. It takes magic to hurt them and lots of it to kill them! Master Darrion, here, knew he was facing five of these creatures inside our possessed friends; he knew he had just one chance to kill the creatures, but to protect both himself and others in the room from possession, he knew he must do that which he found horrific, the act of killing innocents; and more than that, fellow masters and a lead monk of this school” the charismatic monk brought his hands in front of him and locked them, fingers intertwined, together. With a final deep breath he decided to close his argument.

“My friends, we know, without doubt, that Brother Justin and the four masters were under the control of foul creatures that, centuries ago, invaded our world because of the foolishness of those who should have known better. It took the lives of thousands of mages, and nearly the entire race of dragons, to finally defeat them! How can we question the judgement of the only mage in this room who has actually fought them, these creatures had to be stopped; and Master Darrion acted in the only way he thought would work, he in no way can be held responsible for the additional injuries caused by the interaction with the Staff of Arren...I therefore motion that this
synedrion
clear him of guilt!”

The monk then nodded to Darrion and Amy before making his way back to his seat. Darrion nodded gratefully, in return, however, he did not want to correct the monk about his battles with Daemen; other than Mordja, he had battled no others, having returned to Amy’s world in an attempt to recharge all of the portals. Once in his seat Kenelm looked towards high master Rhodalie.

She threw him back a look, which he interpreted as both an acknowledgement of his excellent performance, and also that the challenge was accepted.

The tall mage gracefully glided to the front of the stone stage and smiled at the audience sadly.

“I must applaud Brother Kenelm for his honesty, and I will not protest against his jests, but I will not join him in his mirth. We Iost family because of this man claiming to protect us, four of these were masters of magic like I, two of these were people who became apprentices when I did, one of these I called a friend…” her eyes moistened, but she did not cry; she would not lose control.

Amy clenched her husband's arm; both for support and to provide it, Rhodalie was possibly as good an orator as their friend, Kenelm.

“Master Darrion claims to have fought the Daemen, which I will not dispute; but to base your decision, as Brother Kenelm claims, on the legends of old, stories of the dragon race being wiped out in the final battle is hogwash…”

A deep growl came from Arden, freezing Rhodalie mid-sentence, whether the growl was involuntary, or maybe he had not intended for others to hear, was unclear. The whole room now looked at the giant man; but there was no sign of fear or embarrassment on his face, just intense anger as his violet eyes stayed locked on Rhodalie’s.

“Who is this man?” Brother Kenneth asked, concerned. Amy quickly stood to reply, “This is my manserv…” Arden’s huge hand grabbed her shoulder and gently pushed her back down to her seat.

“How dare you mock the memory of my people; they sacrificed a dynasty to rescue you from your own greed for power! This man did what was right, and, had you stepped in his shoes you, may have reached the exact same decision.”

Rhodalie looked about to reply, but Brother Kenneth stood up, “I ask again! Who are you sir?”

Arden did not even pause to think; he just shimmered into his Dragon Form. This caused most of the audience, who were on the benches, to stumble backwards into others behind, in an effort to get as far away as possible from the monster, who was struggling not to crush anyone in the confined area.

“I am Ingemar, King of the Dragons and messenger for the Lord Creator; you foolish mortals will end this pointless excuse for justice. This man and his wife are free to go! Do you wish to argue?” The dragon’s huge head dropped so that it was level with that of Rhodalie and those on the head table behind her. Kenelm whistled and awkwardly looked up and down the table at his colleagues to see if any would react. He was quite glad that Ingemar had kept his dragon fear under wraps, as they already looked quite petrified without it.

Ingemar snorted at the collective silence and shimmered back into his human form, “Come!” he directed to the shocked Amy and Darrion, who nervously stood up and began to follow the giant man towards the exit.