18. Flight at Dawn

Inexorably, the steady flame of pain burned through the resistant layers of lethargy, one by one. With a soft moan of protest, Séa forced sticky eyelids open. The light of early morning streamed through the narrow windows and stained glass panes. The glow fell upon a soft belly and trim little navel that rose and fell with regular breathing. The paladin's face rested sideways, comfortable in the hollow just interior to the wide wing of a woman's pelvis. Silky little hairs tickled her chin. A tang redolent of sex hung in the air, smokier and more overt than Tash's nectars.

Séa rose to an elbow and confirmed that Sarophax's lower abdomen had formed her living pillow. Pain throbbed in her breasts and back. A glance down confirmed her impression of physical damage. Little bruises and dots of blood from sharp-toothed bites mottled her breasts. The frantic, lust-crazed hours remained sharp in her memory, even if the question of why remained inexplicably unthinkable. The paladin remembered claws dragging across her back as Ophelle thrashed under her, emitting feral snarls of ecstasy. Sex with the succubus was physical, urgent, exhausting, and often painful.

Tash's warm head lay cupped between Séa's muscled thighs. Spittle had drooled from her parted lips onto the paladin's skin. A gush of adoration surged through the knight.

Sarophax completed the lascivious triangle, her head cushioned on Tash's sleek rump. The shape-changer's half-open eyes returned Séa's gaze. She lay still, but awake. A placid mixture of wonder, puzzlement, and curiosity distorted the crystalline perfection of her features. The succubus searched into the paladin as if struggling to extract philosophical solutions by force of will. Even after the eye contact, no cynicism or cruelty replaced the yearning that widened her pupils and parted her lips.

Placid expression notwithstanding, the paladin recalled what Sarophax was. An instinctive impulse to attack raced up Séa's spine. But as quickly as it came, it dissipated, and Séa's mace arm barely twitched. Sarophax was a friend. The demons meant no harm.

The paladin spotted bloody claw tracks on Tash's back, too. A new surge of outrage convulsed her chest, but that impulse, too, died under the geas laid upon her.

Dryness tightened her throat and lips. Rolling her thigh out from under Tash, the paladin eased out of bed. She stumbled to the little table where the teapot sat, despite stiff, sore legs. She was welcome, she remembered. Welcome here. She splashed cold, too-strong tea into a cup and gulped it down. The bitter tang shrank her tongue, but the tea possessed one admirable property that Séa craved. It was wet.

Keenly conscious of the silent regard of Sarophax, Séa poured a third cup, then carried it to the bed. The paladin slipped beside Tash and cradled her head.

The rogue's brown-violet eyes flickered open. "Oh, hey. Is that—"

"Cold tea," Séa murmured.

"Beggars can't be choosers." Like Séa, Tash downed the tepid brew in one pull.

The door latch jiggled. Sarophax moved instantly, as if wide awake and also somehow not sore from the excesses of the night. Fluidly, she slid from bed and yanked open the wardrobe where various robes and dresses hung.

Séa and Tash shrugged at one another. They had been commanded not to worry. Therefore, worry was impossible.

The lock and surrounding wood exploded inward, and the forked head of a war hammer poked through. A booted foot kicked the door open, and a wild-eyed man stood framed in the door. Armor covered the warrior, but his open helm left much of his face visible. King Pharing's teeth clenched together and his lips pulled back tight.

The abrupt violence startled them. Before conscious thought could kick in, Séa and Tash bounced off the bed and landed in fighting crouches. Sarophax clutched a deep blue robe to her breasts and whirled to face the door.

The king staggered toward Sarophax and raised his fearsome war hammer. For a moment, her eyes widened in fear and she retreated. Brain fog paralyzed Séa and Tash. The king's wild eyes slid from Séa and Tash to fix upon Sarophax. Hoarseness roughened the king's voice. "You. You're not Ophelle!"

Sarophax lifted a hand to touch her own temple, and her eyes shut as if in concentration. In that moment, it seemed to Séa that cold water doused her, and not just her skin, but her psyche and soul, too. Goosebumps pricked all over her body. A vivid sense of wrongness and danger splashed her mind, and she gasped out loud. Next to her, Tash doubled over as if gut punched.

Physically, King Pharing enjoyed youth, health, and beauty. His brawny shoulders bespoke prowess with his war hammer. He swung his fearful weapon at the succubus.

Nimbly she backpedaled. His blow landed instead upon the open wardrobe full of clothing. Splinters and chunks of oak flew. The king floundered. He lost grip on the weapon and staggered. His hands raised as if to choke Sarophax, but his faltering legs never carried him near enough to clutch at her neck.

For Séa, however, these dramatic events faded to a distant second place. Her mind seemed clearer, true, but confusion and shock prevented careful decision-making. Tash gripped her arm, hard, and huskily demanded, "Bless me, Séa. Now."

A fleeting smile touched the paladin's lips. "Of course, my love. Endurer, bless this woman and grant to her a measure of your infinite grace." Séa's fingertips cupped Tash's almond-shaped, scarred, precious face. A glow spread from Séa's hands to envelope Tash's body.

"Ah!" The rogue's eyes flew wide, then darted toward the king and Sarophax. The king's hands faltered and drooped, though his face remained a rictus of agonized defiance. Next instant, Tash seized Séa's hand and flung herself toward the door.

The tug unbalanced the heavy paladin. She stumbled after Tash with a puzzled expression. "The king—"

"No time! Run!" Tash redoubled her efforts, tugging hard on Séa's callused hand.

The paladin gave in. Who invented the best plans? Tash, that's who.

Séa ran. She followed the rogue and leaped over her own cast-off stolen armor. Bare of foot and naked, they cornered out the door. Tash sprinted left, down the stairs.

The mental command caught Séa as she pelted down stone steps two at a time. Come back.

The paladin cried out in mental anguish. Her feet slapped hard at the steps, halting her descent. Her mouth opened as if in agony, though the conflict was entirely internal.

"No!" spat Tash. She flew to the paladin and tugged on her hand.

Séa moaned, "Have to ... return. It's stupid. But I ... have to." Tash could not compete with her strength, but she dug her heels in to try. The paladin reversed and headed upstairs, plodding as if burdened by a hundredweight of grain sacks.

Tash hugged her from behind. Her small breasts pressed into Séa's claw wounds and her dexterous hands slid on Séa's belly. "By Giasleppi, I bless you," she keened in a high, desperate voice. "Trickster goddess, you know full well it's a better joke if we're free."

Inside Séa's head, something snapped. Her feet stopped as if glued to the steps.

She twisted around. Fright painted Tash's features and widened her brown eyes. Séa had never seen that expression on her face before. She'd seen Tash face down bandits, demons, and even that massive toothy reptile thing, but she'd never seen fear like this.

Séa bent and kissed that lost expression away. "You did it. Your first blessing. Let's run."

From somewhere above the king bellowed hoarsely, "Stop those women! Guards! Stop those women!"

19. Hide and Seek, but Not in the Playful Sense

Between pants, Tash huffed, "Are you happy, Giasleppi? Here we are, naked as newts, streaking around the citadel of civilization. Which, of course, currently, has gone barking mad."

They raced past the arches that spilled out to the walls.

"Oy!" shouted a male voice. "You, there!"

"We're spotted," Séa said. They arrived at the down-stairs and Séa hopped three steps at a time. Tash accelerated to keep up with the breakneck velocity.

The rogue ranted, "Spotted? We're fecking striped. Bitch succubus and her claws. And she chewed your tit and spanked you red and raw. If I see her again, forget stealing the circlet. I'm going to shoot her eyes out. It'll save time."

"Love it when you," panted Séa, "talk that way."

The pair reached the bottom of the stairs and veered left.

"Must dodge, somewhere." Tash gasped. "There! It's one of those narrow service doors." They scurried at the level of the grand hall and the yard. As in all estates and castles, the back passages were meant for servants to traverse, out of sight of the nobility they served. Or, perhaps, in times of war, soldiers. The rogue yanked at a narrow side door that the paladin had not seen and might never have seen in a hundred tries. Tash waved Séa in, then followed. Eyes darting, she scanned for pursuit. Seeing none, she whisked the wood panel shut. Suddenly, it was dark.

"Whoa!" Séa said. "Stairs down. Careful."

"I will. Go slow and start whispering. We might have given them the slip for now."

"Right," whispered Séa. "Smells so old in here. Dusty."

"May our luck hold." Tash expected to hear the door open behind them and light to pour down the deep hole they descended.

The paladin seemed to have no such worries. "So what happened up there? The king burst in, the succubus got busy commanding him, and I guess we broke free of the compulsion."

"That's my guess. Because the king broke free, first. To control him again, I guess she had to relax on controlling us. Or, more likely, she had no choice. There must be a limit to how many commands the circlet can enforce."

"Poor man," Séa whispered. "I hated to leave him with her."

"He'll be perfectly safe, physically. He's the king. She needs him."

"I didn't think of that. You're always one step ahead, Tash."

Tash felt her face heat. "Hush, dear. We're running around naked in a hostile castle that we don't know the floor plan for."

"Whoop!" Séa forgot to whisper. "Flat floor." A wooden clunk rang out. "Ow. Bonked my nose. It's a door, I guess."

Tash groped ahead and encountered Séa's warm, smooth body. Specifically, her powerhouse of a derriere. The rogue whispered, "Let me up front, sexybutt."

"Oo! Sure, c'mere," the paladin whispered back.

The rogue slid her hands around the wooden door and located its latch. "Help me listen?" she whispered.

They slid arms about each other as they laid their ears to the door. Both still panted after their exertions, and both tried to quiet their breathing as they strained to hear. After a minute, Tash whispered, "I can't hear a thing."

"We're completely lost, aren't we?" Séa said. "I mean, even you, and you've got a fantastic head for directions."

"Correct." Tash smiled to herself in the dark. The moment seemed a metaphor for her recent life with Séa. Most of the time they were groping for direction, except for the twin anchors of each other. She gave her lover a gentle squeeze.

"If I have to be lost, I'm glad it's with you." Séa returned Tash's caresses. "But now is not the time to drag you to the floor and ravage you."

The rogue's eyebrows shot up on her forehead. "No! All my sex parts are sore. Fecking succubus and her fecking circlet of subversion. Let's head for the demons and see if we can at least find out how many there are."

"Perfect. I'll make a paladin of you yet, lady rogue."

Tash snorted and applied pressure to the latch. It resisted but yielded. They squeezed through the narrow doorway into a passage cruder than any they had so far encountered, prison cells included. Clusters of subterranean shelf fungi exuded wan greenish light from the damp stone blocks of the walls and circularly arched ceiling. The narrow passage smelled of mildew and damp rot. Automatically, Tash glanced down and cataloged the impressions left in the layer of dirt that covered the floor. She whispered, "A fair amount of recent traffic. A mixture of shoes and bare feet with claws."

"Mm." Séa's hands clenched and unclenched as if practicing for unarmed combat.

In unspoken accord, they crept leftward because it felt more wrong. After only ten paces, it opened into a dimmer, larger space. The sense of impending doom descended more heavily. A flimsy door stood open, and the air within smelled of yeast and fruit. The women hovered in the doorway to let their eyes adjust.

The utilitarian rectangular room held parallel rows of wooden racks. Smallish barrels tipped on their sides crowded the racks. The sight clicked a connection for Tash, and she whispered, "A cellar to age wine in. Very posh."

Séa grunted acknowledgement. She swallowed her usual brassy speaking voice and whispered, "The source of evil is somewhat to the right. Out of sight."

The impression of darkness impinged on Tash's newly-discovered extra sense as well. It felt like a pair of little holes in the world, each filled with a destructive maelstrom of hate. "Can anything here be used as a weapon?"

The paladin shrugged and padded into the room. From the nearest rack she extracted a barrel and hefted it experimentally. She shot Tash a dubious glance. But the rogue had spotted a shelf of large bottles, and they called to her like treasure. Corks plugged their tops and the bottles were heavy with liquid. Break the sturdy glass and you might have a weapon. Broken glass might not work against armor, but against bare skin it seemed fearsome.

Séa abandoned the idea barrel-tossing. Diagonally, she crossed the room and discovered an iron contraption like a two-foot-high skinny pyramid with a handle. The handle raised and lowered an iron cylinder and pinched it against the machine's base. Delight spread across the paladin's face, but not because she wished to manufacture wine corks. She gripped the narrow part of the machine and swung the base through the air.

Tash joined Séa, a wine bottle in each hand. "Nice wannabe mace, Séa." Their eyes met and they performed a mutual shrug of deprecation. But an improvised weapon would out-perform empty hands.

They strode in the direction that reeked of evil. Past several more racks, the far wall loomed without breaks or doorways. Despite their inner convictions that enemies stood near, a dead end confronted them.

Tash's eyes narrowed. She set her bottles down and ran her hands along the stony bricks.

Her hand penetrated without resistance, disappearing to the elbow through what appeared to be stone, but felt like air. "Illusion magic," she whispered. She allowed herself a soft hum of triumph as she retrieved her bottles. She walked through the wall with an eager Séa on her heels.

The new passage was the crudest of tunnels. Its rough texture indicated that it had been bashed out of bedrock with a pickaxe. The floor was no better. Points and ridges poked painfully into the women's foot soles as they crept forward. Ominous light streamed from tunnel's end, only a dozen paces further. Dim in brightness, the light burned a searing, unnatural purple color.

The tunnel opened into a lenticular cavern. Both floor and ceiling gently arched, like the interior of a titanic clamshell. Near the middle, a cluster of poles topped with eerie glowing gems provided the purple radiance. Surrounded by the lights, a red pentagram glowed, seemingly chiseled into the floor and set aflame. Outside the circle of light poles, several iron cages littered the floor. Scattered white bones littered almost the entirety of the cave floor. Against the far wall, a massive segmented shape loomed like a dragon-sized caterpillar.

But what captured the furtive women's attention the most was a pair of men less than a stone's throw away. Minimal leather armor covered the pair, who cowered. They hugged each other for comfort and stared in fear at the emerging forms of Séa and Tash. Their lips quivered and their bodies trembled.

"Incubi?" Séa whispered. She had a point. The men were both tall, dark, and extremely handsome.

Tash answered by furrowing her forehead. After girding for a desperate battle, facing down two evident cowards felt like a massive anticlimax.

"Holy men?" squeaked one of the two fellows.

"Holy women!" squealed his companion.

"We're doomed."

"No, wait. They're naked."

"Yes, but they reek of the divine! We're doomed."

"No, look! They're naked and they have wine."

Their evident fear faded into incredulity. They glanced at each other before turning wide eyes back to the women that crept from the mouth of the entrance.

Number two poked number one repeatedly on the shoulder. "Fazzet, they're naked. And they have wine."

Tash muttered out of the side of her mouth to Séa, "What meatheads. Follow my lead."

"Mm, hm," the paladin said.

"Act ditzy."

"Heh. Can do."

Fazzet replied to his nearly-identical companion, "Exactly. I think they are a gift. A gift from Sarophax."

The second incubus gasped. "For us? Silk and slime, what a world the material plane is, that she would favor us with such rare wealth. Dibs on the big one."

The women emerged from the tunnel into the purple-lit chamber. The massive caterpillar that dominated the far wall quivered. It was alive, and a chain wrapped around it where a more ordinary creature might have a neck. The gargantuan worm's purple skin reflected the magical indigo glow, creating a hue so intense it hurt.

Fazzet sneered, "No dibs, Oxter. Dice, as always, cheater."

Oxter flapped a hand vaguely toward the oncoming women. "What about Netherlue?"

Fazzet's mouth dropped open. "Shit. Netherlue! No!"

A dark, alien shaped descended from the ceiling, only two paces in front of the women. Séa and Tash screamed at the sight, as would all but the most hardened of souls, for it was the embodiment of terror itself. Eight hairy, black legs flexed, and a bulging thorax swiveled toward them as if armed with a stinger. But the giant spider had no spike at its hind end, it had spinnerets. The women snapped their mouths shut as cold, wet webs doused their skin. Both tried to leap sideways, but black bladed feet arrested them with well-rehearsed gathering-in motions. More clingy strings swirled.

No second attempt at escape was possible. The women stood glued to each other and the floor.

A/N: Glued! Have our heroines come to a sticky end?

---

ONC Recommendations:

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Or,

How about this fantasy romance from faerie_nellas :

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