Wingsandrites, p.1
WingsAndRites, page 1
part #10 of Dark Servant Series
Table of Contents
Title Page
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Wings and Rites
For my readers.
Chapter One: Zala’s Bond
Chapter Two: Forgotten Appointment
Chapter Three: Lakeside Dalliance
Chapter Four: Chocolate Cannoli and Purple Silk
Chapter Five: Preparation
Chapter Six: Procession
Chapter Seven: Ceremony
Chapter Eight: Varkaris
Chapter Nine: Celebration
Chapter Ten: Back at the Party
Chapter Eleven: Dawn of a New Day
“Aeohnis.”
Chapter Thirteen: Dragon vs Chaos Mage
Chapter Fourteen: Chaos Mage vs Dark Priest
Chapter Fifteen: Dragon Ambulance
Chapter Sixteen: Blood Price
Chapter Seventeen: Spinach
Chapter Eighteen: Rites and Wings
About the Author
Unto the Sunset Hall and the Hall of Night. Forever.
Captain Jisten and high priest S’Rak have accepted the bond the Gods meant for them to share, saving one another in the process. Now they must formalize their union and seek a blessing before Jisten’s people. But amidst the celebrations, trouble is brewing.
The false sun priest, exposed for the chaos mage he is, turns on his watchers, striking at those who’d called him friend. His ultimate goal is to destroy the Victory Prophecy by murdering Prince Jethain. Only a dragon, a captain, and a high priest stand in his way. What price will the trio pay to save the prince?
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Wings and Rites
Copyright © 2013 AC Ellas
ISBN: 978-1-77111-590-2
Cover art by Angela Waters
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
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Wings and Rites
The Dark Servant Book 10
By
AC Ellas
For my readers.
Chapter One: Zala’s Bond
Firday, the 4th of Revmon
I need café. Rak stretched stiff muscles, sat up, and glanced at Jisten. He slipped out of bed and left Jisten to his slumbers. Although the Valer looked better, he was still injured and needed rest. Rak dressed in older, faded clothing because he wouldn’t be doing anything official this day.
Tebber greeted his arrival in the parlor with a mug of café and Rak grinned at him. “How do you always manage to have the café hot and ready for me exactly when I want it?”
“A servant has to have some secrets,” replied Tebber with a giggle.
Rak sat down at his desk and looked at the farewell letter that he’d snatched off the altar barely in time to prevent its passage to Okyro. He picked it up, carried it to the empty fireplace and set the fragile pages in the andirons. “Kaisε!” he whispered, concentrating on flames. The letter ignited easily and in moments, only ashes remained of his laborious effort to explain his death to his family.
Soon he must write another letter, this one explaining the new addition to their family. He drained his mug as he contemplated how to word that letter. Tebber took the empty mug from his hand and refilled it.
Rak turned his attention to Tebber. “What rumors are flying today?”
Tebber straightened the hem of his grey tunic and reported the rumors. Rak had cast spells upon both Jethain and Jisten. One variant claimed that he’d stolen their souls. The three of them were caught in a love triangle and having perverted orgies nightly, which more than one lord and lady had to see for themselves. All the humans in the palace would be forced out and the rooms converted into luxury stalls for demon horses. The last one had Rak laughing.
“Speaking of demon horses,” said Rak, as he finished the second mug of café, “I will be in the stable should anyone seek me.” He glanced at the bedroom door. “Let Jisten sleep himself out. If he wakes before I return, tell him where I went, and that I expect him to rest.”
* * * *
“I want to speak with you,” said Kordri.
The lieutenant had caught Rak in the open space between the palace and the stable. Rak casually stepped sideways, putting his back to a shrubbery. He tensed as he prepared himself to fight, and his wings partially spread. He rested a hand on the hilt of his sabre. “I am aware of your opinion already. Leave me be.”
“This is from the Capt’n, courtesy of you.” Kordri indicated his well ripened and massive bruise.
“You poor man,” mocked Rak. “One bruise in exchange for the abuse you heaped on me.”
“Poor little sex slave,” Kordri mocked right back. “Was I too rough for your delicate little frame?”
Rak’s free hand clenched in a fist. “Ah, of course. How foolish of me.” He made a conscious effort to relax his hand. “You can beat anyone who was once a sex slave, for they do not have feelings, or rights.”
“No, I only beat those who take advantage of others,” Kordri snapped.
“Very selectively, choosing only targets who will not fight back. I do not see Virien or Hasaviz walking around with bruises from your fists or boots.”
“They haven’t seduced my captain. They’re honest about their intentions, brutal as they may be.”
“Perhaps you are in the wrong guard. You have more in common with Thaxor than with Jisten.”
“I’ve never raped anybody! I got daughters!”
“Having daughters does not prohibit a man from committing rape. You are a bully of the same order as Virien’s goons.”
Kordri’s face turned beet red with anger but he took several deep breaths. “Look, more’n one man higher up wants the capt’n gone. You’ve made him vulnerable.”
“He is perfectly safe. As you well know, Lieutenant,” Rak’s icy voice turned the title into an insult, “sex slaves like me cannot top.”
“So you claim, but once the capt’n’s in a collar, it’ll be a little too late, won’t it? Not that you care, you’re just using him, aren’t you? What makes me mad is the way you’re playing with his heart. You sex slaves can’t love. It’s all lust and need.”
“Oh, ai, your righteous anger excuses everything, from insults to violence to rape.”
Kordri crossed his arms over his chest. “Guess you think all us men who like women do that, huh? Who’s the prejudiced one now?”
“Prejudice?” Rak spat. “You dare speak of prejudice to me? Show me one Koilathan who has not prejudged me. One man who has not called me either demon or sex slave.”
“Forael.”
“Ai, my counterpart is unfailing in his graciousness, but he is not a Koilathan, but a Naftikan. I remember him as a junior priest in the Grand Sun Temple of Eidos.”
“You knew the Ylion before?” Kordri shifted from foot to foot, clearly unnerved. “How?”
“I was a slave in the same temple. He cared for us slaves at great risk to himself.”
“So you have Forael’s pity, and he would reassure the capt’n, wouldn’t he? You’re nothing but a sex slave playing the capt’n to your own ends. You found the biggest innocent to swallow your act. Thing is, the poor man really does love you. His love is sincere. And you’ve a devoted toy for your needs. Tell me, why didn’t you bring a lover with you? You knew all along you’d be snaring someone for your fires.”
“I do not need to justify myself to you. Jisten is mine,” snapped Rak. The bond and the kironi magic surged over him in a tsunami of possessiveness for his mate and now father of his babe. Once again, another man wanted to tear Jisten away from him. First the prince, now the lieutenant. Two Deities had blessed the bond he had with Jisten. As far as Rak was concerned, they were married in all but name, and that would follow once Tyll gave his approval. He felt justified in his territorial claiming of Jisten, though he knew it would be just as accurate to say “I am Jisten’s.”
Kordri bristled. “For now. But the capt’n will come around. You can’t blind him with sex forever. He’s surrounded by good men who'll give good advice. We’ll lead him back.”
Rage spiked in Rak’s brain. “Do any of you care about Jisten’s free will? What he wants? I was so concerned that I had bound him against his will that I was ready to die to set him free, yet you and your men would force him in an instant! We are soul-bonded, Lieutenant. If I hurt him, I hurt myself.”
Vrema abruptly charged out of the barn, ears laid back
Rak walked to the barn, one hand on Vrema’s arched neck. Vyld was in the stall with Zala. She would lick his muzzle, shove her neck under his, stamp her cloven hooves, pace the circuit of the large box stall, then return to Vyld and start the whole routine again. The stallion looked perplexed, but tolerant of the young mare’s odd behavior. Kennit, sitting on the dividing wall between the two stalls, said, “Bharis n’ I tried everythin’ we know, sir! Meat scraps, oats, hay, carrots, an offer ta ride, but she won’t calm down! I was about ta fetch ya, but Vrema said she would.”
Rak nodded to the lad and slid into the stall, leaving the door open. “Sa’sa, Zala, what is wrong?”
The nervous mare stopped in front of Rak and shoved her head under his hand. He scratched her ears but she was not mollified and stamped her hooves some more. The images she sent were fast paced from anxiety. Jisten, Vyld covering her, a foal, Jisten, Vyld covering her, her alone in the pack without a foal, and Jisten again. It was clear to Rak that her desire was for a foal and for Jisten. Her young mind appeared convinced that she would be unable to conceive without Jisten being bonded to her. She wanted Jisten. She wanted to be pregnant and was sure that she wasn’t from Vyld’s earlier matings.
Vrema snorted smoke. Her sister couldn’t be sure that she wasn’t pregnant this early. Zala let out a mournful whinny at Vrema’s dismissal. Rak’s hand slid down her belly and he concentrated briefly. “You are with foal. It will be a fine colt.”
Zala’s relief was palpable, but she nuzzled Rak again, still pleading with him to retrieve Jisten, to bond him to her.
Rak tugged on one of her ears in amusement. “You are bonded to him already.”
Zala lipped his face, still pleading. She wanted a full, sealed bond, a properly blessed bond.
Rak scratched under her chin. “He is sleeping still. He is very tired from yesterday. He will join us when he wakes up.”
Zala shifted restlessly and Rak led her into her own stall, closing the door out of habit. He wrung out a wet rag over her withers to cool her. “Sa’sa,” he murmured as a curry brush appeared in his hand. He ran the brush over her immaculate hide because grooming was soothing for her as well as meditative for him.
* * * *
Zala squealed when she saw Jisten at Bharis’ side. Jisten chuckled. “Hello, beautiful.” He slipped into the stall and ran a hand down her silken neck as Rak put the brushes away. Bharis handed Jisten a bucket over the stall door. Jisten took it and offered it to the mare, who buried her delicate muzzle into the meat scraps.
Once Zala whuffled up the last scrap of flesh, she pushed her big head against Jisten’s chest and the man staggered slightly. He clutched onto it, as much for balance as to reassure the nervous young mare. “S’Rak? What’s wrong with Zala? The images are all confused.”
“You have not acknowledged your bond to her, and this is causing her distress.” Rak decided not to tell Jisten about the pregnancy until later. He straightened one of the small ribbon bedecked braids he had set in Zala's mane.
“I’m bonded to her?” Jisten’s brow furrowed as he scratched under her chin. “I don’t remember that. What about that free will thing?”
“You did not have to ride her,” replied Rak in good imitation of Ahzevo’s voice. “You climbed on her back all by yourself.”
“She came to me and offered to help. I thought it was because you are her Thezomeh, and she knew I would help you.”
Rak smiled a little, but asked carefully, “Did you freely accept her offered aide?”
“Of course I did. I was glad for it. She’s beautiful and smart, and I’d be an idiot to refuse the help of a steed like her.”
“And now she is yours. She offered a bond and you accepted it. That is how these things work.” Rak grinned at Jisten’s expression. “All you have to do is formally accept the bond. I will seal it, which will settle her down.”
Jisten’s grin was slightly loopy. “Another bond?”
“Avtappi bond is not as deep as a dragon bond, or what we share. I can hold several avtappi bonds without trouble. Zala is trained as a war steed. She was cavalry until her last rider was killed in battle. I selected her for this journey because she has exceptionally fine gaits.”
Jisten stroked her velvety muzzle. “She’s more than I ever expected in a steed.” Zala nuzzled him. “But I can’t afford her.”
“You cannot buy an avtappi. They are not property. They are our friends and allies, but not our slaves.” Rak’s voice held a sharp tone. “And even if that were not the case, I would still refuse your money.”
“Sorry, girl. My mistake,” Jisten told the grey and she lipped him.
“The Lord of Night has given the avtappi a special gift, a way of knowing who their rider should be. When a priest or a soldier seeks a mount, he walks through the pack of unbonded avtappi. It is the avtappi who picks the rider, using that gift. The pairing is always a good, compatible match. And none of us are perfect. We all make mistakes.”
Jisten returned his attention to the mare, now leaning against him. “Are you sure, girl? You’re a long way from home.”
Zala shoved Jisten with her nose again and sent a flurry of images of Jisten riding her so strongly that even Rak saw them.
“She is sure,” said Rak dryly.
Jisten kissed the long nose. “I accept, sweetheart.”
Rak took Jisten’s hand and pressed it to Zala’s forehead between the two horn nubs. He murmured a short prayer, and green light flared. “The bond is sealed. Do you feel well enough to take a ride?”
Zala imaged a nice ride, with herself in front of Vyld and flaunting her hindquarters. Jisten coughed slightly, flushed, and leaned against Rak. “I’m not losing you again if I have any say in it. I would give a thousand commissions for you, S’Rak, remember that.”
Rak hugged him, rested his head on Jisten’s shoulder. “I love you, too, my Valer. Remember that.”
Chapter Two: Forgotten Appointment
Jisten glanced over as Forael strode into the stable. The Ylion was dressed in the simple robes that he wore when he had a healing day scheduled. The senior priests fussed, the junior priests fussed, but Jisten knew that Forael still kept one day a week scheduled to heal commoners.
When Forael approached their end of the barn, the avtappi sniffed him. Zala went so far as to stick her muzzle in Forael’s face and blow smoke over him. The archpriest laughed good-naturedly and scratched her chin. She stuck her nose in his pocket and retrieved the sunbread treat that he kept for his own horse.
“Aren’t you the clever girl.” Forael glanced at Rak. “Do you have any in gold?”
Vrema squealed in indignation. Zala swished her tail and snorted more smoke.
“Forgive me, my dears, but I am a sun priest.”
“Ix gold, they are of the night.”
Zala imaged a bronze sunset mare as she discovered a second treat.
“Avtappi only come in shades, not hues. Every shade from white to black. Zala is engaging in wishful thinking because she likes that treat.”
“S’Rak, where are you going? Did you forget our appointment today?” Forael asked. His blue eyes were sharp, but his tone gentle.
Jisten asked instantly, “What appointment? S’Rak?”
Rak blushed, looking at the open tackroom door. “Uhm… is there not any other way?”
Jisten eyed Rak and knew that he was being a difficult patient. “We’ll go with you, Ylion, to S’Rak’s quarters. It will put him at greater ease.” Jisten steered Rak towards the palace.
* * * *
Once settled in the parlor of Rak’s quarters, Forael asked, “Do you avoid your own healers this much? Or is it because I am a sun priest?”
“Ai, I do. Particularly when they are planning to…” Rak blushed again. “And your being a sun priest does not help matters.”
