Author's Notes:
This is the sequel to "Leo and the Dragon", which you can also find here on Literotica. To fully enjoy this story, you might want to go back and read that one first, although I've tried my best to make this as accessible as possible.
A huge "Thank you" for all the people who helped refine this tale. You know who you are.
As always, there are only adult beings having sex.
*****
"Nothing better than the end of a day's march," Arach sighed, as she stepped from the tent, raising her arms over her head and stretching languidly. She seemed to bask in the light of the setting sun, long white hair unbound, fluttering in the evening breeze. Both she and her lover, Tear, wore nothing more than gauzy, silvery robes that did precious little to conceal the curves of their lithe yet supple bodies. The wind whispering through the clearing wasn't helping either, each gentle breeze tugging at the diaphanous garments, exposing the smooth, coal-black skin beneath.
For reasons that baffled me, neither Leo nor Zentam seemed the least bit perturbed by those two practically flaunting their tits and asses. Especially Leo seemed at ease around them, smiling fondly or even brushing his hand along a shapely thigh or butt when they strode by. That was not the Leo I'd known for the last four years. The Leo I had known was a blond-locked, muscular and shockingly handsome six-foot-nine giant of a man. Always caring, always gentle, fearless and honest to a fault, but he blushed like a young girl whenever someone as much as blew him a kiss.
We'd been partners since he arrived in Storm Harbour those years back. At first he clung to me like a kid to his wet-nurse, because the city seemed to genuinely frighten him, but as the months went by, I found it harder and harder to not feel his reassuring presence behind me when I strode into a fight. Over time, I postponed our separation again and again, until the higher-ups in the Guard saw it fit to make our partnership official. And through bloody battles, rainy nights of patrol duties and more than one heated argument which nearly brought my lightning-wreathed fist into his face, we've become friends.
And when I was honest to myself, just a little bit, I accepted the fact that I couldn't stand the notion of no longer being by his side. Or he by mine. An important distinction, I thought. What other reason could there be that I almost went mental when he left for that dragon-hunting episode with those ebon tramps and I fumed alone, for the first time in years, scared witless of what they, or the dragon would do to my dearest, and let's be honest again, only friend? It wasn't the first time we went our separate ways, but it certainly was the hardest and the reunion, albeit quite the strange encounter with Arach bodily hauling me into Leo's embrace, was the most welcome. No, this time, I had decided, I would be with him, come whatever may. And may the gods protect any dark elven twat who would dare lay a finger, a lip or anything else on my paladin. It was bad enough that those two, nearly naked, were all but rubbing their goods in his face!
Well, our faces, really.
"Who are ye plannin' to gut next, elf?" Zentam merrily asked, flopping down next to me and handing me a rolled-up trail ration.
I wasn't very good at making friends. Most people didn't understand magic or those who used it, so most kept their distance, with Leo being one of the few exceptions. And I wasn't in the habit of sharing my troubled past with anyone. But I found dealing with Zentam surprisingly easy. Yes, he was coarse and he seemed to be very fond of walking, or sitting very close to me, enveloping me in his personal cloud of metal and sweat scents. But he was a simple, honest soul. Point him into the direction of an enemy and he would only stop after said enemy was a sad stain on the ground, a mentality I could wholeheartedly get behind.
"It's 'Shilana', remember?" I reminded him sweetly, just the barest shock of electricity jumping between our hands as I took the ration. "And I'm not itching to gut anyone. How do you get the idea in the first place?"
"Oh, just a feelin'," he grinned, pointing at the rations package he just had handed me. The oiled paper was smoking in a dozen places where my fingers were touching it. "And yer not lookin' too kindly at the lassies," he added unnecessarily.
Yes, I was agitated, and the mystical energies barely contained within me reacted to my thoughts and desires. When I closed my eyes, I could easily envision two dark elven sluts jumping and dancing while lightning shocked them from head to nipples to toes. While a it would be a delightful little diversion, I had promised I would behave. With a conscious effort of will, I forced myself to calm down and unwrapped the ration, noting with disgust the greasy piece of meat next to two potatoes and some hard tack.
"Well-" A slender hand brushed my cheek. I tried my best not to flinch, but going by the sad little smile on Tear's face, I had failed, yet again. There was no call for it. Not with her. Where Arach was wild and had a touch of crazy in her amber eyes, Tear was gentle and sweet. But she was a dark elf, so my first instinct was to light her up. I hadn't done it though. I was learning, and I'd come to accept their presence nearby, had adapted to it. Mostly. Except for the touching.
Truly, what was it with those two, their constant need for touching, fondling and kissing? Clashing natures, is what they were. Warrior-priestesses and creatures of wanton desire both, at home on the battlefield or in a brothel. And then there was me, with my irrational but truly justifiable fear of dark elves, creatures that were not known for genteel kindness, not anywhere. It was no wonder I was on edge.
I opened my mouth to shoo the woman away when I noticed what she was holding out with her free hand, a small wooden bowl, filled with sliced tomatoes, carrots, salad, mushrooms and cheese. Her smile widened. "I've put Arach to good use. Forget these horrible rations and try some of our salad instead. I'll promise it's not poisoned. Really."
Feeling myself blush, I hung my head and mumbled a little "thank you". Her long fingers brushed my cheek -- and I didn't flinch that time - and with an barely audible "you're welcome, Shi," she was gone.
"Ye're doin' it again," Zentam said with a smirk. I looked at the bowl in my hands, the wood smoking where my fingers seared it. Snarling with the effort, I willed my power to subside again. "How are ye doing this anyway?" the dwarf asked.
"Have you ever heard of elemental stones?" I asked him instead of an explanation.
To my surprise, he nodded sagely. "Yup, they're highly prized for creating magical arms and armor, imbuin' the elemental properties into the item in question. Put a fire stone into an axe, ye have yerself a nicely burnin' axe." Then his eyes widened in understanding. "Lass, ye didn't-"
I nodded. "Put five of them into an elf mage and you have me."
"Ye can't be serious!" he breathed, almost in awe.
I put the bowl down and looked at him, lowering my voice. No need for the whole camp to listen in. "I was young. I was angry. And maybe a little foolish. I didn't want to wait centuries to become powerful enough to kill dark elves." I took his hand and placed it atop my forehead. You can't see it from the outside, only when I used the full extent of my power, but you could certainly feel the ridges of the stone embedded in my skull when your fingers were sensitive enough. Zentam's were. Again surprising me, his fingertips gently traced the pentagonal stone.
"Who would be mad enough to do such a thing?" he asked, his voice wavering between curiosity and awe.
"Lady Desire grants any wish, if you're willing to pay her price," I whispered.
Unbidden, the images came back. The naked priestess, writhing atop the altar, intoning the name, the unspeakable true name of Desire while I knelt between her legs, my lips fastened to her femininity, fulfilling her desires so she could help fulfil mine. Then my turn on the altar, the chanting acolytes bringing the storm gems, placing them on my forehead, my breastbone, my stomach and both hands. Then there was nothing but blinding, never-ending agony as the stones buried themselves into my body. Hands, mouths, other parts rubbing, leaking, drooling over me, and finally, the sultry voice of Desire herself, as she proclaimed the price I had to pay for my power.
"You shall be bringer of death, as you asked, but never shall you bear life. And never shall you escape your past, despite your best efforts to rid yourself of it."
"What was that?" Zentam asked, his face so close that an errant hair was itching my nose.
"None of your business, dwarf," I snarled, getting up. I needed to be alone. Now.
* * * *
The chattering birds were just the thing to calm my nerves. I was sitting on a forked branch, almost thirty feet up from the ground. I didn't even remember the climb. And once again, I felt utterly stupid. As if I hadn't enough futile questions to wrangle with, I had to share one of my darkest secrets with a gods-be-damned dwarven mercenary. I barely knew him, we were hardly friends, and what I shared with him wasn't meant for the ears of loose acquaintances. What next? Would I welcome Arach into my bedroll for a night of debauchery?
It wasn't Zentam's fault that I was so agitated, but it sure as hell was his questioning that brought back the memories, reminding me all too sharply what I was willing to leave behind for the sake of revenge. Another crept into my mind, tall, blond-locked, muscular. Why was it that Leo came to mind whenever I pondered my inability to bear children? It was a conscious decision to leave everything behind anyway, right? And who in their right mind would bring children into a world where dark elves were free to rape, murder and enslave whoever and whatever they set their greedy eyes upon?
"Shilana!" Came a whisper from below. Gnashing my teeth, I looked down. Leo. Fully armored, hefting his impossibly large hammer like a children's toy, he was skulking around in the underbrush, easy to spot despite the darkness. With a sigh, I intoned one of my minor magics, a simple spell that let me slowly drift from any height, almost like a feather, and jumped off the branch. With barely a rustle, I set down next to him. Nevertheless, he had almost turned as my hand touched his shoulder, small arcs of eldritch lightning sparking off his armor.
