The Party

"You have some visitors," Rhadoviel growled. He stood in my doorway, and for no reason I could name, he looked small. He appeared as a shrunken, bitter old man, with the power he had always worn like a cloak gone. It was as though his centuries of existence had caught up with him in the hours since I had seen him last.

I sat at my table, doing reading I didn't need to do. There were no lessons in his books that I could practice now. I glanced out the window at the Gray Ocean, for a moment believing my visitor was Thalalei. The ocean breeze washed over my face, a feeling I knew since I was a child.

"Visitors? Who?" I asked.

"I'm your personal secretary now, am I? They're out front. Go talk to them yourself." The old man wandered off, returning to his lab. He moved more slowly than usual, leaning heavily on his staff.

Curious, I descended the spiral staircase through the various levels of Thunderhead until I came to the ground floor. Oddrin extended his wings, then folded them again, reflecting my own nervousness. I opened the door to meet three women who would be some of the best friends I would ever have. I could not know their importance, but I recognized their type. They were adventurers, turned up on my front door, and unlike the last batch, they were as young or younger than I. They stood on the muddy path that reached from the north end of Thunderhead and stretched east into the interior of Rhandonia. The last time I had been down that path, I had ended in the arms of Tarasynora.

The shortest of the three adventurers stood in front of the small group. She was fair-skinned, with plentiful freckles across her cheeks and I would later find over her shoulders, arms and legs. Her heart-shaped face was youthful and pretty, and her big green eyes sparkled with curiosity. Her coppery hair was done in long vine-like plaits, bound in a single tail. She wore a costume of brown leather, tight over a supple body, open to reveal a flat abdomen. A green cloak hung from her shoulders, and a small green kilt covered her from hip to the top of her thighs. She carried a shortsword on either hip.

The one of middle height was shorter than me by a few inches, and was as voluptuous as the first was lithe. Heavy breasts, full hips, and soft hindquarters were apparent even under her black dress and cloak. Her long black hair hung free. Her skin was as pale as milk, but marked with elaborate tattoos around her pale eyes, down her cheeks and chin, and over the little skin I could see. Her black gown was belted at the waist, and she carried a curved dagger. She dripped with small fetishes: beads, skulls, feathers and other items of small magic. Though she was mostly human, she carried with her a few subtle hints of her more exotic origins.

The tallest, taller than me, was broad-shouldered and powerful. Her upper arms and thighs, where the most of her bronze skin was revealed, rippled with lean muscle. Her cheekbones were high, her lips full. Her blonde hair was cut short. She wore a leather breastplate with metal riveted to her shoulders, steel bracers and greaves, light boots, and a fur cloak. She carried a spear with two small prongs near the head, and a circular shield hung on her back. She watched me with bright golden eyes.

"You are Belromanazar?" asked the redhead.

"I am."

She smiled. "I am Alia of Freeport. These are my companions, Xeiliope, daughter of Xelyphe, and Velena Grimm," she said indicating first the blonde, then the dark-haired witch.

"You're adventurers," I said.

"Going to be," Velena said. "How well do you know of the history of this place?"

"Thunderhead?"

"This area of Rhandonia."

"Very little," I admitted. "Rhadoviel doesn't place much value in local history and lately my studies have largely been concerned with Old Qammuz."

"Old Qammuz?" Alia asked, cocking her head.

"A hobby," I said, not ready to speak of Zhahllaia. She was still my secret, and I could keep her close to my heart. I knew the time would come eventually when I would share her, but I wanted to forestall that day.

"He makes a hobby of Old Qammuz," she said, her eyes sparkling. I smiled back at her unbidden.

"This part of Chassudor is covered in tombs from the Second War of the Ascension a millennia ago," Velena said. "You know the name King Jacobal IV?"

"The Unholy," I said. Rhadoviel had neglected such teachings, but everyone had heard of the bloody handed tyrant whose name was still a curse in this part of the world.

"The same," Alia said. "Legend had it that he was buried with certain items of incredible value."

"And his evil is certain to attract all manner of foul creatures," said Xeiliope.

"I understand," I said. "Why do you bring him up?"

"Because," Velena said, "I have acquired a map to what is believed to be his tomb."

"Really," I said. The rewards and dangers would be great. I thought of my first adventure, the one that had ended with Mira in my bed. The road called to me, and I wanted to answer, to get away from this place where I was stagnating. "What do you want with me?" I asked.

"Isn't it obvious?" Velena said. "We need a wizard."

"How did you find me?"

Alia stepped forward. "You know Black Mira Sauret. I'm her..." she searched for the word. "Protégé. She recommended you."

"I served on a trip into a barrow. It's gratifying to hear she had good things to say about my service."

"She said you filled in well."

I coughed. "I suppose, yes."

"What say you, wizard?" Xeiliope asked. "Will you join us?"

I wanted to say yes immediately, but I knew I would have to ask the old man. This would be the end of my apprenticeship. I knew that as well. As much as I wanted to be away from Rhadoviel and Thunderhead, it was most of my life. I wanted to walk that path, but the anchors that kept me home were no less heavy for being invisible.

At times I wonder what I would have done had another group come to request me. The answer I have come up with is that yes, I would have gone. But I would not have stayed for the years I ultimately spent with Velena, Alia, and Xeiliope.

"I need to speak with my master," I said. "In the meantime, would you like to come in? I do have to apologize. We don't get many visitors. I can't offer you much. We have beer from Burley Shoal?"

"Is that a fine vintage?" Xeiliope asked.

"No."

I brought them in to the ground floor of the tower to the little kitchen. I fetched them mugs of beer and a loaf of brown bread. If this went well, the old man wouldn't need quite so much food around this place and he wouldn't notice the absence of a few pints and a single loaf. They gathered around the small table, sipping the beer and nibbling the bread. I left them there and climbed the stairs into the old man's laboratory.

Rhadoviel was hunched over his worktable, measuring a foul powder into a glass bottle of green liquid. His familiar, Ephlin, was half out of his own bottle, his eye focused on the wizard's task, then flicking to me as I entered.

"Going away, are we?" the old man asked without looking up.

"You knew what they wanted?"

"Only one thing they could want. I had my adventuring days too. My group wasn't nearly so comely."

"May I go?"

He turned, and I wondered if the ghost of affection I saw on his features was real or imagined. "Your lessons are complete, boy. You know everything you need. It's time to leave me in peace. Nothing for you here anyway. You've already found everything in my library about freeing djinn."

"You know about that." I thought that I would feel fear, but he released me. I felt only faint amusement at my own foolishness.

"Nothing happens under my roof without my knowing. I know about that nereid too. Getting up to more than my other apprentices, I'll tell you that."

"And the rogue of course."

"What rogue?" he frowned.

"Not important."

He snorted. "Go out, sow your wild oats. I'll likely see you at a symposium in Iarveiros someday. I don't think I would mind that. Don't embarrass my name more than you have to."

"I will do my best."

"No," he said with dead seriousness. "You will do better than that."

"Yes, I will," I said, and I meant it.

As I went upstairs to fetch my things I realized I didn't have a home anymore. It was terrifying and exhilarating in equal measure. I would never feel that brush of wind through my window again. It was, in fact, no longer my window. This was no longer my room. This would be the last time I saw it. I knelt, peering beneath the table at the heart Mira had carved. I would be leaving that as well. I kissed my fingers and touched it, silently thanking her for sending Alia and her allies to me.

With my possessions nearly squared away, I summoned Zhahllaia. She stepped out of the mist, and when she saw my expression, she fell silent. I explained to her what was happening.

"Yes, this is right," she said, nodding. "You gain nothing by staying here."

"What would you have me do with you?"

"Leave me in my lamp until you are alone next. Do not tell them of me. Not yet."

"As you wish. You're going to have to be hidden for longer than you have been."

"I shall miss our evenings," she admitted, "but we will have time in plenty. You need to grow in power and reputation. I will bear my confinement well."

I kissed her forehead, the trill working its way through my body, and she leaned up and our lips met. In that moment, I felt like I could feel her, truly her, the airy flesh of the djinn. Her gold-flecked eyes were filled with tenderness, and though I would see her again, I already missed her. Then I wished her into the lamp and hid it in my pack, carefully wrapped in a spare robe. With Oddrin on my shoulder and Spire in hand, I rejoined the newly fledged adventurers. Their mugs were empty and the bread was crumbs.

"You have your wizard," I announced.

"Wonderful," beamed Velena.

"Let's go," Alia said. "There's enough daylight to make it a good way up the road."

That was how I became a founding member of the group that would eventually be called the Mythseekers. It has come to my attention that the founding tends to be ignored in favor of our exploits, especially the one that marked the end of our association together. I tell the tale here, because I think that what is important in this volume is not what is important elsewhere and vice versa. The tales that matter to this volume are the ones between our adventures. The ones mentioned in other chronicles as merely a night passed, a hurt tended, a quest commenced.

Reality though, demands that I truly introduce these women. They were dear friends of mine until the day each of them died. I hold them in affection and esteem, and think of them often, their memories a warm place inside me. They deserve to be described as they were, as flesh and blood, not these creatures of myth as they are known elsewhere. Although that would have pleased Velena especially, to one day be a legend sought after by foolhardy young adventurers.

I should start with Xeiliope, because she would have it no other way. She hailed from the island of Axichis, which is why we would be drawn into that damnable war. The legends speak of Xeiliope's skill at arms, and I will not gainsay them. I have known few warriors I would consider her equal, few I would rather have at my side. But what the legends fail to mention is her warmth. She was the picture of a stoic amazon, yes, but she was kind to her friends, animals, and children, always quick to offer support.

Velena Grimm came from the deep woods in Esmia. The legends remember her as the witch whose village cast her out, the exile who became a hero. She was a changeling, conjured from magic and tears. The legends sing of her wisdom, but they ignore her sense of humor. No one was as quick to laugh and make others laugh as Velena. Her counsel saved our lives many times, but her humor saved our minds.

Alia was from Freeport. There's a saying: "You can trust a Freeporter with your life but you would be mad to trust them with your coin." That was Alia in brief. The legends call her the greatest treasure hunter Chassudor has ever known and she is undoubtedly this. She was also the most joyful person I have known. For Alia, every day held new wonder. She sucked the marrow from life, and I have often tried to take this lesson from her.

Our first adventure went well enough, though as always was the case, it was a great deal more complex than it initially appeared and did not provide the amount of treasure we'd hoped. The story that I wish to tell now occurred during what I think of as our second adventure. We had annihilated a band of hobgoblin slavers and sent their newly freed captives to Burley Shoal with provisions. We were now on the trail of the whole operation, which would eventually lead us to the frozen sepulcher of a rising evil.

The four of us walked through the mountain pass, Velena at the head, following the trail the slavers had taken on their initial foray out of the mountains a week ago. Xeiliope fell into step next to me. "If you plan to fight with that weapon, you will need to train."

"Then train me." My eyes went to a slice along her bicep.

"The methods of Axichis are not gentle," the amazon warned.

"Water nearby," Velena said, staring into a small crystal that hung from her neck. She guided us through a fold in the rock, a pathway I could have walked within paces of and missed entirely. We found a small waterfall spilling into a crystal pool surrounded by granite stones and lush grass. Fish darted through the waters, and a gopher watched us from the mouth of its burrow. "We rest here. I will clean all of our injuries so that nothing festers."

Velena went to the shore of the pool where a collection of flat rocks provided a convenient table. Without hesitation, she undid her gown, pulling it down and off, revealing her pale, plump body. Her milky skin was covered in tattoos, symbols that traced the magical lines of her body. Her breasts were heavy, her hips and posterior round and soft. At the apex of her thick thighs was her sex, bare and modest. Alia, Xeiliope, and I stood at the mouth of this oasis, staring at Velena, who was now inspecting her body, finding small cuts from the battle, and covering them lightly in a fragrant salve.

She looked up at us in mild annoyance. "Go on then, strip down. A single missed wound can cause trouble. And all of you could use a bath."

Alia and I exchanged an unsure look, but Xeiliope went right to another rock and started to disrobe. With another one of us obeying, it became easier for the two of us. And since I met them I had been keenly interested in seeing these beautiful heroes in the nude.

I sat down and pulled my boots off, sighing as the mountain breeze cooled my sore and overheated feet.

Xeiliope undressed with martial efficiency. She removed boots and greaves first, then undid her armored kilt, then doffed her boiled leather breastplate and pauldrons, then finally took her bracers off. Beneath her armor she wore a garment that looked to be linen. I later learned the fabric was called pellos, produced only on Axichis. Softer than linen and stronger than leather, it made an ideal undergarment. A single piece, the garment went over her shoulders and down to her upper thighs. Then, without hesitation, untied the belt and slipped the garment off and over her head.

The amazon stood nude before us. She was an impressive sight, looking like nothing so much as a statue come to life. Lean muscles bunched and relaxed beneath supple bronze skin. Her body was powerful, but did not sacrifice grace. She stretched, and in the sun, I was entranced by the perfection of the light playing over her sculpted form. She turned, revealing a ruff of honey blonde hair between her legs, a shade darker than that atop her head, and the only hair on her body below her neck. Her body was striped with shallow wounds, evidence of the battle she had won.

I tore my eyes away. Xeiliope was a friend, and though she seemed to have no shame at her nudity, it did not feel right to ogle. But I had nowhere else to look. Velena was already nude, beckoning Xeiliope over from a stone by the water. They were an incredible contrast, one ivory and soft, the other bronze and hard.

"Xeiliope, you had the worst of it, so you're first," Velena said.

I turned to find Alia unwrapping herself. She wore a costume of brown leather and green wool, perfect camouflage in natural spaces. Her body came into view in inches. First her breasts, small and high on her tiny frame, her nipples tiny and red. Her muscles were as impressive as Xeiliope's in their way, but lissome, revealing themselves when she moved. Her underarms sported a small coating of red hair, and when she unrolled her pants, I saw that shade was matched by the curls between her legs.

"They were poor warriors, used to fighting those unable to defend themselves. They landed not a single significant hit." The amazon sat down on the rock next to the witch. "But I will avail myself to your inspection if it pleases you."

"It does."

"Bashful?" Alia asked me, sliding into the water.

"What?"

"You're not undressed. Velena said for all of us to do it."

"Yes, of course." I looked about for some support from Oddrin, but the little demon was fishing upstream. I sighed, pulling off my clothes, layer by layer. Over on the rock, Velena was gently rubbing salve into the cuts along Xeiliope's thighs. I removed my breeches and stepped into the water. Alia's eyebrows went up when she saw me in the altogether, and soon I was in the water, hunkered down to let the cold but refreshing pond cover me to the shoulders. My few wounds gave distant stings, but it was nothing. We had done a good thing that day.

Alia dipped below the water and surfaced again. Her eyelashes clumped together, wreathing her fetching green eyes. She ran her hands down her long plaits, untying them and letting them fall loosely about her shoulders. I watched the water beading on her chest and was overcome with the desire to take one of her breasts in my mouth. See if her nipples tasted like cherries.

"Are you all right?" Alia asked.

"Nothing to worry yourself over. The fellow with the whip didn't like me, but he only landed a single hit that stings."

Alia giggled. "Before you set his whip on fire."

"A worthy punishment," Xeiliope said. "I enjoyed the sense of...irony."

"He was pretty frightened," Velena agreed, smiling but keeping her attention on the amazon's wounds.

"I wasn't the one who fought that big brute," I said. "Now that was impressive."

Xeiliope shook her head. "He was big but unskilled. No match for a daughter of Axichis."

"Take the compliment," Velena scolded absently. "You were magnificent."

"Your curses slowed him. As did little Alia's blades. Slices behind the knees at the outset of every engagement is an excellent strategy. Hobbled opponents are easy prey."

Alia laughed. "I didn't want them to get away."

"And they didn't," Velena said mildly. She gave Xeiliope a slap on one buttock. "You're done. Now bathe some of that road stink off you."

"If you were anyone else, witch," Xeiliope said, sliding off the rock and into the water. She reclined, letting the water pool on her sex and belly.

"Who's next?"

"Our wizard," called Alia quickly, her eyes twinkling.

"Very well. Come here, Belromanazar. Let's see what that slaver vermin did to you."

"Coming." I waded out of the pool, trying to ignore the three pairs of eyes now on me. I sloshed over to the shore and climbed out onto the rock.

"How cold is that water?" Velena asked.

"Quite!" Alia called back.

"I see," Velena said. I was right next to her now. Her heavy breasts were inches from me, her pale pink nipples pebbled with gooseflesh. Her sex was hidden in her sitting position, but I was acutely aware of its presence. "Where are you hurt?"