Date: Wed, 11 Dec 2013 22:54:57 +0000
From: Michael Offutt <kavrik@hotmail.com>
Subject: Black Dragon Rising Chapter 26-Gay Science Fiction

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                                    *****

                             Chapter Twenty-Six

      "Kian," Talisac says, "you've been poisoned. You've got to try and
stay awake."

      It's odd hearing the dreaded doctor attending to me, but it also
makes sense as he's the one in our party with any significant medical
knowledge. I just hate being in this position because his depravity knows
no bounds.

      I try opening my eyes. It's a supreme effort, however, I'm finally
rewarded with a little light streaming forth from a hooded lantern. Dazed,
I recognize several faces: Talen, Angelaria, and oddly...Talisac. Why does
it take longer to place the others?

      I should remember something as handsome as the face of a
silver-haired elf. But I don't.  What about the short gnome with pink hair
standing on his scalp like a shock of bristles at the end of a broomstick?
No idea.

      At Talisac's insistence, Talen scoops his hands underneath my back
and helps me into a sitting position. Tethyr's teeth I'm delirious. The
trees around me take on a drug-induced life of their own, shambling about
on roots of pure evil and leering at me with carved demonic faces.

      "He's lost a lot of blood," Talisac states. "We need to get him
someplace where I can operate. Preferably indoors and not some shitty
lean-to you construct out of old pine branches.  Cory, hand me a splint so
I can immobilize his arm. I'll bandage it and stop his bleeding."

      Talisac's voice trails off, and my thoughts drift in a haze of
shock. I feel fingers on my face and Angelaria appears. "Kian, you must
stay awake. Try and say something. Try talking to me.  You're suffering
from kuanni poison, and it'll kill you if you fall asleep."

      What am I supposed to talk about? I know, maybe I can bitch about how
I don't want Talisac anywhere near my body. I don't want to have to thank
him for saving my life.

      I try voicing that thought, but I slur my words. Fuck. This really
sucks.

      "Anything," Angelaria says.

      She makes it sound so easy.

      They put me on a stretcher; Angelaria's holding aloft the lantern,
lighting the path. It might as well be a beacon to any enemies out there
looking for us. Doesn't anyone have any sense? I look about me but pain
flares up in my right arm. It's now bandaged with a splint. How did that
happen?

      "Where am I?"

      "On the road to Rendla Fee. We might be able to find a dream healer
there that can neutralize the poison. But we've to act quickly or it may be
too late."

      I've no idea who even said that.

      I watch Angelaria's mouth move, but the words get away from me. I
want to sleep so badly that I can taste it in my mouth like a stiff
nightcap. It calls me into darkness. Then Talen mops my face down with a
cold towel. "Wake up chum," he says. "No sleeping until we get to the
village."

      I nod, too weak for words.

      The poison pumps through my veins like lava. It's a horrible prickly
sensation that makes my mouth dry and my eyes boil in their sockets. No
matter how much it hurts though, I can't stay awake much longer. Talen must
see this because he jolts me awake with a prod to the arm. The pain's so
intense it brings tears to my eyes.

      Asshole.

      "Sorry," he says, "but it's extremely important that you don't
sleep. Not right now." He nods to Angelaria. "If it looks like he's
drifting away prod his arm. He can't ignore that."

      I stop myself from complaining. I've been enough of a nuisance
already, allowing myself to get hurt like this. I need to concentrate all
my effort to keeping my eyes open. However, just when I thought I'd managed
to put myself in a position that would force me to stay awake, a sharp pain
lances through me once more.

      "Sorry," Angelaria says, "but it's for your own good. Try to remember
that."

      I'll try but no promises, okay? I may end up biting you.

      The sky grows a little lighter in the east.

      "Dawn already?" I try asking. My voice is hoarse and I'm just about
done. I'm so dead to any sensation that I don't think even another prod to
the arm will be sufficient to keep me conscious.  But maybe we've arrived
at wherever they're taking me. Buildings still cloaked in morning's shadows
rise around me, and I'm carried through a doorway.

      A man approaches and speaks with Talisac at length. Then he comes
over to look at me.  He's wearing a clean linen apron and has an honest
face. Overweight but nimble, he examines me cautiously. Am I on a table or
bed?

      Without warning, the blackness I've been fighting with all night
consumes me. The last thing I remember are more men. Heavy and foreign,
they speak of me.

      I awake alone in a room on a mattress stuffed with goose
feathers. Sunlight streams in through a window, and I smell fresh mountain
air. Laughs beneath my sill betray children at play; it urges me to push
myself up from my rest. White bandages wrap my chest and the gash in my arm
is sewn up. The stitches are expertly done; there's a little blood on the
skin and on the linen sheets but I guessed that's to be expected. I flex my
fingers and realize it could have been much worse.

      Craving wetness, I look to a stand next to my bed.

      There's a glass of water there, and I reached for it with trembling
fingers. When done, I try rubbing my eyes to bring my vision back into
focus. I'm still very tired though, and I set the empty glass on the table
and lay back on the stuffed pillows to sleep off my fatigue.

      When next I wake, Angelaria's sitting on the bed, and she's taking a
bit of ice and moving it along my lips. It feels cool; the water clings to
my tongue. Her beautiful face framed in night dark hair couldn't be
lovelier.

      Am I dreaming?

      Gently I take hold of her hand and kiss her fingers. She smiles and
produces another glass of ice cold water, which I take from her fingers and
gulp down thirstily. She reaches under the coverlet and strokes my chest,
running her fingers over my muscular pecs and around to my back. She
pressed her hands to my silky skin and with a warm caress whispers,
"Welcome back."

      The soreness return to my ribs. "Where am I?" I ask. I realize that
as the fogginess lifts from my mind, I've no idea where I am.

      "We're in the village of Rendla Fee. You've been unconscious for
almost three days now.  The village elder was almost certain that you'd
passed the threshold of no return. But a dream healer traveling with a
merchant from Kaibar happened to have an antidote for the kuanni
poison. You won't have any strength for a while, but at least you'll be
alive."

      "What poison?"  I ask. Then it all comes back to me. Once more the
sword cuts into my arm and instinctively I look down at the
stitches. "Nevermind," I say. "I remember now.  This'll make a fine scar."

      "Actually, Talisac says it won't. Don't look so disappointed."

      I scowl anyway. "Where is he?"

      "Under guard just outside of town. Cory doesn't trust him, and
neither do I for that matter.  Whatever secret you two share he's kept
while you slept. Also you've had several visitors while you were
unconscious, and girls have been gossiping that you're the hottest guy
they've ever seen. It's been driving Talen crazy."

      "Are any of them virgins? I love popping cherries," I say as smugly
as I can.

      She smacks me on the bare chest just above the nipples. "As soon as
you're able, the village elder wants to talk with you. He's already talked
with us, and we told him what you told us back in the forest. They've been
having trouble with the kuanni in this area for months now, but he's
concerned about the presence of the dragon. Unfortunately, I never saw the
dragon and so I can't give him any details.  He's been waiting for you to
wake up, checking in upon you about twice a day."

      "Where's my armor?" I ask her. I'm not shy, but if I'm going to talk
to the man responsible for saving my life, I'll want clothes. I don't even
have my boots on, and I've been making it a habit to sleep in them so I'm
feeling especially vulnerable.

      "Your armor's ruined. Talen has packed it away in hopes that it can
be repaired by a master smith. There's no one in the village that can do it
though."

      Angelaria crosses the room to a wardrobe made from pine and seasoned
with a rich varnish.  Inside are some new garments: tight leather pants, a
loose-fitting muslin tunic, and new belt. "In the three days since you've
been asleep, the rest of us have done some shopping. The merchant Calvin
had many garments on his pack horses. There's also a tailor quite skilled
at making adjustments. I had these taken in for you; I hope you like them.

      The pants are a glossy black color similar to my boots. They're made
from fine leather with straps for holding daggers around the upper thigh.

      "I do like other colors aside from black. Black's just what I happen
to wear most of the time.  It goes with the territory."

      She looks surprised. "Like what?"

      "Take blue for instance. It's my favorite color. I could gaze at it
for hours without ever wanting for anything else. Blue...well...it reminds
me of the ocean, and the ocean is everything to an Atlantean."

      She attempts a smile. "You don't like them then," she states.

      "No...no...they're fine. That's not what I meant. But someday, I
might want to try something in a rich blue. I think it'd suit me."

      "You can make anything look good. But I think it'd suit you too,
dear," she says. Then Angelaria hands me the garments and returns to the
wardrobe to retrieve my glossy black boots. I feel a wave of relief sweep
over me as I don them.

      Angelaria leaves the room, and I pull myself from the bed and
stretch. I walked over to the window and place my hands on the sill and
look down on the street. It's late afternoon and quite hot; I love the feel
of the sunlight on my naked skin. Nevertheless, I throw on the shirt and
slip the leather pants over my legs and bare bottom and tuck my dick down
one leg. The bulge is a foot long outline. Some might say a snake has made
its home in my trousers, but it can't be helped. At least they're smooth
and feel cool against my skin. The muslin tunic helps some because it hangs
so low and loose. I fasten the belt around the waist and unless you're
specifically looking for the bulge of my cock, you really won't notice it.

      That's just it though. People like looking at me. So I know someone
will notice, and they'll say stuff behind my back. Ah well, that's just how
jealous men are.

      Feeling more myself moment by moment, I take hold of the handle to my
door and step into the hallway. As with most inns, the hall's gloomy even
though it's lit by three different sconces.  From each emanates a saffron
hue coupled with oily black smoke that draws a line up the edges of the
white-washed walls to the vaulted ceiling above.

      I close the door and gingerly make my way toward the stair, stepping
lightly on the wooden planks. From down below bubbles the usual tavern
noise; when I find the staircase, I descend into the main room. The door
outside is propped open to allow the summer breeze to circulate among the
patrons. Four youths are playing directly outside the door. Talen,
Angelaria, Correldon, and Pink Hair are gathered next to a handsome
gentleman sporting dark skin and a fierce beard trimmed close to his
skin. His eyes are beady black; his hair long and flowing. The stranger
wears a moustache so well-oiled it gleams; about his thick wrists are
leather bracers studded with bits of shiny metal. A cloak made from rich
ermine depends from his muscular shoulders, and my eyes drop to a belt
pouch hanging low upon his left side. It's obviously bursting with coin. He
has a rich voice and laughs often, stealing an opportunity here and there
to look over his shoulder at another smaller man.

      This second fellow has little or no muscle. I'd call him gaunt. He
has the kind of oily skin and obtrusive nose normally associated with a
sexual deviant. Ugly through and through, he's got scraggly hair and dark
circles to boot. Also his clothes fit too loosely upon his skeletal frame,
accentuating his emaciated figure.

      Behind the bar stands a third person.

      This guy was present the night I arrived. Joining him at the bar is a
fourth individual: a man in his mid-fifties with tan skin and a dark green
doublet awash in faux gold studs. He has a potbelly which strains against a
girdle of thick boiled leather. Despite this he wears tight buckskin
trousers, and they're so faded and spotted to appear threadbare around the
ankles. Mismatched socks dip into wide leather moccasins; the man blows
foam from his tankard and slurps from the top. As he drains the contents,
ale dribbles from his chin spattering both his clothes and the floor
underneath his fat feet. Gods what a slob. I can't imagine being pinned
under that one as he went to town on top of me. Girls sure do put up with a
lot.

      The man with the ermine cloak is first to speak. "Ah, our squirrel is
awake."

      Angelaria motions for me to take a seat at the table next to
Talen. My boyfriend is dressed in his splendid-looking killsuit, and he
beams happily at me as I approach. He stands, throws his arms around me,
and kisses me tenderly. After the exchange, my ribs ache a little. It
doesn't matter though because he smells so good; I want to throw him on the
table and fuck his tight ass right then and there.

      "I dreamt of you," I say. It's a lie but he doesn't know that. And it
makes his eyes twinkle.

      It's little comments like the one I just made that keep him coming
back for more.

      "Kian...I'm so glad you're better. You had me really worried."

      "I did?" I ask. I almost chuckle. I never imagined him worrying after
me even though I've worried about him to the point of distraction.

      Pink Hair speaks.

      I glance at the gnome who's retrieving a cup of ale from the tankard
on the bar. "This here's the merchant Calvin," he says. "The man behind him
is the dream healer that saved your life. And that man at the bar sharing
his ale with me," the gnome grins, "is the leader of the village.
Karandras is his name."

      Karandras lifts himself off the stool and hoists the barrel in his
hands. He carries it over to the table. "Son of Marcus," he declares, "and
pleased to meet you." He extends a hand rough with callouses. I grasp it
and he laughs. "You and your friends came upon us early one morning. They
spun quite a tale, and I must say that I wouldn't have believed a word of
it, only you were taken with the spider fever and would soon be overwhelmed
by the poison which is kuanni in nature. You owe your life to the good
healer there and to these fine people who claim to be your companions."

      I smile and then shift my gaze to Talen's bright baby blues. As
usual, they dart from face to face processing every detail. Calvin clasps
my hand; I attempt to read the merchant, but I find nothing but my own
reflection waiting for me in his eyes.

      "It's good to have you with us," Calvin declares. "Now that you're
recovered, perhaps you can share your story with us. Your friends have
entertained our ears with a plot against the village.  We need to know more
of this if we're to enlist help from Kaibar. And it's urgent for us to know
more of this dragon. Dragons have not been a problem in these parts for
almost a century. To hear of one now...well, it's a surprise to say the
least."

      Karandras stiffens in his seat waiting for me to speak.

      "I only saw it from the edge of the hollows. It was a keep...I'm not
certain of exactly where it lies...you must believe me in this. Anyway, the
keep's overgrown with kudzu and razorvine. It's a square blocky thing with
no towers. And the dragon swooped down on its wings, landed in the hollows,
and immediately asked to see the ogre-magi."

      Karandras interrupts me then. "The keep...you say it was in a
hollows? Like a valley?"

      "Yes."

      "Hmm.  I thought THAT keep destroyed. He's talking about Wraith
Watch. It's a day or so from here and was abandoned once the mines closed
down. The dwarves at one time made us keep a garrison there to watch the
hills for the orcs of the Ekthor band. The dwarven miners thought the orcs
might strike down from the mountains to sniff out the precious metals they
hoarded in the underground realm of Cithek Ingol. To tell you the truth,
I'd almost forgotten about it. Hmm," he scratches his chin. "Sounds to me
like the kuanni are squatting there now."

      "How did you come by this keep?" Calvin asks.

      I start to say that I followed a black wolf, but then I think
differently. To betray such a secret connection with what I know to be my
god in the form of a beast is unthinkable. Something inside me objects to
even talking about it with another person outside my religion. So I
don't. But I think everyone around the table expects me to say something,
because my lips are open as if a word is lodged in my throat.

      "Cat got your tongue young man?" Calvin asks.

      "No." I shake my head. "I-I just came across it. It wasn't anything
special. I got lost in the woods. I-I thought I heard a noise and just
wandered up to the rim of the hollows."

      Angelaria eyes me strangely.

      Talen thinks nothing of it and touches my leg. He fingers the one
where my dick rests, and strokes it lovingly under the table while gulping
down some cipra. "This is quite excellent stuff," Talen says to Pink Hair,
and then drains it before passing it back to the gnome who (I surmise) must
have made it.

      "Hmm. It's a good thing that you stumbled across it," Karandras
mutters. "I have a garrison of two hundred men here in Rendla Fee. How many
kuanni could be holed up within that place Calvin? I realize you're a
merchant, but you've been traveling these woods for years. I believe you
used to deliver goods to Wraith Watch before it got closed down."

      "Yes," the strong man says. "I made my fortune back in those early
days. I worked with an old dwarf...some codger named Kain Axebellow. Now he
was a fellow: carried with him a magical maul named Harbinger...fantastic
piece of work. Anything it struck turned to glass...simple crystal.  He'd
smash the weapon into an enemy's plate armor, and it'd fall right off his
back into glimmering shards of ice. And he could hurl that thing like a
champion spear thrower. Trailed a bolt of sizzling lightning about as thick
as my forearm that could light the valley from here to Cullen's Bridge. A
fierce thunderclap always followed that bolt of lightning, and it'd deafen
you if you stood anywhere near it. That was always the downside to doing
business with any of the Axebellows: most of them were deaf. But Kain...he
was shrewd.  Now, let me see, I'd been making deliveries to Wraith Watch
for three winters before they shut the place down. I had a deal with a
priest there that ran a small chapel. I brought him supplies from time to
time. I was always mystified at the statue of the black wolf he kept in the
nave of the small church. It seemed so lifelike.  The keep itself looks
small from the outside, but it's deep. I'd say you could house about three
hundred men inside there rather comfortably. But that of course could be a
lot different with the kuanni. If they've taken Wraith Watch...well, it
might be they've improved upon some of its subterranean holdings."

      At the mention of the black wolf, I bite my lower lip but don't say
anything. Now I know what it wants me to find there: something about the
chapel; perhaps the statue. The only thing I'm certain of is that this
feeling inside me can only be satisfied if I visit that place.

      Karandras rubs the thick bristle on his chin. "I've had my men ready
to go since yesterday.  We can leave tomorrow for Wraith Watch. I'd like to
know a little more about the place, but I fear if I hesitate that I might
be giving them the edge. Kian," he says looking to me. Talen skillfully
withdraws his hand from my leg. "Your friends say that the green dragon may
have taken flight into the hills...correct?"

      I nod. "But that was three days ago. I'm not sure if he'll still be
in the foothills looking for a party that doesn't exist." My arm develops a
bit of a twinge, and I rub it with my left hand.

      "Dragons...they're not as sensitive to the passage of time as the
rest of us. I don't think he'll be back just yet. Wraith Watch...that's a
good hump through the woods...about ten leagues if I remember
correctly. We'll encounter armed resistance for sure, but with properly
trained men on our side we should be able to rout the enemy and force them
to pull back and hole up in the keep.  Then we can erect siege engines out
of the wood around the hollows. If the dragon shows up, he might decide to
leave them to their fate seeing that his plan is exposed. Green dragons can
be quite cowardly when they realize the odds are stacked against them."

      I'd never known any dragons but I'm willing to bet that a lot of
Karandras' words are on the top end of positive thinking.

      "Will you be joining us?" Karandras asks me. "Your help would be
appreciated even though I know you're not a trained warrior. But this'll
give you an opportunity to get your revenge against the kuanni that
poisoned you. And, you'll be helping us with a dreadful task. War against
kuanni is never pleasant, and we'll most certainly have casualties."

      I think everyone assumes I'm not a trained warrior because I've no
scars to prove it.

      "I don't know for sure, but in truth, I had no plan to join you," I
answer.

      I search the eyes of my friends. If none speak up, then I'll have to
reverse my position. But I don't want to give away anything about the black
wolf, or why I simply have to find the chapel. It's like my own personal
secret that's simply too good or too dangerous to share with any other.

      Correldon leans upon his bow. "You can count me in. I'll not turn my
back on any opportunity to kill the elves of the deep earth. They're
dreadful creatures that are an abomination against all the Elfhames of
Symardiearre."

      I want to go along but probably not as a front-line arrow catcher.

      Correldon knows this; he also knows I'm depending on him to be my
guide to the Isle of the Unslaking Thirst. How else am I ever going to find
Bloodbane?

      If I say no, he could get captured by his enemy and taken
prisoner. Even worse, there's the possibility he could get slaughtered and
left under a tree to rot. He knows this too because the edge of his mouth
turns up to form a pronounced smirk. By committing himself to their cause,
he's volunteered me for this job. The only difference between me and the
grunts who get no choice at all is that I'll be riding with confidence. I'm
a professional killer. In contrast, they're going to be shaking in their
boots. Hopefully an adrenaline boost with the possibility of glory and
honor will count in a skirmish. As for me? I need to approach this sensibly
and focus on keeping all our hides intact.  Without me, this mission is
doomed for failure.

      "All right," I say, trying to look downcast. I don't want to let on
that there's a secondary motivation driving me to take the path to Wraith
Watch. "I'll ride up front with Cory."

      "Such a change of mind?" Calvin asks, eyebrow raised.

      "Yes," Correldon says. His face is dispassionate to my
statement. "You could say that it's in his best interest."

      Oh you loved saying that, didn't you?

      "Excellent," Karandras says, finishing yet another cup of ale. "I'll
tell my men that we march at first light. We're used to formation
fighting. You're free to fall into formation with the rest of us if you
wish, but I shan't advise you on how to wage war. I don't want to be
personally responsible for your deaths."

      "I'm used to a more delicate approach," I declare, choosing my words
carefully. He looks at me over the rim of his cup but says nothing. I think
he's beginning to suspect that there's much left unsaid about my PARTICULAR
talents.

      "Count me in as well," Talen declares. Surprisingly, Pink Hair
follows his lead. I thought for sure that a gnome would prefer a day with
children to a bloody conflict in an unfamiliar wood.

      Angelaria starts to speak but Calvin cuts her off before I can even
draw a breath. She glances sideways at the merchant with a bemused
expression.

      "You, my dear, shall ride at the rear with me. I shall protect
you. Aye, I know what you're thinking: that I have better things to do. But
I'm an experienced swordsman and stronger than any man in Karandras'
unit. I haven't swung a sword in years, but this changes tomorrow. I've
been thirsting for a little action for some time, and what better
opportunity than to do so in the company of a maiden such as yourself?"

      "I wouldn't have it any other way," she says.

      Angelaria reaches up and touches his arm with her left hand to give
him a playful squeeze. I look into Calvin's face just in time to see a
smile break upon his lips. His beard bristles a little. As for my own
hands, I think that I'm probably white around the knuckles and very close
to making an example of this guy. But I manage to hold my temper and my
silence behind clenched teeth.

      Nothing fuels some killing quite like jealousy. Suddenly this little
war seems like the best idea in months.

                                    *****

      Thank you for reading. I'll post Chapter 27 next week.