“Yes. Mmm. Impressive.”
She pulled her hand away from the hoof and smiled, moaning just the slightest bit. She slapped the hoof with the back of her hand and the meat and bone snapped away. Boiling blood and meat streamed down onto the other leg as Aile rubbed herself, watching. She let out a tiny gasp and a pleased smile rolled across her face. Aile walked to the side of the bed and put the fingers that had given her pleasure against the fur of Ilkea’s legs. She wiped them lazily across the fur, leaving trails of flame that lapped and grew as she went. The satyr jerked helplessly, rocking, and vibrating. Foam and blood trickled from her mouth and Aile came back to the head of the bed and crouched.
Ilkea’s eyes flashed between rage and pleading. She had begun to choke now. Aile laughed quietly. She stood, moved behind Ilkea to retrieve her blade, and then back. She flipped the cot, sending the girl onto her back. Aile stood over her and then straddled her chest, squatting down. She placed her hands on either side of Ilkea’s head and the glow returned. The satyr shook violently underneath her. Her eyes went white and then grey and then black. A pop sounded somewhere inside her skull and the matte black orbs sunk away. Ilkea was still and her ragged breathing was slow and desperate. She was not choosing to breathe now. The fun was all but done. Aile pulled her long blade from her back and put the tip at the center of the dead goat’s forehead. She sighed and leaned her weight against it. The blade scraped across an inch of bone before it caught and the weight pushed it through. It stopped again at the back of her skull. Aile pushed the hilt away, forcing the metal through the soft meat inside and then pulled it free.
She stood again and moved to the ruined blanket that now sat on the floor covered with coagulating pieces of Ilkea. She wiped the tools she’d used clean and placed them back where they belonged and returned to her tent. The knives she had used were again cleaned and prepared, as were her leathers. She stripped herself of them and wiped dry the inside and herself. Her loins still twitched with excitement at her touch. The hours passed quietly, peacefully. The smells she had hated so much had been replaced with far more pleasant ones. The smell of char and blood.
When she had finished with the things that needed doing, she saw herself outside and looked at the horse and chariot she had ridden for so long now. She could not unhook it yet. The stupid beasts wandered when they were not strapped to the ridiculous carts. Come the morning she would take it and go. She was still owed gold. Quite a bit of it, in fact. Though, she did have a thought. With the Bastion City so close, it would be a shame if she did not take advantage of an opportunity to indulge herself in some comfort.
She smiled and looked up at the stars. That was the only thing for it, she thought. After all, it just wasn’t good for business to follow up such a pleasurable night with a day of work and toil.
Part Ten
P
Z
Socair
The Eyes were far across the sky when the walls around Abhainnbaile’s Bastion City came into view. The ache in her rear and her legs annoyed Socair. She had been too long away from the saddle and from the work of a fight in general. Each painful bounce reminded her of the starved satyr. She had never had so much trouble with one. Her mind tried to offer excuses. That the creature was desperate or that she had been concerned about the north’s Treorai. They were excuses in the end. None of those things should have drawn her attention and even then her strength should not have failed her. Discipline would be the only answer. She must not allow the Bastion to be her prison and neither could she allow her appointment to the Binse to mean a life spent in soft chairs around polished tables.
Práta rode beside her with Nath sharing the saddle. The gates were near enough now that she could see three elves awaiting her arrival. Two were dressed in full armor and held torches. Gate guards, most like. Another with them struck a familiar shape, even in the dim light. As she drew closer, she could see Meirge more clearly. They brought the horses to a stop and Socair jumped down, putting a fist to her chest and bowing.
“An old habit,” Meirge said.
She stood herself up, remembering that she now outranked him and that he ought to bow to her if anything. “A hard one to break, at that. I hardly expected you would be here to meet us.”
Meirge’s eyes flitted, just briefly, to Práta and Nath as they climbed down from the other horse. “There are important things to discuss. And Deifir has given me express orders to bring you to her immediately.”
“Then let us waste no more time here.”
Meirge bowed quickly and turned to enter the now open gate. Socair took her place beside him as they went. Práta fell in behind with Nath beside her and followed quietly. The Bastion City was always so beautiful at night, Socair thought. It was something about the light of the Eyes that made the buildings seem to shimmer almost. A million half-seen colors. It calmed her to be back among her people.
They had not gone
