The Last Canticle: Summoner's Dirge (32 page)

The feeling of being filled with the raw power of Balin’s cock slid over Damir like wet heat and spread through each bone and nerve ending. Balin’s manhood throbbed in his rectum, a pulse that echoed through Damir’s body. Balin groaned low and pushed all the way in until he rested flush against Damir’s ass.

For a while he remained there, unmoving. Damir allowed himself to memorize the feeling of having their bodies connected. He ingrained it into every fiber of his body. The long journey ahead could take them in so many directions; he wanted to savor all the small moments, the fleeting seconds that made him feel human.

Damir reached back and tangled a hand in Balin’s hair. He gave a small nod, and Balin began to rock into him. They were already so close—they had always been close, right from the fateful moment they had first set eyes upon each other.

Damir had asked himself countless times if he would erase that day, turn back the hands of time so he could remove Balin from his life. But the thought of standing in the world alone, without the assassin to walk beside him, left Damir cold.

“You are my light,” Balin whispered into Damir’s ear.

Damir closed his eyes and moaned. Balin released his leg and wrapped his hand around Damir’s leaking cock. With a strained cry, Damir came.

Balin buried his face in the crook of Damir’s neck and followed right behind him. His orgasm was hard, searing through Damir as if Balin meant to leave claim. Even as their climaxes tapered off, Balin continued to rock into Damir.

Damir whimpered as his sensitive flesh was toyed with. Balin finally stopped and promptly wrapped his arms around Damir’s waist. Damir laid his hand upon Balin’s, his throat clenching with words he could barely contain.

Balin climbed off the bed and returned a moment later with a damp washcloth. Once they had cleaned their bodies, Balin returned to bed, and Damir let the other man’s embrace guide him into a long-needed sleep, swallowing his confession.

* * * *

Damir stood upon the edge of the beach, the waves rolling in behind him. In the morning light, Myrm looked new, softened by the haze of mist and hope. Damir could only pray that the elves of Myrm would make a swift recovery, but he was not so naive to truly believe that it wouldn’t take time to rebuild.

Øyavind had come to see them off. He had supplied Damir with a fresh quiver of lunamant arrows and Balin a scabbard for Magiertøter. He had changed out of his torn tunic and armor and replaced it with a royal lavender robe and silver belt. Even without a circlet upon his head, he stood with the grace of a prince.

“Strangers from afar, heroes of Myrm, my people and I cannot thank you enough,” Øyavind said.

“We couldn’t walk away, not when we knew we could do something,” Damir said.

Zephyr snorted. “Speak for yourself. I hate spiders; you think I wanted to face the queen of them?”

Israel elbowed him sharply in the side, earning a pained grunt. Øyavind ignored the sky pirate and smiled softly and bowed deeply at the waist. “Thank you, for everything, men of Lar.”

When he straightened, he gestured to the elf behind him. She had tied her pale hair with a ribbon and wore a short green tunic over buttery buckskin pants. Øyavind stepped aside to allow the elf to pass.

“Maja will show you back.”

Maja led them deep into Nocte Forest, her bow drawn across her chest. She was swift like a deer, listening attentively to the revived forest.

The cobwebs had vanished, and left behind was a lush jungle teeming with life. Damir could hear the song of birds as they swooped beneath the canopy of trees, mixed with the chatter of small snowy monkeys.

He stopped beside a myristica tree and watched in awe as a bird landed on a high branch. Its plumage was the color of gems, long and full. The bird ruffled its feathers as it settled upon its perch. Abruptly, with a shriek of terror, the bird flew off as an arrow spun past it. From the treetops an animal fell, an arrow protruding from its chest.

“Stay close,” Maja scolded. “Tamesis’s spawn may be gone, but Nocte Forest is ripe with beasts that will kill you.”

Israel took Damir’s hand and pulled him along. “Come. We have to make it back to Silas. Cessna should have the repairs finished. When we are back in the air, I can begin to train you.”

Damir looked at the dead animal, which resembled a wild monkey with teeth like daggers. He swallowed and nodded. “Will you be well enough?”

Israel smiled faintly and patted Damir’s hand in reassurance. “Yes.”

They made quick work of returning to Silas. They found the villagers repairing the destroyed gate. The workers stopped as Maja approached, their hammers raised in midswing. Maja fell back when she was near the gate of Silas.

“Good luck, heroes of Myrm. I wish you well on your journey, and may the Child-God be with you.”

Then she turned and vanished into the forest like a breeze whistling through the leaves.

“Come on; let’s get out of here,” Zephyr said.

“You and Israel go check on the repairs. We need to inform the mayor what has happened. Damir and I will contact him,” Balin said.

Zephyr returned to
Bahamut
to check on the repairs while Damir and Balin located the mayor. He was overseeing the repairs for the wall as Damir approached. The mayor turned to face him.

“You’re the men who stopped the beslag,” the mayor commented. He was middle-aged, with a short, trimmed beard along his square jaw. He shook Damir’s hand, then Balin’s. “Thank you, for all you did. I don’t know what would have happened if that beast was left to rampage through Silas.”

“Think nothing of it,” Damir assured.

“Please, let us thank you properly. We’ll have a feast in your honor.”

Balin shook his head. “Gratitude, but we can’t stay. We must go to Lumixander. We came to inform you of what affected the beslag.”

“Affected?” the mayor queried with a raised brow.

“Nocte Forest was plagued by a nefarious creature, the Spider Queen, Tamesis,” Balin explained. “She had poisoned Myrm and would have taken Silas.”

“Would have?” The mayor’s face grew ashen. “Sweet Lar, what could have brought her?”

“We don’t know, but she’s gone now. My friends and I have vanquished her,” Damir said. “Take heed of this, though, and keep a watchful eye on the forest. We don’t know if something else will appear on the horizon.”

“Darkness is falling over Zoria,” the mayor said with a slow nod. “Yes, yes, we will be vigilant. Thank you. The people of Silas will never forget what you have done for this village.”

“We must go,” Balin said to Damir. They bid their farewells and returned to the humble air stadium and
Bahamut
. Damir saw that the damage had been repaired. They found Zephyr and Israel in the cockpit with Cessna.

“How’d everything go?” Cessna asked when Damir and Balin entered. She pulled the goggles that were lying around her neck up so that they were on her head, and slid into her seat.

“Like hell. Now take off,” Zephyr said.

She smirked, exchanged a look with Israel, and started the engine. As soon as she was given clearance, she said, “All right, ladies. Here we go.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Children of the Stars

Silas seemed like a distant memory as they traveled westward toward Lumixander. Israel kept true to his word and spent a majority of the time training Damir the art of control and focus. Israel didn’t have the answers Damir sought, but he did understand how to channel the unchained power they both harnessed, and how to keep it from exploding.

Damir had hoped Israel would know what an Anima Stella was, or what it was that made them what they were, but Israel told him he had learned to accept his ignorance with a grain of salt. Damir felt like he had an ocean’s worth of salt.

Their lesson done for the day, Damir stood on the deck and watched as lush forests spread beneath them. Emerald fields spilled into rolling hills. From where he stood, Damir could see tall blades of grass swaying like waves and could make out snowcapped mountains in the distance. A herd of deer ran below them.

He had crossed the Nazarian Ocean and Eterna Sea, traveled from one end of the world to the next on metal wings. He had rubbed shoulders with sky pirates, stood before a great desert emperor, and helped defeat the Queen of Spiders. There were moments when none of it felt real, as if he was locked in a never-ending dream. When he woke, would Elina be at his bedside? He would tell her of his adventures, of his triumphs and losses, of his fears and his intense love.

As they approached Lumixander, Damir watched with wide eyes. Lumixander was a city of lights, a metropolis of glittering splendor that shined even during the day. A galaxy’s worth of starlight trimmed the high rises that dominated the center of the city. Crystalis Castle rested on the eastern side of Lumixander. The grandeur Israel had described as he’d tried to prepare him for the city couldn’t compare to the real vision. The castle looked as if it was carved of quartz, levels of chiseled turrets and spire-capped towers. To the west was a silver air stadium, the largest Damir had ever seen in all their travels. An endless stream of airships docked and launched from the argentate globe.

Damir tightened his grip on the ship’s banister. He leaned over the edge, his arms locked into place. A gust of wind pushed his hair back. From below
Bahamut
a flock of carmine-breasted starlings ascended the great blue.

Strong arms jolted Damir from his reverie as he watched the birds glide on a breeze. He craned his neck around to smile at Balin, sliding his hands over the assassin’s as they settled on Damir’s stomach.

“We’ll be docking soon,” Balin said but didn’t draw Damir away from the edge.

Eventually, though, Balin guided Damir away from the splendor and inside
Bahamut
. It was decided as they docked that Zephyr, Ramiro, and Israel would join Damir and Balin as they went into the city to present themselves to the king.

They took a carriage from the air stadium to the east side of Lumixander, passing through the city at a leisurely pace. Damir plastered his face against the window of the carriage, watching with wide-open eyes as they moved past the high-rises. Balin pointed out familiar landmarks. Neither spoke of how Balin knew the area.

“If we have time, we should hit the shade halls. They opened a new casino,” Zephyr mused out loud.

“So you can gamble all our money away? I think not,” Ramiro said. Israel seconded.

Zephyr snorted and grumbled, “Mutinous bastards.”

“What’s a shade hall?” Damir asked. For a moment, the innocent question hung suspended in the air, magnifying Damir’s naïveté toward the outside world.

Balin shook his head and said, “No place good.”

HE SHOT ZEPHYR a silencing look. They remained quiet the rest of the way. When the carriage rolled to a stop in front of the palace gates, Damir produced the letter from Emperor Folken and showed it to the guards as Balin paid for the carriage ride. The cogs were set into motion, and from one guard to the next, they were bustled along, led to councillors and servants who swept them up the grand stairs, past the throne room, and down long halls with vaulted ceilings and carved archways.

King Auric was shut away in a war room on the west wing of Crystalis Castle, along with several advisers and generals. The wispy servant who led them down the hall opened the door and announced their presence. He handed Emperor Folken’s letter to King Auric and bowed out, his mousy face partially hidden by equally mousy-brown hair. King Auric plonked his goblet of wine down on a long table laden in maps.

“So you are the ones that come bearing a letter from Emperor Folken.”

He was a man of girth, thick in the waist from years of luxury. The trunk of his chest was round and softened like a waterlogged cedar tree. A brown beard covered his regal jaw, which he scratched in thought as he looked at them with eyes the color of sage. The room fell silent; multiple people shifted their attention to the group out of curiosity.

“Your Highness.” Damir stepped forward and tipped his head respectfully.

King Auric smiled and broke the letter’s seal. He read over the letter, only raising his gaze once to look at Damir, and then set it upon a topographic map of Kalrune.

“Everyone, leave. General Nobu, fetch me Councillor Phyrrus.”

General Nobu, who was dressed in full regalia, nodded and walked out of the room with the other generals and advisers. Damir stood beside Balin as they waited in silence.

King Auric pulled up an ornate wooden chair carved from what looked to be a massive oak and sat down. He gestured to the other equally ornate chairs. “Sit, please.”

He picked the letter up and read it once more. Damir fidgeted beside Balin, who sealed his hand over Damir’s. They exchanged a brief glance before taking their seats.

“I feel there is much to say, on both our parts. Let us start with what you know,” King Auric said.

Damir opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it again. He reached up and twisted the jade pendant between his fingers. King Auric’s eyes settled on the bit of blue veins that peeked out from beneath Damir’s sleeve. He held his hand to Damir.

“May I?”

Damir looked at Balin, who remained silent beside him. He set his hand in King Auric’s. The king turned Damir’s hand over and pushed his sleeve up, revealing more vine patterns that coiled around Damir’s forearm.

“Heavenly Lar,” King Auric murmured. He looked closer at Damir. “Will you lower your hood?”

Damir lifted his hands and pushed the hood away. Wisps of golden hair fell into his eyes. Balin could make out the vine that looped around Damir’s throat like a noose.

Someone knocked at the door. King Auric pulled away from Damir and said, “Enter.”

General Nobu returned with an elderly man, who swam in holy robes of amaranthine.

“Thank you, Nobu. You may go,” King Auric said. General Nobu left without further instruction. King Auric looked at the councillor. “Councillor Phyrrus, please take a seat.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Councillor Phyrrus said. He turned his squinty eyes on the group, his body somewhat hunched over. His face sagged with tired wrinkles and laugh lines. He had a sparing amount of gray hair along the sides of his weathered head and a tall cap on the top. His gnarled hands were clasped on a walking stick that aided him as he hobbled to a chair and took a seat.