The Last Canticle: Summoner's Dirge (34 page)

“Come look! Come look, Damir! Hurry!” Her laughter echoed around him, carried on the wind he could not feel.

Panic seized Damir’s heart. Desperate, terrified panic. He raced upward, felt his heart clench as he made the trek up the insurmountable hill. He tripped in the tall grass. His fingers tore into the dirt. He began to crawl, to climb.

“I can see it,” Elina whispered. “It’s so beautiful. Damir, it’s so beautiful.”

Tears burned Damir’s eyes, blurred his vision. He kicked at the ground, but the grass grew too tall. He couldn’t see anything, just tall blades that cut upward and scratched at his hands.

“Protect it, Brother. Keep it safe,” Elina called. It was distant, a murmur over the threshold of time.

Damir let out a roar, dug fingers that felt like talons into the grass, and ripped his way up to the top of the cliff. He stumbled through the grass, broke past the tall barrier to the edge of the world.

She was gone.

Damir spun around and called out, “Elina! Elina!”

He turned around in a full circle and came face-to-face with her. She smiled up at him, her hair free and her eyes brimming with happiness. Her fingers dusted along his jaw. They were soft, warm. He reached for her small hand, but his fingers slid right through.

“Keep it safe,” Elina whispered. Her arms spread out, opened wide for an embrace. Damir reached for her as she stepped backward and fell into the sky.

Damir shot up. Water sloshed out of the tub. His heart thumped in his chest. He must have drifted off to sleep in the bath.

He had decided to wash up when they returned to the room. A bathroom was attached to his and Balin’s bedroom, an amenity he found quite convenient. Damir’s heartbeat slowed as he focused on breathing. The lavender-scented water had grown cool as he’d drifted off in the pool, lost in his own thoughts.

After Councillor Phyrrus had finished revealing to them the history of Animas Stellas, they had all split to go their separate ways. Israel had remained with the ancient man to discuss further antiquities. Ramiro had whisked a blushing Princess Elma off to talk about swords. A dashing smile had graced Ramiro’s features. As he drew the princess out of the room, he’d let his hand gently glide down her back.

Zephyr had followed Balin and Damir as they were led away by a pair of servants, who showed them to their rooms. Shortly after, King Auric had summoned them for dinner, a feast filled with more food than Damir had seen in his life. Succulent lamb and tender beef lay out on the table. On both ends of the extravagantly long buffet were stacks of bread with their tops cracked open and steam pouring out. Golden bowls of vegetables Damir had no name for filled every visible inch. By the time they walked away, Damir had felt bloated and pleasantly sedated.

It was at dinner that they had further discussed the plague that had begun to consume Zoria. Damir had inquired from King Auric the whereabouts of the elven messenger King Haldis had sent, and explained the fate that had come to Myrm. King Auric’s eyes had gone dark, filled with the tired forlornness of a bound king.

“He arrived a few days before you, and while I wish I could have sent men, I have spread my troops thin. We are struggling to keep Pheor at bay,”
King Auric had explained. He’d then drunk deep from his wine goblet. When he set the golden cup down, he’d said resolutely,
“I will send what aid I can. I fear for Zoria, for what we will become if we can’t stop this. King Vasilis has awakened something evil, and soon Zoria will fall to her knees.”

The words hummed like a haunting echo in Damir’s mind. Evil had taken hold, and now it was time for the Animas Stellas to once more rise up and bring solace back to Zoria.

His mind tossed with the revelation of his heritage. Now, with Elina’s plea fresh in his mind, Damir found himself at a crossroad. The madman’s quest he had set off for no longer seemed so obvious. A fog had rolled over his path, and he was lost. He floundered for steady ground, his feet jostled by shifting rocks.

Damir’s gaze settled on the blue lines that hugged his arm. He trailed a finger leisurely up the design and made his way to the starburst over his heart—a star’s heart.

So that is what I am, a star…a dragon. Draco
. Damir closed his heavy eyelids and pressed his hand flat against his heart.

Protect it. Protect what, Elina? Zoria?
He wanted to avenge her, to right her ill-fated death. It should have been him, never her.

That isn’t what you want, though, is it? You don’t want me to take revenge. Even in death, you watch over me, when it is I who should have been watching over you
. Damir drew a shaky breath. Gooseflesh rolled down his arms. A chill settled into his bones that had nothing to do with the icy water he reclined in.

A knock at the bathroom door tore him away from his thoughts. Balin called to him from the other side.

“Damir, are you all right? You’ve been in there for a while.”

“Yes,” Damir said and rose from the tub. Balin would want to take a bath as well. He pulled the plug and watched in amazement as the water drained. He knew plumbing existed, but it was a luxury only the wealthy could afford.

He mopped up the water on the floor and wrapped a fluffy towel around his waist. His skin smelled of lavender oil and honey from the soap he had used to scrub his skin and hair.

“Sorry, I had drifted off,” Damir admitted as he opened the door.

He could feel Balin’s gaze on him, and it sent a sharp jolt of desire through his blood. Balin swiped his thumb over Damir’s stiff nipple where water had beaded. A gasp left him. Balin grinned.

“I think I can find it in me to forgive you.”

Damir tightened his grip on his towel and met Balin’s sultry gaze. A devilish intent lit his yellow orbs, filled Damir with a fire that only burned when Balin was around. He tangled his long fingers in Balin’s lush locks. The towel dropped from around his waist. Water dripped from the thatch of hair between his legs, rolled down his quickly stiffening cock.

The head of Damir’s dick pushed past the uncut flesh, glistening with water and a drop of precum. Balin rubbed his thumb over the bulbous head and along his shaft, spreading the preseminal fluid. He fisted his hand around Damir and squeezed. Damir let out a low groan.

“Excuse me. I need to get into the bathroom,” Balin said and pulled his hand away.

Damir jerked his head up and glared at Balin. A taunting grin was spread across Balin’s mouth. Damir gave his shoulder a playful shove but didn’t resist when Balin grabbed the back of his neck and hauled him into a kiss. He needed to feel the other man, to chase away the dream that had bordered on a nightmare.

Balin’s hot mouth pressed against his. Balin guided Damir toward the large bed situated in the center of the room. Damir pulled back long enough to give Balin a gentle push, and the assassin fell onto the bed. Damir dropped to his knees, gliding his hands up Balin’s muscular thighs. How he loved the sight of Balin’s body. Every sinew made his pulse flutter. Just a glimpse could send him ablaze with need.

While waiting for Damir to finish his bath, Balin had shed his shirt. Damir made quick work of his remaining boots and pants.

Balin’s cock sprang up and curved toward his rock-hard stomach. Damir stroked his fingers adoringly along the fat trunk and over the network of veins. His heart began to race again, but it was the familiar zing of electricity that came from a rush of endorphins and adrenaline.

Damir mouthed the underside of Balin’s dick, ran his tongue up the length. Balin gave an approving grunt and spread his legs wider. His hands fisted the blue comforter. Damir could smell the salt of sweat, the heady bite of cum beneath the surface. He dropped his head lower, kissed his way to the tight globes beneath Balin’s cock.

He ate them up like sweet peaches, his mouth salivating as he drew one in and suckled. Balin let out a low groan from deep within his chest. Damir switched sides and drew in the other, savoring each ball.

“Shit,” Balin hissed. Damir planned to suck him into oblivion.

Damir came down on him, lips parted wide as he took him all the way in. Balin’s hips twitched, and he grunted.

“Fuck. You look so good with my dick in your mouth.”

Damir hummed in approval. He never broke eye contact with Balin as he bobbed his head. Balin fisted his hand in Damir’s hair and squeezed. Water rolled over his knuckles. Damir’s suction grew tighter, a clamp around Balin’s shaft.

Balin began to curse, his voice a throaty rasp of approval. Damir allowed his throat to grow slack. He didn’t fight as Balin took control and began to thrust up into his awaiting mouth. Damir braced one hand on Balin’s thigh, which twitched erratically with every upward spasm of his hips.

Damir watched the ecstasy as it played across Balin’s face, wrinkled his brow, and curled his lips. Damir reached between his legs and began to fist himself. His thighs burned from where he crouched.

“That’s it; take it all,” Balin mumbled, barely able to keep his words coherent. Damir was more than happy to take it, to let his thoughts be shoved away and filled by Balin. It was the only time he felt right anymore.

Balin gave a guttural groan of warning. Damir braced himself.

One.

Two.

Three.

Hot ropes of cum slid past his tongue and down his esophagus. He clamped his lips tightly around Balin and sucked every last drop of salty cum, all the while jacking himself off. It only took a few strokes for Damir to shoot his load, which splashed up his stomach and dripped down his thighs.

Damir slowly eased off Balin, almost expecting a mark to be left from how hard he’d sucked him. Balin fell on the bed with a heavy pant. Damir pulled himself up on shaky legs and collected his towel, using it to wipe off the sticky mess from his legs and abs.

“What’s wrong?” Balin asked as he pushed up on his elbows. A cool breeze blew in, carrying with it the scent of the mountains.

Damir tightened his grip on the towel. He could feel the shakily crafted barriers he had built up while Balin was fucking his mouth give way beneath the cataclysm of thoughts and wonderments.

“Am I on the right path?” Damir asked softly. He turned a hesitant gaze in Balin’s direction.

Balin sat up slowly and rubbed the back of his neck. Damir wanted someone to tell him the way. He no longer knew if he could choose the right path. A war raged inside him, his mind the battleground. He was afraid whichever passage he took, it would be wrong, and he would be left stranded and alone, surrounded by the shambles of all he had.

Did he choose the righteous path, the one Elina called him upon, or did he follow his heart’s desire and brave the dark roads of retribution?

“I can’t tell you that,” Balin said.

Damir looked away, nodded. He dropped his head, chin to his chest. Damp hair fell into his face.

“You know the answer. You’ve known it all along. You just have to get past your rage to see it,” Balin said as he stood. He stepped in front of Damir and tipped his head up with a finger. “Find that light.”

It seemed so distant. Even as his body glowed, he felt surrounded by a starless night. He closed his eyes, focused on the celestial flame that burned inside him.

Protect it.

Damir drew in a breath. He opened his eyes and met Balin’s gaze, which patiently watched him. Confidently Damir said, “I want to save the world.”

Balin nodded, as if he had already known the answer. He pressed a kiss to the top of Damir’s forehead and pulled away. “Okay. But first, I’m going to take a bath.”

* * * *

Councillor Phyrrus looked over the table at the faces staring back at him. No one said a word as they waited for the man to speak. Councillor Phyrrus drew in a sharp breath and exhaled. Everyone visibly tensed as the man swayed like his heart would finally give out. His eyes closed. King Auric leaned forward and watched. A moment later, though, Councillor Phyrrus opened his eyes.

“Your Highness,” Councillor Phyrrus said. “I have taken council with the great spirits.”

“And?” King Auric urged.

“They point north, to Netherlune. There you will find the final Anima Stella.”

“Slap my ass and call me Sheba! Hot damn!” Zephyr hooted and slammed his hand down on the table for emphasis. Elma laughed behind her hand. Israel slanted a scandalized glare in Zephyr’s direction. Zephyr offered him a sheepish smile, but he looked far from apologetic.

Councillor Phyrrus jumped. “Well.”

King Auric let out a throaty laugh that was the deep boom of thunder from a merciful god. His stomach shook with each gasp of air. Even as it petered out, mirth remained a feverish light in his sage eyes. He wiped a stray tear from the corner of his eye with a fat finger. “I take it from Captain Zephyr that this pleases him?”

“You could say that.” Zephyr grinned cheekily.

“Good, then you should have no qualms crossing the Ice Fields,” King Auric said, his pleasant smile masking the fact that the treacherous Ice Fields were a suicide mission. Only men with a death wish or reckless desire crossed the frosty dead lands.

“You must find the village of Methuselah, where the Gaean live,” Councillor Phyrrus spoke up.

“There the final Anima Stella is. Return with him, and we may hold a chance at stopping King Vasilis. General Gaius is rumored to be heading north as we speak to hunt for the village, but it is hidden away in a secret alcove of the Khamaree Mountains. No mortal knows where it is. A map exists that is said to lead the way, but it has never been found.”

Balin looked at Zephyr, who smiled in contempt. Zephyr didn’t say anything.

“I ask you to go to Netherlune, to find this village, and return with the final Anima Stella. I know it is a lot to ask of you, but think of the fate of Zoria. If King Vasilis succeeds in his dark scheme, then all could be lost.”

Silence rolled over the table, a heavy hand that pressed down on them. Damir spoke first. “I will go.”

King Auric’s eyes lit up with hope. Israel nodded and agreed. “As shall I. I cannot stand idly by while our fate swings perilously toward the maleficent.”