Knowledge Spoils

by

Electro057

a.k.a Barta Lemton

Chapter 1: A Tome In the Dark

It had taken him near three days and nights of searching the Academy Librarium, pouring through the restricted section and it's many dusty leather bound tomes...some of which had tried to bite him, one having succeeded....but he had found it. The cover seemed to glisten with a sinister sheen as the nearby candle flickered, the radiant orange glow playfully dancing across the golden letters emblazoned upon the age worn leather, 'Demonology - A Maleficars Magestrum' it read and proclaimed quite proudly. He'd almost given up searching when he'd found it stowed away, hidden from the unobservant eye within one of the larger reserved copies of "Bagatha's Botanical Beauties' a book even the most droll of sorcerers or monks wouldn't waste their precious time scouring.

He sat upon an old mildewed chair, finely wrought and painstakingly crafted from mahogony like the many shelves and desks that lined the rooms. The shelves were assorted into aisles, their information classified or far to dangerous for novice or amateur sorcerers to try their hand at, and thus they were kept locked away by the Head Maestrum. It had no doubt once been a pristine piece of furniture, embellished and polished like the rest of the Librarium's assorted seats, shelves, and trappings. But this was a restricted area, and few ever stepped within these dark walls. And unlike the rest of the archives there were no torch lights here, nor were the walls scoured magically day by day. Here vines, mold, and mildew triumphed....Yet the books seemed to be in exquisite condition. Here small rivulets of dark murky water ran along the walls, collecting in a moat that transversed the perimeter of the room...And most peculiar of all was the fountain that stood in the very middle of the room. Vines of thick ivy had overtaken this monumental garden piece, yet it seemed too ghastly or ghoulish to be called such. It portrayed a man, forced upon his knees......Servicing something akin to a great winged beast, a snout upturned and hideous...It's features were hidden behind an iron-wrought mask. Dark water ran in trickles from the man's scalp, the beasts cruel claws dug into his flesh.....He shuddered whenever he passed it.

"Well, I highly doubt anyone will notice if it goes missing. In fact I doubt hardly anyone would realize it was ever here at all..." He'd muse to himself quietly, yet his hushed voice echoed through the great cavernous hall....bouncing off the curved walls and climbing higher and higher within the many maze like tunnels that breathed life into the stonework academy. He'd turn about in his seat, gaze slithering over his shoulder as his ears pinned against his skull......Alone, aside from the piercing gazes of those ghastly gargoyles perched atop the columns lining the wall....their expresses contorted grotesquely. They'd always sent chills down his spine, now wasn't any different....especially alone as he was in the lowest levels of the cathedral. That thought itself had his paws slipping the rather cumbersome tome into his rugged patch work rucksack, candle soon in hand he'd set out for the staircase...and that was when he heard the sound.

It reached his ears, like an echo....drifting upon the currents and settling about, he couldn't quite locate it....His whiskers told him that there was a draft to the right, but he knew there was nothing there but stone and statues. Nothing there to make a scuffle, the grinding and dragging of tiny claws as leaves scurrying in an autumn wind. His foot lingered upon the bottom step, and something in the back of his mind tugged him forward, urging him to run, to flee. "Just a gut feeling, an instinct...." He'd whisper lowly, as if to reassure himself....And there it was again, like the shifting of pebbles and the churning of rocks beneath the earth...He turned to look, and took a step off the stair and onto the cold cobblestone floor...something brushed his arm.

Chills crept up his tail, edging their way along his spine as he froze in spot....the hairs upon the nape of his neck rising as he turned his gaze slowly to the side. Just a gargoyle, he reassured himself as he spotted the statue he'd carelessly brushed against....Though he could've sworn it hadn't been there just a moment ago, he'd passed by this spot.....bare and empty as flickers of shadows and light danced across the walls like some ghostly candlelit ballet.

He'd been standing there, perplexed and confused by the statue before him....his gaze fixated upon the thing, reaching out for the spot he stood upon with a look of hunger, maw agape and fangs protruding viciously. It was most definitely a trick of the light, but for a moment he thought those fangs glistened in the murky shadows, dripping with spittle and tongue lashing out to taste the mildewed air. However when candle was brought closer for inspection they once again seemed natural, stone wrought craftsmanship and nothing more. "I'm letting my imagination get the better of myself, acting like a frightened young cub...." He'd once again blurt aloud, though now much louder....Perhaps if someone was in one of the archival floors above they'd hear him. Right now he wanted to be heard, he'd just say that he'd gotten lost...perhaps the guards had abandoned their post and he'd wandered in.

"There's nothing down here..." He'd surmise with a brisk nod, his free hand reaching down to brush off his robes so bedraggled and besmirched with dust, filth, and mold....He'd need to tell the custodial staff the lower studies were in dire need of some attention, however not mention which study in particular. Though he couldn't quite put it past them, the Librarium had more than 90 archival floors and this was one of the lowest if not the lowest....And it was restricted for access by none other than the Head Maestrum. Luckily Sergio had been able to slip paste the Scribe Knights, a pair of pompous old fools....Likely unable to even read nor comprehend what they'd been guarding, a set of wealthy sons to the local Noble family. "Fools, the lot of them..." He'd mumble under his breath as he turned once again to depart, and that shuffling and grinding sound drifted to his ears once again....Now however, it was right behind him. He stumbled, his momentum coming to a sudden and jerky halt as the fringe of his hood snagged upon something behind him.....His heart began to pound within his chest, a dull drumming in his ears as his gaze trailed slowly to the side. Daring to peek out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of another grotesque statue he'd failed to see stooped over, lips puckered and cheeks expanded as if to...his candle was just on level with the statues face, flame hovering upon the wick before it's lips. There was a soft hushed sound, akin to a sigh....And the flame strained, bending to the side and fighting in futility...The pounding in his chest grew louder, the thrumming in his ears growing steadily as his gaze locked firmly upon the dying flame. His mind raced, searching for answers or perhaps something to counter this....It had to be a defensive charm, perhaps he'd triggered it when he'd moved the book? He strained, pushing his mental capacities and egging them to stir from their restless three day slumber, deprived of nourishment and stimulants....The light waned and then it was gone, and he was most certain of only one thing....He was not alone.

Chapter 2: Caught Red Handed

"I trust you've found my study most to your liking?" Came the voice, ricocheting off the walls of the curved staircase and falling upon perked ears. It was the voice of James Jeremhall, Head Meastrum and Sorcerer Magus of the Presidian Academy for Learning.

I heard footsteps, muffled and hushed as if coming to my ears through some great barrier....And it was only then that I realized my ears had pinned back, flattening against my skull defensively as jowls began to rise. I'd been caught, red handed it seemed....How long had the old man known?

"It's no use trying to hide from me, young master D'Curi. I've know about your intentions for quite some time, and honestly? I'd have expected better, after all you did score quite highly on last years illusions and bewilderment examinations." Jeremhall chided, his tone condescending with a sickly hint of mirth...It sounded as if he was right in front of me, it felt so indeed....I could smell the mint upon the old hound's breath as my nostrils flared, searching desperately for a sense of direction and indication of proximity.

"I will give you two options, you may return the book to my possession without any resistance." He would pause for a moment, and I felt something warm brush against my cheek...My whiskers twitched. "Or you may attempt in futility to resist, in which case my pets here will dispatch of you in manners most crude....And I will once again have what is rightfully mine." His voice held an almost playfully lashing edge to it, a sinister stroke to each word...Yet as always it was velveteen, a gentle radiant caress upon the wind that set your nerves at ease. It was both inviting and sinister, carnivorous yet beautiful.

As my eyes adjusted to the light they caught the edges of a shimmering form, like a distortion upon the wind. Though as hard as I tried to focus it never came into view, much to my growing chagrin....And it must have shown upon my features as it earned a mirthful chuckle from the ghostly visage before my eyes. My jaw clenched firmly, cheeks flushing with blood and fists balling tightly. This only seemed to amuse him further.

"Time is ticking on the clock, Master D'Curi....And I'd like to warn you that the Incubi that reside down here are known for their thirst for the sins of the flesh, and they don't care whether their prey is male, female, alive or dead..." Mused the aged wolf hound, his half moon spectacles glinting within the mirage before me.....A line appearing in the shimmering form and taking on the appearance of a crooked grin, smarmy and belittling. And as if upon command I found something thick and viscous trailing along the insides of my thighs, a weight pressing upon my back. My hairs stood on end, my mane tingling as my back stood straight as a board. "That would be Gharhaxle....And I'd make my decision quick if I were you, because he's rather good at what he does."

I found myself acting without fully thinking, because my hand was moving very slowly down towards the rucksack that hung limply at my side and I couldn't remember ever giving such a command. It had never felt so heavy before, but as those unblinking and piercing spectacles focused upon me I couldn't help but shrink back. My hand was numb, yet it found a grip upon the massive leather tome and eased it from the tight confines of the rough hewn cloth sack. I tugged it free and presented it, hand quaking in fear until I felt a warmth constrict and coil upon my wrist...And then it was gone, the weight of the book lifted from my fingertips like a ten tonne boulder. I exhaled a deep sigh of relief, and once again I felt that odd brush of warmth across my cheek.

"That wasn't so hard now, was it?" The hound's voice whispered sweetly, his presence more than uncomfortably close as the words reached my ears..It was as if his lips were pressed ever so close, nearly touching my fur and flesh. I shuddered, and felt something wrap about my waist slowly...Like a serpent winding it's way about my width. Supple warmth pressed against my lips, and my mind teemed with sensation for a moment as the smell of mint filled my flaring nostrils. I felt like I was falling, tumbling backwards withing my own mind and being swept along an unknown current....And by the time I stirred from my stupor all I heard was his muffled voice. "Try not to be too rough with this one, Gharhaxle, I think I might actually like him...." It echoed from high above, bouncing across the small stairway as it filled with laughter. Once again I felt something thick and viscous press between my thighs, a heavy weight from behind as my robe was parted. There was a thick panting breath upon my back, and my senses had suddenly become much more acute.

Chapter 3: A Fight That Could Not Be Won

I braced for the worst, and my body told me to flee....My legs were shaking and I didn't know what to do, hands trembling as they clenched and relaxed sporadically my gaze darted all about for something, anything.....I felt that massive arm constricting about my chest, that's what it was that was holding me here, a thick muscular arm coated in ebony scales. My breath caught in my throat, something most was sliding higher and higher between my thighs and it had finally made contact with my fur and flesh and was grazing my rump. Saliva began to drip across my shoulder, and hot rancid breath stirred the fur of my mane as my ear was lapped...It was all I could stand, I screamed in defiance and kicked out wildly....limbs flailing frantically to free myself from his retched and repulsive embrace. A panicked cry tore from my chest, ripping into the air with rawness and my claws tasted flesh at last as the smell of blood took to the air.

I wasn't quite ready for what followed, nor do I think I ever could have been ready as I was dashed across the nearby stone wall...My head colliding with a sickening crack, the world spun about me and my balance tottered on a fine edge. I could see that the beast, that Gharhaxle as he'd been called was standing opposite me and blocking the passage....Blood dripped in thick crimson rivulets from a gouge upon his arm, the inner most crooks of his appendages seemed to be covered in flesh not scale so strong it may as well have been plate mail. "Bet you didn't like that, you stupid fucking asshole?" I'd gasp, somehow finding the oxygen to force words from my lungs. He'd thrown me with such force my whole body ached, every fiber of my being sore and either bruised or well on it's way.

My hand reached out to steady itself against the wall, and my vision strained to focus upon my foe. I tasted blood, my own....My vision obscured by my own life's liquid running from a gouge somewhere upon my scalp, I could feel my mane weighted down by the wetness and the burning sting of flesh rent asunder. I reached up and instantly regretted it, reeling with nausea as I felt the thick inch deep gash upon flesh and fur, trailing across my scalp and down the right eye...I was lucky he hadn't blinded me.

My foe was easily thrice my size and then some, he stood across from me with sheathe rolled back and maleness fully erect....It's maw agape and dripping with ichor, it's eyes wide and bulbous...They seemed to glow a feint yellow in the dimly lit passage, and were only accented by his monstrous features. His snout ended abruptly, turning upwards like a spade and flaring with two gaping nostrils and his ears stood high, like knives carving at the air. Arms as thick as tree trunks, muscles rippling underneath and bulging with power were thrown wide...talons like curved wicked daggers ended each long boney finger. Great black leathery wings filled whatever remaining space was left in the cramped corridor, small even for myself he seemed to swell to fill it's space...

I panicked, and looking back it was likely the worst decision I'd ever made....For I rushed the beast, thinking I might fight him or push my way past....force my hand or slip between his wide berthed legs. He swiped, great talons raking across my chest and tearing my flesh asunder...I stopped abruptly, choking in place and stunned as a shaky hand reached down to feel the now gaping chest wound that had sprung into existence where flesh curled away from muscle. My vision faltered and blurred as blood spurted against the cobblestone floor, hot and sticky beneath my touch....And the floor came rushing up to meet my face? No, I was falling...descending into an unending blackness as if pushed from a great cliff.

I drifted in and out of consciousness, the cold stone floor scraping my maw as I was pulled deeper and deeper into his lair, for that's truly what it was. I was disrobed, slowly and meticulously, whilst it happened the sound of licking and suckling reached my ears....He was lapping the blood from my stained robe and from the ground about me. Before long his weight was upon me and leathery lips pressed against my neck, his tongue dashed out to slather the fur and flesh in affection before his fangs sunk in and began to suckle. My heartbeat began to slow, the world about me was becoming smaller and darker by the minute. The shock of near death came before he penetrated my tight pucker, thick maleness forced between lax cheeks that could not clench or resist as the life drained from my body. At first it was unbearable, not just the thought but the sensation as well, a burning rawness unlike any other. And the more he took, the more life he suckled and drained voraciously from my weakening body the more vigorously he gave, thrusts pounding relentlessly deeper and deeper, tempo rising to the occasion. With time the agonizing pain waned as he pumped his girth into my rump, I could barely sense what was occurring when his seed filled me with warmth...overflowing upon the paving below and forced from my body with savage thrusts. My mind faltered, my senses began to fail me.....I was going to die down here, alone...alone...in the dark. The darkness closed upon me, I felt cold icy tendrils weaving their way about my bones....And then there was nothing.

"He's nearly dead Gharhaxle...You've had your fun with him, now begone..." Said the angel, his voice as sweet and soft as velvet.

Chapter 4 - Anger

Memories... Have you ever wanted to forget something? I have, yet the more I try the more I think about it. And the more I think about it the less I understand it... And in the end I am just left to writhe in agony, not of the body but of the mind. Eventually it builds, and frustration turns to hatred, but then where do I go? Do I wallow in hatred? Do I get revenge?

I roused slowly at first, my eyelids fluttering open to take in the bright light...I regretted it almost immediately, cringing and turning my head away from the glaring daylight that poured in from what I could only guess was the infirmary window. A hand came up sluggishly to hide my eyes, sparing them for the moment as my mind searched for answers and strained to piece together the shattered memories and make sense of the chaotic torrent of emotions that surged forth. Raw, that would be the best yet simplest word to describe the chords struck upon my heartstrings in that instant as blurred images flashed about the confines of my mind and I struggled to keep the tears from streaming down my cheeks. A part of me had been taken, and the gaping chasm it left felt worse than any physical wound or slight I'd experienced in my life. My choice had been taken, my chance of wrong or right, and a flood of questions ebbed deep within the recesses of my mind, questions I didn't have any answers to, no justifications. I don't know how long I lay there, but eventually I found myself staring silently at the ceiling above me. It was a strange ceiling, one I'd never seen before.

Above me danced great beasts I had never seen the likes of before, scaled they shimmered and scintillated in the golden sunlight that poured into the cream colored room. Long serpentine beasts, then slithered about the ceiling and weaved in and out of drifting clouds....They bore the faces of hounds, or perhaps even wolves but their bodies were elongated, some adorned with fins, feathers, or trailing manes. Time seemed to slipped by easily, my mind wandered and followed them as they frolicked carelessly, sweeping, diving, and entwining with each other from time to time. "They're known as river spirits, river dragons." Said a soft velvet voice beside me, a voice that was all too familiar...My frustration broiled once again as I slowly tilted to my head to the side to take in the man, eyes narrowing into hateful slits as I began to huff in livid agony. Nostrils flared and my jowls pulled tight suddenly, baring teeth as in warning...It was all I could do to resist the urge to leap from the bed, to force myself upon the man and choke the life from him.

"I see you're no less spirited, though that is not always a bad thing I would advice caution, young master D'Curi. For although I have tended to your wounds, sewn them and packed them with various herbs, and even given my own blood to sustain you....I do not quite think you are ready to leave bed." Mused the old hound, his voice sweet and endearing, gentle and soft upon the airwaves as it reached my ears. It sickened me, turned my stomach inside out and made me want to retch violently. If there was anything I wanted from this man it was definitely not his kindness nor his hospitality, it was his fault, he had betrayed me.

"I think that shall conclude my visit then, unless you have something you'd like to say to me?" He looked upon me with soft and sincere eyes, and I wanted to tear them from the sockets in which they dwelt. Those hazel eyes with their bright highlights, I was growing to despise them minute by minute. "I'll take that.....to mean that you do not wish to speak to me, for the moment...." He'd intone sweetly as the silence dragged on, my teeth could be heard grinding in the stillness that filled the air. He was elderly, well into his years and fur now turning stark white in places it had been black or gray. An Irish Wolfhound, large but not atypical of his breed. His features held a boldness to them, well defined and handsome, the smile that was upon them radiant and blissful...not threatening in the slightest. I was still gazing upon him as he rose, and my eyes followed him....staring with intensity as he made for the door on the opposite side of the room. I hadn't noticed how cold it had become, not until he made to stand.

"You've been awake for quite some time, young ma-" He started, but I interrupted him before he could finish. "Did you kiss me?" I'd blurt out suddenly, a sort of livid hatred filling my every word as they left my mouth. He stood there, hand upon the doorknob for a moment as if he were stunned that I had finally spoken. "I do believe I did, why do you ask?" He'd reply curtly, as if the thought or incident had suddenly slipped his mind. I turned my head away to stare out the window silently, moments later I heard the soft click as the door fell into place behind the old man.

Chapter 5 - Vengeance

~"I'm a knife, and I will find myself sweetly embedded within your eye....You old codger."~

I'd taken a liking to the thought lately, especially at times like these when I stared upon my grotesque features in the morning's waste water, marred and deformed beyond recognition. I'd not know how severe the damage had been, not for weeks as they kept me under lock and key in that infernal infirmary. Someone would pay for what had been done to me, and it would that old fool. He would pay for the damage to my eye, now marble white and sightless, and the deep gouges that raked across my flesh, healed a dark and wrinkled leathery black. A macabre grin slithered across my features, the glint of stark white teeth reflecting upon the water as eyes narrowed most hatefully. I would taste his dying breath between my teeth, his blood fill my maw....The grin upturned further and further, spreading to the corners of my jaw and exposing venomous hatred, it felt so bittersweet. After what seemed like long spent drifting hours, the wheels of my head turning incessantly, I finally broke the reflection with cupped hands. The water was cool to the touch, a refreshing change from the arid staleness of Herasha and it's deserts, and I sighed in relief as I doused my face and disheveled mane. I bathed in silence, enjoying the moment for it was very rare indeed.....And soon I would be with my fellows once again, how I detested the lot of them.

I'd taken a liking to dark greens and grays lately, the baggy woolen pantaloons lain out for me were a dark olive and they slid over my form easily. The pullover smock that rest atop them was rather unceremonious and undyed ashen wool, but I preferred it to stuffy robes. The castle seamstress had finally conceded to defeat, no longer fussing over the holes I tore in the backs of my pantaloons for my tail to slip through she now made a hemmed loop in the fabric. I made for the cabinet where I kept my things, for some inexplicable reason I'd been moved to one of the upper floors to a single room. It was much more spacious than my previous broom-cupboard like lodgings, I had enough room to move freely and it was fully furnished. The sudden change in attitude ate at the back of my skull, however I paid it little attention, no more than one would pander to the buzzing of a bee. It took me a moment to fetch what I needed, a slender black knife, a canteen, and a few ropes. And lastly my bow, Jhenovir....

Turning it about in my hands I felt my heart swell with pride, the wood was still as polished and well kept as the day I had received it....Long ago in my youth, things were much simpler then. Her ends were crowned in a golden alloy, malleable and willing to bend, yet imbued with enough backbone to hold a sizable amount of force. It was a ritual that I held dear to me, something that had traveled a long ways as we fled our homeland, the cleaning of my beloved Jhenovir. Once she ways strewn about my chest, and my mane had dried I set for the door. Spotting the black cane that leaned against the adjacent dresser, my mood turned considerably sour in that moment, I'd forgotten it was there.

My injuries had gone further than the great scar across my chest, and my now deformed and grotesque face.....I found that if I was too long on my feet my back ached, my hip grew weary and sore, and eventually I'd be required to sit down. It was a rather infuriating situation, one which I'd been quite prudent to hide from my peers lest they sweep in like the vultures they were. And given my status among them, which was not envious but rather circumstantial at best, I would expect no less. Thus it worried me to see that someone had spotted my strain, or taken notice of it from afar...And that someone had deemed it necessary to give me a walking aid. It had turned up a few nights ago, unannounced while I slept and came with no messenger nor notice. I glared at it hatefully before walking past, closing the door firmly and locking it just in case.

The Academy Proper, the building where we slept, ate, and trained was only six or seven floors....much lesser than the Librarium with it's sprawling maze like towers and cavernous lairs, it's turrets that thrust offensively towards the sky and the deep chasms that lead to it's underbelly. Rather the proper was much like an Abbey, in truth that may have been what it once was for it took on the form of a hollow square. The centermost of which was composed of conjoined balconies and stairs that opened onto a great courtyard, the innermost side was where our rooms, studies, bathhouses, and lavatories were located. Whilst the kitchens occupied a good portion of the first floor, it was also the housing for lower ranked individuals such as myself, or rather it had been where I was housed until recently.

~"As graceful as a leaf upon the wind, I shall land with the sting of a wyvern's tail......"~

Came the long lost thought, a part of my training with the other boys who were to become Arcane Archers, something that was no longer practiced here and had been faded out for more practical schooling. I was one of the very few left amoung or ranks, unless you counted the handful of Battlemages that had decided to stay when their order had also been abolished and subsumed by one of the larger houses. And it was with that thought that I descended the steps, bare feet making barely a sound as I balanced my weight upon soft pads....the claws tilted back and retracted as far as possible. I set out for what was colloquially known as the 'Knuckle Head Barracks' but what was truthfully just the lowbrow battlemage and archer hangout, Vortigen's burrow.

Chapter 6 - A Restless Night

I lay awake in bed, unable to sleep despite the late hour and extensive training I'd put myself through earlier that day, tomorrow was when my plans came to fruition. My mind was ablaze with thoughts, the necessary spells of concealment, the necessary steps I would need to take and procautionary steps to check for wards, and if they existed the proper ways to avoid them. I stared out the wide window that adorned the outermost wall of my suite, the moon was full and bathed the night in silver luminescence. I closed my eyes, fidgeted and writhed yet found no peace nor restful sleep....My mind kept wandering, wandering to that moment upon the steps. His lips were so thick and lush, his breath smelled of mint, and his musk had been strong and intoxicating. I was painfully aware of my maleness slipping from it's sheathe, the tip protruding and then more and more shaft....I grimaced, disgusted with myself and buried my face in the feathery pillow only to have a few sharp quill like edges poke through the fabric and assault my flesh. I was painstakingly aware of my arousal as I began to drift off, and my dreams tormented me with the object of my obsession.

The day passed by as one would suspect, halls buzzing with the talk of the grand banquet and ball to be hosted tonight, and dates to be brought. The festive energy and joyous tone was upon everyone's lips, even the most stoic faced wizards as they went about their daily activities and prepared for the revelry to come...All but myself, as I stalked about the corridors purposefully, fulfilling my meager duties and tasks before heading to the courtyard for some well needed practice. Nothing could calm my nerves, set my fears and worries at ease, or coax me into tranquility like the sensation of an arrow between my fingers or the resistance of the bowstring. I let forth a deep sigh and the arrow flew, gliding along the wind and arching into the sky before turning towards the ground and sinking into my target a good fifty feet away. "Something on your mind, D'Curi?" Came the gruff voice behind me, gnarled and guttural it was akin to the grinding of stones underneath leather heel. I lowered my bow and turned to spot Vortigen, a burly old bear that looked as much metal as fur and flesh. My brow furrowed in confusion, I hoped I hadn't been so obvious in my dissatisfaction however subtlety had never quite been my specialty.

Vortigen was a battlemage, and one of the eldest of his order before it was subsumed by the Conjurers and Enchanter's Guild, he was also a bearer of the Sun Rune like myself. Though, Vortigen was at least ten or twenty times more in tune with his own rune....Myself, I could only use it to set arrows ablaze. In truth I had very little talent with magic, my grasp of spells was limited to only a few concealment spells and the natural ability of the rune emblazoned upon my arm like metal sewn within the flesh. My gaze flickered over to my right arm, the sunlight glancing off the scintillating magical brand and Vortigen seemed to notice my distraction. "That again? I told you, everyone grows into their runes...There is no use fettering over it, it all comes in good time. There's no way to rush it, and no way to understand it without understanding yourself first." I scoffed at his words and he narrowed his gaze at me in the most condescending of manners.

"I know, it just came to mind is all..." I'm mutter dismissively, notching an arrow and concentrating upon the metal head that balanced at it's tip. It took a great deal of focus, concentration, and a calm mind to set the gears required in motion. Once I'd found my peace of mind it began, it was an inexplicable stirring, a sort've vibration within the tiny existences that composed the metal...And the vibrations grew faster into a droning hum upon the wind, yet the arrow did not move a single inch. The atmosphere around me grew arid, the moisture evaporating in slight swirls of steam as oxygen was drawn towards the end of the arrow, and just about the moment I felt my mind begin to falter and swerve down eddies of dizziness the arrow burst into flame. I released it and let it soar down the courtyard and sink itself deep into my target, setting the hay ablaze. I couldn't help but smile with satisfaction, glancing down upon my arm as it began to settle, the tendrils of metal underneath my flesh coiling and disappearing. It always amazed me, seeing the active form of a rune....My own burst to life, the sun growing larger and blazing with numerous fingers of light and radiance. At rest it was only a few ember like teardrops about a metallic disk, but it shined so brilliantly when I wove my will.

"You've been acting odd lately, the boys have noticed....Something's wrong, it's not like you to be so silent. So reserved..." The old bear would start, but I shot him a glance that had him frowning within seconds, his teeth bared slightly in irritation. "I've just been feeling unwell lately..." I'd quip, trying to avoid the topic of conversation as I began to gather my things hurriedly, stuffing arrows within my quiver roughly and gathering my discarded pullover smock and bundling it tight to my chest. "You can't run from it forever, Sergio....Sooner or later you'll come to talk, and my door will be open." I heard the grizzled bear rumble at my retreating back, heading for my room with great haste...a slight limp as I hobbled along.

I spent the rest of my day planning, for I knew that my timing was of utmost importance....The Head Maestrum resided upon the sixth level of the Barracks, in the largest room in the north facing block. I had never been there personally, but I was well aware just as any other where James Jeremhall slept and spent the lazy days away. I tugged the tight dark leather armor over my form, body concealed by a ebony dark shift of silk and loose hood. It was like a second skin, or perhaps a hide in it's protective qualities yet snug fit and I set to fastening it in place and tightening the buckles. My bow slipped over my shoulders and I fastened climbing aids to my paws, they were gloves with metal hooks that rested upon my palm pad and the tips of my fingers. The sun had set, and the celebrations had already begun....I would wait until I was certain he'd returned to his bed, I was to sting in the dead of night. I crossed to window that lay upon the outermost wall, throwing it open and peering upon the dunes below.

Herasha wasn't hospitable in the slightest, the savannahs and dunes left much to be desired in their lacking of water, beauty, and life. But in the thick of night, when the moon was high in the sky and casting that brilliant silver sheen across the land it was enchanting. Figures stalked the shadowy valleys, crevices, and ruins that dotted the landscape as far as the eye could see. The small town of Lakasha could be seen below, miniscule when viewed atop the great peak the Academy sat upon. Lanterns like fireflies swayed and bobbed in the wind, casting an eerie glow upon those lingering in the streets and their abodes. Hours passed, and the moon sailed across the sky with grace, the lights below extinguishing one by one until only a few remained...The local whorehouse, taverns, and the fires in the smithy still burned bright. I could hear the banging of hammer upon metal in the distance, drifting up the cliff side in the night air. I had a pleasant relationship with the Iron Bear Tidicius, from the nations in the far north, he made my arrows from custom alloy that ignited with ease. It was late enough, the sounds of celebration no longer drifted along the corridors and I decided it was time, I stepped upon the sill and flung myself out, spinning about and digging my metal climbing aids into the stone of the wall....My heart stopped for a moment, breath caught in my throat as I overshot the wall and began to fall, arms flailing desperately and feet kicking wildly in a racing struggle to find footing or grip. A groan of agony tore through from my maw as I stopped abruptly, the metal claws of my right hand digging into some nearly invisible nook upon the wall. I could hear the pounding of my heart, my chest felt about to burst, and my arm as if it were about to rip right from the socket, my shoulder cried in agony and the pain in my back surged forth once again. I hung there for quite a time, the moon had edged over slight before I found the strength to swing the rest of my body into place and dig metal claws into stone. I began the ascent, edging towards the north wall slowly as I climbed higher and higher, the distant snores of wizards and monks reached my ears through open windows.

Chapter 7 - The Worthwhile Struggle

I swung myself over the balcony, landing softly upon toe pads and absorbing the impact with grace and finesse, the Head Maestrum's quarters were the only with a balcony. I lingered for a moment, hesitating as I stared within the room before me, the outside doors had been thrown open to allow the cool night breeze in, and lace curtains wafted gently within the frames. I sensed no traps, wards, or deception, and the soft wheezing snores of the man echoed from within. I approached warily, toes lingering upon the threshold as I drew in a deep breath and crossed, wincing as if expecting some form of horrid retribution. Nothing came, and I let my breath slip from my maw in a hushed manner, fearing that the noises may stir the elderly hound from his rest.

His room was exceedingly simple; A single cabinet and dresser pushed against one wall, a very large four poster bed against the other, and a mirror standing nearby the far door. Everything seemed so surreal and serene in the bright moonlight, and my shadow stretched out across the floor and fell upon the man half concealed within the folds of his crimson sheets. I crept closer, parting the hanging drapes and peering down upon his form....An odd sensation built within my chest, he seemed so helpless, so utterly weak and defenseless as he lay there in the nude. My hand found the small knife tucked away within my boot, the blade tossed bright reflections with the moonlight and the edge seemed to glisten with pride. I brought the tip of the blade close, pulling the sheets back slowly to reveal his form whilst not disturbing him....The sight was stunning, even with his age he seemed quite handsome, not plump or gone to waste like most men well within their years. The blade spun about in my hand, my features contorted with frustration as I found myself suddenly unwilling. Had I come all this way just to stare upon the man like a lecherous fool? My lips curled back, ears flattening against my skull as the blade rose high in the air, catching the moonlight like death's teeth and descended quickly into the bed post nearest me....I turned to for the balcony and the snoring stopped suddenly.

"You stayed your hand, so unlike you." He'd chide, his tone condescending. "I thought you always acted without thinking, but you've surprised-" He didn't get to finish, I knew he would not be where I had last seen him.....His voice drifted from the farthest corner of the room and turning about I noticed the bed was indeed empty. Arrow already in hand I loosed it, sinking it a few feet above where I suspected he lingered. There was a shuffling and I lunged, my eyes closing for a moment as my feet carried me to my destination, drifting upon the wafting aroma of mint. "Ungh...." It was more a noise of startle and dismay that poured from the hounds muzzle as I wrapped my hand about his wrist, forcing him back roughly against the wall and pinning him. "Master D'Curi-" He started, but I cut him off once again abruptly as my lips pressed violently to his, free hand cupping the side of his head and fingers entwining in his tangled and disheveled fur. He grunted in surprise, feet scrambling frantically in confusion for a moment as I forced his lips to part, my tongue delving deep within the moist warmth of his maw to taste his palette and dance about his own. My breath came staggered, panting as I pushed violently for more and he squirmed beneath my grip and fought to free himself from the grapple. He got his feet between mine and set my balance off, yet my grip was strong and true and we tumbled to the floor in a sprawling heap.

His hands were upon me within moments, my trousers were discarded and my maleness slipped free to rest upon his chest. I was fully erect, thick shaft glistening with moisture and wetness in the dull illumination as his grip constricted about it, tugging roughly while fingers played about the bulbous spade tip. I resembled most men, my cock did not taper like my feline brethren, and I pushed it against his chest hungrily as my hands found their grip upon his rump and kneaded at the soft flesh. Once again I pressed my lips to his, and he moaned needfully into them as our tongues entwined and danced the despicable dance, his hands began to guide me lower as his legs wrapped about my waist and I found my tip pressed flush against his tight pucker in short time. "I want you~" Came the soft whisper from his lips as we parted once again, those sultry dulcet tones caressing my senses as I gazed upon his eyes. I was more than willing to oblige his request, the same thing had been swarming my every thought for days, tainting my every action with guilt and doubt. Wracking my body with pains I could not alleviate nor explain, I gave a soft thrust and parted his resistances, the sensation was both pain and bliss.

I'd never made love to another before in my time, let alone a man, yet it no longer felt wrong or despicable, it was sheer ecstasy and warmth. I worked myself in gradually, offering small thrusts that drove me deeper with each passing moment; It hurt at first, the dry flesh tugging at my own and his body clenching down upon my sensitive organ. He tensed, grunting and moaning in a mixture of pain and bliss as I thrust deeper, my vigor increasing along with the brute force I put behind each rocking motion of the hips. I found myself caressing his form soothingly, my hands running along his curves and contours, tasting his flesh whilst we kissed and made love, my eyes locked upon his as I swam in their depths.

He worked back onto me, pushing his weight down upon my maleness and together we were as the ocean tide, ebbing and flowing as a pair. My every fiber was ablaze, my senses were sharpened and they swam in the sight of the man, bathed in his musk that permeated the atmosphere, and tingled with every touch and slight ministration. He reached orgasm well before myself, hot sticky seed spurting against our chests as they pressed close and I sunk myself to the hilt...He began to pant heavily and I could feel his rump tighten about my sensitive organ, I grunted in pleasure and swooned in place as dizziness took hold and I felt pressure all about my lower body. I was barely able to find my breath, my own weight bearing down upon me as my thrusting came to a sudden stop and I felt my maleness throb within him, strings of thick feline seed coating the depths of his velvet folds. I was at a loss for words, my arms strained to hold me up and I came down upon him with all my weight, the fur of my rolled back sheath flush against his gaping pucker as my maleness throbbed inside him. "You talk too much..." I muttered between hoarse pants as I attempted to catch my breath, he simply tangled his fingers within my mane and sighed.