Rob Scott - The Larion Senators

‘They are-’ Brexan searched for the right words. ‘They are powerful men.’

‘Really? With the Resistance?’ He didn’t care for politics, but for what Garec and Kellin were willing to pay, he would make the run – the daisy-run – to Averil, drop these idealists in the shallows and be back to ship as much as he possibly could to Southport with the southern Twinmoon. With no loading or unloading to worry about, he might even make the run in record time, saving five or six days.

He felt better about the whole thing now. ‘Brexan, I do apologise for waking you. I’m embarrassed that you-’ He glanced where her naked legs had been.

‘Don’t worry about it, Captain Ford,’ she said, ignoring the little voice that was nagging her to tell him he was really going to Pellia, and there was a chance he might not survive the trip.

The soft light of her candles illuminated the lines in his weather-beaten face. He reached out for one. ‘Do you mind if I take this? I need to see my way back to my room. I didn’t use one coming down here; I didn’t want anyone to think-’

‘That’s fine,’ Brexan said quickly. ‘Good night, Captain.’

‘Good night, and thank you again.’ He started to pull the door closed, then Brexan hissed at him to wait.

‘One last thing,’ she murmured, taking a deep breath and steeling herself. ‘Please be careful with these people. I know Garec doesn’t look it, but he can be a dangerous young man.’

‘Him? Nonsense,’ Captain Ford smiled. ‘I’ve been around a long time. I’ll be fine.’

‘Trust me, Captain. If things should take an unexpected turn, remember what I’m telling you. These are nice people, but they’re also partisans, and very tough. They’ve been through a lot.’

‘Garec’s a boy; he could be my son,’ he said. ‘Good night, Brexan.’

As the door swung shut, Brexan whispered, ‘His friends call him Bringer of Death.’

Ford hesitated. ‘Really?’

‘Really.’

‘Then thank you,’ he said, his smile fading. ‘I’ll keep that in mind.’

Brexan felt her insides clench. She was sitting astride a dangerous fence, and she didn’t know on which side she might fall. Tell him to flee, she thought. Come up with some excuse and get him out of this. He’s a nice man, and you’re going to get him killed. She pulled the covers up to her chin and asked, ‘When can we leave?’

‘On the turning tide tomorrow, if you’re ready.’

‘We’ll be ready.’ She blew out the remaining candles and said, ‘Good night, Captain Ford.’

In the front room, Garec and Kellin relaxed in great padded chairs by the fire, a mostly empty flagon of wine between them. The landlady had finished clearing up for the evening and had gone to bed an aven earlier. Garec stretched his legs towards the flames and said drowsily, ‘Why are we still awake?’

Kellin swallowed. Her mouth was dry and tasted like stale wine. ‘Because it’s our first night together in a real boarding house.’

‘So what do you call all those nights since the wave washed us almost all the way to the Northern Forest? Weren’t those nights together in a boarding house?’

‘Those nights of you shivering with fever and me nearly comatose from the effects of querlis, not knowing where we were, if we’d live through the night, or what we’d do if we did survive to see the sun rise?’ Kellin asked. ‘No, they don’t count!’

‘Good point.’ Garec yawned, then blinked to clear his vision. ‘What aven is it?’

‘Middlenight, at the earliest.’

He stared into the fire. ‘You don’t think we’re still awake because we don’t know if Steven and Gilmour are alive, or if we’ve found a captain and crew to get us to Pellia, or if we have the resources, military or mystical, we’ll need to exorcise whatever is holding Mark Jenkins hostage, to free him and send Steven, Hannah – wherever she is – and Mark home to Colorado while simultaneously liberating Eldarn for all time?’

Kellin smiled. She slid her chair close enough to reach him and slipped a hand under his tunic. Caressing the taut flesh beneath, she whispered, ‘No, I don’t think it’s any of… whatever it was you said just then.’

Garec, distracted now, took a swallow of wine to moisten his own throat and said huskily, ‘So why are we still down here?’

She fumbled with leather ties; Garec made no move to stop her. Loosening the knots, she said, ‘How’s your head?’

‘The wine and querlis help. How’s your shoulder?’

‘The same, I suppose.’ Kellin ran her hand lower, feeling him begin to tremble. ‘Have you ever… in public?’ she murmured softly.

‘In a tavern?’ Garec’s eyes widened. ‘No!’

‘But you could be convinced?’

He closed his eyes and slid low in the chair. He wasn’t sure he would make it all the way up to the room without embarrassing himself. He groaned softly and said, ‘At this moment, I’m confident you could convince me of almost anything.’

‘That’s good,’ Kellin said, releasing him long enough to use her one good arm to unfasten her own leggings. ‘We’ll head upstairs to continue our conversation, but I think we need to see to something else first.’ She fumbled with her ties and cursed.

‘I’ll do that,’ Garec interrupted. ‘You busy yourself with something constructive, will you?’

Kellin laughed as he slid her leggings to the floor and ran his hands up her smooth thighs. ‘Hm, no underclothes,’ he said appreciatively, stroking her flanks.

She moaned in anticipation, pushed him back in his chair and pulled herself onto him. The chair creaked under their combined weight, but the lovers ignored it as they explored each other’s bodies by the wavering firelight.

‘I took them off when I went upstairs earlier,’ she whispered provocatively. Her legs were too thin; she needed a Twinmoon resting and eating, but in Garec’s eyes she was beautiful.

‘Upstairs? But that was two avens ago,’ Garec said, sounding shocked. ‘You knew?’

‘Of course I knew, you cracked-headed Ronan,’ she cooed as she did something with her internal muscles that left him gasping.

He held his breath, hoping to hold off the inevitable, but it was no use. As Kellin moved her hips in a lithe, unexpected motion, Garec cupped her soft buttocks.

‘Unlace my tunic,’ Kellin breathed in his ear.

‘I can’t-’ he gasped, but Kellin was inexorable.

‘I want to feel you against my body,’ she panted. ‘I can’t get the laces-’

Garec closed his eyes tight and sucked in a deep breath; he held it as long as he could before crying out, his body spasming with the power of his orgasm. He held her tightly to him as he came, and they stayed entwined together for several long moments.

Finally he croaked, ‘Upstairs,’ his voice hoarse with effort, ‘upstairs, please.’

Kellin rested her forehead on his shoulder. ‘Yes, upstairs, now. I want to feel you, all of you – and there’s not enough space here to do everything I want you to do to me.’ She licked his ear and he twitched again. She grinned devilishly, climbed off him and snatched up her leggings.

‘Bring the wine,’ she ordered, and made a dash – naked from the waist down – for the staircase at the back of the room.

Garec struggled out of the chair, looked around for his own leggings, which had somehow ended up tangled under her chair, and rescued them. Staggering slightly, he collected the flagon and followed Kellin up the stairs.

Marrin Stonnel knocked twice and poked his head around the door to the captain’s cabin. ‘Tide’s turned, Captain,’ he announced.

Ford was sitting behind a modest desk, writing in his log; he didn’t look up. ‘Are our passengers aboard?’