Chaos and flies, p.1
Chaos and Flies, page 1
part #5 of Dark Servant Series
Chaos and blackmail and lust, oh my.
Honor. Duty. Love. Blackmail. Intrigue. Lust. Flies. Yes, flies. Kiler blood-seeking flies have been the bane of Koilatha since the founding.
They’re rumored to live in the ruins of an ancient temple of evil, not that anyone has ever gotten close enough to find out for certain. As a high priest, Rak is duty-bound to investigate these flies. The sun priest attempting to purify him and the palace functionary blackmailing him complicate matters, as does his brother’s near death at the hands of an ambitious woman and the king’s continued attempts to force him to accept the position as heir to the throne.
The worst thing of al is that, while sober, Jisten won’t settle for lust—he wants it al. And never mind that Rak has seduced him twice already. Where does honor lie when intrigue, duty, and love conflict?
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Chaos and Flies
Copyright © 2013 AC Elas
ISBN: 978-1-77111-428-8
Cover art by Angela Waters
Al rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
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Chaos and Flies
The Dark Servant Book 5
By
AC Elas
To the three handsome men in my life who keep me going. You know who you are.
Chapter One: Cleansing
Harday, the 32nd of Evphormon
It was the second hour of day and the sun was climbing through the vault towards the apex, but few traces of it were visible other than a general lightening of the sky seeping through the deep shroud of grey storm clouds. The impending storm had cheered Rak immensely, until he remembered his appointment with the sun priest. He had to atone for what he’d done to Jisten. He hoped that Zotien would accept this punishment, or he would have permitted the sun priest to torture him for naught.
Rak studied the detailed, gilded carvings of the wooden chapel door.
There was no bel rope, so he rapped the surface lightly with his knuckles.
The doors opened so quickly that Murson must have been waiting on the other side. The chapel blazed with light. Yelow beeswax tapers burned in long rows, the light reflecting off golden fixtures and setting the golden oak pews aglow. The bas relief sacred symbols carved on the stone wals were gilded, heightening the sun colors of the magicaly dyed marble.
Rak winced and hesitated. “Must I?”
“Proceed!” Murson said shortly, gesturing for Rak to enter. Rak puled the hood of his robe down further to better shade his eyes and walked in, gritting his teeth as the chapel, sanctified ground just like the temple, reacted to his presence by turning the creamy floor molten. Murson’s order was apparently not an invitation. Pain shot up Rak’s legs with every step. Murson closed the door behind them and dropped a wooden bar into place on gilded brackets. Rak was grateful for that consideration.
Murson walked down the center aisle behind Rak. There was a golden sun disc attached to the end of each pew, lining both sides of the aisle with the sigil of the Sun Lord, a man’s bearded face inside an orb, casting out rays of golden light. Murson tapped these discs with his staff as he herded Rak further into the room. The discs were cymbals, and they clashed with brassy sound, reverberating against the bare stone and metal wals like an odd thunder, causing Rak to wince.
At the junction of the center aisle and a cross aisle stood two golden stands hung with bels and chimes. Murson ran his staff down them, setting off a cacophony of bright sound, each bel and chime ringing with different tones.
“Sun priests make more noise than a flock of geese,” muttered Rak as he stopped before the golden altar table. “Have you not ever heard that silence is golden?”
Murson swatted Rak with his staff. “Silence, lagon!”
Rak yelped, massaged his bruised shoulder, and contented himself with glaring at Murson for caling him dog, a calculated insult he was sure, because of his association with beasts.
“Strip before the holy altar of light.”
Rak’s glare deepened, but he complied, silently undressing. His boots came off, folowed by the short swords, then the sash, his sabre, a few daggers, the outer robe, and the filmy black under-robe. Each item was neatly folded and stacked on the bench seat of the nearest pew.
“And your unders,” added Murson, watching through narrowed eyes.
Rak puled the wrap off and set it, along with one last dagger, on top of the rest of his belongings.
“Kneel before the light of Auranz.” Murson cleared his throat, then burst into song, his voice deepening as he chanted praises to his God.
Fuly nude, Rak approached the altar and knelt before it, keeping his knees together. The pain of the floor shot through his legs into his back, and his wings spasmed helplessly. Rak shunted the pain aside and meditated. His stomach knotted as Murson’s chant set al the cymbals and bels and chimes ringing. Thick curls of incense rose from golden holders, set alight by Murson’s power. This incense, not the usual scent of frankincense, was acrid in Rak’s nose.
The long rows of candles had large hammered gold reflectors behind them to increase the light, and the longer Murson chanted, the brighter the flames burned, until the chapel was as awash with blinding light. Rak concentrated on his meditations, eyes screwed shut.
Murson took two vials of powdered gold and cast the contents into both of the golden bowls of holy water. He dumped one of the bowls of gold water on the kneeling man. Rak cried out, his eyes flying open. The water burned painfuly everywhere it touched him, and the gold stuck to his skin as if magnetized, each fleck a point of constant annoyance that in combination was agonizing.
The sour sun priest produced the golden leather colar with crystals. He placed it around Rak’s neck, careful not to touch Rak’s skin until the strap was through the buckle. Rak shuddered in reaction as the spels settled around him. Although it alowed the sun priest to touch him, Rak’s pain was not decreased in the slightest by being cut off from his powers.
“Scrub your filthy hide, lagon.” Murson thrust a rough cream cloth at him and pointed at the other bowl of gold-infused holy water. Rak took the cloth, dipped it into the water with a wince for his fingers, and scrubbed himself from head to toe. He was forced to rewet the cloth with alarming frequency, and the gold flecks abraded his skin, leaving him raw as wel as a bright, sunburned red.
Murson scrubbed Rak’s back, both sides of the wings, and his buttocks, paying extra attention to the crack, and then he scrubbed Rak’s genitals. He took his time, scrubbing with vigor. Rak cried out in pain more than once, causing the ends of Murson’s mouth to curl up in satisfaction. The painful, ful body scrubbing continued until al the water was gone. Each successive round of washing deepened the burn and the rawness of Rak’s skin. Blisters formed on the wing sails, giving them a pebbled look.
Satisfied that Rak was clean, Murson grabbed him by the colar and puled him to the altar. He lifted the light man and set him on the golden surface. Using golden chains, he affixed Rak’s limbs to the four stone table legs, forcing Rak into an uncomfortable position. His widely flung limbs kept him wel immobilized and exposed, and pressed his back down firmly enough that the wings, spread to either side, wouldn’t be able to bash his tormentor. Murson laughed at Rak’s cries of pain as the altar protested fiercely that its opposite was on it.
The altar shone brighter and brighter, trying to rid itself of the darkness.
Murson soothed the altar, stroking the golden surface as he whispered to it, and the light muted to a deep golden glow. He cordialy invited Auranz to partake of this new offering as he opened his robe and rubbed his bals over Rak’s face. “Oral purification first, lagon.”
Rak’s mouth opened and accepted the sac Murson shoved in. He massaged the man’s bals with his tongue and lips and palate, trying not to gag on the sun priest’s musky odor. He particularly didn’t care for the view of Murson’s rear entry, but he was mildly grateful that it appeared clean, with nothing clinging to the hairs surrounding it.
His attention to Murson’s scrotum had the usual effect on the man, so Rak wasn’t surprised when Murson puled his bals out of his mouth and replaced them with his erect cock. He sucked Murson’s pole into his throat and hummed. Above him, Murson made a sound of pleasure. Rak bobbed his head and used his lips to stroke the sensitive skin as his tongue massaged the shaft and his throat vibrated it.
Murson grabbed Rak’s ringed nipples since he couldn’t claw his scalp.
He twisted the darker buds and his strong thighs locked Rak’s head in a vise-like grip as his molten seed pumped into Rak’s mouth. Rak swalowed desperately, trying to clear his
The sun priest puled out and walked back around the altar. “Good lagon, ” he said. “That was good. But now you need to be purified at the other end.” He stroked around Rak’s opening with his fingers until the entire crack was deeply blistered, savoring Rak’s screams. He slammed his erect pole into Rak’s opening, delighting in Rak’s anguished cry as the blisters were stressed. Rak’s back arched despite being bound, and his wings thrashed, pummeling themselves against the altar.
Murson ran his glowing hands down Rak’s body. Deep sunburn turned into second degree burns, blistered and weeping. Rak screamed again, twisting against the golden chains. Murson thrust deeper at Rak’s screams, grunting in enjoyment. He twisted Rak’s nipple rings again, seemingly fascinated by the bits of metal affixed to the dark priest’s body.
Then he discovered the scrotal ring. Rak tried to muffle his cries of pain, even tried to ignore the pain, but his pain-shunting abilities didn’t work during sex.
Hard inward thrusts were matched with languid, near-complete withdrawals. Rak’s hips rocked into Murson as the sun priest thrust in, then Rak would clench around the cock buried in him during the slow withdrawal. Murson’s fingers stroked the length of Rak’s erection, and he laughed at Rak’s scream as blisters appeared in their wake.
“Silence, lagon! You wil be purified of your evil filth even if I have to kil you to accomplish it!”
Rak bit his lower lip bloody in his effort to comply with the command for silence. Smal whimpers and moans escaped him despite those efforts, but Murson didn’t chastise him for that failure. Having already orgasmed in Rak’s mouth, Murson showed no signs of being near his second climax.
The sun priest varied his pattern with long pauses. Whenever he stopped, Rak’s body continued to work him towards completion, and Murson enjoyed that, too.
“You enjoy this, don’t you,” Murson observed sourly during one of those pauses. “You are nothing but a sex slave, no matter what mask you present to the world at large.” He resumed thrusting, but not for long.
After a particularly hard inward thrust, he grunted and pumped a load of molten gold into Rak’s bely. Rak whimpered in agony, teeth digging deeply into his lower lip, causing more blood to trickle out.
Murson puled out and returned to Rak’s head. “Clean me, lagon. I don’t want the filth of your body to remain on me.” He pushed his cock into Rak’s mouth. Rak’s tongue busily writhed around Murson’s shaft, trying to reach every part of it as quickly as possible. The sun priest didn’t have the same sense of urgency Rak did, and he let Rak wash him far longer than strictly necessary. But eventualy he was satisfied, and he stepped away from Rak and tucked himself away. “The offering is complete.”
Rak was grateful that Murson was finished, but he puled against the chains again, wishing the sun priest would hurry with the untying and letting him leave part. Murson set al the bels and chimes and cymbals ringing again. Rak closed his eyes and prayed for temporary hearing loss. Then he screamed as the altar responded to the noise by turning into blazing golden fire. The flames wrapped completely around Rak and tried to infuse him with their essence to drive the cool shadow of night from Rak’s flesh. The darkness within Rak fought back, driving the golden flames out, but the dark power was checked at the boundary of Rak’s skin by the colar around his neck.
At length Murson snuffed out each candle and alowed every sound to die down, and with that the altar subsided. He unchained Rak, removed the colar, and walked out of the chapel without a backward glance.
Rak fel off the altar, crying out in pain as the floor reacted to him by adding more punishment to his already tortured body. He crawled to his clothing, used the pew to haul himself erect, and put his boots on first. The leather provided a smal measure of padding between him and the sun-like surface of the floor. Next he donned only the outer robe. He picked everything else up and staggered out of the chapel. He tested each and every door that lined the corridor until he found one that wasn’t locked.
The room on the other side was a closet, half ful of winter linens. Rak slipped into the closet and closed the door. He stripped again and caled the night flames. Sometime later, Rak came out of the closet. He was his usual translucently white, neatly dressed self, and the deeper burns that couldn’t be healed didn’t show through his clothing. Scorth, he caled.
Meet me on the roof. I need to get out of here.
He had blocked his dragon’s mental presence during his purification.
Scorth had been furious, and worried, but answered immediately and was waiting on the roof for him.
Chapter Two: Barracks Talk
“Telin’ ya, t’was great,” Sed boasted, reliving the details of his sexual encounter with Rak. The other guards hovered in a semicircle around Sed’s bunk and were listening with such envy and awe that they didn’t hear Jisten enter. Normaly they ceased such talk as soon as their captain entered, out of deference to his sensitivity.
Jisten stalked over and slugged Sed, sending the astonished sergeant sprawling to the floor. He didn’t break his nose. Yet.
Sed gaped up at him from the bare floor. “Cap’n!”
“Either you’re bragging or you’re lying,” Jisten said. “If you’re lying, we’re taking this outside with steel. If you’re bragging, wel…” The captain stopped, fists clenched, his expression wavering between fury and uncertainty.
Sed scrambled to his feet and wiped the blood off his face. Another guard quickly handed him a blood amulet. “Cap’n, I wasn’t lyin’.”
Jisten’s fists remained baled. “Then do not speak about the envoy with such disrespect. If you were honored enough to, wel, you know, then keep quiet about it!”
The guards exchanged glances.
“Yessir,” said Sed, but he didn’t look repentant. “Don’ be mad at him, he didn’t have no choice.”
“What?” Jisten drew his sword. “You know my policy about rape!”
The other guards grabbed Jisten’s arms and planted their feet. Their captain turned into an enraged, charging bul over the subject of rape.
“No rape!” Sed raised his hands and backed off several feet. “Scorch it! Ain’t splainin’ myself.”
“Captain! Sed wouldn’t do that to anyone!”
“Captain! Calm down! Sed was complimenting the man!”
“Hey, we’re al a little jealous!”
“Jealous?” Jisten shook his arms and his dissipating rage reassured them enough to release him. “This has nothing to do with me!” He took great interest in examining his sword’s edge, to avoid the disbelieving looks of the guards.
“He’s interested in ya,” said Sed in a cajoling tone.
“I’m not jealous—what?” Jisten looked up from his sword and stared at Sed. More looks were exchanged amongst the guards. Jisten’s sword point sagged to the floor, something he normaly would never permit.
Fentri took the sword from Jisten’s hand and returned it to its sheath.
“What did he say?” Jisten winced. He sounded like a farmgirl.
Sed cleared his throat and glanced around pointedly. “Yer office, sir?”
“Oh, yes!” Jisten grabbed Sed’s arm and dragged him to his office. The guards pouted. “Go practice or something!” Jisten caled over his shoulder.
Many ears pressed against the door. Every now and then, Jisten would thump the door, making the eavesdroppers wince. Sed flopped into one of the chairs despite them being wooden and flop-proof. Jisten sat opposite him and leaned forward. “How in the world did my name come up during, wel, uhm, how did it?”
“Cap’n, everyone knew he’s interested in ya.”
Jisten waved dismissively. “You’re just saying that.”
“Ain’t. I saw, after ya left.” Sed sighed. “Ever hear of th’ Riverlands slavefire potion?”
When Jisten shook his head, Sed took a deep breath. “’Fraid of that.
Th’ potion, uhm, it’s evil, but real common in th’ Riverlands.”
Jisten looked wary. “This can’t be good.”
