The Last Canticle: Summoner's Dirge (26 page)

Damir rose to his feet and hurried to the elevator, holding the door for Zephyr. They rode down to the second level, where Zephyr carried Israel to the clinic, saying over his shoulder as he dismounted the elevator, “Tell Cessna to land her at the next city.”

Balin waited in the bridge beside Ramiro. Damir stepped off the elevator. “Zephyr wants to land at the next town.”

“That’ll be Silas,” Ramiro said, then asked, “Is he okay?”

“He will be,” Damir assured them. Ramiro gave a stiff nod and returned to the cockpit.

“What was that?” Balin asked as Ramiro vanished.

Damir didn’t have an answer. He didn’t truly know. He barely understood what he was, and now there was a possibility Israel was one? He leaned into Balin, inhaled the man’s familiar scent, and tried to find some sense of lucidity within his confusion. He wished he had answers, yet all he ever found were questions scattered among the ashes of life.

“I don’t know, but I think Israel is an Anima Stella,” Damir mumbled into Balin’s shoulder.

* * * *

Silas was a small port town along the western coast of Isle de Silvanus. The tropical paradise was located a hundred miles off the coast of Kalrune. A person could cross the entire island from one coast to the next in a single day, but none tried due to the treacherous jungle that dominated the land. A wall protected Silas from the ravenous creatures that lurked within Nocte Forest. Balin had heard rumors that the elven kingdom of Myrm dwelled within the wilderness.

Balin unloaded his pack into the room he and Damir had rented for the night.
Bahamut
was docked in Silas’s air stadium, where Cessna, Allen, Lazarus, and Pyxis had remained to work on the damaged ship. The extent of the damage seemed minor, but Zephyr stated there would be no flying until
Bahamut
was back up to par. Zephyr had rented a room for himself and Israel, who had slowly begun to regain his energy.

Balin opened the window, letting in the ocean breeze. The coastal air smelled different than the air in Traum. It was less weighted, warmer as it touched his tongue. It tingled his senses, and he inhaled deeply, tasting the brine of the ocean. He could hear the waves over the hum of the city, the gentle lap and pull of time. Every second counted by a single grain of sand.

“It’s beautiful here,” Damir said as he moved to stand alongside Balin. Damir’s stomach growled loudly.

“Come on. Let’s go find some food and explore the city,” Balin said.

The fresh air would do them good. They headed out into the city, whose streets were a mix of beaten dirt and boardwalks. Silas was made up predominately of wooden huts. Some were stacked on top of each other and attached by bridges that swung in the breeze. The air stadium was small and could only house at most five ships.

A child ran past Balin with a shriek of laughter, shortly followed by another little boy. He watched them vanish around the corner.

From where he stood, he could make out the harbor, which housed nothing more than a few small fishing boats from the local villagers. They wound their way across the boardwalk to the village’s only restaurant, which stood over the water on stilts. It buzzed with life, fishermen laughing raucously as they returned from a day’s work.

Balin and Damir found a table and settled in. A waitress in a colorful sarong and layers of wooden bead bracelets approached them with a cheery smile. Her hair was twined into a long braid over her shoulder with feathers knotted at the end. Her complexion was almost darker than Balin’s, a shade of reddish volcanic rock.

“What can I get you, fellas?”

They ordered a round of beers and the house special. Balin glanced around the tavern. A large fish with a sword at its mouth was mounted on the wall. Its gills were the color of sunflowers and the sky.

“Do you think when we get to Lumixander that King Auric may know—” Damir paused midsentence and looked down thoughtfully.

Balin studied him and waited with an infinite amount of patience. Their waitress returned with two large mugs of beer. Foam spilled over the top, mirroring the crashing waves just beyond the window.

“Do you think King Auric may know what I am?” Damir whispered.

Somehow, even over the white noise of the tavern, his words resonated in Balin’s mind. Balin gripped his mug. He wished he had an answer. He shook his head and lifted his mug. “I don’t know.”

Damir sighed and twisted the jade pendant between his index finger and thumb. A group of fishermen sitting nearby at the bar spoke in booming voices that carried over the sounds of the sea. Somewhere in the distance, Balin could hear a seagull cry.

“They say that General Gaius is heading north, toward Netherlune,” a one-eyed man said over his mug of beer. A half-eaten plate of fish sat beside him.

The man behind him, a scrawny gentleman with thinning gray hair and a crooked nose, grumbled, “What are they goin’ up there for? Ain’t nothing but ice and snow. A barren wasteland, if you ask me.”

“Well, they didn’t,” spat his one-eyed companion. He shoved a forkful of fish into his mouth. “Who knows what they’re doin’ up there. As long as they ain’t attacking us, who cares? Pheorian bastards.”

Balin frowned. He had been on the receiving end of prejudice many times because of his Terrasolian heritage. He hoped Damir wouldn’t be faced with the same ignorant judgment.

“Isn’t that where Zephyr wanted to go?” Damir asked.

Balin nodded with a grim expression. General Gaius wouldn’t abandon his mission against Kalrune. Whatever drew him north, if indeed he was heading to the northern lands, was nothing good.

Their waitress set down two plates of broiled Silas snapper in a buttercream sauce with stewed vegetables.

“Something isn’t right,” Damir said as he took a forkful of the bright coral red, flaky fish.

“Well, we’ll let Zephyr know when we arrive in Lumixander. If we say anything now, we’ll never make it there,” Balin said before he took his own bite.

Balin knew Zephyr too well. The moment the sky pirate thought his treasure was in danger, he’d forget everything else. They couldn’t risk Zephyr flying off in a rage. Even Israel wouldn’t be able to convince the captain to stay on course.

DAMIR NODDED DESPITE the needling feeling of being dishonest. He finished eating in silence. He barely tasted the rich flavor of the cream sauce or even his robust stout.

By the time they left the restaurant, bellies full, the sun had begun to set over the ocean. Damir made a detour to the shoreline. He removed his shoes and stockings and buried his feet in the warm sand.

Balin hung back among the tall grass and wild lilies. Damir walked toward the water, stepping over shells that had been dragged onto the beach. Bits of seaweed were scattered across the shore like calligraphy. Water rolled up and crashed around his ankles. It was surprisingly cold, even with the hot sun baking on his skin.

The gloaming sky was a confectionary explosion, clouds spread over the horizon in syrupy colors of carmine and yellow. The water glistened beneath the setting sun, whitecaps breaking the reflection. Damir remained standing in one spot, feeling the sand rush out from beneath his heels. His body sank lower in the sand, water slowly rolling in and out around his feet.

Beneath the deep violet that filled the sky, Damir could make out the glow of
aurapyres
. The butterfly-like creatures shot back and forth, glowing like falling stars over the water.

For a moment, in the final seconds of dusk, standing at the foot of time, Damir found peace.

Chapter Twenty-One

Rage of the Beslag

Damir stirred beneath the blankets. His eyes fluttered beneath his eyelids. Lethargically he stretched, allowed his body to slip back into consciousness. Balin grunted beside him but didn’t stir any further. Damir opened his eyes and rolled closer. His body still hummed with the memory of being filled by Balin’s cock the night before. He could still feel the ghosting of Balin’s hands down his sides and up his back.

Last night, Damir didn’t dream about Elina being lost amid the tide or among falling stars tearing through heaven. He had slept soundly, wrapped in warmth and peace. He never wanted it to end, never wanted to leave the tropical paradise of Silas. He found he liked the salt in the air, the sound of the waves as they crashed into the land, and the simple ease of daily life. It reminded him of his farm.

Damir pushed himself up on one arm and stared down at Balin. A strand of black hair spilled across his forehead. Damir gently brushed it aside and stroked his fingers downward and over the hard muscles of Balin’s chest. He was carved in a way no other man was, etched by granite as if his body were a mountain. The sight of Balin naked left Damir aching with need.

The sheet tangled around Balin’s waist tented. A wicked smile spread across Damir’s lips. He summoned courage that at one time would never have even lingered beneath the surface, and pulled the blankets back. He found the gralui oil still on the nightstand and poured a dollop into his palm. Once the oil warmed, he slathered Balin’s rigid cock.

Gingerly Damir slid across so his knees straddled Balin’s hips. He reached around and guided Balin’s heavy member, hard as a redwood, to his still-stretched entrance. Balin slid easily in, the pain lessened by the previous night.

Damir tipped his head to the side with a soft sigh and sank down until he was fully seated in Balin’s lap. Balin shifted beneath him and grumbled sleepily, a smile ghosting across his face. Damir took it as encouragement and started a slow canter.

Balin’s face scrunched up, and his lips parted with a shuddering breath. Damir watched closely as unguarded emotions played across Balin’s visage, guided by every rise and fall of his hips. Balin’s cock dragged against Damir’s walls and pushed against his prostate. A whine built in the back of his throat.

Damir paused, focused on catching his breath. Balin’s expression smoothed out, and Damir was almost afraid he had begun to drift back into a deep sleep. In a flash, Balin’s hands shot out and grabbed Damir’s hips.

“You’re going to stop?” Balin asked in a sleep-rough voice.

Damir smiled and lazily rocked. “I was afraid you wouldn’t wake.”

Balin hummed in response and cracked his eyes open. Damir’s heart was weightless. A pleasured whimper caught on his breath. They worked slowly together, a pace that was set by the sound of the tide coming in. Balin’s dick seemed to thicken more, spreading Damir open wider. He pushed down until all of Balin’s pulsing cock was speared inside.

Damir’s head grew dizzy as Balin pushed up high and deep, carrying him on suspended wings. He could fly, touch the sky, and feel the world in his hands. It wasn’t magic, wasn’t caused by a flash of lightning, or born from misery. He was free because of Balin.

Balin slammed into Damir and wrapped his hands around Damir’s waist. With a firm tug, he pulled Damir closer. Their chests touched, rubbed with each rise and fall. Damir could feel it all build inside him, a need, a desire, a collection of words that had waited beneath the surface from the moment he laid eyes on Balin. He pressed his mouth to Balin’s, kissed him languidly, and gasped, “I lov—ahh!”

Balin’s grip tightened around Damir. He threw his hips up, met Damir’s downward thrust hard. Damir’s stomach muscles tightened as he sped up. It felt like Balin was trying to tear him in half, break him apart, and spill out every guarded emotion.

Damir’s dick rubbed between their abdomens, a friction that was just sweet enough to cause his toes to curl and twist his stomach.

Higher.

He wanted to go higher.

A beautiful white tinged his vision. Waves crashed in his mind. Aurapyres waltzed on the salty breeze. With a loud cry, Damir flew high and then free-fell to Zoria. Hot white ropes shot up from his pulsing cock and splattered across their stomachs and chests.

Balin groaned into the hollow of Damir’s collarbone. He buried himself deep, dragged Damir down until every inch of his cock was sheathed deep inside Damir. Balin came hard, filled Damir with gushes of cum until it leaked out.

Damir fell forward into Balin’s waiting arms, sedated and ready to sleep. Balin nuzzled the side of Damir’s head. A companionable silence settled over them as they steadied their breathing. Balin rubbed circles along Damir’s back, pressed kisses against the curve of his neck.

They didn’t say it, didn’t dare utter what could shatter their precariously balanced world. Their universe already trembled. Neither was prepared to break it.

Damir rose, groaning as Balin’s softening dick slid out. Balin settled against his pillow.

“Well, that’s one way to wake up.”

“I think it’s how we should wake up from now on,” Damir mumbled pleasantly.

Balin grinned and nudged him gently with his arm. He pushed the blankets away and slid out of bed. He walked over to a nightstand and poured some water into a bowl. Balin used a cloth to wipe down and then passed it to Damir.

“We should get breakfast and go find Zephyr. Cessna should have the ship up and running, or at least close,” Balin said.

Damir was reluctant to leave the island village. He wanted to stay in the peaceful area, where nothing seemed to shake the world. They were safely guarded by walls and ocean, kept away from the war that thundered on the horizon.

“Do you think we could come back, when this is all over?” Damir asked. He toyed with the damp cloth between his hands.

Balin glanced at him as he pulled on his pants. Damir noticed that the tension that had been knotted between Damir’s shoulders and along the back of his neck was finally gone. There was something serene about Silas that seemed to do that. It felt like home, which they hadn’t had in a long time.

“I don’t see why not,” Balin said as he laced up his pants. He shoved his boots on and checked his dagger.

Damir watched silently as Balin dressed, pulling on a fresh red tunic he had packed. Balin carded his fingers through his hair to comb the unruly locks, which fell in a disheveled wave around his ears.

“Are you getting dressed?”

Damir wanted to stay longer in bed, savor the afterglow of sex just a little more. With a reluctant sigh, he unwound his legs and climbed out of bed. He cleaned off and washed his face in the bowl. He pulled some clothes from his knapsack and got dressed in his second pair of light cotton pants and a simple tunic.