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Message-ID: <50782asstr$1111716601@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
NNTP-Posting-Date: Thu, 24 Mar 2005 13:09:03 -0600
From: "Elf M. Sternberg" <elf@drizzle.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Aimee II: The Voyage Home (MF)
Lines: 700
Date: Thu, 24 Mar 2005 21:10:01 -0500
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

The Voyage Home

The day had long swept past breakfast when Aimeé lifted her head from
a comforting pillow. The sun was just starting to angle into the sills
and Aimeé wondered if the time for lunch had passed as well. She
disentangled herself from the sheets without waking Hektor, who she
had not imagined to be a heavy sleeper. Few were, among Captain
Shondar's crew; constant readiness seemed to be an endemic condition
of the seafaring life.

She pulled her robe across her shoulders and looked down the length of
her body. She touched herself for a moment and confirmed that she was
still as sore as she had been last night. A brief clench of nether
muscles told her that her backside was equally abused. She had heard
Darynn tell her many times that it was a survivable, even pleasurable
state. Despite the bodily aches, a sense of well-being hovered about
her soul. She liked the person she had been last night. She regretted
that she had had to wait for a spell to make her so.

She looked down at Hektor and hoped that he, too, would be pleasured
by the memories of last night. She had sorely used him; where he had
but one organ, she had had the use of two, and if hers were sore this
morning she worried about the condition of his. But he would survive,
she imagined, and be none the worse for it. Men were like that.

She knew she could probably not have Hektor again, but she found
herself wanting Darynn, or Shondar. She wanted another man soon, but
only from the small list of men of whom she approved. She tried to
think of someone else, Filo's roommate Aldol perhaps, and the worries,
the fears, the scars of experience rose within her. She did not want
to become rapacious, uncontrollable, monstrous. She did not want to be
like her old master. For a moment, looking at Hektor and the beauty of
his golden hair, his fair face illumined by the creeping rectangle of
sunlight, and she knew that the wounds Teltirray had inflicted on her
were his responsibility, but the scars that remained were hers.

She slipped out into the hallway. There was nobody else visible,
although she could clearly hear voices down at one end, shouting
instructions to one another. She could not understand what they were
saying.

She returned to her room, where she found Asmah lying in her bed,
curled up, sleeping. She smiled. Another innocent. There was a bruise
on her right cheek, but she seemed otherwise unharmed. It was safe now
to cast spells; muttering softly to herself, she slipped her hand
along the length of Asmah's body and found no lasting harm. Another
notion and another spell and her concerns were dispelled: Asmah would
not be with child from her adventures last night.

She shook the girl gently, calling her name. Asmah stirred, then
turned and looked up. She uncoiled suddenly and turned over, kneeling
on the bed. "Forgive me, my lady."

Aimeé giggled. "Is it proper to kneel on my bed if you're caught
sleeping in it?"

"Oh!" Asmah reacted with a kind of horror, sliding off the bed and
onto the floor, ducking down until her forehead touched the carpeting.
"Forgive me."

Aimeé felt a pang of regret. She had meant it as a joke, but Asmah had
not taken it as such. "Asmah, sit back and look up. Please stop acting
quite so much like a slave to me. I have been a slave. I hated it."

"Yes, my lady."

"Is there a place where I might bathe?"

"There is the women's bath downstairs. It is used by the ladies of the
court. You would be free to use it, as an honored Mage guest of the
King."

"Then I think I should like to do that," she said. "Can you make it
so?"

"Immediately!" Asmah said. Aimeé smiled as she left, and wondered if
Asmah's turn of cheer was due to her escaping punishment or her having
something useful to do. Asmah returned with a fresh robe, this one
made of a thick, thirsty material, and two towels. "Follow me?"

She led Aimeé through the grand palace, down two flights of stairs,
and down another hallway to an open area near the rear courtyard. They
crossed an space open to the sun and into a broad, low building. There
were no windows, only covered airlets decorated with abstract patterns
just beneath the cornices. Inside, Aimeé heard the sounds of laughter.
Asmah opened the door and allowed Aimeé to pass.

There were three large pools of water, and the floor inlaid with a
mosaic of such delicate blues and reds that only a master mosaicist
had ever touched those stones. There was no roof; the space was open
to the sky. It was shockingly warm. There were several other women in
there, perhaps ten, all of them older than her, and all of them
accompanied by a bodyservant such as Asmah.

"My lady, over here?" Asmah said, pointing to an open space laid with
only blue, lined in yellow. Aimeé did as she indicated, and Asmah
helped her with her robe. She stood there and watched as the other
women focused on her, some admiring, others with the narrow eyes of
calculation. Aimeé chose to ignore them as Asmah pushed a low wooden
chair into the space. "Sit, my lady."

Aimeé did as she asked, then closed her eyes as Asmah doused her body
in several buckets of water. She tried to hold still as those small
hands slipped over her neck, her chest, her belly, down to her thighs
and calves. Asmah nearly made her delirious with the attention given
to her feet, fingers spreading her toes, thumbs about her ankles. Then
up her back, to her shoulders, her hair. Asmah doused her head once
more, careful not to let the water drop into her eyes, and washed her
hair. The water was very hot and laced with something to dissolve the
oils in her hair.

Then there was more water falling down over her breasts and onto her
thighs, down her back and over her feet once more, hot and sweet and
delicious. Asmah, she realized with a kind of regret, might have made
someone very happy, one day, if she had not had every spark of
rebellion punished out of her by the time she reached majority. She
would live twice as long as Aimeé, perhaps, but by then she would be a
perfect citizen, not a thoughtful one.

She wondered if Asmah might make her happy. She rejected the idea. She
would learn nothing from loving Asmah except pain, and Asmah would
have a hard time understanding why.

"You are cleaned, my lady. Would you like to spend time in the pools?"

Aimeé shook her head. "No, thank you, Asmah." She rose and stretched,
feeling better. She had not slept enough since the Ritual, and she
felt that as well. She turned her back to the women. "Where is the
water you used for washing?"

"It is... a mix, my lady. There is a little in that pail, there."

"Give me a cloth, please."

Asmah handed one to her, and she used it to wash her sex completely,
then splashed with clean water. "Thank you," she said without
explanation, but Asmah smiled and nodded. The gesture could not have
been lost on the women behind her. "Have you washed, Asmah?"

Asmah nodded. "Right after the Ritual ended, my lady."

"Then let us go back to my room. It is time to go."

After they had returned and Aimeé had dressed, she watched as Asmah
repacked her clothing. She wanted to say something to Asmah, something
that would express her regret at not getting to know the younger girl
any better. Nothing would come. It was simply not their place, as
guest and servant, to exchange such pleasantries. But she couldn't
just leave Asmah like this.

She fretted at the hem of her skirt. "I'll pull the seams loose if I
continue." She had already started to do quite a good job of that,
some of the hem fraying where she had busied it. She stood and let it
fall to her ankles, straightening it out with her hands. She walked
over to where Asmah stood, facing away from her, folding her garments.
She placed her trembling hands on Asmah's shoulders. "My lady?" the
young girl said suddenly.

"What happened to you yesterday?" Aimeé said.

"You mean, during the Ritual?" Aimeé nodded. "I... I was down in the
serving quarters, with the others. We.. we found solace in each other.
A few guards came down and used some of us. I found one I liked, a
handsome young man. He treated me the way a man treats a woman."

"Was he rough? Mean? Did he hurt you?"

"Rough, of course, but no, not mean, and he did not intend to hurt me.
I was sore afterward, that is to be expected, but I did not resent
him. It was what we wanted. It is what all people want during the
Ritual. To let loose their baser passions." She looked up at Aimeé.
"All men and women are base creatures, filled with evil. It is only
our civilizations that make us behave in interest to one another."

Aimeé opened her mouth to respond, but could think of nothing to say.
She looked at Asmah's cold, gray eyes, emptied of all but the most
fundamental of feelings, and she knew that she would be glad to get
out of Pyu Rika. Three days ago, the city had seemed so beautiful, so
tempting, but now she knew better. They had taken everything about
being human and bleached it of all its color, turned the passionate
into the ritualistic and banished the rest. Asmah, she realized, was
undergoing this process of being drained, as were all the young people
here. By policing their every moment, by giving the young of this city
no place to hide and nothing to do but be obedient, Pyu Rika ensured
that its elders would be perfect citizens, ready to obey, ready to
defend the city and its ways.

"Forgive me," Aimeé said. "I did not mean to ask an impertinent
question."

"You are a guest, and I am ordered to serve you. There is nothing
impertinent in anything you could possibly ask of me," Asmah said. "If
I cannot answer you, I will say so."

"I understand," Aimeé said, knowing that her "cannot" may also have
meant "may not." "I am trying to understand you and your ways. Is it
like this... out there? In the city?"

"Is it like what, my lady?"

"Is the palace a reflection of the city, or a response to it? Do the
people down there live as finely as those in here?"

"As well as can be expected," Asmah said. "We have no beggers, no
prostitutes, no thieves of any note. It is not a city with problems.
It is a whole. It lives and breaths on its own. It can tolerate
visitors, but only those it invites."

Aimeé shuddered. The more she heard Asmah talk, the more she wanted to
get out of this place. "My lady, what is wrong?"

Aimeé shook her head. "I-- forgive me, Asmah. I miss my home. It has
been a while since I last saw it." Asmah nodded. "I will let you get
back to packing." She walked away from the girl, taking a deep breath
as she did so. She looked about the room with its dark panels and its
unlit recesses and she thought that such beauty was wasted on a people
so obsessed with the preservation of order.

"Do I have it wrong?" she whispered to herself. She couldn't imagine
an entire city being bound up in a dream like the one she experienced.
The sadness she felt was doubled by the realization that she was going
to leave this place, and when she did the powerful truths she had
learned from herself and from Hektor would go with her, and unlike the
citizens of Pyu Rika she would not suspect their lovemaking as a sign
of her and Hektor's innate evil, but...

She could not complete the thought. There was something missing,
something nagging her imagination. She could not let it go. She
followed it, batted at it within her mind as a kitten might bat at a
butterfly. She wanted that moment of thought, she wanted to know what
truth she was missing.

Asmah brushed by her, called down the hallway to another. A man with a
cart came, pushing it readily, and they loaded Aimeé's luggage onto
it. Their actions distracted her and she shook herself. "It is time to
go, my lady."

Aimeé nodded. She was led through the palace to the back entrance,
through the open courtyard to the oval room with the fountain at one
end and the settling place for the flying house at the other. She
waited there as Darynn, Talen Silisto, and Hektor all joined them.

It was the first she'd seen any of them since the Ritual. Hektor tried
not to look at her but she would have none of that. She walked over to
him and opened her arms. He nodded, fitfully, and finally acquiesced
to an embrace. "You did well," she whispered. "I will not forget you."

"Th-- Thank you, Apprentice Aimeé."

She turned to Darynn. He looked none the worse for wear. Perhaps a bit
tired about the eyes, but that was to be expected. He, like the rest
of them, had had only a few hours of sleep since the Ritual had ended.

She felt awkward with him. She understood him better, today, she
thought, than she had in the past, but she still did not understand
all of him. Perhaps she never would. His smile and his own offer of an
embrace was as warm and humane as she had ever seen, and she fell into
it. Although haunted by her curiosity, she was still happier to be in
his arms than anywhere else. "You appear undamaged." He said in in
such a way that assured her he would not have expected otherwise.

"I found a safe haven."

"So I have noticed," Darynn said. "To know so makes me happy, Aimeé.
You again show both your wisdom and your youth in one victorious
motion. You should learn to play King's Feint."

"You will have to teach me." The smile blossoming on her lips would
not stay down. "I'm happy you're well."

"I am, too." That was more cautious, less willing to admit that his
own well-being was to be assumed after the spell. "Come. Let us be out
of this place."

"Before you go," said a loud voice from across the sunlight circle, "I
have a gift for each of you." King Rohani stepped out, his two
massively armored bodyguards standing close behind him. A servant
stepped forward with four small, wooden boxes, each held shut with a
tiny, brass latch. Each was labeled with a name. "They are different
for each of you. They are mementos. Please, remember us by them."

Aimeé picked hers up. It was rather heavy and she wondered what she
might find inside. "Open then when you are on the water," Rohani said.

"We shall do that," said Darynn. "And now, your Majesty, I and my
follow mages would take leave of you, by your grace."

"You have it." He reached out with both hands for Darynn's, who
clasped them tightly. "Thank you, old friend, for your assistance in
helping the city survive its night."

"It is my pleasure, King Rohani."

Rohani made his way down the line, thanking each of them in turn.
Aimeé bowed and said, "Thank you for you kind civility." Rohani merely
nodded his response.

They turned towards the flying ship, the Door of the City. Before she
boarded it, she turned and saw Asmah standing to one side, and she
stepped out of the line to approach her. She reached out with her
hands and pulled Asmah into a hug. "Thank you for your attentions,"
she whispered. "I would have liked to have known you better."

"I would have liked that as well," Asmah whispered back. Aimeé finally
walked into the ship. This time, no one from the city accompanied
them. It lifted of its own accord.

It flew as steadily as before, as if secured to some invisible beam
that guided them up over the ragged mountaintops and down onto the
beach. Aimeé's ears popped along the way and the whistling of the wind
made conversation difficult.

The ship landed with a soft jerk and all of them disembarked. Hektor
and Darynn pulled out most of the luggage since they had the most
strength and the least struggle. Down the mountainside, in the water,
Aimeé saw the Heartwood waiting for them, and a few minutes later she
saw a small boat coming towards the beach. Shondar was in it.

They met somewhere in the middle of the path. "You are still alive!"
he roared, grinning. "Good, good! I was beginning to worry. There was
quite a storm last night, good for the barrels but not so good for the
stomach. I am pleased you are all well! You have much to tell me, or
maybe not. You are mages, after all. But come, come, we must load up
the boat and be away from here. I am anxious to get home again."

Darynn nodded, as if the exhaustion of the last three days had caught
up and he could not find the strength to form words. Together, they
hauled their bags and crates down the path and onto the boat, and
Aimeé found a place to sit somewhere in the middle. Her booted feet
waited in a shallow puddle as the rest boarded.

Shondar tried not to make conversation on the way back to the
Heartwood, and for that Aimeé was most grateful. She was not in a mood
to make conversation. They made it back to the ship, and after she
climbed up the rope ladder, she made the briefest of apologies before
going to hide in her cabin.

She tried to sleep in the warm, quiet room, but she could not. The
creaking wood and lapping water were not what kept her awake, but her
mind with its wheeling, spinning, seeking affect would not let her
rest. She finally rose from her bunk, opened the door, and walked down
the corridor barely wide enough for one man to Darynn's door. She
knocked.

"Yes?" came the voice on the other side. Tired, and perhaps angry at
being awakened.

"Master? It's Aimeé."

"What? Oh, come in, come in."

She opened the door tentatively and found him lying on his bunk, a
book over his chest, one hand on his forehead. "I was trying to sleep
and could not," he said. "So I tried to read and could not. Are you
having the same problem?"

She nodded. She sat down on the edge of the bed and regarded him.
There was a pall to him, different now from what she had seen in the
past. He returned her gaze. "Aimeé?"

"Why?" she whispered.

Darynn did not have to ask what she meant. "Because the alternative
would be that people get hurt."

"They are already hurting," she blurted. "The servant they assigned
me, Asmah, she is being destroyed even as we speak. You called the
spell the Life of the City, but that is the only life the City has.
Otherwise it's dead, it's cold and it's gray. It is no mistake that
the murals on the floors are made of black, white, and shades between,
master. Those people wouldn't know color if it bled out of them." The
words tumbled out of her, rapid, painful, and when she was done she
found herself crying, her hands clenched at her side. "How can you
condone that?"

Darynn looked away. "Because they ask me to. And because I make the
Ritual safe. It's the one thing an Eros mage can do for them."

"Because they cannot do it for themselves, correct? To have an Eros
mage among them would be too disturbing, too tempting, too much power,
too much color, too much life for them to accept and live with! By all
the Gods we don't believe in, how can..."

"It is the real price," Darynn said. "They believed that they could
tame man, remake man, cast him in some image other than what he was.
And they built their little city on top of the bones of the Dragon,
knowing they could tap into whatever was buried there and live the
lives they wanted. The longevity and health are side effects of a life
without real dangers." Darynn looked at her. "A life without risk can
be a long life, but it is not fulfilling. And the biggest risks,
Aimeé, the biggest dangers, have nothing to do with climbing mountains
or casting spells. The biggest risk one takes is in here." He pointed
at her chest. "The biggest risk we take is to offer up our hearts to
be broken. At Pyu Rika, that risk is taken..."

"Never."

"Far less often than we would dare it in the real world, but I would
be the last to say 'never.' I cannot believe they are that far from
the human blood they carry within them, no matter how often they are
exposed to the Ritual."

"And you, Master?" she asked. "Does it bleed you dry as well?"

"I think I am immune to that effect," he said with a sigh. "I think it
is simply something they need from me, and so they leave me alone. As
you said, they need my color." He had dropped his hand into her lap,
and both of them seemed to notice at the same time that he was idly
stroking her thigh. "My need for you seems as strong as ever."

She smiled at him. "Is there anyone else you... assist this way?"

"No," Darynn said. "Not in this way. I am trying to reduce the amount
of suffering they are determined to inflict upon themselves. Is that
so bad, Apprentice? Am I an evil man for doing so?"

Aimeé looked down on this man who had saved her life first, and then
taken her in as his apprentice. She considered all that she knew about
him, all that he took from her, all that she took from him. "I do not
know. For a moment, two days ago, when we first arrived, I thought
that it was a fair trade, the first one-eight of Asmah's life for
seven-eighths contentment. But she did not have the choice, and she
will never have the chance I have, the chance to be what I want to
be."

"A chance you almost never had," Darynn pointed out. "The world is
rarely so black and white as your battle with Teltirray, Aimeé. And it
was only afterward that you could see the nature of the battle. What
were you the day before you fought him?"

Aimeé sighed. "I trust you, Darynn. I love you. You have never given
me a reason to doubt your wisdom or your guidance. But I... I don't
know that I'm ready to live in this world."

"It's the only one I have to offer," he said.

"I know." She rose. "If you'll forgive me, Master, I think the
exhaustion is now catching up with me. The sun is setting, and I would
like to sleep."

"Sleep well, beloved apprentice."

[sigsm.gif]

Aimeé awoke shortly before dawn. Already an orange hue clung to the
eastern horizon as she stepped out onto the deck. The air felt cold
and the sea had an easy, comforting smell. Hektor was standing on the
forecastle, one hand raised with something grasped between two
fingers. He stood for a moment, examining whatever it was carefully
before putting it back in a small leather bag. He turned, and looked.
"Apprentice Aimeé! I did not know you were there. I hope you are
well?"

"I am, Mage Hektor," she said with a smile. "Have you recovered from
your visit to Pyu Rika?"

"I have," he said, taking a deep breath. "There will be no storms
today, and probably not tomorrow. The winds will be slow, but steady,
for the rest of the day. We will make progress away from there."

"Is that what you want?" she asked.

"Yes," he said, quickly. "Yes, I do want to be as far away from there
as I can get, as quickly as we can get. It scares me to think of the
place, so cold, so formal. A city of ghosts where once every four
years a man from the outside comes and pours fire into their hearts."

She nodded, but could not find the words to express how deeply, how
fully, she understood him. "I am glad to be out of there as well. I
wonder if Shondar's people felt anything, as far away as they were,
during the Ritual. I should hope not."

Hektor nodded. "It is... It is unwise of me to say this, Apprentice,
but... thank you for your attentions that night. I think I should have
gone mad if there were no relief from the dreams and the needs. I hope
to never experience that again."

Aimeé said, "Not even the needs, not a little?"

"App...Apprentice Aimeé. Don't say such things."

"Hektor, what you felt was just your manliness unchained. There is
nothing wrong with it when harnessed by a strong and good will. You
have both, Hektor. Someday you may make your wife very happy."

"I... I do hope so, my lady," he said, blushing hard. "I am pleased
you think so."

"I do."

"Ah, good morning!" said the voice from the deep that was Captain
Shondar. "I trust the two of you are comfortable this morning?"

"Yes, thank you," Aimeé said. He walked over to her, a full man,
complete. He had what he wanted out of life and needed nothing more.
She envied that in him, even as she found her mind awakening to the
memories of pleasure he had given her. When he was close enough that
she had to start looking up at him, he grinned. "And you, Mage Hektor.
Tell me about the weather."

Hektor described the coming day in much greater detail than he had to
Aimeé. Shondar looked thoughtful, then nodded. "Excellent. A day to
wash down the deck, tie off the frays, polish the brass. A day for
chores, then."

Other men were already moving about the boat. One reached over and
rang one bell as the sun broke over the horizon, and suddenly the ship
seemed to swarm with sailors. Shondar turned and watched with peculiar
satisfaction as these busy men went about their duties. Some checked
the sheetings, others took to moving supplies out to the kitchen.
Soon, the smell of a small cookfire streamed out past Aimeé and
Hektor. "Where is Darynn this morning?" Shondar said.

"I do not know," Aimeé said. "He may still be sleeping. I understand
that his duties at Pyu Rika very exhausting."

"In a good way, I hope," Shondar said.

Aimeé bit her lower lip, and Shondar merely nodded. "I will leave you,
then. Go see to him. He may be in need of friendship and comfort."

Aimeé almost wanted to complain that she was in need of the same
thing, but there was no hope for it. Instead, she walked down the
narrow steps into the rear where the guest cabins were wedged and
knocked on Darynn's door. There was an immediate reply: "Come."

"Master?" she asked as she opened the door.

In the morning, he looked haggard and old. Such a clear illustration
of his weakness surprised her and saddened her, making it clear just
how much his recent duties had drained him. She sat down on the bed
next to him. "Are you well?"

"As much as to be expected. I did not sleep well."

"I did not, either."

"Have you forgiven me?"

"I... Yes. I have. You are a good man, Darynn, in world that asks much
of compromise from you."

"Ah, compromise. If only we all knew how compromised each of us truly
was." He sighed. "Forgive me. In my old age I grow cynical."

She smiled. "I love you, Darynn."

"Oh, a bolt from the heavens this morning!" Darynn replied, chuckling.
He leaned over and touched his head to hers. "You are a gift once
again, Aimeé."

Aimeé could feel the cord between them grow strong and familiar again.
She wanted him to love her body as much as she appreciated her spirit,
and she wanted to see him look as he did when he was in the throes of
love. "Darynn?" she asked, her hand now touching his leg. "Are you
feeling manly this morning?"

He smiled at her, and the short distance between them became shorter
as he kissed her. "Oh, Aimeé, I could be enstaffed for you any hour of
any day that you wish for me."

She kissed him back, rose from her chair and slowly pushed him back
down onto the bed. He sighed softly as the two of them merged,
becoming one body, merging into one hungry creature. She pressed her
breasts to his chest, knowing that was one of her features he did not
appreciate as most men might but she could not help it. It made Filo
so responsive. He did not surprise her as his hands reached around her
to caress her back and then down to her ass, touching her in ways that
made her thrill. She was unashamed of the way her body responded to
him and his simple hunger. Men were men, and she loved the ones she
had brought herself to trust. Darynn she trusted most of all.

She reached between them and unclasped her robe. Darynn was still
dressed in a nightshirt that reached down to the floor. She could feel
the hardness in his middle, feel the body underneath hers reacting to
her attentions. "You are so beautiful, apprentice."

"Darynn," she whispered. "I'll have to get off you to make you naked."

"Then do," he said.

They parted just long enough for Darynn to take off his robe, and then
he turned his attention to Aimeé's simple blouse and skirts. His
fingers moved with experience down her buttons, exposing her full
bosom, her soft belly. They were not the trembling fingers of youth,
as she experienced with Filo, but the competent hands of a man who had
done this a thousand times before. She watched as he unclasped her
skirt. All fell to the ground in one simple motion and she was left
standing in but her socks and bloomers. He hooked a thumb on the pants
and soon she was divested of those as well.

"You are a beautiful woman," he sighed, caressing her belly with the
back of his hand. "If only I was made to appreciate it the way your
young guardsman does."

"You appreciate me well enough," she said, pushing him back down onto
the bed. "Now, teacher, show me." She straddled his hips. Her hand
found his cock and aimed it for her opening. She descended upon him,
and at the touch of the head to her nether lips her whole body
flowered into the being she had always known she was. Wanton. Willing.
Loving. Her cunt was awash with hunger for him. She impaled herself
upon him.

He gasped as his erection plunged into the naked warmth of her body,
and the two of them joined in mankind's oldest spell, the oldest
magic. The most dangerous. Aimeé's eyes flew open as she suddenly
understood, then she stared down at Darynn. He nodded. "This," he
gasped as he pushed himself up, deep into her. "This they fear."

She lowered her mouth to his and kissed him. "Oh, gods, Darynn," she
whimpered as she bucked against him, thrusting hard against his hips,
taking him deep with each stroke. Over and over, she freed him only to
entrap him once more. Their bodies shook the bed. Aimeé could feel her
climax rising. She needed him. She needed to feel his seed within her.
It wouldn't take, but that didn't matter. She needed it anyway. She
needed to feel him. Darynn's face was red with exertion, his body taut
with immanence. She pushed against them. "Come, come," she whispered.
He arched his back suddenly and then cried out, his cock suddenly
harder than it had been seconds before, his body shaking violently as
he came within her. And she felt it. She felt it all deep inside her,
spreading from her cunt to her soul, a distance that was no distance
at all. She cried out, and tears pressed behind her closed eyes. They
fell like threatening rain onto Darynn's chest. "Oh, Darynn."

He smiled. "You understand. Thank you, Apprentice Aimeé."

"I wish..." She gasped, needing more air. She took a few deep breaths,
then looked up at him. "I love you, Darynn."

"I know," he said simply. "I love you, too."

She lay next to him, his cock slipping out of her as she eased down to
the bed. "Gods, Darynn. How can anyone be so afraid?"

"Because it is the first magic, and the most wild. We should be afraid
of it. Love cannot be tamed, Aimeé. It cannot be understood. It simply
must be accepted."

She cried then, openly and unashamedly. "Oh, Darynn, those poor,
horrible people!" The agony of Pyu Rika mixed with the pleasure and
contentment he had brought her, and she knew nothing would ever make
sense of either.

He held her. Her sadness passed. She raised her head. "Are my eyes
red?"

"They are."

"I guess... I should wait to leave. I wouldn't want the Captain to
think you were abusing me."

"Let us both get dressed. There is some water there, in that bottle.
Use it to wash your face." She did as he suggested, and the two of
them dressed. "Have you looked in your box?" he asked.

She shook her head.

"Nor have I. Let's look into mine, now." He reached into the trunk by
his bed and pulled out the box, opened it. "A glowglobe," he said. "A
pretty one. Reading light quality." He admired it. "Why don't you go
fetch yours?"

She did, returning after only a minute. She was nervous. She did not
know what to expect. It was barely too large to sit in her hand. She
undid the latch as Darynn watched, lifted out a small chain. At the
end was a tiny locket and, inside, a glass cage. Darynn gasped.
"Why...?"

Aimeé knew what it was. She could feel it. Inside the glass cage
rested a tiny sliver, no larger than a hair. A shard of bone from the
Dragon. She put it back into its box. "I shall never have need of
this," she said.

"No," Darynn said. "I wonder what Rohani means by it."

Aimeé stared at the box. She wondered too.

The ship sailed on to Barraminum.

--
Aimee II: The Voyage Home is Copyright \uffff 2005 Elf Mathieu Sternberg.

This work is distributed under the Creative Commons Attribution-
NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.0 license.  You are free to copy,
distribute, display, and perform the work under the following conditions:

 o Attribution. You must give the original author credit.
 o Noncommercial. You may not use this work for commercial purposes.
 o Derivative Works. You may not alter, transform, or build upon this work.

For any reuse or distribution, you must make clear to others the license
terms of this work.  Any of these conditions can be waived if you get
permission from the copyright holder, Elf M. Sternberg (elf@drizzle.com).

--
Elf M. Sternberg, Immanentizing the Eschaton since 1988
http://www.drizzle.com/~elf/  
"The apocalypse may be closer at hand than even John Derbyshire thinks:
what the hell is Elf Sternberg doing reading Derb's columns?"
		-- Charles Murtaugh

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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