Rising

   Chapter Eleven



   The next morning the couple woke early and prepared for the journey. 
They gathered their meager things into their travel packs and said goodbye
to their small room.  Ahma felt a moment of emotion she hadn't expected as
she stood in the doorway, looking back into the bare, simple room.  She was
glad that they would be leaving Fernum; the city still made her heart ache
from the injustices of its slave trade and the harsh nature of its cramped
streets.  Still...she had said goodbye to her maindenhood in this room, and
embraced the love and desire she had harbored toward Master Methaniel for
months.  It gave her a kind of hope, that such wonderful things could be
found even in so dark and horrible a place.

   As the opportunity wouldn't arise again for some time, Ahma and
Methaniel decided to take a thorough bath in the bathhouse before they
left. The bath keeper, like most sane people, was sound asleep when they
roused him from his bed.  His sour mood lifted, however, when Methaniel
gave him a silver coin in exchange for drawing a bath for them.

   Methaniel and Ahma had the bath to themselves.  All that lit the bathing
chamber was a few candles the drowsy but pleased bath keeper had shoved
into Methaniel's hand, and the very first glimmers of sunlight coming
through the airing slits near the ceiling.  The light was muted by the
steam filtering through the room, giving it a soft, hazy look.

   "Ahh," Methaniel murmured as he sank into the water.  "I'll miss this in
the next few weeks."

   "You don't think we'll find an inn along the way?" Ahma asked as she
removed her ugly dress, folded it neatly, and placed it on one of the low
benches lining the walls.  She fluttered her wings and preened them a
moment before she slipped into the water beside him.  Methaniel put one
huge arm around her.  She scooted into his side and placed her hand on his
chest.

   "I doubt it," he said.  "We'll only be on the main road for an hour or
two before striking off into the countryside.  Much of it is farmlands, so
if we're lucky we might happen upon some folk willing to let us rest for
the night in their barn.  But we will try to avoid contact with people
while we're on the move."

   "I understand," Ahma nodded.  She let out a soft, lingering sigh as the
hot water eased the tension from her muscles.  She sank against her
Master's form and shut her eyes.

   "Your lessons will resume as we move," Methaniel said.  One of his hands
rose to caress her back, rubbing gently at the space between her wings.

   Ahma shivered despite the warmth of the water and gave herself over to
his ministrations.  "I'll try to do well,"

   "You'll do fine," he assured her.  "You'll have more time to train as we
travel.  The weather will turn more hospitable the further south we go, so
you won't feel the ache quite so keenly.  In a little under a week we'll be
out of the hills and beyond Rojinla's borders."

   "That makes me glad," she admitted.  "I...didn't like what I saw here."

   Methaniel nodded.  "Rojinla is a harsh place.  It bothers me that
Durinum courts them as an ally.  We should be above seeking aid a group of
rabble and cutthroats.  There must be a better country to side with against
the Naemer."

   "Mmm," the Wingling girl mumbled as she relaxed into him.

   The pair spent several more long moments soaking together, luxuriating
in the rare moment of peace.  Finally, Methaniel sat up and grabbed the
soap and a washrag.

   "Please," Ahma said, taking the items from his hands and smiling softly.
"Let me."

   "As you wish," Methaniel nodded.  He sat up a bit straighter.

   Ahma enjoyed washing him.  She did not feel it was a duty she was
required to perform, but rather something she wanted to do for him.  She
enjoyed the closeness, the contact with his skin and being able to do
something to relax and sooth him.  It felt right.

   Her small hands rubbed the sliver of soap over his skin.  She started at
his back, working until it was covered with suds before switching to the
rag and using it to rub the soap in even more, cleansing any dirt or sweat
away from him.  After working along his back, she went down one arm, then
the other.  After his arms were clean, she stepped in front of him,
standing in the bathing pool with the water lapping just under her navel.

   "You have wonderful hands," he told her.  His eyes briefly swept along
her naked form and he smiled softly.  "You have many wonderful things.

   "Thank you," Ahma blushed softly, smiling.  "I am glad I please you."

   Methaniel smiled and reached out to run his fingers briefly through her
rich brown hair.  "You are very pleasing to me indeed."

   Ahma giggled and after finishing with washing his torso and his calves,
circled back around behind him.  Her delicate fingertips began to rub at
the corded muscles of his shoulders.

   "Are you going to let me bathe you?" Methaniel asked.

   Ahma hesitated a moment, then began to massage him again.  "If you wish,
Master...it, well...nevermind."

   "Tell me," he suggested gently.

   "It's nothing...just Wingling things."

   "I would like to hear, if you will tell me.  Your people's beliefs are
important," Methaniel said.

   Ahma brightened a bit.  "If you wish...Wingling's just have particular
views on bathing.  It's the same as wing grooming...it's a social act. 
Traditionally it's only done parent to child, or, well...Mate to Mate. 
It's just...I never thought I would really find someone to bathe me like
this."

   Methaniel smiled as Ahma continued her massage.  "Wingling culture puts
a lot of emphasis on couples, doesn't it?"

   Ahma blushed slightly.  "I suppose.  Some of the courting rituals are
very specific and intricate.  I'm actually kind of glad I won't have to go
through some of them."

   Methaniel chuckled softly.  "Perhaps that is for the best.  Some of it
would probably be lost on me."

   The Wingling giggled as she poured water onto his head and began working
soap into his long copper locks.  "I hope all my people's strange practices
don't bother you."

   "They're not strange," Methaniel assured her.  "They're different, yes,
but there's nothing wrong with that.  Besides, I find them fascinating.  If
Human society encouraged closeness and sharing rituals as your people do,
perhaps our husbands and wives would share stronger bonds."

   Ahma's brow rose as she worked the soap into his scalp.  "I thought
Human mates were close?"

   "Some are," Methaniel shrugged.  "As in everything else, we Humans are a
fickle lot.  Some of our married folk are so close it surprises those
around them, and are a shining example of domestic happiness.  Others fight
tooth and nail and are far more miserable together than they ever would be
apart.  But I do not think many are as close as Wingling couples are, from
what I'd heard...from your brothers."

   "My parents were very in love," Ahma said softly after a long moment of
silence.  "So much so they were happy to give up their old life in the
Wingling kingdom so they could be together.  I don't know if all Wingling
mates loved as they did, but my mother made it seem like such love between
Mates was commonplace."

   "Humans could learn much from your people, if only they would learn to
listen to them," Methaniel replied.

   Ahma rinsed his hair and then moved to massage his chest.  After a long
moment of comfortable, relaxed silence, she said, "I hope this library
grants me entrance.  I once went with your father to the Royal Library and
they wouldn't allow me in.  Your father insisted we leave immediately."

   "I'll be sure they allow you in," he assured her.  "It's likely to be a
boring stay.  Nothing but endlessly rifling through books."

   Ahma shrugged.  "I like books.  I used to read to your father after his
eyes got bad."

   Methaniel nodded.  The muscle of his chest rippled under her soothing
fingers.  "My father loved to read," he said absently.  His hand came up to
lightly stroke Ahma's tight, wet belly.

   Ahma smiled at his attention.  "Do you?  Like to read, I mean."

   "I'd say I enjoy books more than most...but I'm not nearly the
enthusiast my father was.  For me, reading fuels knowledge and expands our
minds.  Books are...a tool, I suppose.  For my Father, they were magical.
Sometimes I think he would have made a better scholar than soldier."

   She nodded and continued to work her soapy hands into his broad chest.
She shuddered at the feel of the corded muscle under the skin.  Her wings
fluttered as sensual memories of the last two nights flooded her mind.

   Methaniel smiled and drew her close, pressing her to him.

   "I never knew baths could be so enjoyable," he commented with a
mischievous smile.  He bent forward and lightly kissed her.

   Ahma smiled into the kiss and they lingered in that sweet embrace for a
moment.  "It's about finding the right person to share the bathing with,"
she said when they finally separated.  "Hannah always told me that."

   He touched her side, rubbing it softly and causing her to giggle.  "I'll
get you nice and clean whenever you're ready."

   "Soon," she smiled.  "I have to make sure you're clean first.  You
should relax more, Master.  You've been working so hard these past months,
for both of us."

   "It's nothing," he told her.

   Finally, after several more moments of her attention, he convinced her
to allow him to bathe her.  She settled down in the water, relaxing as he
began to wash her back.  He carefully worked the soap into the flesh
between and around her wings and down the smooth sweep of her lower back.
Her entire back was tight with muscle, powerful tendons anchoring her wings
to her shoulder blades and overlapping flight muscle that allowed her to
launch her graceful form into the air.  Even as heavily muscled as her back
was, it still had the appearance of neat femininity, packed in tight, trim
groupings that avoided an overabundance of bulkiness.  She was a testament
to the graceful power of a Wingling's unique physiology.

   Ahma noticed his ginger touch as he washed the base of her wings. 
"Don't worry, they aren't sensitive.  Well, not in an unpleasant way,
anyway.  You can touch them however you need to."

   "Just don't smack me with them if I do something wrong," he teased
playfully.  She laughed.

   Methaniel helped her wash her hair as well, dipping the long, thick
length into the water.  Rinsing her chestnut hair alone took several
moments.

   "I'm never having such long hair," Methaniel stated as he ran his
fingers yet again through the length of her hair, combing soap in as he
went.

   "Yours is long enough now, Master," Ahma smiled.

   Methaniel chuckled and dipped her hair into the bath.  "I wear my hair
in the way of our warriors.  Otherwise I would probably cut it shorter."

   "Mine is as Wingling Maidens are made to wear their hair," Ahma nodded.
Then she looked thoughtful for a moment and said quietly, "But I'm not a
Maiden anymore, am I?  Perhaps...perhaps I should cut it now."

   Methaniel smoothed out her wet hair, getting the last of the suds out of
it.  "I like your hair like this.  It is beautiful."

   Ahma glanced back at him and smiled happily.  "Then I will keep it as it
pleases you."

   Methaniel pulled the Wingling girl to him.  Ahma smiled, giggling softly
as his wet muscles slid against her flesh.  She turned to face him,
squished her glistening breasts to his firm chest.  His arms enfolded her,
holding her close to his warmth.  Ahma's wings, damp but still soft and
supple, wrapped about both of them.

   His soft smile brightened and he bent down to kiss her.  Ahma sighed and
leaned into the kiss, tasting his lips.  She relished his gentle strength.
His hand slid slowly, sensually along her flesh as the kiss turned deeper.
She returned it in earnest.  His tongue traced her lips and she happily
allowed it entrance.  Ahma quivered, her body becoming heated.  She loved
the intense response he kindled within her.

   "Did you know," he whispered into her ear as they broke the kiss, "That
you have the most fabulous breasts I could possibly imagine?"

   "Thank you, Master...they are all for you, for your pleasure," she
replied.

   He drew her close and she nuzzled into him.

   "Are you ready for another Journey?" he asked after they held one
another for some few perfect moments.

   She smiled contently at him.  "Yes, Master.  I'll be with you, and
that's all I need.  Besides, I like libraries.  I'm looking forward to
visiting such an old and well known one."

   "I imagine you'll have a chance to read while we're there," Methaniel
smiled.  "If not, perhaps we can return someday."

   Ahma made a face.  "I don't know...if it means having to travel back
through this...country...I don't really think I want to."

   He gave her a reassuring squeeze.  "Don't worry, Ahma.  We can travel a
different route next time.  And anyway, no one will treat you as a servant
as long as I have a say.  Some day, I'll be sure to have your mark removed
as well."

   The Wingling glanced down at her hand.  "This can come off?"

   "There are a rare few people in the world that can remove it.  Sometimes
servants are released from their duties, and if they're able to scrounge up
the coin, they pay well to have their mark removed," he explained.

   Ahma looked at her marking for several moments.  "Interesting...um,
Master Merie, what are we looking for at this library?"

   Methaniel shrugged.  "I'm not totally sure, to be honest.  I have very
little to go on at this point.  I'm hoping to find some kind of reference
to known assassin groups and work my way from there.  The people who
attacked us are obviously professional...and somehow they went in and out
of Durinum without being caught.  There's something strange there, and I
intend to find out what's behind all this."

   Ahma nodded and sat up.  "I'll do everything I can to help you find
whatever you need."

   Methaniel smiled.  "Thank you, love.  I just hope we aren't going on a
wild goose chase."

   After their bath, Methaniel helped Ahma to groom and arrange her wings
as the Wingling sang her morning prayers and braided her hair.  The green
and white feathers were still slightly damp as the couple dressed, but Ahma
assured him they would dry quickly.  Dawn had broke an hour or so ago and
the city was well awake by the time they were prepared to leave.

   "That dress really doesn't suit you at all," he said as he looked on her
brown wool dress.

   "I want to burn it," Ahma said softly.  "I don't mean to complain...but
I can't help it.  It itches."

   "I know," he said, drawing her into his arms and squeezing her gently as
he smiled at her.  "Perhaps if the cold has receded, once we're away from
the main road you can change out of it."

   Ahma nodded happily at that notion.  They gathered their things, talking
quietly and closely as Ahma pulled on her cloak, gathered her dagger and
short sword, the small pack containing her waterskin, as well as her
changes of leggings and trousers, and the tunics and jerkins he had gotten
for her.  It also held an extra vial of wing-dye should she need to touch
up her feathers during their journey, and her small hairbrush.

   Methaniel had his blade strapped to his hip, and the longbow and two
quivers of arrows on his back.  His clothes, extra supplies, their flint
and tinder box, small odds and ends, and emergency rations were stowed in
his pack.

   The Nobleman pulled the Wingling to him, bending down for one last kiss
before their departure.  Ahma stood on her tiptoes, arching her back
delicately, something she had noticed he approved of.  His lips lingered on
hers, tasting, savoring her flavor.  His tongue lightly flicked across her
plump pink lips before he drew back to kiss her forehead.  Ahma smiled and
he hugged her close, then they left the inn and started their way to the
stables to retrieve Lanion.

   ***



   He stepped into the busy trade station alone.  Ahma waited just outside
with Lanion.  He felt he had to complete this errand alone.  He was not
happy with what he was about to do.

   The towering warrior stepped up to one of the counters, the only one
without a line.  The graying man behind the scarred countertop gave him an
indifferent stare.  "What're ya lookin' fer?"

   "Coin," Methaniel answered.  "I have something to sell you," he hastily
added at the wary look the storeowner gave him.

   The man spat into a spittoon at his feet.  "Lesse what ya got."

   Methaniel grit his jaw as he reached into his pack and removed a small
suede sack tied shut by leather thongs.  He opened the sack, revealing a
smooth, rectangular box of polished oak.

   He pulled two gleaming, perfect horseshoes from the box.  The shoes
shone brilliantly in the sunlight filtering through the store's window.  He
placed them on the counter, and the merchant quickly took one up into his
hand.  The old man stared at the horseshoe, his mouth gaping open.  The
craftsmanship was that of a master shoemaker and smith, the material the
finest silver to be found in all the northern mountain chains.

   "What's this then?" the merchant asked, pointing to the crest on both
shoes.  It was the insignia of the Durinum Knighthood, the fierce mountain
lion standing in front of the crags that Durinum was founded upon.

   "Smith's mark," Methaniel lied.  He was glad the old man didn't
recognize the crest; someone would, eventually, but that would take some
time for the shoes to switch hands and wind up in the possession of someone
who knew of such things.  By the time someone actually recognized the shoes
for what they were, he and Ahma would be long gone.

   "How much ya wantin'?" The man asked.

   "Every coin you have on hand."

   The merchants eyes went wide and he placed the shoe on the countertop.
"Yer mad!"

   "No, I'm not," Methaniel countered.  He leaned forward and spoke softly.
"I'm betting I could demand you go to your storehouse and get twice the
coin you have on hand, and I'd still be making a perfectly reasonable
barter.  That shoe could buy half this trade-house and you know it.  Don't
haggle with me.  Take the generous deal I'm giving you before I walk out."

   The merchant hesitated a moment, then picked the shoe back up.  He
looked at it closely, turning the shoe over and over in his hands as if to
check every angle for imperfection.  Methaniel knew he would find none.

   "What's the catch?" he whispered suspiciously.

   "No catch," Methaniel told him softly.  "I need a good deal of coin, and
I need it now.  What do you say?"

   The old man sighed and nodded.  "Okay.  Every coin I got on hand then."

   Methaniel waited while the man stepped into a back room to retrieve his
payment.  The warrior hated that he had to resort to selling the shoes. 
They had been presented to him upon graduating with honors from the Durinum
Knight Academy.  The shoes, more than the Knight Crest, more than the
Knight's uniform, more than anything, was a symbol of his achievements as a
Knight.  Only the most elite of Durinum Knights earned the honor of
possessing the silver shoes forged by the King's own smith.  They were
precious to him, the very embodiment of all his hard work and sacrifice as
a Knight, a soldier, and a warrior.  Under normal circumstances, he would
sooner part with his own hand than the horseshoes.

   But the circumstances were far from normal, and he had no choice. 
Without coin, their journey would become impossible.

   The gray haired Merchant returned a moment later with a large, jingling
sack.  He placed it on the countertop and poured the contents out.

   "Count it up," he suggested.

   Methaniel did so, counting fifteen gold, six silver, and twenty copper
coins.  The amount would have been enough to buy a functional house in the
city.  It still wasn't enough to compensate for the loss of the shoes.  But
it couldn't be helped.

   He nodded and put the coin back into the sack.  "Done."

   The Merchant quickly scooped the shoes up and placed them in their
wooden box, then scooted them under the counter as if he feared Methaniel
would change his mind.  "Pleasure, Sir."

   "Sell them well," Methaniel advised.  He walked out of the trading post
with heavy steps.

   "Are we ready, Ma...um, Merie?" Ahma greeted.  Methaniel was too lost in
thought to notice her slip.

   "Yes," he nodded.  He helped Ahma up onto Lanion's back and walked them
toward the city gates.

   The Wingling girl glanced down at the sack still clutched in his hand.
"What's that?"

   Methaniel handed her the sack.  She gasped in surprise as she glanced
inside.  "H-how did you get this much coin?"

   "I had a few rare odds and ends from the furs and pelts we gathered. 
The Merchant inside was a poor bargainer," he lied.

   Ahma sensed he left something unsaid, but respected his silence.  She
stowed the money in their packs and watched her tense Master thoughtfully
as they left the city.

   ***



   Methaniel chewed the freshly roasted venison as he stared into the fire.
Ahma was cuddled close to his side, her wing drifting lazily back and forth
as she lounged against him.  He smiled down at her as her feathers brushed
his side.  She had changed out of the hated dress and into one of her
tunics and trousers almost two hours ago so that she could practice her
swordsmanship while he hunted.  He had hunted well, bringing down a fine
buck for their dinner, and early enough to return and supervise the
majority of her practicing while he skinned his kill.

   It had been a long day of hard traveling.  Perhaps he had been trying to
push them forward along their journey.  Or maybe he had been trying to put
distance between himself and his actions at the outpost.  Either way, he
had moved at a pace far more ambitious than on their journey to Fernum. 
Ahma hadn't once complained, nor did she question his insistence that they
keep on the move.  He realized now his mood had been sour for most of the
day.  Despite this, Ahma had kept a cheerful attitude while allowing him
the silence he needed to put his ill feelings to rest.  Her presence had
been comforting even though they did little talking.

   His arm tightened around her and he took another bite from his food
before setting it aside and turning his attention fully upon her.

   "How do you feel?" he asked, gently caressing her shoulder as he gazed
down upon the Wingling girl.  She smiled wearily back at him, her face
content as she nuzzled into him.

   "A bit sore, Master, but ok."

   "You did well today Ahma," Methaniel replied, giving her a gentle
squeeze of encouragement.  "I set a hard pace and you had no problem
keeping up."

   "We rode Lanion for most of the day, Master," Ahma pointed out with a
smile.

   "True," Methaniel chuckled.  "But you still did well.  After we stopped
for the evening you pleased me with your efforts at training.  I'm glad we
bought you those trousers so you can finally practice footwork and
maneuvering without that dress hampering you."

   Ahma beamed at the praise he gave her.  She hugged him tightly, pressing
her face to his side.  "Thank you, Master Merie.  I'll try my best to live
up to your expectations."

   "You'll do fine," he assured her.  "Just keep working hard."

   Lanion wandered into the circle of firelight and snorted expectantly. 
Methaniel grabbed a dried carrot and tossed it his way.  The warhorse
neighed and crunched at his treat.  Ahma laughed softly.

   "I figured I should try to make up with him after keeping him cooped up
for so long," Methaniel explained.  "Carrots are one of his favorites."

   She nodded and sat up slightly, but still within his circling arm.  "How
long will it take to reach the Library, do you think?" While she looked
forward to the possibility of reading some interesting books, she was
enjoying her time alone out in the wilderness with her beloved Master.  And
part of her was afraid of the possible prejudice she might encounter at the
Library.

   "It will be some time," he replied with a light shrug of his massive
shoulders.  "A few weeks or so, depending on the lay of the land.  We could
probably make it in less time if we pressed Lanion hard, but I've pushed
him enough for most of this journey, and I'd rather avoid getting him
agitated at me."

   Ahma giggled and nodded.

   Methaniel smiled softly down at her.  "I can show you the map, if you
like."

   Ahma smiled and nodded.  "I'd like that.  I've always wanted to see a
map of the lands outside of Durinum, but your father was more interested in
literature and history than geography."

   Methaniel fished out the two maps he'd received in Fernum and spread
them out along the ground, careful not to get them too close to the fire.

   "This is a map of the Continent," he said, pointing to the map on the
left, "And this is a map of the area surrounding Rajinla."

   Ahma scooted closer to him and carefully followed his explanation.

   Methaniel pointed out the lay of the land on the continental map first,
outlining territories and kingdoms.  The Kingdom of Durinum was nestled in
the northmost charted land on the continent, deep in the North Mountains.
Its territory encompassed nearly all the habitable land in the mountains.
Most of the Kingdom's settlements fell in the enormous plateau in the heart
of the massive mountain chain, with the capitol city settled in the direct
center of the plateau.  The mountains extended far to the north, onward
beyond any known settlement and into uncharted land.  They swept to the
east till they reached the great and stormy oceans, and a short outcropping
of craggy peaks extended west until they ended in heavily forested lands.
Two passageways led in and out of Durinum territory and the mountains
themselves, the heavily traveled southern valleys and roads, and the deadly
and abandoned eastern route they'd used to flee from their hunters.

   The City-States of Rojinla was the nearest nation, situated mostly in
the lands east of the North Mountains.  Their lands wrapped around the foot
of the mountains, their territory expanding ever closer toward the single
Durinum city outside of the mountains themselves, the trade city of Gilea,
settled at the mouth of the southern road leading into the heart of the
North Mountains.

   To the west lay the Naemer lands nestled deep in the wild forests beyond
the west reaches of the mountains.

   "Not much is known about these lands," Methaniel explained as he tapped
the roughly traced outline of the Naemer forest borders.  "Even before the
war started the Naemer disliked outsiders and rarely allowed them into
their forests.  To them, their lands are sacred, like a living being.  They
don't believe non-Naemer will show their people or their land the proper
respect.  They say we defile the land.  Now that the war is on, they've
closed their borders completely.  To step into their forests means death."

   "It looks like their territory is much smaller than Durinum's," Ahma
commented.

   "It is," Methaniel nodded.  "Even though our people are scattered about
the mountains, their land and population aren't half what ours are."

   Ahma's brow furrowed.  "Why is the war taking so long, then?  Couldn't
Durinum just storm them by force?"

   "I wish it were so," Methaniel shook his head.  "To take the fight into
their forests would be suicide.  They use the land to their advantage,
striking from the woods shadows and the vantage of the trees.  The Naemer's
greatest strength is their craftiness, their resourcefulness.  They wield
ambush as a weapon that would cut our armies to ribbons."

   "Couldn't we set their forest on fire?"

   "We've tried," he replied.  "Every time, they use strange magic's to
call down torrents of rain to extinguish the flames.  Our own mages can't
make the rains stop, so fire gives us nothing in the way of advantage.  No,
fighting them in their own land is futile.  The best we can do is to draw
them into the open.  They're still dangerous, and it drags the war on, but
it takes away their biggest strength."

   The center of the continent was a flat, sweeping prairie land consisting
of neutral nations uninvolved in the war.  The plains were sparsely settled
by small kingdoms and townships that kept to their own affairs.  The
Kingdom of Shalea held the largest territory in the Middle Lands, and was
home to some of the most talented known Human artisans and craftsmen of
goods, ranging from household treasures and valuables to great architects
of buildings and temples whose splendor was said to be the pinnacle of
Human skill.

   West of the Middle Lands were the hilly regions belonging to the
Dwarves, the great miners and metal workers of the Demi-Human races.  They
bore into the hills with gleeful purpose, harvesting a rich trove of pure
and high quality ore they used to construct their heavily fortified
Kingdoms.  While they separated the hills and lands extending west from the
Middle Lands all the way to the sea into independent Kingdoms and
settlements, there was a solid brotherhood among the Dwarven people.  The
Kingdoms worked closely together, offering support and aid in times of
need. It was said a Dwarven nation's back was never against the wall
because its neighbors were always standing behind it with axe in hand.

   To the southeast of the Middle Lands were the deep, dense jungles of the
Nether Woods, expanding over the miles of unsettled land leading up to the
Oria Mountains.  These jungles had seen little exploration; there was
simply nothing there but wild, untamed life.  The great river Talin spawned
from the Oria mountains, cutting just south of the Middle Lands and flowing
to the western sea, cutting the continent in half.  Its many tributaries
branched out wildly all across the land, reaching as far north as the
Northern Mountains.

   South beyond the Talin stretched a vast wasteland, extending for
leagues, ranging in severity from habitable drylands to scorching deserts
that were nearly lifeless and devoid of water.

   "Does anyone live in such lands?" Ahma asked softly.

   Methaniel nodded.  "The Fenrehr hail from those deserts and wastelands."

   "They do?" Ahma's brows rose.  She had never known much about Fenrehr,
though some had lived in the Manor.  They themselves had no knowledge of
their people, however, having grown up on Durinum streets.

   "Yes," Methaniel continued, "Most of them are nomads, roaming and
hunting in small groups.  Their ways are different than the ways of the
Fenrehr who live in cities, from what I've read.  They follow the ways of
their hunting cat cousins.  Some, however, have build settlements.  The
biggest that we have in our records is the city-settlement Timaneous at the
foot of a great oasis lake of the same name.  The city is built around Lake
Timaneous and the rich life surrounding it.  It's one of the only places
where any society could possibly thrive in such a harsh land."

   Methaniel continued his explanation, showing her where the desert lands
faded away further south and began a short stretch of verdant greenlands
leading up to the Syren Sea to the south.

   "The Elvish people make their home here, right?" Ahma asked, tapping the
map where the sea began.

   "Yes," Methaniel smiled.  "The great sea-fairing folk.  Though they
established Wave-Ridge Port along South Fahn Coast, they see more time on
their boats than they do on land.  Their race is few and almost all of them
spend their long lives riding the waves of the Syren Sea.  Probably why we
so rarely see them this far north."

   "I've often wondered at that," Ahma murmured.

   "Hmm?" Methaniel asked.

   "The Elves are boatmen and women, right?" Ahma replied.  "But your
father said Durinum was founded on old Elven ruins and that a lot of our
architecture was inspired by those ruins.  Why would sea folk make
buildings?  That seems more a Dwarf's business.  And why in the Northern
Mountains?"

   Methaniel smiled softly and reached out to squeeze her hand.  "A very
perceptive question, dear Ahma.  The best I can tell you is...we don't
know. The ruins were ancient even when Durinum was first founded.  Now,
even more of our understanding of them have been lost.  Many say Elves
harnessed strange magic's that were tied to their temples and places of
worship.  Perhaps that had something to do with the old ruins.  Beyond
that, I've no idea."

   Ahma nodded and glanced at the map again.  She pointed at a cluster of
small dots off the southeast coast of the continent.  "And these?"

   "The Mata Isle chain," Methaniel nodded.

   "Ah," Ahma smiled.  "They've powerful medicine, don't they?"

   "Indeed," Methaniel replied.

   "Where are we now?" she asked.

   Methaniel grabbed the map of the Rojinla region and held it before them,
showing her the Route they'd taken since arriving in Rojinla territory,
first moving into Sefar and then south to Fernum.  He pointed out Vetru,
the city northeast of Fernum they'd initially planned on visiting before
Methaniel changed their destination to the Cerlothlor Library.

   "The Airbend Plains are a week or so south of here, a few miles
northwest of the northmost reaches of the Oria Mountains and northeast of
the Middle Lands.  Aside from the Library and a few farming communities the
Plains are mostly empty.

   "Here's the Bordin Road," he tapped the major road leading south from
Fernum.  It forked a few miles into the Airbend Plains, with the east
branch leading to the Cerlothlor Library.

   "And this is the route we're taking," he continued, tapping a second
marked route.

   The path followed close to the main road for several miles, just as
they'd been doing, before breaking off to the east.  It circumvented the
winding, roundabout way the main road took, instead moving straight through
the wooded land outside of the plains.  Once inside the Airbend Plains, it
cut east around a mile or so of dangerously rough terrain before looping
back west toward the road, cutting through a farming settlement, and then
along a short valley before reaching the Library.  Though the journey would
be more arduous, this route would shave almost a week off their trip that
the main road would have added.

   "Are we using this route to save time?" Ahma asked.

   "No," Methaniel replied, "It's a nice added bonus, but we're mostly
using it because it's discrete.  See, we avoid having to cross the main
road of any point this way, and almost all other major footpaths as well. I
don't think our pursuers would anticipate us going to the Cerlothlor
Library, but it's better for us to be extra cautious."

   Ahma nodded and settled closer into him.  "I hope we find what we're
looking for."

   "Me too," Methaniel agreed.  He put the maps back into his pack and
leaned back, draping one arm over his companion's shoulder.

   "I'm cold," Ahma stated.

   He smiled softly and pulled her closer as he glanced down at her.  His
eyes slid over her lovely face.  Her big round eyes shone in the firelight,
and her hair was a great shroud of delicate brown silk.  The nobleman ran
his fingers through it, finding the rich locks just as marvelous and
wonderful as he had the first time he had touched it.

   The Wingling sighed her pleasure and arched her head into his caressing
hand, her smile softening as she enjoyed his attention.  She was
perfection, the most beautiful and lovely woman he had ever met, Methaniel
thought.  She was kind, gentle, and generous of heart.  Intelligent. 
Spirited.  Lustful...

   His lips lowered to hers.  Ahma released a soft whimper.  Her wings went
loosely around his body, caressing, lightly sliding against his skin, each
soft, fine feather imparting an intimate caress.  Methaniel's arms
tightened around her, his muscles rippling and bunching against her skin.
He tasted her lips.  Lightly caressing, his hands massaged her sides and
back.

   Their kiss deepened slowly, easily, no pressing consuming need
descending upon them.  Not yet.  For the moment, they simply enjoyed one
another, their lips parting to deepen the kiss and share in the intimate
moment.  It was an enjoyable, peaceful moment for him.  He savored the
moment; the Wingling had captivated him, utterly and surely, with her body,
with her charms, with her wit, with her gentle heart, with her fresh and
vibrant spirit.

   Ahma trembled in his arms, and he could somehow tell by the fluttering
of her wings that she was caught in that instinctual place between lust and
contentment, between want and tenderness.  He was there with her.  It was a
sweet thing, and while they had certainly shared emotions and feelings and
depth beyond just physical want and lusting in their sessions together, it
had not yet been this deep.  This was far more than the physical expression
of desires they'd experienced thus far.

   A part of Methaniel hesitated.  He was, and had ever been, a practical
man.  A man of strategies and battles, a man driven by the need to defend
all those dear to him, to fight for what was right, for justice, for honor.
He had never let himself consider the world of love.  Even as a lad
entering into his adolescence, he had told himself that love was beyond
him. He was bound by duty and honor, as well as by violence and blood.  And
by loss.  Part of him was afraid that he was not the kind of man who could
love properly.  And he hated that.

   But the fear, the hesitation, shattered as Ahma pulled back and gazed up
at him with her great doe pools of brown and smiled at him softly. 
Tenderly.  Lovingly.

   Methaniel bent to kiss her again, now more passionate.  Their souls
touched through that kiss, and he couldn't be sure, but he fancied Ahma
felt it too.  His hands brushed her cheeks, and he felt tears upon them.

   His heart swelled.  His chest felt tight.  A rushing feeling of
giddiness he could hardly contain swept over him.  Her presence pulled at
his heart.  His arms tightened about her, possessively.

   His body felt incredibly heated.  He was consumed, though whether it was
by desire or by an aching need to be close to her, he couldn't be sure. 
Perhaps by both.  Perhaps they were the same.  He pulled back slowly,
breathing deeply, feeling his entire body radiating heat as he gazed down
at Ahma.  She pressed to him tighter than ever before, drawn to his heat
and the same pull at her soul that tugged on his.  And in that moment,
Methaniel realized fully, as perhaps he had known yet not recognized from
the very beginning, that he held the missing half of his cold and lonely
soul in his arms.

   Ahma pressed her body against her Master, feeling his bodyheat radiating
over her, warming her in the cold night.  She stared up into his eyes
searchingly.  The mix of emotions there made her giddy.  She wanted to be
closer to him, as close as she possibly could be.

   Methaniel wordlessly hugged her close, his hands caressing her back in a
sensual touch.  As he kissed her she felt more than the usual rush his
touch caused.  An intense emotion came over her, an overpowering sense of
want, need, and love.  She felt certain this must be the feeling of
completion her Mother had spoken of...the completion of the soul when
Winglings finds their Mate.  This was why Winglings Mate for life, Ahma
thought.  Because to do otherwise would be like ripping your very soul in
half after it had finally become whole.

   She hadn't told the Master just how important and significant their
joining was to her...she knew it was different to Humans.  He had said
before that he loved her...but Humans sometimes said such things without a
care, she knew.  And even if he did love her, it may not be so deep and
significant a thing as it was to her.  Could he be feeling the same
closeness and rapturous joy that he inspired in her?  Could she be so
lucky?

   Ahma shook the question aside, telling herself to be patient.  Master
Merie had expressed a deep affection for her, there was no denying that. 
She knew now he would stay with her and protect her.  She wouldn't be cast
aside; he wouldn't do such a thing to her.  Beyond this, she would have to
bide her time and hope for the best.

   Methaniel touched her cheek, brushing aside a fallen strand of chestnut
silk.  "Are you ready for bed?"

   "Yes, Master," she nodded.

   Ahma rose and kissed her Master, then began to lay out their blankets on
a bed of moss under the large oak tree they'd sought shelter under. 
Methaniel came to her side as she finished.  His hand reached down and
lightly caressed her backside.  Ahma blushed softly and bit her lower lip,
enjoying the attention.

   They removed their boots and climbed into the bedroll and blankets
together.  Nestled by the fire, they both sighed happily and drew closer.
He stroked her soft hair.  Ahma curled closer to him and he held her tight
in his protective arms.  Methaniel bent to kiss her once more before gently
rocking her slowly back and forth in a comforting motion.

   Ahma turned her eyes upward.  "The sky is beautiful," she sighed, eyes
dancing in the heavens.

   "Not as beautiful as you," he murmured into her hair.

   She blushed softly in the darkness and pressed closer still, soaking in
his warmth.  Her hands pressed to his tight muscles and she shivered as she
felt them ripple in response.

   Her gaze swept skyward again.  The stars shined down at them, brilliant
and stunningly vibrant.  The moon was three-fourths full and low in the
sky, bathing them in silver illumination.  It shone on her pale skin,
making it appear as fine porcelain.

   "Have you ever heard of a Night Bird?" she asked.

   He looked down at her.  "Do you mean an owl?"

   Ahma smiled.  "No, Master.  It's a small bird that nests in the Wingling
homeland.  Anyway.  We sing a song...the Night Bird Song.  It's supposed to
protect those who fly at night and help those lost in dark places."

   Methaniel glanced down at her.  One hand caressed her face softly.  "Is
that the song you sing so often in the evenings?"

   Ahma nodded slowly, her face becoming solemn.  "One of them, yes."

   "Who do you sing for?" Methaniel asked gently.

   "My Mother...she is lost," Ahma whispered.

   "How?" Methaniel asked, stroking her cheek.

   She glanced up at him.  "When she died, she lost her head.  Wingling
beliefs state that if her head is removed from her body, she can't see the
way to Heaven.  She's wandering.  Lost.  Alone.  So I sing the Night Bird
Song for her, and hope it will help guide her through the darkness."

   "I'm sorry, Ahma," he said in a quiet voice.

   "I have faith that my Mother will find her way.  I sing for her with all
my heart.  And my father's soul is probably guiding her.  Their Mate-bond
may see her through."

   "A Mate is a very powerful thing to a Wingling," Methaniel stated more
than asked.

   Ahma's eyes flicked downward.  "Yes."

   Methaniel's hand caressed her back, his calloused fingers massaging at
the arch of her spine.  She shiver softly and looked back at him.

   "Will you keep me warm tonight, Master?"

   Methaniel smiled softly and slid his hand lower to lightly cup her firm,
curving buttocks.  "Indeed..."

   His hand circled to her front, reaching between her soft, toned thighs
and caressing them through her leggings.  Ahma spread her legs and his
strong hand slid deeper between them, resting on her plump pubic mound and
giving it a gentle squeeze through her clothing.  "I intend to keep you
very warm, and satisfied as well."

   She cooed at his touch.  The lust that had been building all night
suddenly became overpowering.  Her juices began to flow in earnest as her
hand wandered to his crotch, stroking his half hard dick.

   "That sounds wonderful...what should I do first, Master?" she asked,
stroking him through his pants.

   "What would you like to do first?" he asked with a grin.  His cock
thickened at her touch.  He worked his hand into her britches and cupped
her bald, silken mound.  His other hand reached up to lift her left breast
into his hand and test its weightiness.

   "What do you prefer?  It is your choice...I am here to serve you, my
Master," Ahma purred.  She undid the tie on his trousers and happily slid
her hand right in.  His cock was hard and enormously thick.  Her pussy
pulsed at the feel of it in against her fingers.

   Methaniel smiled down at her and pulled her tunic off, letting her
massive breasts bounce alluringly free.  Her hand went immediately back
into his pants the moment it was off.  Her thick nipples were hard from
cold and arousal.  He tweaked and pulled them, watching Ahma's face flush
in pleasure as she arched her chest into his warm hands.

   "Well then, why don't you wet your appetite a bit?" he suggested.

   Ahma smiled at him.  "Gladly, Master."

   She crept down the blankets.  Her wings tented them up and over her
slightly, but she didn't seem deterred by this in the least.  She pulled
his trousers downward and found his cock ready, full, hard and so thick.

   The Wingling girl licked her lips, then ran her tongue along the top of
Master Methaniel's cock, caressing the fleshy head.  It tasted warm,
delicious.  It was a taste unique to him, she knew instinctively, the taste
she was growing more and more fond of every time she experienced it; his
taste.

   Moving her tongue up and down the throbbing shaft, Ahma sucked here and
there on the swollen side of his meaty rod.  She gave a happy little moan
as she worked her mouth along the Masters enormous dick.  Her tongue lashed
at his flesh, licking, tasting, running firmly up and down the luxurious
length of Methaniel's dick.  She traced a throbbing vein, then swirled her
tongue in rapid, lustful circles around the crown of the cock.  Droplets of
saliva ran down his cock as she firmly swiped the broad flat of her tongue
from the very root of his cock to the tip.  A sticky rope of pre-cum clung
to her tongue as she drew away, and Ahma mewled happily at the taste.

   Finally she sunk her mouth around his cock.  Her full lips grasped it
firmly.  Her mouth closed around his cockhead and her tongue lavished it
with attention.  Ahma began to needily suck on her Master's throbbing meat.
Drool dripped from the corners of her mouth and she moaned contently,
lustfully as she took him deeper still, filling her mouth and stretching
her lips around the fat shaft.  Her tongue danced along the fleshy pole,
coating it in saliva as she gave a firm slurp.  He tasted so good.  Her
cunt gushed, juices seeping from her slit and down her thighs as the taste
of his flesh and feel of his dick in her mouth aroused her beyond belief.

   A noisy slurping filled the air as Ahma's cheeks hollowed.  Her lips
formed a strong vacuum seal on the Master's oversized cock even as she
bobbed her head up and down, dragging the length of his shaft between her
lips.  She pushed forward, pressing her lips down his shaft.  The swollen
head pressing against the back of her throat as she swirled her tongue
wildly around Methaniel's blood engorged phallus.

   Quickly, eagerly Ahma swallowed him, gagging wetly as his cock stretched
her throat wide.  Saliva leaked from wide stretched lips and she pulled
back and took a deep breath into her nose before diving back down,
determined to serve her Master to the full extent of her ability.  Her hand
reached to massage the base of his cock and cup his heavy swollen balls as
she pushed two more inches of meat down her gullet.  She moaned in
pleasure, her throat vibrating around his cock, then constricting a moment
later as she gagged again, loudly.

   Abruptly she popped his cock out of her mouth and climbed on top of him.

   "I can't take it anymore Master.  Please, fuck me?  I feel like I'm
going to burst!  Please!" she begged, her eyes lit with incomparable want.
"Please fuck me, I want your cock so bad Master!"

   Methaniel pulled the moaning girl to him, his hands pulling her trousers
off completely, leaving her naked and bared to his eyes.  He smild at her
and scooted downward.  Ahma gasped as he wrapped his lips firmly around her
smooth, fleshy pussy.  He sucked it firmly as his tongue plunged
aggressively between her plump, hairless folds and into the sticky pink
flesh inside.  His big hands reached under her to squeeze and grope her
firm, meaty ass, kneading the perfectly rounded globes with his powerful
fingers, massaging the tight yet supple flesh.

   "Master," Ahma whined, unable to contain herself.  "I need your cock!  I
need it..."

   "Be patient, or you don't get what you want," he instructed her firmly.

   Ahma whimpered loudly, the thought of not getting his cock making her
shake with even more need than before.  "Y-yes, Master," she moaned.

   He thrust his face down between her thighs again and slurped loudly on
her juicy quim.  Ahma rubbed her pussy on his tongue, spreading her
dripping juices against his mouth.

   The Master sucked and licked at her drooling cunt, lapping at her
pouring honey.  He felt her squirm and wiggle in pleasure as his hands
squeezed sensually at her tight buttocks.  He kneaded the generous cheeks,
squeezing them firmly, his fingertips brushing the deep cleft of her crack.
His tongue thrust up into her hungry hole, lashing roughly along her inner
walls as he sucked on her plump womanhood.  He opened his eyes to gaze up
at the moaning, whimpering Wingling that gyrated her sweet cunt on his
face.

   "Ohhhh..." she groaned, "That feels soooo good!"

   She panted between breaths.  The pleasant sensation of his fingers
touching her sensitive rear produced a pleasantly arousing sensation she
hadn't expected.  His amazing tongue plunging deep into her needy hole made
her head spin.  She arched her back, thrusting her hips down.  rHer breasts
lightly smacked together as she humped her Master's face.

   Methaniel smiled, took a few last sucks and licks at the girl's plump
pussy, and slid back.  He gazed up at her, his eyes tracing over the body
of a winged angel in the moonlight.  His hands reached for her heaving
white breasts, squeezing and pulling at them.  His hands roamed downward,
caressing here, squeezing there, tweaking and pinching occasionally.

   He climbed on top of her and his enormous cockhead slid between her
splayed thighs.  It probed her loins, pressing between her sticky smooth,
silken folds, prying them open and around the thick, bloated head.  The
head rubbed lightly along the length of her saturated pink slit.

   "Please, put it in," she whimpered expectantly.

   "Why?" he teased visciously.

   "Master!" she whined, thrusting her hips up at him.  "Please don't tease
me!  I want it...please, can I have your cock?"

   Methaniel appeased her demands with a quick jab, ramming his cock deep
inside her.  Ahma shuddered gratefully, wrapping her legs around him
quickly, almost to assure herself he wouldn't be taking that wonderfully
thick cock away.

   At last she had what she wanted.  Ahma moaned in joy as the Master's
cock worked in and out of her pussy.  Her cunt drooled profusely, clenching
hard on his shaft as juices leaked liberally down the cleft of her
buttocks. The feel of him thrusting into her drove her wild.  His cock
massaged every last inch of her quivering walls, still stretching her even
after their previous encounters.  She wondered if she would ever not feel
the burning sensation of her insides being widened out to make room for
that monstrous flesh pole.

   Ahma cried out openly that night, her voice piercing the night silence
without restraint.  She screamed her demands, her absolute desire to be
taken by him in no uncertain terms.

   "Good, Ahma," Methaniel panted.  "Let me hear your pleasure!  Let me
hear your screams!"

   He thrust into her hard, burying his meat into her greedy hole to the
root.  He smiled down at her as she cried out louder than ever, wailing in
ecstasy as his huge prick smacked deeply in and out of her hot tunnel.  He
gripped her delicately rounded hips and pistoned his fat dick roughly into
her slippery passage.  The squishing sucking of her soaked cunt being
stuffed with cock accompanied her wild screams of pleasure.  He fucked her
hard, driving his swollen organ into her body with a carnal desperation.

   "Y-yes, Master," Ahma choked out as the breath left her for a moment. 
Her entire body was tingling with a burning fire that made her dizzy.  Her
legs clenched to him.  As he drew back, her body lifted off the ground
slightly as she refused to release him.

   Methaniel gave her spike after spike of pleasure, making her screams
rise to a pitched crescendo.  Her pussy soaked both of them, coated her
Master's cock in thick honey that allowed him to ram into her all the more
smoothly.  Her thighs were saturated in her sticky fluids.  The fuck juice
was beginning to coat the rounded cheeks of her buttocks as well.  Her
slick gash was so needy, so accepting of his cock.  Her inner warmth was
like a welcoming den to his invading flesh.

   He filled his screaming lover, stretching her tight, sticky walls around
his plunging meat as she began to orgasm explosively.  Stars burst before
her eyes and her cunt squeezed down on him in spasming waves.  Her voice
quivered as her senses reeled into a world of pure and indescribable
pleasure.

   The Nobleman grunted, feeling Ahma's gigantic, fleshy breasts bouncing
tantalizingly against his chest with her orgasmic convulsions.

   "Gods, you're so tight," he muttered as he pounded into the Wingling
woman's yielding hole.  She cried out in bliss.  Thick, warm honey flooded
out of her convulsing fucktunnel as her orgasm exploded yet again.

   Ahma was totally lost.  All she could feel was the seemingly endless
explosion as she began to cum again.  His cock drove deep inside her,
burying into her sopping cunt.  Each thrust, each penetrating lunge made
her orgasm climb higher.  Her throaty moans and lusty squeals filled the
air.  Her arms clung to him and her fingers dug into the muscles on his
back.  She was so eager for him, dying for that feeling of being filled by
him.  She needed his cock.

   As his cock pounded mercilessly into her, Ahma cried out a third orgasm.
Her pussy gave a weak little gush of fluid, more dribble than anything, but
it still came rushing from her pussy and soaked his cock, dribbling down
her crack to tickle at her anus.

   Methaniel took hold of her and plunged into her completely.  The spasms
of her heated core washed over him.  As Ahma gasped desperately for air and
thrust her pussy onto him, he yanked almost completely out and then sank
into her in one deep, hard thrust.  His cock pumped into her.

   "Yes Master, give me your cum!  Give me your seed Master Merie, I want
it!  I want your seed inside me!" Ahma howled as spurt after spurt of hot,
gooey cum blasted into her.  It splattered inside her, coating her inner
walls in thick, syrupy ropes of cock cream.  Methaniel groaned and
continued to pump her full of burst after burst of cum until, packed
overfull, it came tumbling out of her stuffed hole to spatter onto her
mound, adding to the mess of juices already coating her smooth flesh.

   Ahma sank back onto the bed, cooing softly in happiness from the feeling
of his heated seed inside her.  She felt deep, body wearying satisfaction.
Methaniel kissed her forehead, cradling her body to him.  She clung tightly
to her Master, nuzzling her head against his wide shoulder and sighing
happily.  A moment later she giggled.

   "I'm all sticky."

   Methaniel laughed and helped her to wipe the excess fluid and sweat from
her body before taking her into his arms.  As she cuddled to his side,
something occurred to him.  The excitement fell from his face and his brow
furrowed thoughtfully.

   "Ahma...I begin to wonder if this is a wise thing for us to do.

   She stared up at him, confusion on her face as her eyes flashed with
alarm.  "What do you mean, Master?"

   He heard the note of hurt in her voice.  He gathered her onto his lap,
holding her to his chest.  He softly massaged the muscle between her wings.

   "I am worried, Ahma...I care for you.  I want to protect you.  And so I
fear how things would be for you if you should bear a child.  You would be
very vulnerable...and given our situation, and that neither of us know how
long it will be before we are truly safe...it could be disastrous."

   The panicked expression left her face.  "Master Merie...you don't know?"

   "Know what?" he replied.

   "Wingling women have...well...it's like a `heat'...a time once every
three years when we become fertile and able to conceive.  Beyond this time,
we may never become pregnant.  I'll know when the time comes.  Until then,
there's no need to worry."

   Methaniel's face visibly relaxed.  Ahma tilted her head and smiled
slightly.  "I thought you would have known.  Why do you think Wingling
women are so sought in Durinum as whores?"

   Methaniel chuckled and lightly cupped Ahma's still slightly sweaty
bosom. "I thought it was for...other reasons."

   Ahma giggled softly.  "Perhaps."

   "That is a relief," Methaniel said, "For a moment I was beginning to
fear I'd put both of us into a very precarious situation."

   "You had me worried, too," she admitted.  She bit her lower it, "I
thought perhaps you changed your mind about...us."

   "Nothing of the sort, Ahma," he assured her.  He caressed her back
gently, lovingly, trying to reassure her than everything was fine between
them.

   Ahma hesitated a moment, then took a deep breath and looked up into his
silvery eyes.  "Master?"

   "Yes?" he replied, searching her lovely face.

   Her words were meek, almost nervous.  "Can I tell you something?  You
may not like it...or find it uncomfortable...but I think you should know."

   "Of course," he nodded.  "You can tell me anything."

   Her eyes darted downward apprehensively.  "Winglings...they mate for
life," she said quickly.  She let her words come tumbling out, ignoring her
earlier decision to be patient with her Master.  She couldn't contain it
anymore.  "When I chose to mate with you, it...I'm not just simply sharing
my body with you.  I am committing myself to you...as my Mate.  Even should
you leave me...should you marry a Lady one day...you will always be Mate,
to me.  You will always be the man I dedicate myself to with all my being.
Our coupling much deeper than you probably realize...at least for me...and
I thought you should know."

   He gazed upon her apprehensive face.  Ahma blushed up at him, scared and
embarrassed and a little excited all at once.  Her eyes shimmered bright
and liquid as she stared up at him.

   Methaniel suddenly pulled her close to him, his thick, powerfully
muscled arms enfolding her naked body and cradling her close.  "I would be
honored to be your Mate," he whispered into her ear.

   The Nobleman drew back to see shining tears of shocked happiness in the
Wingling girl's eyes.  "I love you," he continued, his smile spreading soft
and warm.  "I said that before...and I meant it, truly.  You are unlike any
woman I have ever known, beyond the most noble of Ladies or well-bred
women. You are better than them all.  And I very much desire for you to be
my Mate."

   Ahma, her face beaming, let out a melodious, heartfelt laugh as she
flung herself into his comforting arms.  "I love you too, Master Merie!"
she exclaimed, nuzzling against his chest.  She smiled up at him.  Her
cheeks glowed under the faint tracing of joyful tears.  She pressed close
to him and let out a sigh of utter fulfillment.

   He caressed her hair, rubbing the silky strands idly.  As he looked down
on her face he couldn't help but smile.  Her joy radiated from her and
transformed her already stunning beauty into a sight both ethereal and
simple in its perfection.  He kissed her forehead.

   Ahma was satisfied in so many ways as she relaxed into her Mate.  She
thought distantly of how lucky she was...Master Merie accepted her as a
Mate.  He was everything she had ever wanted...kind, intelligent, handsome,
strong.  He had a way with words and a smile that, while normally hidden by
his serious demeanor, could melt her heart when he allowed it to be seen.

   And he loved her.  He said he wished to be Mate to her, and for her to
be Mate to him.  She had dared to hope, in her heart of hearts, for such a
reply.  But she hadn't expected it, not really.  A feeling of bliss greater
than any other enfolded her, and she now knew that no matter what may come,
they would be together, sharing their lives as Mates.

   Mates.

   Ahma fell into a restful slumber, the thought of her husband, her life,
her Mate circling in her sleepy thoughts.



   End Ch.  11

   This chapter wasn't terribly eventful, but it did start the next leg of
the journey off nicely I think.  Nice little sex scene, character and
relationship development, all that good stuff.  I also included the
explanation about the Maps because I received some emails from readers who
wanted to get a better sense of geography.  And since I suck at drawing,
this'll just have to do.

   Things start to pick up shortly in several ways.  It's still a bit
before we get into the real meaty bits of the storyline...but there'll be
plenty of action and intrique along the way to keep things interesting in
the meantime.

   Oh, and plenty of sex, too!  So till next time, stay tuned!

   Please send any questions, comments, and/or critiques to:
Crouching_Buddha2000@yahoo.com 


  
Rising Ch. 11