Emissary- Of Gods and Monsters, page 19
part #1 of The Divine Monsters Series
“She’s beautiful,” I said, wrapping an arm around Rikki’s shoulder and reaching back for Jarah’s hand. This was the magic of forest birth, the creation of new life now that the forest’s energies had been rebalanced.
“And so young,” Rikki said. “Her horns are tiny nubs. I wonder what shape they will take as she grows.”
When the newborn woman tried to stand, her legs folded up beneath her and sent her tumbling back into the leaves. Her face contorted into mild confusion and she bleated, a short, fast sound that frightened her. The other satyrs chuckled while one reached down to help the woman up.
Her long tail wagged behind her, with the smallest puff of fur at its tip.
“Someone, take her into the temple,” Kirsis said. “She has much to learn if she is to serve a god such as me.”
“So that’s it then,” I said. “You have your servant and we have our freedom?”
“Yes,” he said. “Redelia is a smart one. She knew what I wanted, and that your success would supply it.”
“Such foresight,” I said. “She is a marvelous woman.”
“I don’t sense the same umbrage from you this time,” he said, “to learn that the goddess used your efforts as but a single rung on a larger ladder.”
“No,” I said. “I am quickly making my peace with the world’s way.”
“Good,” he replied. “Now, I will permit you each to take a single waterskin of cherry wine for your travels.”
“Thank you!” Rikki said.
“All I ask,” he continued, “is that you think of me when the wine warms your blood and overpowers your loins with lust.”
“Is that part really necessary?” I asked.
“No.” He laughed a deep guffaw and clapped me on the back. “In fact, it’s probably best that you don’t.”
1
Her voice was a beautiful aria, entrancing me with such lyrical beauty that my ear wandered from the words she spoke. I leaned against my wooden staff, digging its flat end into the dirt for support as I stood there, lost in auditory rapture, captivated by the singsong trill of an avian woman whose blue tongue revealed itself only in those fleeting moments her curved beak opened just so.
After a brief pause, the harpy asked, “Is that a yes or a no?”
She held no frustration on her face, only curiosity and, perhaps, timidity. In the month since we founded our work camp outside Redelia’s old temple, a dozen harpies and at least as many golems pledged their loyalty to the goddess and, by extension, to me. As Redelia’s holy emissary, my word was law among us and my command a gospel they all obeyed.
I had grown to know each of them well. They worked hard under the constant threat that the royal army would seek its revenge on the forest and all who dwelt in it. With the king’s oldest son slain by my hand for all his subjects to see and a tower of his captive forestkind set free, the king would have no choice but to avenge his losses toward us.
Our only saving grace was distance. Redelia’s temple lay on the continent’s south, a half-day’s walk from the southernmost settlement in Greenloft’s realm. On a map, it was the polar opposite of Greenloft proper, the bustling capital with its impressive castle and dense population of human men and women far to the north.
I had been like them once, blindly loyal to a dynasty of monarchs that took my taxes and kept my peace.
How simple I had been.
While we worked at improving the weathered stone cylinder that Redelia kept as her holy abode, she sat upon her altar and prayed. For answers. For safety. For the balance of the world itself.
“Victor?” the harpy asked again.
I shook my head to loosen the hold her voice had claimed on my attention and the distracting gravity of the task we had undertaken.
“I must apologize, Fayzia,” I said. “You speak with such melody and grace that the pleasure of hearing eclipses the virtue of… actually… listening.”
She laughed, another hypnotic tune I struggled to resist. Her modest chuckle sent her shoulders up and down in quick movements that drew my eyes down her svelte, slim torso. Her body was almost human in the places her feathers did not cover, though her mane was a comb of longer blue feathers that tapered to a point somewhere down the middle of her back.
She stared at me from eyes the deepest blue with no white surrounding. While her beak did not permit a smile, the crinkle of her eyes spoke of warmth and patience.
“That’s the second time this week,” she said. “Surely I do not speak with any greater musicality than my sisters.”
“And surely you are too modest,” I said. “But now you have my undivided focus.”
“Good,” she said. “We are ready to place the sunstone. Our golem cousins have finished the temple spire that raises the peak of Redelia’s temple to new heights, but it surpasses the forest canopy.”
“By design,” I said. “Redelia wishes to soak in the gleam of the sun itself and turn its light toward divine purpose.”
“Of course,” she replied. “I just thought we should check with you before securing the sunstone because… it is very high.”
“I’ve seen your sisters fly before,” I said. “Their wings are strong and broad.”
“They are,” she said.
I rubbed my chin, momentarily dismayed at the beard that grew there. A byproduct of a month spent sleeping with leaves for a roof and nothing but stream and pond for bath and basin. It was not a long beard, not yet, but I was unaccustomed to its texture.
“You’re concerned,” I said. I wanted to say afraid but I would regret to insult this woman after weeks of valiant effort. Construction was a noisy affair that might draw unwanted dangers, yet she persisted night and day. That took a bravery I would not dare ignore. Here in the open, we were all afraid in our own ways, but her present concern was far more specific.
“When you fly above the trees,” I continued, “it will take a handful of you to lift the stone and set it properly, an endeavor that will require time to employ the proper finesse. The distinct and alluring sight of your combined azure plumage would be the most vibrant display of our presence here, disrupting the care we have taken to conceal ourselves this long.”
“Precisely,” she said. Tension she carried in her shoulders fell away then, the burden lifting from her chest.
“The lamia have been patrolling the rivers that lead to the outer waters and back,” I continued. “Each day they pass their news to our ears, and each day it has been the same. No ships of war have left the castle’s port, and no battalion of armored guards has been seen to march these trees.”
She nodded gently, the security of our position still not a certainty in her mind.
“Approach the river and dip your beak beneath,” I said. “Speak your question below the water’s surface and listen well for its answer.”
“What question?” she asked.
“Whether any movement of the king’s forces has been detected since the lamia’s last report,” I said. “Delay your installation of the sunstone until a satisfactory answer. Your concern provides us an opportunity to doubly verify our combined safety. We work to save lives here, not chance them.”
“So I did well to seek your guidance?” she asked, bowing slightly.
“Yes, you did well.” I placed my hand on her head and nestled my fingers beneath soft, downy feathers so I could ruffle them gently. I pet her until she shook, her whole body rippling from the force of that spontaneous movement.
Satisfied at a job well done and appropriately rewarded, she turned and hopped away toward the trees that led to the river’s nearest point.
“I told you,” Rikki said. The satyress stomped through the underbrush on her way toward me, her voice insistent and her face stern. She held Jarah’s hand in her own, leading the cyclops behind her.
Jarah’s impressive height forced her to duck below low-hanging boughs and brush away branches that Rikki easily strode beneath, otherwise the trees might tangle in Jarah’s long blonde hair or jab her large, lavender eye. She swatted the forest away handily; those tree limbs were no obstacle for a woman as muscled and strong as my cyclopean giantess.
“He flirts with Fayzia,” Rikki said. She huffed outward, flaring the large nostrils that lined her dark nose. The way her head tilted slightly down, as if aiming her large spiraled horns toward me, told me she was indeed upset. Jarah, however, simply shrugged.
“Harpies communicate thanks through gentle touch,” I said. “You know this.”
“I know what touch can speak,” Rikki said, “and the list is longer than mere appreciation. Jarah?”
“I’ve told you,” Jarah said, now standing straight and smoothing out the bright blue fabric of the skirt that knotted at one hip and draped across her legs from there. “I trust Victor wouldn’t hurt or betray us, and I have no issue with affording affection where affection is due. I’m surprised you do.”
“I decide who I share with,” Rikki said. “I am selfish that way.”
“Rikki Silena,” I said. “You are not a selfish woman and you never have been.”
“Then what?” she asked, whipping her long tail at the ground. A stray leaf took up residence amidst the ball of fluffed fur at her tail’s tip, which Jarah plucked clean and tossed aside. “You think I’m finicking without reason?”
“No,” I said, stepping toward her and resting my wooden staff against a nearby tree. “You wonder if my devotion will falter under the lure of a pretty distraction, and for that you need never worry.” I took her hand and pulled her closer to me. She looked away, in exaggeration more than anything else, so I kissed her bare shoulder and then her neck — lifting my head when she squirmed against the scratchiness of my new beard.
“That will not do,” Rikki said, straightening her posture so that she stood tall and forced her chest forward. A tight red scarf held her supple breasts beneath and tied in a bright bow behind her back. “I require proof of your unyielding desire.”
My hands slipped behind her and traced up her spine, smoothing over her bare shoulder blades before stopping at her upper back. Tense muscles at the base of her neck knotted with capricious frustration. I probed my fingers against the burdens she carried. Her body loosened and leaned against mine as my fingers dug into her flesh.
“My words might not quell your worries, but surely my fingers write the truth across your skin,” I said. Rikki moaned lightly and allowed her body to sway as my hands massaged deeply. “Our bodies are one. My hands are yours and they do your bidding.”
“This is hardly fair,” Rikki said, rolling her head and breathing deeply as she relaxed in my hands. “I will grow accustomed to this pampered kneading.”
“I count on your body to make peace with your mind,” I said.
Rikki’s hands rested on my chest, her palms warming the tight black vest that covered me. In the month since acquiring this armored outfit, the dark leather pants and vest had molded to my body like a second skin. I savored Rikki’s touch through my vest, though touch against natural skin would be all the better.
“You may delve your fingers into my worries,” Rikki said, “but it is not the only place that aches for a firm touch.” She placed her hands on my arms and slid them downward so that my fingers followed, resting only once my palms were firmly cupped around her powerful rear.
“I must know you prefer to dock in familiar harbors,” she said, her oversized mouth erupting into a devilish grin. “Prove your devotion slowly, Victor. I intend to take a long time to convince.”
“I should like to witness that,” Redelia said. The goddess lifted her legs high as she walked toward us, her acolytes clearing a path while they carried looking stones that shone brightly from their cupped hands.
Redelia’s charcoal gray body was scantily covered. An equally gray robe draped loosely from her shoulders and ended mid-thigh. Her sightless eyes were firmly shut, their long white eyelashes matching the brilliant mane of snowy hair that flowed over her shoulders and down her back.
“However,” Redelia continued, her expression turning more serious, “your presence is required in private. We have an urgent matter to discuss.”
The goddess turned then and left before Rikki could begin to protest.
“But I wanted to…” the satyress started. “I thought…” She touched the tip of her hoof to the dirt and dragged it backward, a sign that her frustration, physical or otherwise, was mounting.
“Redelia has summoned us,” I said. Then, knowing Rikki’s caprine intractability, “Jarah?”
The cyclops nodded and reached beneath Rikki’s arms with her own, locking her fingers around her wrists across Rikki’s upper chest and forcing Rikki’s arms to lift within Jarah’s tight embrace.
“What’s going on?” Rikki asked.
“Nothing,” I said, reaching low to grasp Rikki’s heels. Her hooves were hard and the brown fur of her lower legs long and soft as I lifted her from the ground and perched her legs over my shoulders. Rikki’s hips dipped as the space between myself and Jarah was not so great as to stretch Rikki’s body flat across. She squirmed a bit as Jarah walked backward and I forward, but she refrained from the kicking and bucking I knew she was capable of.
“This is not funny,” she said, tossing her cinnamon-brown hair as she shook her head. Rikki’s back rested against Jarah’s chest, her single central breast providing ample cushion for the satyress as we carried her toward Redelia’s renovated temple. “I want my massage!”
What had once been a simple cylinder of drab stone — hollowed enough to hold the goddess at its center with a ring of added space for acolytes and worshippers to gather in close quarters — had grown under my watch.
Her original chamber was now the central room where she could seal herself away in private for meditation and security both. A wider cylinder encompassed that structure, providing smaller rooms with doors and simple furniture. Redelia could welcome new acolytes now, or provide quarter to guests and refugees.
Each room held a simple glowing stone in its ceiling’s center, a source of light but also a means by which to capture it. They were looking stones, and nothing here would come to pass without Redelia’s watchful mind to see it.
Redelia led our small party to the heart of her central chamber and shut the stone slab door behind her.
“Now,” Rikki said, brushing herself off after we set her on her hooves again. “What was so important that it subordinates the demands of the flesh?”
Redelia sat upon her throne, a spacious seat carved from a single piece of granite. She leaned forward and spoke with a voice that was low and secret. “I, the goddess of captured light, am dying.”
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About the Author
Silas Post lives and breathes tales of passion and wonder.
Where gods and beasts seek comfort in human flesh? He’s there. Where myth and magic clash with savage brilliance? Here’s there too. Where the gentle touch of monster maidens arouses darker desires? Oh yeah. He’s definitely there.
Join him.
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Now, if you're ready to venture back into the world forest with Victor, Rikki, Jarah, and the goddess Redelia, follow this link to grab your copy of Emissary: Beasts of Burden (Book 2) today!
Other Works
The Divine Monsters Trilogy
Emissary: Of God and Monster (Book 1)
Emissary: Beasts of Burden (Book 2)
Emissary: Gods and Ends (Book 3)
Silas Post, Emissary- Of Gods and Monsters
