Akashima Saga: Luxuria

[Breaker]

Josh rose late in the morning. By the time he made it to the main floor of the inn, his breakfast became lunch. He munched on a satisfactory offering of dried sausage and grainy bread, elbows resting on the wooden tabletop as he considered his options.

He preferred to get an early start when travelling, and having missed half a day, decided to spend another night at the inn. As he flicked the last crumbs of his meal around the plate, he wrote up a mental list of items he might need to purchase. Josh liked lists; they created order even in the most chaotic situations. Foremost in his mind was a map. Travelling down the seaward side of the mountain was far more perilous than travelling up the landward side, if the rumours were true. Rather than a single, clear cut road the descent would take him through a series of intertwining, often overgrown paths. The soldier didn’t feel like getting lost, so a decent map became a necessity.

Sidling over to the reception desk, Josh rang the silver bell. The chime floated through the empty first floor of the lodge, and the Akashiman innkeeper appeared once more. The bald man in the flowing kimono approached with his usual wide grin.

“Hewwo suh, did you have a good night wast night?” the innkeeper asked enthusiastically. Josh decided to spare him the details. He wanted to keep the conversation as short as possible.

“I’m going to be staying another night,” he said, “I’ll pay for it now, as I might leave early in the morning.” Gold exchanged hands, the innkeeper nodding and smiling, but Josh didn’t let him get a word in edgewise. “Also, could you recommend a store where I might buy a decent map of the footpaths between here and Akashima?” He waited a few seconds while the innkeeper deciphered his question, then got a big smile.

“Ah yes suh, I know vewwy good sto’. My bwotha’ own sto’ just fwee’ stweet ova’. You find evwything you need fo’ twavos’ in his sto’, suh.” The Akashiman bobbed his bald head in a miniature bow.

“A store with all my travelling needs three streets over. That’s convenient. I just hope I don’t wind up throttling his brother in frustration.”

Josh thanked the innkeeper and exited the building. A firm wind pushed him along the sun streaked streets of Pagration. A few locals were out and about, and he received several good-natured nods as he followed the innkeeper’s directions.

“This is a pretty friendly place, for such a remote town. Ah, this must be it. The Traveler’s Troubles? Is that a joke?”

The owner had hung a wind chime from the wooden door, and it clanked awkwardly as he pushed through. All manner of mismatched items cluttered the store, from rusted weapons to folding chairs. Josh zigzagged through the melange and arrived at the counter. A bald Akashiman stood behind it. Josh knew immediately he had come to the right store; if they hadn’t dressed differently, he probably wouldn’t have been able to tell the brothers apart. The shopkeeper greeted him with a friendly nod and smile. Josh took a deep breath.

“I need a map,” he began, hands fumbling for the universal sign for map, “of the footpaths,” his fingers walked through the air, “between here and Akashima.” He gestured with his right hand then his left hand, waggling them to indicated different locations. The shopkeeper rolled his eyes.

He said, “My brother sent you, didn’t he?”

[The Sweetest Thing]

He moved so quietly, she almost missed him.

The broad shouldered man with the strange scar was halfway down the street before Stacia noticed him. She sprang from her seat and peered out of the nook, watching him until he rounded the corner. She picked up her skirts and scampered furtively across the road, dust stirring beneath her feet whisked away by the mountain wind. Glancing over her shoulder, the girl entered the Mountaintop Lodge.

The interior felt comfortably cool, like the shaded nook across the street. She could smell the woodsmoke from the previous night’s fire. Her delicate chin turned left and right. The room was empty. With dainty steps she crossed to the reception counter and rang the silver bell twice. The musical chime had barely begun when a bald man in funny robes popped up from behind the counter. His wide grin got even wider when he saw the beautiful girl who had arrived at his inn.

“Hewwo young miss, what can I do fo’ you?”

Stacia took a deep breath and leaned across the counter, her fingers splayed on the oak grain. Although her dress wasn’t low cut, she arched her back enough that the innkeeper would still receive a pleasurable sight. A sensual smile filled her eyes and curved her lips as she pressed her face close to his and spoke in a quiet, confidential voice.

“I do be from next door,” she said, then added, “I work there.” To abate the innkeeper’s confusion. His eyes widened and he nodded rapidly, for once at a loss for words as he stared down her dress.

“Last night some men did cause a little trouble, and a patron of yours helped us get rid of them.” Her soft pink tongue wetted pale lips that pouted, eyes begging. “My Matron do wish for me to thank him properly. Could you let me into room twenty-two please? I would surprise him.”

She had never seen a man find a key so quickly. He led her up the stairs and unlocked room twenty-two, then backed away, bowing at every other step. She half expected him to fall down the stairs, but he handled them skilfully enough and kept bowing, almost hitting his forehead as he descended. Giggling quietly to herself, Stacia pulled the door shut behind her and set about searching the room.

She ran into a problem almost immediately. The man didn’t seem to own anything. A strange backpack filled with what she expected from any traveller; some food and a few changes of clothes. The wardrobe was empty. She dropped to her knees and checked under the bed, finding nothing but musty dust bunnies. Next she sat on the bed, feeling its bounce. She could smell the scar faced man on the sheets, his sweat like some mysterious perfume. On a whim she moved the pillow, and gasped.

Folded neatly next to the headboard were two leather wrapped sticks connected by a length of chain. She had seen that type of bizarre, flexible weapon only once before. One of the highwaymen had used them to kill one of her guards. She hastily replaced the pillow and sat, thinking. She had failed to find anything useful; the man carried no clues as to his origins. Her mind worked furiously until the sound of the door swinging open reached her ears. Her head snapped around and she cried out in shock, falling off the bed as a black blur stormed into the room.

[Breaker]

Once Josh got over the embarrassment of having assumed the shopkeeper would be as difficult as his brother, he found the Akashiman quite helpful. He was articulate, well educated and generous. Josh purchased a hiker’s map that detailed many of the clearest trails between Pagration and Akashima. The shopkeeper’s salesmanship combined with his own embarrassment convinced him to also buy a loaf of nut bread, a condensed protein spread, a bag of dried fruit and two canteens full of fine Elvin wine. The wind chime clanked behind him and he carried the paper bag full of his new possessions back to the Mountaintop Lodge.

He gave the innkeeper a friendly nod and tried to walk past, but the Akashiman spoke up.

"Vewwy good to see you again suh. Did my bwotha' se' you evwything you need?" There was a bizarre devil-may-care attitude behind the bald man's friendly smile. Josh wondered if he had been into the magical elixirs. Hoping to brush the innkeeper off, he nodded and spoke quickly.

"Yes, got everything I need, thank you for the recommendation." He started for the stairs, but wasn't about to escape that easily.

"You buy good map? Why not you show me you map? I know aw' of the besht trail fwom hunting fo' meat!" The Akashiman moved to the reception counter, beckoning Josh and pulling a charcoal pencil from a drawer. Josh sighed and rolled his eyes behind the man's back, but complied. He pulled the map from his bag and unrolled it on the counter.

"You she heah?" The innkeeper indicated Pagration on the map. "Thish the path you want to take." He drew a black line along the central path until it forked into two. "An' heah," he continued drawing, "Eitho' woute will get you to Akashima, but you take weft hand path; much fastha' and cleawa'. From theah'," he traced a complex route through the intertwining lines on the map, his pencil finally arriving at and circling Akashima. "You get theah' in onwy' fwee' day with fasht walking!"

Josh thanked the inkeeper, rolled the map back into the paper bag and very nearly ran away. “That guy is eight different kinds of weird,” he thought, “I’m definitely locking my door tonight.”

The smell of something roasting in the inn’s kitchens filled the building, and had Josh looking forwards to the evening meal. The stairs creaked beneath his weight as he climbed towards his room.

“I haven’t got much to do between now and dinnertime. I may as well stow this stuff and head to the wilderness for a workout." He thought, shifting the paper bag onto one arm and fiddling for his key, "I could certainly use a decent appetite; whatever is cooking in the kitchens smells delic... wait, this isn’t right.”

Breaker froze, pressed his back against the rough oak wall. His door stood slightly ajar, and yet he specifically remembered locking it. He lowered the paper bag to the floor silently as he strained to hear inside the room. “There’s definitely someone in there, but they’re not moving much. Have I pissed anyone off enough recently to warrant an ambush?”

He remembered the two men from the night before, and the drunk whose foot he had stomped. A dangerous smile stretched his lips as he crouched against the open door. He liked ambushes. Because when he knew someone was waiting for him, it became a trap for them. The soldier breathed soundlessly and felt his muscles coil like compressed springs. One, he counted silently, two...

He burst through the door, moving below waist height, rolling in a tight ball towards the back corner of the room. He came out of the roll and spun a hundred and eighty degrees, all five senses on the alert for danger. He smelled a sweet ivory soap, heard a cry of shock, and watched a beautiful young girl fall awkwardly on the floor.

Breathing hard to try to calm the adrenaline raging in his veins, he peered over the bed at the girl on the floor. It took him a moment to recognize her. If it weren’t for the blonde hair and red highlights, he probably wouldn’t have made a connection between the girl lying on the floor and the ragamuffin he had seen crumpled in a similar position the previous night. She was beautiful. Exemplarily so; everything from her sapphire eyes, to her fine-boned hands, to the dress she wore elicited a pure carnal attraction. He extended a hand, offering to help her to her feet.

“Who are you and what are you doing in my room?” He inquired, trying to keep his voice friendly. No need to frighten her. He delved into her deep blue eyes, trying to crack the mystery of the strange girl’s presence.

[The Sweetest Thing]

How did he move so quietly?

Stacia lay on the floor, quaking in shock as the giant towered over her. The Y-shaped scar stood out prominently on his face but failed to compromise his handsome jaw and strong features. The thick stubble that covered his chin suggested he had been on the road for several days. Like her, he was dressed in black, although having seen the contents of his backpack, she figured black was pretty much every day for him. What does it take for men to have a little fashion sense? She wondered.

Stacia accepted the man’s hand. His tanned arm dwarfed her pale one, and he pulled her upright as if she weighed nothing. Her well educated mind snapped up his questions and worked with them. She fabricated lies as easily and quickly as her body had stood up.

“My name is Stacia Alliendra,” She began, using the same breathy tone that had worked so well on the innkeeper. She kept a hold on his forearm, squeezing gently in intimate fashion. By the Thaynes, his arms were thick as tree branches, and easily as hard.

“Josh Cronen,” he replied simply, introducing himself. His hazel eyes penetrated her, as if he were staring at a puzzle but didn’t have the picture on the box to guide him. His keen gaze only made her falter for a moment.

“My Matron did wish to thank you for saving us from those wretched men last night,” she breathed, taking his large calloused hand in both of hers. “When she asked for a volunteer I hastened to offer myself.” She tried to press his palm onto her chest but found it like trying to uproot an oak. His gaze never wavered.

“Your Matron was furious with me,” he responded. “She probably would have flayed me alive if I didn’t get out when I did.” He didn’t sound angry; only pensive. Stacia did not allow herself to become frustrated. Contrary to popular belief, not all men were ready to fall into bed with strange women, no matter how beautiful.

“She may have been angry, sir, but—“
“Call me Josh,” he interrupted. Stacia continued seamlessly.

“She may have been angry, Josh, but my Matron is no unreasonable woman. I did tell her how you saved me from those men—“ he cut her off again.

“... and she decided to send one of her whores over to give me a free ride?” He still sounded calm. Musing, even. Stacia’s mere presence had most men salivating to see her in her skin. Carefully controlled anger flared within the young girl. She hated being called a whore, and Cronen’s refusal of her charms quickly became stymieing.

“For true sir, my Matron only suggested it.” She hopped nimbly from one lie to the next, like an expert skier navigating moguls. “I did come here of my own accord. If only to thank you...” unable to move his arm towards her, she stepped closer and managed to rub her soft neck against his coarse fingers. “... In any way that I may, Josh.”

She pressed against him until he was forced to step backwards. His knees struck the mattress and he sat heavily on the bed. Her milky hands clasped his neck, dainty fingers massaging key points. Physically he relaxed, but those bloody eyes still bored holes in her. As if he could see through the lies, and was just waiting for her to make a mistake. He looked amused rather than lustful. Well, she would show him. She straddled his lap, pressed her face against his and exhaled gently across his ear. She felt him respond; felt his warmth swell against her. And yet...”

“Well, you’ve thanked me. What’s all this for?” He sounded as if he were asking about the bloody weather! Tears of frustration sprang into her eyes. Most men were on her inside fifteen seconds. They paid whatever her Mistress asked them for an hour of her time. A sudden dry sob wracked her body. Where had that come from? Tears leaked unbidden down her cheeks as memories from the previous night careened wildly throughout her. The fear and pain, the blood on her hands as Elliot sank into the swamp...

Cronen’s arms finally enfolded her, but in a comforting embrace. The lies were all gone; she couldn’t control herself or the rampant emotions from the damaging night before. She buried her face in the man’s broad shoulder and cried herself out.

[Breaker]

“Well... this is a little awkward.”

Josh held the girl firmly as she sobbed into his shoulder. The change had been instantaneous; from seductive succubae to weeping maiden faster than he could blink.

He stared at the rough oak wardrobe as tears soaked his black T-shirt. He had detected a trace of untruth in the girl almost immediately. It was mostly curiosity that kept him goading her. Something awful had happened to Stacia the night before, her unstable condition combined with her appearance the previous night proved that.

“I wonder if it had anything to do with those guys I tossed out of the brothel? Shit, I should have broken their damn hands.”

Josh breathed heavily as his lust for the nymph receded. She would never know how close she had come to successfully seducing him. In retrospect, he was glad he had resisted. The awkward situation would have grown exponentially worse if she had burst into tears while naked beneath him.

“Stop thinking about her naked. It’s counterproductive.”

Breaker rarely felt at odds with himself, but he had never really been a “shoulder” before. Women turned to him for comfort, just not as a saltwater basin. His large, callused hand massaged the girl’s shapely shoulder blades. She felt good; smooth and supple, soft and firm in all the right places. Her skin had a satiny quality that slid sensually beneath his...

“Okay, crying time is over. I can’t take this anymore.”

He stood up like a suddenly erected tent pole, rotated on the spot and crouched to set Stacia on the bed. Had to unlatch her legs and arms from behind his back, for she clung like a sleepy child. Josh walked to the wall and pressed his forehead against the coarse wood. Slowly, he counted backwards from ten. Then from twenty. He heard the girl hiccup and sniffle behind him. Tried to shut out the silky sound as she dried her eyes with those perfect, fine boned hands. He pulled the room’s only chair over, dumped his backpack on the floor and sat facing her, outside of her arm’s reach. He felt safer that way. She sat in a moulded position, even grief stricken as she was. Trim white ankles crossed neatly below the folds of her black skirts, hands clasped but curled against her chest like a doll. She seemed at a loss for words. Josh took a long breath, and then spoke.

“Uh... do you want to talk about it?” What a stupid thing to say, but at least it got the ball rolling. Eyes focused on the floor, Stacia sniffled again and shook her head. Her hair quaked and cascaded, the rosy highlights tantalizing between the yellow tresses. Josh turned his head away and took another long breath. He needed to think before speaking. He knew he could carry on an intelligent conversation; it had happened many times before.

“Look...” he said, trying to build up some momentum. “My guess is something pretty awful happened to you last night. Whatever the hell it was, you probably don’t want to tell anyone about it.” He was stating the obvious. Another deep breath and he ploughed onwards. “Look, all you can do for now is realize whatever happened, it’s over now, and it wasn’t your fault. Just repress it that way until you find someone you trust enough to tell the whole story to.” It sounded like terrible advice, but it worked well enough for him. At least it gave her something to think about. The girl wiped her eyes one last time, then finally looked up at him. Good. Josh met her gaze with piercing hazel eyes.

“Now... what the hell are you doing in my room?”

[The Sweetest Thing]

Stacia couldn’t believe herself. She hadn’t broken down like that since she was a little girl. The horrid memories had overwhelmed her though, and something about Joshua Cronen’s presence made her feel... safe. His statuesque body had made a surprisingly good pillow. Stacia’s cheeks took on a reddish tinge as she noted the watermark on the shoulder of his shirt. The man’s eyes adopted a softness as he consoled her, and then turned razor sharp when he changed his pace. The question caught Stacia off guard.

“I... I saw what you did to those-tho-” Her lies had come out smooth and sweet as honey, and yet she choked and stammered on the truth. “Those men, last night. The way you fought... so fast. I just wanted to learn... that. It was amazing.” She took a deep breath, relieved at finally getting it out. Her wide eyes drank Josh in. He looked humbly proud at the mention of his skill. The same confident aura that had surrounded him in the heat of combat returned. He shrugged his broad shoulders, shirt rippling on the solid flesh beneath.

“It took me years of training and experience to get to the level I’m at,” he said simply, “and I’m leaving for Akashima tomorrow. I could teach you a few things right now, but...” he trailed off at the crestfallen posture of Stacia’s shoulders. A daring idea struck the girl, but before she could speak he guessed her intention.

“I can’t take you with me,” there was no emotion in his tone, just statement of fact. “I travel too fast. Besides, I doubt your Matron would approve.” He shrugged again, but hope flared in Stacia’s heart.

“I don’t...” she started, and then stopped herself. She had almost told him that she didn’t live in Pagration. That she was from the Sisterhood in Scara Brae and would gladly give up her slave like existence to travel with him. But shame filled her at the idea of admitting she had lied. Besides, she had no money, at least not with her. She would not attempt to burden this generous man with herself. “I don’t think so either.” She amended. A lump of disappointment knotted her smooth throat, and she swallowed it with difficulty. “I’d be grateful even for a short lesson, though.” She added. Josh seemed relieved. Perhaps he felt guilty for shattering her hopes. It’s wasn’t his fault though. He stood up and she followed suit, watching him effortlessly lift the bed and stack it against the wardrobe. The chair wedged against both gave them a decent sized clear area. She felt compelled to be truthful with him, an irregular notion.

“I know a little already,” her voice sounded small in the open space, and she twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “I know some self defence. I’ve learned how to cut off the airway. It brings even the strongest men to their knees.” He nodded wisely, and for a moment seemed to be rehearsing a scenario in his head. Then he motioned her closer.

“Go ahead,” he told her, and his voice had taken on a cheerful tone. This man truly enjoyed fighting. “Show me the best you’ve got.”

Stacia took a moment to prepare herself, removing her shoes and sliding them into the corner. Then she ran towards Joshua. He stood with his knees slightly bent, hands relaxed at his sides, simply waiting. She lifted her foot, used his thick thigh as a step and grabbed onto the collar of his shirt. She swung around him like an Amazon on a vine, legs locking around his stomach a she landed on his back. Her right arm threaded between his chin and chest, pressing against his windpipe. Her right hand went on her left bicep, the tiny muscle tightening as her left hand clasped the back of his head. She arched her back and squeezed, feeling his strong pulse against her arm. Soon it would weaken, and he would crumble like a rotted oak. At least, that was what she expected.

Instead he stayed relaxed, reached up with one of his monstrous hands and gripped her left wrist. With a sudden jerk he pulled it forwards, off the back of his head, breaking the choke hold. Meanwhile his right hand had snuck between her clasped ankles and unhooked the body lock. Stacia barely managed to get her feet beneath her as she landed hard on the floor, her arm still trapped, the elbow arched over his shoulder. She gasped in shock. Never had she seen a person break out of the dominant back choke so easily; what was more, if he had turned her wrist her arm would have broken. And so the learning began.

He was an excellent teacher, explaining the technique in many different ways, allowing her to succeed only when she did it right. They drilled the choke and escape for hours. Stacia shed sweat upon the rough floorboards, but Josh never seemed to tire. She had never spent so much time learning a single technique. He taught her several variations on the choke, how to escape from them, and then how to cancel out the escapes. The endless possibilities piled up in her mind, a vast stack of variations on what she had thought was a simple technique. By the time Josh called a halt to the workout, Stacia’s arms ached from the effort.

“Good work,” Cronen said, wiping a thin coat of perspiration from his forehead. It was hers, transferred by a sliding arm. “You’re like a noose now. Remember to never let that choke go slack and people will fall asleep in your arms.” Stacia smiled at him as he replaced the room’s furniture. He was an enigma to her, but she chose not to question him, for she liked what she saw.

She didn’t want to make an awkward goodbye of it. Best to just turn away, show some strength. She put a hand on his chest, the black shirt damp from her sweat. Stretching onto her tiptoes, she couldn’t quite reach his cheek, so she pecked him on the side of the neck.

“Thank you. I hope you have a good time in Akashima.” She turned away before he could respond. What would he say? Have a good time being a whore? Her eyes stung as she put on her shoes and fled the Mountaintop Lodge. Exhausted mentally and physically, she dodged the ministrations of Matron Silter and crashed upon her bed, falling into a dream filled sleep.

[Breaker]

Josh watched her swishing hips twitch around the corner. The door clicked shut, snapping him from a near-reverie. He rubbed his throat ruefully. Stacia learned quickly.

“I haven’t had a student in a long time, especially not one as keen as her. It almost might be worth...”

No. It was a bad idea. He cracked his neck, the popping of realigning vertebra calming to his ears. She would get sick of him quickly, if he made the mistake of taking her along. Besides, the trip would take twice as long with a young girl in tow. From the scale on the map he had purchased, Josh figured he could make Akashima in two days if he pressed himself. More like five or even six if Stacia came.

“So why am I still thinking about it? I made the decision when she asked me. I started this journey alone, and I’ll finish it the same way.”

Breaker lay down on the bed, his long frame spanned the length of the mattress. He breathed slowly, meditating. His thoughts drifted to the immediate future. His task for the night didn’t require much figuring; he had done it many times before. Besides, he liked to improvise. Best to let the situation evolve on its own, with him the catalyst charging it. There was no hesitation in his mind, no second guessing himself. The moral code he lived by demanded action. It would have done the same even if he hadn’t grown fond of Stacia. As fond as he could grow of someone in such a short time, at least.

“Too bad this room doesn’t have a window,” he thought. Based on his fairly accurate internal clock, he guessed the sky outside would be darkening, the clouds pooling and the birds roosting. As the nocturnal creatures stirred, he felt his body truly wake up, in a different way than Stacia had aroused him. His blood rose like the tide at full moon, and a tingling sensation spurred his stony muscles. The witching hour approached; the killing hour.

Locked in a meditative void, his superhuman senses increased to new levels. He felt the building shift, heard the wind whistle in the eaves. Smells from the kitchen far below reached his nose, and he munched on food from the Traveller’s Troubles to slake his hunger. Footsteps creaked all over the inn, and glasses clinked in the common room. With untold patience he waited for a particular sound.

A short while later, familiar raucous laughter reached his ears. He closed his eyes and listened, savouring the anticipation the sound evoked. One of the throaty voices sounded weaker than the other. As if someone had kicked the laugher hard in the solar plexus the previous night. Breaker allowed himself ten seconds more, a wide grin spreading across his face. The time ticked away, and he swung himself upright, serious as a stone. There was work to be done.

He descended the stairs like a shadow, boots silent on the solid oak, careful to avoid the steps that squeaked. Leaning against the wall, he peered casually into the common room. One blond and one brown head of greasy hair bobbed as the owners guffawed and drank, their backs facing him. His head swivelled to take in the rest of the room. The familiar drunk sat slumped over the bar, breathing steady. The innkeeper had vanished. Breaker edged along the wall, treading only on the firmest sections of floor. The fire burned lower as he sat down behind the upright piano, hunched on the bench to conceal his head. His fingers found the right keys and he played a dark, low E minor chord.

The men in front of the hearth reacted immediately.

“Ahh, that sounds nice, who’s at the piano? Place us a merry tune boy!” The dark man growled as loud as his injured abdominals would allow.

“Nah,” his partner countered, “Keep it soft ‘n’ sombre lad, that’s what I likes!” They crashed glasses audibly and continued bantering on a new topic. It took Josh a moment to remember the fingering. He played an A minor chord, then a G, a light melodic D, then reverted to the E minor. While one hand worked the ivory keys the other reached up and lifted the piano’s cover, allowing the sound to swell into the room. His steely fingers closed around the lowest, thickest A string and plucked it as easily as a hanging peach. A soft ping failed to breach the sound of his dirge like melody. Playing the chords softly, he listened, and waited.

“Oi,” the taller of the two thugs exclaimed, “the fire’s burnin’ out.”
“So stoke’er up!” The dark haired man replied. Grumbling, the blond moved towards a wicker basket filled with wood that sat beside the hearth. He bent next to it, using slim logs to knock the contents of the fire around before tossing the fresh fuel on top.

Breaker moved like a lightning bolt lacking the thunder. Swift silent steps sent him across the floor to the back of the easy chairs. The piano wire stretched between his hands, then slipped around the seated thug’s neck in a cinching loop. Three long seconds passed as the dark haired man thrashed silently. Although thrashed wasn’t really the right word. Twitched, more appropriately, and then he went to sleep.

Breaker left the wire there and bounded over the chairs, just as the blond man turned towards him. He caught the second thug in a tiger claw grip, the tips of his fingers clutching the tall man’s windpipe. The blond barely had enough time to swat at Breaker’s wrist before the life drained from his limbs like cheap wine from a cask. He collapsed forward, and the soldier slung him into the vacant chair. Surefooted, he slid across the floor and opened the front door. Hazel eyes peered into the empty air. Not a soul marred the midnight streets of Pagration. Seconds later the soldier dragged his victims out the door, down the street and into the long grass.

Without any water on hand, Josh kicked dirt onto the unconscious thugs until they came round, coughing, spitting and cursing. The odd trio occupied the middle of the Road to Akashima, just out of sight of Pagration. As the downed men scrambled to their feet, Josh held up a hand.

“I didn’t kill you,” he said, and the deadly simplicity of his words caused his enemies to pause. “And I won’t, if you walk away from Pagration and never come back. It’s your choice.” His body coiled like a razor spring, waiting for them to decide, hoping against his words that they wouldn’t turn around and walk away.

They didn’t. The blond man stepped forwards, drawing back a fist. Breaker struck him on the jaw with a hard hook. The tall man’s head jerked sideways from the force. A sickening series of pops filled the night as his neck broke. Breaker followed the torque of his punch. His shoulders spun, his hips not far behind. His leg lashed out and landed a kick on the shorter thug’s throat as he reached into his jacket for a knife. Cartilage cracked audibly. The two dead men fell in tandem, joining their moon shadows on the dirt road. Josh threw his head back and rolled his shoulders. An electric current pulsed in his veins from the thrill of the kill. He allowed himself ten seconds, to savour the moment. Then he went back to work.

Josh dumped the bodies in a ditch off the side of the road and made it back to his room unnoticed, skulking from shadow to shadow. He would leave early the next morning, as planned. He slept easily, rules from the code he lived by floating in his subconscious.

“It’s always good to skip town after you kill someone. Especially if they deserved it. The ones who deserve it usually have friends as nasty as they are.”

[The Sweetest Thing]

Anastacia rose early the next morning, before the first fingers of dawn had flexed their grip upon the world. She dressed silently in her room in Luxuria, donning a lightweight blue wool dress. Her jaw set in a determined, adorable line, she crept to the newly installed doors of Luxuria and peered out. The air felt heavy with condensation, a slight mist wafting high above the building tops. She scurried across the road to the alcove she had hidden in before. The ground was slippery with dew, but her leather boots held enough traction to keep her on her feet. She stood in the nook, slim arms hugging herself against the morning chill. She was too excited to sit on the barrel as she had before. In any case, she didn’t have to wait long.

Josh Cronen emerged from his inn just as the blinding sun peeked over the horizon. He squinted for a moment, inhaling deeply. The bright yellow light seemed to display his proud musculature as a statue on a pedestal. And then he was gone, moving down the road with long, confident strides. The backpack bouncing on his shoulders left no possibility for mistake in Stacia’s mind; he intended to leave for good.

She scampered after him, always a safe distance back, ducking behind any building that presented itself. Before long Josh reached the outskirts of town. Stacia crouched behind an abandoned wheelbarrow as the man paced up and down the imposing long grass. Finally he found what he was looking for; a slim path that curled away from Pagration and down the mountain. Towards the sea; towards Akashima. Without a backward glance he strode down the path. Stacia hurried in pursuit. She allowed him to round the first bend in the trail, then ran to it and peered around the wall of thick-bladed vegetation.

He was gone!

Panicking, Stacia ran to the next corner in the path, but she still could not see him. From there the trail ran straight for a few miles, and yet the only life form on it was a sparrow pecking at a worm who had decided to swim in the morning dew. Disappointment clenched Stacia’s heart in a cruel ironclad grip. Head down, she turned and screamed in shock.

“You bloody bastard!” She breathed as her cry of surprise echoed across the mountaintop. One creamy palm slammed into Josh’s chest, then the other. He yielded about as much as the mountain itself, but it still felt good to hit him. He had been hiding all along, concealing himself in the long grass, and then stepped out behind her just as she turned. But no mischievous twinkle shone from his hazel eyes. He caught her flailing wrists and met her gaze, his tone serious.

“Stacia, what are you doing here? I told you that you can’t come with me.” That bloody voice! He sounded as if he were telling her the time of day! She struggled against his grip and eventually he let go. A faint tinge of rouge appeared on her cheeks, both anger and embarrassment. She could think of no other way to sway him; she told him the truth.

“Josh… I did lie to you before. I do not live in Pagration; I reside at the Sisterhood in Scara Brae.” His eyebrows rose in surprise. Stacia took his hand and clasped it between both of her own as she continued. “I was only here to visit a friend.” Her eyes gazed at him imploringly, two little blue horizons calling him away to far off lands. “For true, if you’d have me, I’d give up my life just to go with you. I am but a slave in Scara Brae.” She breathed sensually, pressed up against him, the heels of her boots allowing her to look almost straight into his eyes. “I know I am not a pleasure to be with, but if I could choose any man to go away with from all good men in the world, I would choose you.” Her ivory fingers tightened around his rough hand. “I have little money, but I promise I will somehow manage to pay my way. Perhaps I will find a new life in Akashima, and you will never need to look upon me again. Only take me to a new land, for a new start. Please Josh… help me.”

She could barely see the cogs turning behind his eyes; to anyone but an expert in reading human emotion, his face would have looked blank. But he flexed his arm, drawing her closer against him. Stacia closed her eyes and leaned her head against his barrel chest. She found something comforting in those rocklike muscles. Her eyes closed as she waited, just hoping for a small favor from the Thayne.

“Well,” he said suddenly, and his lungs thumped against her head. “We’ll have to make a detour back to Pagration. You need proper travelling clothes, and right now I’ve only got supplies enough for one.”

Words failed Stacia as she gasped, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing a tight thank-you. She felt his broad palm pat her awkwardly on the back. She was leaving the life of a call girl behind; her dreams had come true.

The time it would take for them to return to Pagration did not worry Stacia in the least. In fact, it was all a part of her plan.

[Breaker]

Josh measured his paces as he walked beside his new travelling partner. His face set in its usual taciturn mask; he was the epitome of stoicism. On the outside, at least.

“Why did I agree to bring her with me?”

All the reasons against it, all the data that had led to his decision the previous night, still made perfect sense. And yet he fell into those azure pools of hers. She knew her craft well. By the time the nymph’s tiny monologue had finished, to not take her with him seemed like a capital crime. Like some unnecessarily cruel evil. Josh blinked. He had never cared what people thought of him; he made his own decisions for right and wrong, and reaped the consequences or benefits.

A healthy breeze winnowed the long grass, and floated Stacia’s titillating hair in tantalizing patterns. The red streaks really did make a difference. They aroused the same carnal attraction as the soft touch of her supple skin had the day before.

“I reap the consequences… or the benefits?”

Breaker refused to believe that he invited her along purely from sexual desire. So what then? She had argued her case admirably well. When she spoke, everything about her drew him in. She evoked not only attention, but the desire to respond. Made him want to please her.

“So what is she, a witch? Maybe I’m just such a great guy that I can’t stand letting her live a crappy life.”

The concept rested much easier on his conscience. He was giving a whore a chance at a better life, plain and simple. Their partnership on the paths to Akashima implied nothing.

The wind raced to slake the heat of the morning sun as they reached the slate roofed buildings of Pagration. A dried bramble bush rolled along the road, propelled by the wind. Josh gave it a gentle kick and it sailed like a soccer ball onto the roof of a one story dwelling.

“This way,” he said, touching Stacia’s shoulder and indicating a familiar street. “There’s a shop called the Traveler’s Troubles on this street, we can get everything you need there.” He moved towards the dirt road, but felt slim fingers catch his elbow.

“I would first return to my lodging,” Stacia said, an air of simple innocence in her words. “I do have clothing for travels there. I know a back door we may enter by; my Matron will not see us.” Josh shrugged, and followed her in the direction of Luxuria. Her hair flowed in the wind, streamlined behind her perfectly shaped face. The soldier began to get used to the idea of having her at his side. Wherever they went, it seemed she improved the scenery.

She led him through a door in the back of the Luxuria Inn, the frame small enough that he had to duck to get through. Grainy glass windows let in just enough sun to light the halls of the brothel. They bore much more decoration than the Mountaintop Lodge; still life paintings of forests and waterfalls covered the walls, and a lush red carpet lined the floor. They padded silently to a whitewashed door which Stacia beckoned him through.

Her room was bigger than his at the Mountaintop Lodge. A little more floor space allowed for a double bed rather than a single, and two chairs instead of one. The same rough wood constituted the walls, but someone had slopped a layer of light blue paint over them. While Stacia sorted through the wardrobe Josh wandered in circles that eventually brought him to the bedside. He peered at the white coverlet, and then turned slowly, making an attempt at humor.

“So, does a place like this spend much on bedsprings each—whoa!”

The slim girl had taken a running leap and landed on him, legs wrapped around his hips, hands clasping the back of his neck. It was the kind of thing that would have knocked most men flat onto the bed. Josh’s balance defied most rational logic, however, and he stood there awkwardly, peering into the fiery blue eyes that blazed mere inches from his own.

“Uhh… Stacia, you don’t owe me anything for taking you to Akashima. You don’t have to, you know… pay me in trade.” His devilish hands defied him though, smoothing her dress over rounded hips.

“This be no payment, Josh Cronen,” she whispered, mouth opening just enough to show ivory teeth and a soft pink tongue. “I’ve seen more men than I care to tell in my time at the Sisterhood.” Her fine fingers found a soft spot in his neck and applied heavenly pressure. “But I never desired a one of them. Now, if I am a free woman, I may do as I please... and it would please me greatly for you to help me celebrate.”

Josh felt his growing desire for her spark into torrid passion. He fell onto the bed, losing himself to the freedom of desire.

[The Sweetest Thing]

The blue dress bunched over her head and pooled upon the floor. Stacia arched her back as the cool air pecked her bare skin. Her hair fanned like rays of red-streaked golden sun as she accepted him between her creamy thighs. Short, staggered breathing swept her away as she rose and fell like waves on an ocean of ecstasy. Fine fingers splayed on his rock hard chest; jaw loose in rapture, her soft pink tongue traced her pale lips. Wide blue eyes closed then jumped open, her shoulders stiffened then relaxed, small blissful sounds escaping her parted lips.

A bolt of passion struck, so strung she fell forwards, breasts slick with sweat yielding to his strong flesh. Stacia’s nails scraped his tan skin as her body coiled reflexively. Her hands found his neck and pulled herself to it, kissing his throat as he stroked her with mounting speed. His heavy hand curved in the small of her back, urging her closer, faster. His thumb like sandpaper, slid cross the pebbled skin of her ribs, up to her angelic shoulder. She moaned into his short hair, clasped his hand in hers and pressed his broad palm to her throat. He responded smoothly, never missing a beat as his hand tightened gently around her neck.

Sensual sensation coursed through her body like wildfire, lighting her veins, curling her toes and fingers shortening her breath. She fell into a trance, the asphyxiation heightening her feeling. A couple seconds more of breathless, tantric motion and her world spun out of control. All her senses seemed blank next to the overwhelming pleasure, the rapturous unity as they became one flesh.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Afterwards, Stacia lay curled against Josh’s side, his arm draped around her. They had gone on for most of the day, until her body could take no more. Quiet tremors still ran throughout her, blissful messengers carrying a simple phrase. A radiant smile curved her tired lips as she drifted off, knowing happiness and safety in his arms. His calm confidence shone with an aura of good tidings in the future. Stacia slept.

Everything is going to be alright.