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From: Delta <delta@nym.alias.net>
Subject: {ASSM} RP "A Question of Honour" by Delta 5\5 (MF)
Date: Sun, 9 Jul 2000 09:10:07 -0400
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RE
Should you wish to comment upon my story, I can be reached by
E-mail at:
delta @ nym . alias . net
Comments and critizisms are welcome.
Standard disclaimers: This is a work of fiction - no character
within is a depiction of any real person, living or dead. No
place or event described within exists outside of the writer's
imagination. Copyright retained by the author and this post
is for private use of the reader only. It is not to be published
in any form whatsoever, including being made available on BBSs,
or on Web Pages, without the express prior consent of author.
Any readers who are underage in the jurisdiction in which
they reside are asked to please pass by.
Delta.
A QUESTION OF HONOUR
Chapter 5
Riltan hummed softly as he skinned the ungulate which he had
shot. Next to him Lere watched carefully, knowing that he would
have to learn this skill. Sure enough, Riltan motioned him to
take over.
Riltan guided Lere's hand for the first few strokes, then
sat back to allow the boy to find his own rhythm. The sun
warmed him and he thought about how beautiful life could be.
He had never imagined anything like this at all. From
having nothing at all, he had suddenly come into a windfall - a
family: a beautiful mate who made the nights a joy, a boy to whom
he could impart the things he had learned and . . . and Iro. Iro
he couldn't quite place yet. She seemed a creature of moods, one
who could swing wildly from one to another without apparent cause.
And sometimes she gave him the most curious looks - mainly when
she didn't think he was looking, yet sometimes when he obviously
was.
Iro was a mystery to him, yet it did not stop him from enjoying
her company - even though they could barely communicate at all. Of
the four of them, Iro's signing was the most rudimentary. It didn't
matter, of course. Soon they would be in H'Las and learning the
language there.
Riltan looked up to watch Lere's progress. He was doing well
for one of so little experience. Riltan leaned forward and
corrected a small fault in Lere's technique, feeling good as he
did so. It was good to be able to pass on some of the things he
had learned, to instruct Lere, to see him grow more competent with
each day and to know that it due in no small part to his teaching.
Life was good.
Lere finished and began cutting up the meat as Riltan had
instructed him before. The meat would be dried and used as rations
for their trek to H'Las. Soon they would have enough food to begin
the journey, or so he told himself. In fact, the food they had
would be more than adequate. He, however, wished a greater variety,
or so he told himself.
Though Riltan had not yet formally broached the subject of
leaving with Takene, he knew she would agree. They couldn't stay
here, and there was nowhere else for them to go. He would bring it
up to her soon, he decided.
The only thing stopping him was the joy he felt in this place,
the only place he had ever thought of as 'home'. It would be
difficult to leave, no matter how necessary. He breathed in deeply
of the forest's scent and felt at peace. Broaching the subject
of leaving with Takene could wait another day. Meanwhile . . .
Riltan smiled again as he hummed, enjoying the buzzing of
insects, the sporadic calls of the birds and the sun on his face.
Life was good.
"I think you are delaying on purpose." Iro had made up her
mind to confront Takene about Riltan once again, but this time
she was going at it from a different slant.
Takene sighed as she prepared for yet another argument. She
knew how Iro was impatient to complete the rites, and she agreed
that the completion should come as soon as possible, yet to hurry
was to invite disaster.
"I'm not delaying, Iro. I'm waiting for the moment which
promises the best chance of success." Or was she? Was Iro right?
Was she enjoying the nights with Riltan so much that she was
putting off discussing with him leaving for Slindaria?
"How do you think my parents are feeling now, thinking that
Lere and I are dead?"
"I think they'll be happier waiting a little longer to be
proven wrong, than to be proven right, Iro. And if we move too soon
the odds are we will indeed end up dead. But it isn't your parents
you are thinking of, is it?"
Iro flushed, caught on that point. "Okay, maybe not, but until
we get back, I'll be unable to complete the rites." She paused, and
Takene knew what was coming. "As long as you persist in saying that
Riltan is unsuitable, that is."
Takene groaned inwardly. Back to this again. "Why can't you
just . . ." She couldn't even complete the sentence before Iro
interrupted her.
"I've been listening to you during the nights, you know."
Now it was Takene who flushed and Iro, sensing an advantage, pressed
forward. "You seem to be enjoying Riltan. You get up in the morning,
looking very satisfied. I don't see any hints of mistreatment. Tell
me, Takene, just what constitutes unsuitable?
"From my studies it seems to me that Riltan is suitable. He is
gentle, isn't he?"
Frustrated, Takene could only nod.
"He is skilled, isn't he - or is it that you are so horny that
anyone could get you off."
"Iro!" The word exploded out of Takene. "There is no call for
that."
"And there is no call to keep me waiting either. Tell me,
Aunt," Iro said sarcastically, "just what about Riltan is unsuitable?
Nothing, that's what." She answered her own question.
At that moment they saw Riltan and Lere returning.
"We'll continue this discussion later, Iro."
"Yes, that's what you always say." Iro was angry. "Okay,
Takene, we'll do it your way." She turned away, then turned back.
"Just one thing, though . . ."
"Yes?"
"You are wrong, Takene. You are wrong." Iro turned away,
leaving Takene frustrated and wondering if Iro were not correct.
She turned, also, to contemplate this and, thus occupied, she failed
to hear Iro come up behind her.
"And Takene, you make such pretty sounds," Iro whispered in
her ear.
Takene was still blushing furiously when Riltan and Lere
walked into the camp.
As Iro had suggested, the nights with Riltan had been very
enjoyable. And, again as Iro had suggested, he was gentle, very
gentle. This gentleness had gone a far way towards allaying her
fears and now he had only to touch her and she found herself
moistening, getting ready for him.
She had been right, as well. It had only become better.
His skilled touch sent her spiraling upwards quickly, and her
orgasms were becoming more powerful with each day.
Takene grinned at the irony. She had been trying to gain his
trust, and he had gained hers. The only difference between the
two of them being that he had no ulterior motive behind his
loveplay, while she did. Her smile faded.
Yes, these past days had been good, very good, and she hated
for them to end, yet end they must. Iro was right in one respect,
in that she wasn't hurrying to push Riltan towards leaving. She
sighed. It was time.
Riltan's face suddenly filled her vision and she started.
He grinned at her, knowing her mind had been elsewhere and that
she had not seen him approach.
<Good thoughts?> he asked.
<Yes-No. You-me walk> she suggested.
The slow smile that reached and encompassed his eyes thrilled
her. Her intention to walk and talk would not end with that, she
knew, as he put his arm around her shoulders and drew her in to
him. She shivered in delight and heard his soft chuckle at
her reaction.
Turning her head she looked up at his face. Gone completely
was the chiseled look of the killer who she had first seen and
feared. This was a different man, entirely, and would remain as
such - as long as she didn't take him back into his old world.
Her smile faded. That was something she couldn't avoid. The joy
of the afternoon left her.
Riltan sensed her change and stopped then turned to face her.
His hand traced a pattern on her cheek as he looked deeply into
her eyes. Could he sense the sadness there, she wondered.
His fingers moved up to her forehead then came down gently
over her eyes, closing them. Takene knew what was coming and
lifted her head in preparation for the kiss. Instead she felt
herself being roughly lifted and thrown over his shoulder. Her
eyes snapped open and she gasped as he started off, jolting
her with each step.
"Put me down, you big oaf," she ordered him, beating futilely
on his back. She knew he would understand.
"Quiet, you!" he told her in her own language, his words heavily
accented, and gave her a sharp slap on the rear.
Riltan began humming happily as he strode along and Takene
knew she was being carried off to be ravished. Excitement leaped
within her. She considered her plight for a moment then, with
a grin began to tickle him. Another sharp slap on her rear
stopped her.
"Ow. What was that for?" she asked plaintively, only to
get another slap.
"Quiet, you," Riltan chuckled, then spanked her once more
for good measure.
"Ow!" It didn't hurt as near as much as her cry suggested
and he knew it.
"Sorry." He sounded contrite, but wasn't. He started tenderly
stroking her rear, soothing the hurt.
"Oh my!" His stroking didn't stop at her slightly smarting
ass cheeks, but delved in between her legs, and she parted them
the small bit she could to give him a little more room. "Oh, yes."
It felt very good.
Soon, too soon, she was being lowered to the grassy ground.
The last few centimeters she was simply dumped, then pushed back
on her back before she could protest. His hands grasped her
shirt and pulled it from her pants. Then he was astride her,
pinning her arms to her sides with his legs and unbuttoning her
shirt, paying no attention at all to her weak struggles to
escape.
Her shirt was open almost to the waist and his fingers roamed
about her breasts, tweaking her nipples, caressing her bare skin.
She groaned in pleasure, not wanting this to end. She wondered
how far he would go in his pretense. A thought occurred to her.
She had to know.
"Riltan." She spoke sharply. He immediately stopped what
he was doing and looked at her inquiringly. Satisfied, she
simply stuck out her tongue at him.
His low chuckle rumbled out and he bent over to kiss her.
She closed her eyes and lifted her lips to him. When the kiss
did not come she looked up. He looked cross.
"Bad you!" he exclaimed.
Takene was about to reply when his fingers dug into her
ribs. She exploded in laughter and tried desperately to get away.
No matter how she twisted and heaved she could not get away. He was
just too heavy to move.
"Good Takene," she finally gasped and he relented, pulling
back up to look at her suspiciously.
"Good Takene?" he questioned.
"Good Takene," she confirmed, trying to look as meek as
possible.
He unbuttoned his fly and pulled his cock out. It was
semi hard. "Good Takene?" he asked her again, his eyes narrow,
doubting.
As a reply she opened her mouth and ran her tongue around
her lips and winked at him lasciviously. She could see him
struggling to keep a straight face. Suddenly he looked angry,
though his eyes were twinkling. He sat back in thought as
he ran through his knowledge of her language. Finally he
nodded to himself.
"No. Bad Takene. To punish," he said sternly, and put
his cock back inside his pants.
"Punish?" Her voice quavered. "No. Good Takene," she
protested. "Why would you wa - whoa!" He jumped off her,
rolled her over on her face and straddled her again in one swift
move.
"Quiet you!" he ordered as he pulled her shirt halfway down
her back, pinning her arms. He turned around to face her feet
and pulled her legs up one at a time to remove her boots and socks.
Then he began pushing her pants down, baring her buttocks. As they
appeared he stopped and stroked them a bit before pushing her
pants down to her knees. She felt his finger pushing between
her thighs, touching her, pressing into her, and she groaned.
Then it was gone and she felt the loss. She heard him
sucking her juices off his finger and smacking his lips in
approval.
Suddenly he was off her and pulling at her pants roughly.
She grabbed onto the grass to prevent herself from being dragged
and her pants came off in short order. Then she was flipped over
once more. She looked up through the wild mess that was her hair.
He stood above her, looking grim.
"Quiet you," he warned as she made to speak. "Bad Takene.
To punish." He kicked softly at her feet. She got the message
and spread her legs. He motioned for her to close her eyes,
which she did. He kept her waiting only a few seconds.
"Oh!" His mouth was at her sex, tongue lapping vigourously.
Her eyes snapped open in surprise then languidly closed as the
waves of pleasure began to wash through her. One finger entered
her, then another and, as they slowly moved in and out, his tongue
found and began to concentrate on her clit.
Takene had been ready, very ready, for the sexplay and Riltan's
tongue drove her relentlessly toward a powerful orgasm. She moaned
and twisted, wished she could move her hands up to touch her breasts,
yet the thrill of being held captive was delicious to her as well.
Gods of the Skies and Trees! He was allowing her no time at
all to get set; he was simply driving her from level to level,
higher and higher. This would be no gentle, relaxing orgasm, but
a sharp powerful one which would rock her very being. She dug
her fingers into the earth as it began.
Takene's legs pushed her lower body up as the orgasm took
hold. They held there for a long moment, with Riltan still flicking
away, before collapsing back down. Her breath came in ragged
gasps and a moan of joyful despair issued forth as she realized
that he was not going to let her rest at all, but was pushing her
back up to the heights once more.
Takene clenched her jaw as her body, in an amazingly short
period of time, spiraled up to the threshold of her second
orgasm. She was panting through her teeth, then her breath held
as she came to the point of orgasm and . . . and he stopped, leaving
her there on the edge.
"Bad Takene?" his voice was a mixture of laughter and exertion.
"Good Takene," she wailed, her wail punctured by another gasp
as he renewed his assault.
It was too much and her body bent like a bow.
Curled in a ball, her head resting on his lap, Takene slowly
came down. Riltan continued stroking her, caressing her, talking
softly to her in his own language. She felt blanketed by love and
cherished by this man . . . her man.
"You can punish me like that any time you want," she murmured
as her energy began to return. Her eyes opened and she looked up
at him. He looked at a loss and she uncurled and repeated what
she said in sign. He grinned at her.
<Feel better?>
<Feel beautiful> she replied.
<Look beautiful> His eyes told her it was truth and she
flung herself at him, covering his face with hundreds of little
kisses, until he fell back with her on top of him.
Then she was tearing at his clothes, pulling them off him
roughly, making him as naked as she was. Successful, she paused.
He was soft - not for long, she determined and, with a wicked
grin, went down on him. In only moments he was stiffening
nicely.
It was payback time. Takene swirled her tongue around him,
drawing out little gasps of pleasure, as she pumped him with her
hand. She was determined to drive him as he had driven her and
employed every trick at her command. It worked and it was now
Riltan who was gasping for breath. Now he was poised on the
brink and it was she who suddenly stopped. She looked up at
him, eyes twinkling, and asked, "Takene Good?"
Riltan's eyes focused on her and he moaned his agreement,
"Takene Good, Takene much good."
Satisfied, Takene moved to complete him. Within a minute
Riltan groaned loudly and came, his body bucking up then falling
back. She continued to suck and lick until he was finished, then
moved up and lay next to him, basking in the sun.
It was finally time to leave and the two lovers reluctantly
donned their clothes. Riltan looked around sadly. Takene watched
him expectantly. There was something on his mind.
<Time leave soon> he signed.
Takene nodded, pleased that he had brought it up. Now,
however, it was going to get a little tricky. He was so happy
here, so unlike what he had been when they had met, that she
was loathe to do anything to ruin it.
<Yes. Children must go-to parents> she replied.
Riltan looked shocked. <Parents? Parents not dead?>
<No. Parents not dead>
<Where?> A sickly pall of knowing settled on his features.
"Slindaria," she said quietly, wincing as the reality of
the situation came upon him, twisting his face.
"Slindaria," he whispered hoarsely.
<Yes. You take us, yes?>
Takene had to look away. The horror in his eyes was too much
for her. It had to be done, she tried to convince herself, yet
nothing would wipe the memory of that look from her mind. Could
anything be worth doing that to another? She turned back. He was
still in shock.
<You take us, yes?> she repeated, feeling her stomach twist
even as she did so.
He was shaking, his hands trembling uncontrollably, as he
answered. <You must not ask> he pleaded. <We go H'Las, yes?
Better. We go H'Las, please?>
<Can't. Children must go-to parents. I must take them.
Duty. I go-to Slindaria. You help?>
Riltan's face collapsed. "Wasteland," he whispered in
horror. <Can't> he signed and turned away, tears flowing freely
from his eyes and down his face.
Riltan stumbled, as if he were no longer able to see well,
and Takene, a lump in her throat, moved to his side and placed
her arm around his waist.
Together, and in silence, the unhappy couple returned to
the camp.
Riltan was sunk in the miasma of his thoughts. She didn't
know what she was asking. She couldn't know. Slindaria. The
Wastelands. This couldn't be asked of him. All the joy of
the day was dead. He loved her, them. They couldn't ask
this of him. He would die for them - gladly - but to go back,
no. No, he wouldn't, couldn't. Didn't they know what it would
do to him?
He lowered his head and held it in his hands. Slowly he
began rocking back and forth, seeking comfort in the movement.
Life was not good.
"What have you done?" Iro hissed at Takene. Lere stood
by, unsure of what was happening, knowing only that something
was terribly wrong.
"Only what you asked of me, Iro. Only what duty demanded
of me. I quit stalling. I asked him to help us get back to
Slindaria." Takene was subdued. She had grossly underestimated
how Riltan would react to her request. His pain tore at her
insides and it was all she could do to keep herself from running
to him, from telling him that it was okay, that they would go
to H'Las with him.
"I never asked you to do that. Look at him. I never asked
you to do that to him." Iro turned and walked away.
Takene smiled grimly, bitterly. Iro wasn't ready yet to face
up to her responsibilities. She would learn. She would have to.
For the present, however, Iro could run. She couldn't. Takene made
her way over to where Riltan sat and knelt beside him. She put her
arm around him.
Riltan jumped up as though scalded. He looked at her, as if
seeing her for the first time. She stood and made to speak but
he threw up his hand, stopping her. He looked at her a long moment
before turning and walking out of the camp.
Takene hugged herself and bent over, bitter tears falling
from her eyes. She felt so very alone. It wasn't fair. It
just wasn't fair. She stumbled over to her bed, their bed, and
fell onto it, curling into a tight ball, the pain overwhelming
her.
Hours later, in the early hours of the morning, just before
sunrise, Riltan returned. Takene looked up at him with eyes
darkened from a sleepless night. He sat down tiredly.
Takene noticed that his eyes were now guarded and his
face betrayed nothing. She waited, knowing that he would
speak when he was ready. Finally he was ready.
<I help, yes. I go, no. It rain soon. You wait. Leave
when rain come. I draw map, tell you how best to go, help
pack.>
<Thank-you> Takene signed. Riltan shrugged and lay
down to sleep. Takene lay down next to him and put her
arm around him. He neither moved away nor took her arm to
hold.
In the days which followed, as they waited for the rain,
Riltan was as good as his word. He worked tirelessly to prepare
the three for the journey to come. He spent hours explaining the
best routes to take in order to avoid contact with the occupants
of the Wastelands, spared no effort in the drawing of his maps or
in the practice sessions he held for loading and unloading the
pack animal.
Speed was of the essence he told them time and time again.
No one moved during the rainy days - which could last a week or
a day - and water would be plentiful. The more distance they
covered during this time, the better their chances were. Once
the rains stopped, they would be slowed considerably and water
would become a problem.
Keep the pack animal as long as it was of value, but the
moment it began to consume more than it was worth - dispose of it.
Best to kill it, but if they couldn't bring themselves to do that,
then just let it go. It might survive and find water, it might not.
To Takene alone he gave the advice to be ruthless towards
any they might meet. Just kill them where they stand, he told her,
knowing that she probably wouldn't be able to do that. Their best
protection would be lack of knowledge of their presence. The more
people that knew they were there, the greater the chances of someone
hunting them.
Then, at last, it was all done. Preparations had been completed.
all they needed now was the rain. There was a tension in the camp -
the knowledge that the parting of ways was coming pervaded everything
and no one could relax. It was the waiting out of a lingering
death.
Even Iro ceased her campaign to have Riltan as her first man.
His gloom made it uncomfortable to be around him. Though Takene
still shared his bed, Iro knew that they no longer made love. There
were no sounds from them at night. This was not what she had wanted.
She knew of the necessity of getting to Slindaria, and quickly at
that, yet a part of her wanted to go with Riltan to H'Las.
Lere was hit hardest. He couldn't understand why they were
to separate, why his only adult friend would be lost to him. He
moped around the camp feeling that all the others had betrayed him.
She was being shaken. Takene's eyes opened to the predawn
gloom. She looked up at Riltan, her eyes questioning.
<Listen> he signed.
She concentrated and off in the distance she heard it then,
thunder. The rains were coming. She turned back to Riltan, but
he was gone, waking Lere and Iro.
There was urgency in the air. She made a quick breakfast as
Lere and Riltan loaded the pack animal. The sun didn't rise. The
morning light showed banks of clouds in the distance, grey and
menacing. The rains would be there late this day or perhaps the
next. It was time to go.
Riltan led the way to the dry creek bed. He stopped at its
edge, unwilling to even set foot on it. He looked out in the
direction of the clouds.
<Not too late. H'Las there> he pointed.
Takene sighed. <Can't. Duty> She gave a half smile. <Not
too late. Come?>
Riltan looked down. <Can't> He kicked at his boot. <Go.
Go quickly. Go carefully. Go now.>
Takene nodded, then stepped up to him and hugged him tightly.
She felt the return hug almost squeeze the breath out of her. Too
soon, much too soon it was over.
<Thank you for my life> she signed, then turned and led her
charges across the dry creek bed.
Riltan watched them for a moment, then turned. Soon there would
be water rushing here, making it impossible to cross. He walked away,
holding back the tears which he would not recognize, would not allow.
He arrived back at the camp, deciding that he would wait out the
rain before moving on. The morning drifted into the afternoon and
the afternoon into evening. The camp was empty. Empty of people,
empty of life and empty of the joy which had once been. He couldn't
stay. He would leave the next morning, walk on through the rain.
Anything was better than staying here. He began to pack.
The morning came, grey and cool. Riltan made a quick breakfast
and shouldered his pack. It felt strange to be traveling again,
stranger still not to be carrying his shoulder weapon, but he had
decided that Takene would need it more than he.
Riltan took one last look around and set out, not wanting to
think of what this place had meant to him. It was over. It was
all over.
He came to the fork in the trail. To the right lay H'Las and
a new life. To the left, the Wasteland. He gazed to the left a
long time, wanting to go, knowing he could not. It was a question
of survival. If he went, even if he lived, he died. Yet what was
life without the one he loved? No. It was a question of survival.
Cross the creek bed, follow the others, and the one he would become
would not be welcomed by those he went to help. The one he had
become, with their help, would die in there. It was a question
of survival.
Riltan gave a long sigh and shifted the weight on his back.
His foot hit the creek bed even as the first drop of rain hit
his wide brimmed hat. The first step was hard, the next a little
easier, then he was hurrying.
It was, he decided, a question of honour.
End of "A Question of Honour" by Delta.
delta @ nym . alias . net
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Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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