Chosen, Chapter 19: Light the Fire Up in the Night

AidanThe RealmsFourthday, 3rd week of the 7th month, Godless Age 597Pre-dawnMistvale Highlands, near Ceallach Macht

Aidan awoke with a start as a shrill siren screamed through the air. Next to him, Brighid jerked awake and sprang to her hooves, her glaive somehow already in hand. She chanted a few words, and a flickering orangish-yellow aura washed out from her, illuminating the surroundings. Aidan struggled to his feet as the redhead cast another spell, this time causing the head of her weapon to glow cherry-red as if heated in a forge.

Before he could ask what was happening, shapes rushed out of the darkness and into Brighid's light. They were bobcat-sized humanoids with twisting, knotted bodies and limbs, charging forward on all fours with their gaunt faces locked into rictus snarls. They hesitated, covering their bulbous black eyes, as Brighid's light flared brightly, giving Aidan enough time to snatch up his sword and place his back against Brighid's flank.

The light didn't stop them for long, however, and the wretched creatures quickly resumed their charge, scuttling and leaping over each other in a tide of flesh. Aidan began the chant for his Flame Jet spell even as Brighid's voice rose in an incantation of her own. Hers finished first, causing a pulse to emanate from her that set the tattered clothes worn by their attackers to smoking and smoldering. A split second later, a stream of fire poured out from Aidan's hand, clearing a swath through the ranks of the creatures as they dived and jumped to avoid the flames.

Then they were beset. Whatever the creatures were, they had no weapons save for filthy, jagged fingernails on their hands and tiny, needle-sharp teeth in the mouths, but they more than made up for the lack with their sheer numbers. Brighid swept her glaive in broad strokes that sliced through her targets like a hot knife through butter, while Aidan waved his hand back and forth, sending coruscating waves of flame across their campsite. For every enemy they killed or drove back, though, another scurried out of the flickering light, scrabbling and biting at their legs and arms.

After five seconds, Aidan's Flame Jet sputtered out, its duration expended, and the creatures surged forward, climbing over and pushing off each other in a mad rush to attack him now that the frightful fire was gone. There were far more of them than Aidan could manage to hold off with his sword, and he quickly began losing health as they raked him with their fingers and bit chunks from his shins and thighs.

Aidan dropped his weapon and lashed out with his fists and feet, yanking the creatures off of him and throwing them at others as they charged in, kicking others aside, stomping on hands and feet and backs. Brighid swung her glaive over his head and down in front of him, bisecting three of the things, but she had her own problems to deal with, and he heard her hiss sharply in pain behind him. Then, one of the creatures screamed and burst into flames, then another and another and another, until within moments Aidan and Brighid were surrounded by dozens of writhing, screaming, greasily smoking fires.

Aidan picked his sword up again and moved to start stabbing the still-moving creatures, but Brighid stopped him. "The trows will be dead before long, incinerated by my aura. Attend to our wounds, if you would. Start with yourself; I have more health to spare." He nodded and sat on the ground, beginning the chant for Patch Wounds. Brighid continued, "That was very odd. Trows are individually weak enough that they should not have been able to breach my ward. They are also cowardly and hate bright lights; Birgitte's Light should have scared them off when they saw we were awake and armed. And they definitely should have fled from Brigantia's Immolation, not pressed the attack until they burst into flames. Three mysteries, and I do not like the answer they suggest."

Aidan couldn't respond due to the long incantation for his healing magic, so he took the time to go through the prompts that were crowding around the edges of his vision after the short, vicious combat.

Finally! Level 3 and a new spell; worth the pain. Aidan turned his attention to examining the parameters of his new Burning Barrage.

"That would have come in handy thirty seconds ago..." Aidan muttered between incantations.

"What?" Asked Brighid.

"I advanced to Initiate in Fire Magic and got a new spell. Here, let me test it, neither of us is going to bleed out if I delay healing us for a few seconds." Putting actions to his words, Aidan began the longer, more intricate chant for Burning Barrage. Two seconds later, seven motes of fiery light sprang into existence around his head.

"Interesting, but I do not see—" Brighid began, but cut off as Aidan sent the motes streaking towards a patch of boulders about twenty feet away from them. The lights struck their targets near-simultaneously and erupted into seven brilliant fireballs that briefly banished the pre-dawn darkness. "...I stand corrected. You are correct, that would have been useful. You should also have received enough experience for level 3, no?"

Aidan nodded, although he did not reply out loud since he was already back to casting another Patch Wounds. He was actually a little upset at himself; the level 3 prompt reminded him that he'd forgotten to allocate his free Skill experience from level 2, and he wasn't sure where the random assignment had gone. As long as it wasn't to one of the Sex Skills, I guess...

Once he finished healing their injuries—fortunately, the Trows had been less dangerous individually than the Argyle Rattoks, and none of their Wounds had been more than minor—Aidan asked Brighid for advice. "How do you think I should be distributing my stat points?"

Brighid's eyes widened at the question. "That... is a very intimate question. You did not know that, of course. I keep forgetting how much you do not know." She shook her head briefly and continued, "Your stats are the ultimate expression of who you are. They are the only part of you that you have complete control over. You have no choice in the Traits and Abilities you are born with, your Class is chosen for you, and your Skill affinities are entirely out of your control. Your stats, meanwhile, might be modified somewhat by your race or Class or Traits, but you will always have full control over the free points you receive. Further, your stats shape you on a fundamental level, from appearance to personality. Asking someone else how to spend them implies total trust that they have your best interests at heart."

Aidan nodded slowly. "That makes sense. Sorry, I'm still struggling with the cultural impact of this system." Brighid waved away his apology, but he caught and held her gaze and continued, "So... how do you suggest I spend my stat points? I have six after the automatic points in Charisma and Willpower."

His friend flinched and her hands flew to her mouth. She stared at him wordlessly for a long moment, then turned her head to look away. "I am honored beyond words by your trust," she said, her voice thick with barely-repressed emotion, "but I am not equal to the request." Her hands dropped from her mouth to hug herself around the waist.

Aidan walked over to her and cupped her cheek in his left hand. He gently tilted her head back towards him, then slipped his hand around into her hair and drew her down into a kiss. Her lips tasted salty, so he raised his free hand and brushed away the tears trickling down her cheeks.

"I did not mean to cause you pain, Brighid. I'm sorry," he told her when their lips parted. "If you do not feel comfortable giving me specific advice, how about being more general? I know what the description of each stat is in my interface, but that's it. I haven't learned how it all works together, and if there are any tricks hidden beneath the surface, I haven't encountered them."

He kissed her again, intending it to be brief, but Brighid suddenly pressed against him and opened her mouth. Aidan felt like a leaf swept up in a storm-fed river, barely able to keep his head above the waters of Brighid's passion. She clutched at him, digging her fingers into his scalp and raking down his back as her tongue probed his lips. The moment he opened his mouth, her tongue surged inside, filling his oral cavity with her wet, thick, squirming muscle.

Aidan found himself instinctively responding in kind to Brighid's attentions. His tongue wrestled for dominance with hers; his left hand was tangled in her red hair, pulling her head downwards to fuel their kiss; his right hand had slipped under her padded jerkin and was kneading her soft breasts. Her hands, meanwhile, had made their way down to his butt, where one was dug into his flesh, and the other found his tail and began gathering it up, wrapping it around her arm as she sought the tip. He diverted a fraction of his attention to playing keep-away, causing her to growl ferally into his mouth when she realized what was happening.

Brighid leaned down over him to extend her reach, bending him backward. Aidan had to take a half-step back and brace his legs to keep his balance, and that distraction allowed Brighid to catch his tail-tip. He gasped and shivered as her fingers explored the flanges. Somehow, the sensation was entirely different, much more sensual, when it was someone else's touch. His fingers tightened unconsciously in Brighid's hair and around her breast, drawing a moan from her.

Then Brighid pulled back from him, seemingly not even noticing the pressure of his hand at the back of her head. Her cheeks and neck were flushed red, and her emerald gaze bored intensely into him. She panted out, "We need to stop. It clearly is not safe here." Despite her words, her hands were still busy stroking his butt and tail-tip.

"You're right," Aidan replied, "but I notice that you aren't stopping." A startled look crossed her face, and her hands ceased their movements, though she didn't remove them from their places. Aidan teasingly brushed his thumb back and forth across her hard nipple, causing Brighid to suck in her breath with a hiss and lower her head towards his again. Before she could start another kiss, he started pulling her hair, trying to keep her head in place. Brighid instantly froze, her eyes wide.

"I think," she said, speaking slowly and enunciating her words carefully, as if afraid of what she might say otherwise, "that if you keep doing that, I will not be able to stop."

"Keep doing this?" Aidan pressed his thumb to her nipple and rolled it in a circle. "Or this?" He tugged at her hair. Despite how easily she had ignored him pulling her head downwards moments ago, she offered no resistance now. Her head tilted obediently backward, baring her flushed neck to him and causing her back to arch, thrusting her breasts into his hand.

"Yesss, that!" She hissed. "Aidan, please..." her plea ended in a moan. Aidan watched her swallow and her mouth open and close wordlessly. Still aroused, and with adrenaline from the fight and intense make-out session coursing through him, Aidan hesitated, his mind slow to shift course. Brighid's hands began to move again, the one on his tail resuming stroking him, while the other shifted around to his front, sightlessly seeking a different appendage. She licked her lips and groaned out, "Please, Aidan, either take me or release me!"

He tightened his grip momentarily in reaction to the lust in her voice, then her words caught up to him. Suddenly the adrenaline crashed out of his system, and he jerked away from Brighid, spinning down to his knees and beginning to tremble violently. Disgust for his actions flooded through his mind. She asked him to stop, but he hadn't; in fact, he'd escalated. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I should have stopped when you asked, I'm so sorry, so sorry," he repeated over and over in a ceaseless babble. He wasn't even paying attention to what he said as his thoughts spiraled tightly downward into recrimination and despair.

So profoundly buried was he in his thoughts that it took him several minutes to realize that the warmth he felt against his back was Brighid, and the moist breeze tickling his ear was her voice, speaking soothingly to him. "It is alright, Aidan, I am alright, I am not upset with you. It is alright," she repeated softly, her lips brushing his ear. He closed his mouth abruptly, cutting off mid-babble, his teeth clacking together jarringly.

Brighid kissed his shoulder softly, then continued, now that she had his attention. "You have nothing to be sorry about, Aidan. I did not want to stop what we were doing, it just is not safe here. And once you started pulling my hair..." He felt her shiver against him, then her lips pressed to his shoulder again.

Sensing his inner turmoil, Brighid hugged him around the waist and told him in a louder, but still gentle, tone of voice, "Aidan, you could not rape me if you tried—which you did not. I am far, far stronger than you are. I could lift you with one hand if I could get a proper grip on you. And, even if you tried, remember our training? Remember how you attempted to attack me from behind, and how it turned out for you?" He shuddered again, but this time it was because of the thought of what would have happened if she hadn't pulled her kick before it struck.

"I assure you, Aidan, love, everything we have done together so far has been with my enthusiastic consent. In fact, I recall initiating things every time we have been intimate. Do you remember differently?" She waited for him to shake his head, then continued, "I admit that you have surprised me, not only with your willingness to play along, but with how quickly and easily you stoke my passion, and with how skillfully you manipulate my body." Brighid stroked his cheek, then turned his head so that she could kiss the corner of his lips.

"You were right, Aidan. I crave your touch. Once we return to the village, we will go to my home, I will lock the door, and then I will beg for your magic hands if that is what it takes. I want you to rub and stroke my back and flanks, working your way towards my rump. I want you to take my tail in your hand, wrap it around your wrist, lift it out of your way, then pull me backward onto your spear. I want you to bend over my back and mount me, Aidan. I want you to take me, mate me, make me yours. I have never wanted anyone like I want you.

"Do you understand, my love? The only objection I had just now was the location, and that objection was not so strenuous that I would have been upset if you had continued. My ward is still active, and it is unlikely that there are any other dangerous creatures around with a swarm of Trows that big nearby. Mostly I just want the first time to be somewhere more romantic and less rustic. I am no longer uncertain, Aidan. I am yours if you will have me."

A prompt demanded his attention, refusing to be minimized, and Aidan tentatively opened it.

No shit, Sherlock, Aidan thought, a little bitter at having his nose figuratively rubbed into the relationship. Even he wasn't that dense. He turned sideways in her embrace and could look her in the eyes. Though his throat was still tight and his voice hoarse, Aidan told Brighid, "I can't imagine how I managed to catch your heart. I am a poor custodian for such a treasure, but I will endeavor to become worthy of your love. Brighid Fireheart, daughter of Ailis Silverhair of the Starchaser tribe, I love you. I do not know where my path is headed in this land, but I find myself increasingly unwilling to walk it without you at my side." A voice in his head spoke up to tell him that he was confessing his love to an illusion, but he squashed it relentlessly.

Brighid rose, lifting Aidan with her and supporting him until he got his feet under him. She bent down and kissed him, brushing her lips against his lovingly for a long moment, then pulling back to murmur, "Aidan Lostlorn, son of Seamus of Atlanta, you are already more than worthy of my love. Even if it takes the rest of my life, I will make you see that."

Through words and deeds, you have proven yourself worthy of her heart.