WandWpart8

I learned pretty quickly there was a big difference between being the Warchief's slimy magicboy lover who was probably a Southern spy on top of it, and being engaged to him after saving his ass.

Where had he spent the night, and where was he now? Well, to hell with Smitty's advice to let him come back to me. My ego was plenty healthy, thank you. I didn't care who crawled to whom; I just wanted it to happen quickly, before I started missing him really badly.

I dressed in the blue and green tie-dyed linen pants and loose green shirt that I'd been wearing when I awoke from near-death. The clothes were a bit loud for my liking, and I felt like a performer at the Haight Street Faire. But they would be comfortable in the summer heat I knew would come later in the day, and comfort was the main thing on a search mission. Dug in my pack for my blue Nikes instead of boots, too; no telling how far I'd have to walk to find him, especially if he'd decided to book out of camp. No, I wouldn't let myself think that, no way. He couldn't have been that mad at me.

I'd intended to take a circuitous route as I usually did when I needed to get around in camp, skirting around the backs of tents in hopes nobody would notice me until I'd reached my destination. It saved me from getting spit on, sneered at and finally pissed off enough to fry somebody.

Problem was, this time I wasn't sure what my destination was. Where the hell would Carson go, the day after that grandiose display of temper? He'd either be embarrassed and hiding from me, or still furious and avoiding me. An enraged Carson would be easier to find since he'd be kicking things out of his path and swearing in dialect. But a Carson all humiliated and appalled at his actions would be much easier to kiss and make up with.

Didn't matter. Because the instant I stuck my butt out the door I was being hailed. What the hell? This was not a typical occurrence - oh, yeah. I forgot, I was accepted now. I'd saved Carson's life, and become, for lack of a better word, his fiancée.

I'd gone to her tent a few times while Carse was gone. Met her strand of kids and grandkids, everything from a twenty-eight year old warrior maiden (who obviously thought I was the world's biggest putz/i.e. king's whore) to a five year old grandkid I'd taught how to walk the dog on my favorite yo-yo. Now *his* favorite yo-yo; damn kids.

Jalin was kind of in the middle. A 16 year old, quiet, a scholarly kid. Didn't look a thing like his mom or his dad - Foxmoon's Bonded was a Viking type reminiscent of Do'nar. She was dark, plump, cheerful-looking. The remainder of her brood was much like her or her old man.

This boy was - well, something else. Ice blond; that long hair was frost white, sparkling platinum down his back with one thin braid on the left side that probably meant something or other, tied off as it was with three crystal beads. Eyes a clear shimmering grey without a hint of blue, long black lashes rather than the pale ones you would expect given his coloring. An utterly innocent face saved from being too pretty by a cool, self-contained expression that was rather daunting on a boy this young. A damn good-looking kid, to sum it up; yet not in the Tribal way, and that might work against him someday. Though possibly not; the Tribe was pretty tolerant of most things.

rather than Viking-built. Smart as dammit. A worry to his mom and dad because of his liking for languages, books, other cultures. But he was good at the warrior stuff also; I'd seen him training with knives and he was deadly. He could practically talk to the stupid-ass horses of the Tribe, too.

With my usual talent for getting along with kids who were somewhat out of true, we'd become pretty good friends in our first twenty minutes of conversation. He'd been fascinated by my wizard status rather than repelled. Asked me, after lots of dithering, if magic could be - taught.

So okay, I explained about the mana inside yourself, and how to see it, how to draw it into you from the outside. To my delight, he grasped the concepts with no problem. The hardest part of magic, really. And he had the Gift; I'd checked that out, lightly scrying him over, before I even agreed to tell him a thing. No point in raising his hopes for nothing. But yeah, he had talent. A fair amount in fact. I mean, I might have more than just a casual student here. I couldn't help it, the thought somewhat excited me.

Of course being sixteen, he wanted to learn a Firebolt spell immediately. Uh-uh, no way. I'm not that big an idiot. Besides, Fox would've filleted my ass the first time he blew up their tent.

I taught him the dumb-ass cleaning spell. Who could get in trouble with that? And it would be helpful for his momma, too. Sure as hell, since it was technically "magic" he didn't mind. Got it to work, too. He cleaned stuff all afternoon; his mom was pretty tolerant until he started in on the family dogs and his little siblings. Then he hit the family cats and of course they went berserk. That was that; Foxmoon had kicked us both out of the tent, swearing in a way I wouldn't have given her credit for knowing. Hadn't had a chance yet to ask her if it was okay to tutor him; too much other stuff had been happening, to put it mildly. Probably best to wait until she was over the flying, screaming cat event, in any case.

Anyways, now here he was pelting towards me, a glowing smile on his face that was kinda out of character for this essentially serious kid. I just couldn't keep from grinning back. Hard to resist someone who's really really glad to see you.

"Jalin, my main man. Bet you heard all kind of rumors about my untimely death, eh?" I was some surprised when he surged right on up to me and wrapped me in a monster hug, but I hugged him back gladly. Shoot, no doubt the kid had been a little freaked by all the fuss.

"Huh? What? You mean a party?" I was startled but not surprised, given Smitty's info on how many celebrations I had caused these bad-asses to skip. Well, okay, I could do a party. The opposite of bad, in my opinion. If I couldn't have sex (goddammit to hell) a big honking party where I could get good and drunk was almost a requirement.

"Indeed. And tonight I will receive my warrior-name as well. The Witch-woman has said we will combine the celebrations. I will be a man of the Shadow Riders, come this evening." Those clear grey eyes were filled with pride and anticipation.

"The witchwoman will give me my true name, my spirit animal, and then will lay with me to confirm it." Those big grey eyes were for some reason blazing into mine; I'd never known grey eyes could burn like that. I guessed the idea of getting some was firing him up.

And well, this was news. So Smitty got to bang the new tribal warriors! Dang the woman, I could only congratulate her mentally. This was definitely an on-the-job benefit, if all the kids were as cute as Jalin. "Is this how it is done in your world, Firehawk?" he now asked me.

"My - well, I don't really have a spirit animal, I don't think. My teacher in magic gave me the 'Firehawk' tag, though. I guess for the hair." I shrugged. I hadn't really asked Jarone why he'd chosen to give me such a flamboyant moniker. I hadn't cared much about anything, at the time.

He looked at me as if he thought I was daft. "But no! The firehawk is your spirit guide, of course. Just as with Lord Nightwolf; 'tis curious, the both of you with such names of power, of legendary creatures rather than those seen often. It is a sign of your greatness, I think." This was said almost shyly, with a quick cool glance up at me that I couldn't quite figure.

He shook his head solemnly. "The Nightwolf, it is the creature that is sometimes a man, but runs with the moon to become wolf. A strong and somewhat fearful spirit animal to own." He shivered a bit, like he really meant it.

"That is the bird of power which dies and is reborn in its own flame, throughout the eons." He eyed me, and this time there was no mistaking the admiration in his look. "A most powerful - and beautiful - spirit."

A Phoenix. He was talking about a goddamn Phoenix. Did this crazy shit ever end? In how many places could our worlds overlap, for gawd's sake? The tie-dyed clothing had been more than enough, dang it.

He gave me another of those quick, through-the-eyelashes glances. "And tonight also - you will be confirmed as a tribesman. Although really this was done when the Wolf chose you, and when you accepted. And and - I wished to ask you, if, well - it is custom that I lay with the Witchwoman to seal the rite - "

"Woah. Hey, kid." I cut him off hastily, and hoped I wasn't blushing. "You're on your own with this one. I'm not about to be explaining the birds and bees here. I'm sure Smitty will be more than happy to show you exactly, uh, where all the parts go and stuff."

He had been looking a little puzzled at my birds and bees comment, but by the time I finished my remarks his expression had changed to anger, and a bit of hurt. "I am no virgin!" he snapped. "And that was not what I meant to ask!"

And then I'll be goddamn if he didn't step right into me and stroke his hand down my body to the front of my pants. Smooth and sure and seductive as hell, gripping me gently in long thin fingers. "I am not the Wolf," he said softly. "But I know how to give and receive pleasure. And I would share with you gladly - you are far more to my taste than the Witchlady, peace be upon her. Though I will honor tradition, of course. But after - " Those clear flawless grey eyes stared up into mine raptly, maybe even with a touch of humor. "And it *is* the custom, during your betrothal time, to share with others. Be sure, I will not be the only one to ask."

Can we say nearly had a major heart attack here? I spluttered and squawked and finally got my voice back from wherever it had flapped off to when this sixteen year old kid decided to fondle my dick through these way too thin tribal trousers. "Jalin, uh, wow." He had too good a hold of me for me to pull away abruptly, and Lord knew I had better sense than to piss off someone who was gripping me in that particular area. "I'm, ah, flattered as all hell, but I really think we should keep our, er, relationship more in the teacher-student range. Y'know?"

"I know." He was so not letting go of me, and to my horror he actually licked his lips as he continued to stare at me with darkening eyes. "I would love to learn from you. Everything you know. All you can teach me. What you like best - what you want most. *Everything.*"

By now I was freaked out enough to have hopped away and just left my pecker in his keeping if I had to. My body's somewhat blatant response to all this, well, attention - had unnerved me badly, shamed me a little. Carson's barely a day out the door and here I am being groped and liking it? And by a young kid, no less. A young kid who wanted me. Very damn obviously wanted me, pushing his obvious WANT against me to make sure I knew all about it, omigawd this was worse than terrible!

Before I could complete my decision to push away, though, a big bellering voice filled the area. "Hey there! You randy little bastard, let go of the wizard's cock this instant! Poor son of bitch can't get three feet from the tent flap and already he has an admirer feeling him up!" Do'nar was loud enough to call some other people's attention to my plight; be damned if the onlookers didn't just grin tolerantly and go on about their business. I can't recall a time I've been so freaking embarrassed.

Jalin rolled his eyes dramatically, but released me. Not without a last lingering squeeze, though, and a softly breathed, "Damn Do'nar. But he won't interfere later tonight." He gave me a promising look, shot a baleful one over my shoulder, and hustled off with a feral grace that of course now I noticed in a most basic way.

I just stood there idiotically watching his tight little butt retreat, my mouth hanging open. Then I focused and backed up quickly - blammo! Right into Do'nar, who was standing behind me about to bust a gut laughing.

"Damn me, wizard - ah hoo hoo hoo!" Do'nar's face was crimson with mirth, and he didn't seem too intimidated by my anger, which just proved what a flaming idiot he really was. "If you could've seen - whew!! The look on your face, like a, a gaffed fish! Lolling there with your mouth at half-mast while Foxmoon's pretty cub strokes you up - and I do mean UP! Haw haw haw, anybody would've thought you never been asked to fuck in your life before - and anybody near the Wolf's tent at night with even partial hearing knows that's bloody unlikely!"

That crunchy, scraping sound? Oh, that would be me grinding my teeth at him. "You know, I can take care of what's LEFT of that ugly-ass beard of yours in less than two seconds. Of course at this range it might take your friggin' head off too!" He wiped the smile off his face quickly, but his eyes still danced. "And you came up behind me, so don't tell me what my face looked like!"

Do'nar grinned again, amiably. I guess he really didn't care if I blew his fat head off his shoulders; doubtless on him it wasn't a vital part. "Oh, I circled round a couple times before deciding to rescue you. Wanted to make sure I got an eyeful. In case the Wolf happens to ask what you've been up to while he's at sword practice. Oh, I beg your pardon, wizard, did you say something? Speak up, man; you sound like a pot on the boil!"

He nodded understandingly. "Yes, of course. And the cub was using your rod to scry his whereabouts. Wizardly methods of finding people seem pretty indirect to me, but then I'm just a big, dumb fighting man. I'm sure it's all beyond my grasp."

I stared at him hotly, but I must admit, with a new and grudging respect. Not as dumb as he looked or acted, and letting me know it. Well, hell, I've been wrong about people before. "Okay," I said bluntly, acknowledging his message and hoping that one word would be enough for him. I think it was; his grin got even bigger, but the look in his eyes turned less malicious and more friendly. "Sword practice. Would you mind telling me more precisely where it is that Carson goes to do this so-called sword practice?" Which he didn't need in the least, by the way.

"Oh, I think you do," he corrected cheerfully. "If you want to arrive there in under an hour, and avoid being groped a dozen more times on the way. Take a good look around you, wizard. Tell me what you see."

The pathways around and between the tents were generally a bustling, busy place during the day. The Riders are a friendly folk amongst themselves, and there was always much stopping, chatting and sociable banter as they went about their business. Being a hated Southern wizard, of course, I had not experienced this sense of camaraderie. I'd rather had the somewhat dubious pleasure of people shutting down their talk and movement icily as I strolled by, only to start it up again in a much more muted, behind-his-back fashion as I moved away.

Now, though, traffic was humming along freely. My presence wasn't freezing things up a bit. In fact, about sixty per cent of the populace was smiling and nodding at me, with murmurs of "Lord Wizard" and "Good day to you!"

There's no other word for it. A gaggle of tittering girls in colorful tribal skirts and tunics, from all the jars hung about them on their way to get water. Well, the Beatles should've gotten such shrieks, squeaks and rolling eyeballs of devotion. One tall man in crimson leathers with long cinnamon-colored hair and the eyes of a golden falcon, who caught my eye, smiled at me, and indicated quite fluently with hand signals that if he weren't in a hurry at the moment he'd be *proud* to suck my dick. A woman in battle leathers who looked a lot like Xena the warrior princess on the TV shows I missed so much, but this woman was as large as Do'nar and sported a scar the size of Detroit on her left cheek. This battle babe not only grinned at me, she eyeballed my crotch (still pretty affected by the Jalin event) and then made large kissing motions in my general direction.

"That's the spirit," he said jovially, slapping me on the back so hard the air whuffed out my lungs. "It's typical during the betrothal, but damn me! You seem to be stirring more interest than is even usual. You're lucky I have a preference for woman, Hawk; even I have to admit you look damned fetching in tribal clothing."

He looked up, noticed who was approaching us, and turned bright red. His jaw fell open. His tongue didn't exactly hang out, but the look on his face reminded me of every slavish, worshipping mutt I'd ever seen.

"My Lord Wizard," Irenea was now close enough to greet me, smiling a bit tiredly. "It's glad I am to see you well at last." For all the attention she paid the dithering Do'nar, he might have been a post I was leaning on.

She was still in tribal leathers and as sexy as ever, but I noticed lines of strain around her eyes and mouth. And was abruptly ashamed of myself. All I'd been thinking of when I saw her approach was how to avoid another come-on. I'd sort of forgotten I owed my freaking life to her.

It was funny, how when she smiled for real instead of with that put-on seductiveness I actually found myself liking her a lot. Then she looked down, looked back up coyly, and damn, that artifice she'd probably learned since childhood was back all too soon.

Well, now. She just had to fuck up right away, didn't she? And here she was giving me that sultry look like dissing Carson is going to make me recognize how much finer *she* is. Gratitude for what she did was all very well, but she was touching on something far beyond her knowledge here. I'm afraid my reply was somewhat terse.

She gasped. Do'nar gasped. I could feel him swelling up like a toad beside me. "Lady - " he stammered, "you must forgive the Hawk, he meant no disrespect, he is new to our ways - "

"I meant no discourtesy," she lied sharply in the same breath. "But this betrothal was my father's thought." Irenea's eyes were snapping at me with the temper of a beautiful woman far too used to getting her own way without negative feedback. "I fear I - dislike the Wolf. I apologize. But he is far too arrogant and I think a user of people besides, though perhaps he does not mean to be so - cold-blooded."

Holding me, shivering in rapture. Laughing at me, yelling at me, crying for me. Telling me he loved me so easily, with no hesitation or ego checks. All that dark sweetness, passion, power. Cold fucking blooded. Oh, you stupid frigid *bitch* you just don't have a clue, do you?

"Funny," I said softly. "But he said almost precisely the same thing about you. Although the lack of intent was up to question." I would not give into this icy rage, would not. Because I knew part of the reason for it was that I couldn't touch him now, and the memories of when I *could* touch him were killing me. I would not hit a woman. I would not hurt someone who'd saved my life for whatever reason. Would not.

I felt Do'nar's hand grip my shoulder hard. What, the bastard was going to defend what she'd said because he had the hots for her? Two people to not-kill. Jesus, I wasn't gonna to make it.

"Lady," Do'nar said in a toneless voice. "You insult one who has shown you kindness beyond your knowledge. The Wolf was well within his rights to kill both you and your father for treachery, whether you were aware of your role in it or not." He drew a deep breath. "And to speak so of him to his Chosen is an insult of its own kind, so damnably ignorant there's no doubt you were trained Southern. You may be beautiful, but by the gods you are a fool!"

"You are right, I am trained Southern. To speak without thought and with malice, to be witty no matter who is hurt and whether I mean what I say or not. And by the gods I hate it! I hate who I am!" Her eyes turned to me and she whispered, "I did not mean it."

Jesus Christ, I hate this kind of stuff. Black and white is better. The good guys versus the bad guys. These shades of grey are reality, but they are no damn fun at all. "Then stop doing it, goddammit!"

She gave me a watery smile. "Believe me, I would like to. But since we return to the South I fear I must keep my façade - intact. Truly I approached you only to say goodbye."

I could only stare at this nutball woman. "Return to the South? Bitch, do you want your old man dead?" I was still angry with her, understand. "Because they WILL kill him, for failing his job. Even if he didn't realize what his job WAS.. You've surely got sense enough to see that!"

"I have sense, upon occasion," she snapped back. Christ, the tears still drying on her cheeks and she was waspish again. If Do'nar knew what was good for him he'd drop his crush on this woman right the damn now. "But where else should we go? The East is a foreign, brutal land, filled with dark creatures and evil men. The West was once - elven. And though all the elves are departed - " She looked down uncomfortably here, no doubt remembering my ears. "Still it is no place for humans, fey and strange as it is. One would go mad there."

Ah, geez. I couldn't believe I was gonna say this. "So stay here." Crap, I said it. I must have a death wish. My whole life would be so much more comfortable if she just left! "You're half tribal, from what I hear. And got the makings of a helluva healer. Your old man's a good guy and still quite a warrior. I don't see the problem."

Her smile this time was a little crooked. "You are both - kind. And to one who barely deserves it. But I doubt the Lord Wolf would choose to have us remain, to say nothing of the rest of his people. We are hated here."

"Well, I think you've pretty well proved that you don't know crap about the Lord Wolf. I'll talk to him about it. He'll probably listen to me." Then, as she absolutely stared at me, I grumbled uncomfortably, "Well, you saved my life, dammit. If he doesn't have some gratitude for that, then he's not gonna get any from this bad boy for awhile."

I gave him a filthy look, then returned my attention to Irenea. "Well, how about it? These guys used to hate me too, ya'know. I'm not saying you won't have to work your ass off to gain approval, but I think you can handle that. So do you want to stay or what?"

Damn if she didn't burst out laughing. There was hope for her yet. "You are mistaken. That would be five per cent of the time." And then, dammit, she moved too quick for me, leaned in, and planted one on me; as kisses go it was pretty chaste, but she hadn't aimed for the cheek at all. I heard Do'nar choke. Shit, I heard myself choke.

"You are too good a friend for that," she finished softly. Then she focused on Do'nar and her mouth quirked. "I will save my charms for big louts like you, who hang their eyes on my breasts and drool into what is left of their beard."

We parted company with Irenea probably a bit too hastily for Do'nar's liking; she was in a hurry to find her father and stop him from packing for the trip South, and cut short his stammering rhapsodies.

It made me a bit nervous, that she trusted so implicitly that I would be able to get a favorable response from Carson. I mean, I always shoot my mouth off more than is good for me, but usually I can back my play. This time, I wasn't so sure. I mean, after all, he'd been pretty upset when we last spoke. Interacted. Whatever. Does kicking a tableful of food all over me count as interaction?

I surprised myself by voicing my feelings to Do'nar. He surprised *me* with a smirk. "Wizard, I don't think I'd worry about it if I were you. Damned if I thought I'd ever say this about any of the Wolf's bedmates, but I believe you're truly his Chosen. And not only because you've lasted beyond the first taste."

He grinned as I studied him with marked suspicion, and, I admit, some annoyance. I may not be jealous, but I didn't need to hear constant reminders of how many "bed mates" Carse has had, either. Especially not at this point in time.

Exotic looks? What was he talking about? I knew I was prettier than I remembered myself being, but exotic? For the first time since being in this reality, I wished the people here had invented mirrors. I'd never been much for noticing my own appearance in the past, but now I kind of - well, wanted to know what Carson saw, when he looked at me in that shadowed, flame-dark way that always turned me on to the max. The smoky haze that filmed those intense blue eyes, the way his mouth softened and moved as if he were tasting me. Even before he did so.

" - you change people. I would be glad and beyond to tumble yon wench, but damn if I ever thought to hear her speak like a human being instead of a Southern strumpet. And as for the Wolf - " He stroked what was left of his beard, looking down at me with thoughtful hazel eyes.

In battle. I couldn't help shivering a bit. The spell I'd put on Carson to watch his back had revealed a bit more than I wanted about who he was. I'd wanted to watch him from a distance, but more than I bargained for? I guess.

My love was a predator. Beautiful and fast and utterly remorseless. An artist of death, painting in hot crimson on a canvas of human lives cut brutally short. Those blades of soot-black steel weaving a sensual, deadly dance only matched by the effortless grace of his body as he killed. Must have done five of them, in maybe twice as many - seconds.

"C'mon, wizard; we can walk and talk both together, I think." He jerked his shoulder in an easterly direction and we started off, side by side, our conversation only interrupted by the occasional need to respond with a "Good day!" to one of my new slew of friends and admirers.

Many of these kind souls seemed way too interested in checking out my body, the more blatant ones leering at my crotch without even bothering to make eye contact. And once we passed I could swear I felt everyone's eyes assessing my butt. It was the middle of summer and these light tie-dyed clothes were very comfortable in the heat, but I was beginning to think that maybe I should ask Smitty where I might get a set of leathers since I was now a tribal guy.

Or maybe a suit of freaking armor, I thought, as a sandy-haired, henpecked-looking fellow with a baby in arms eyeballed me just as admiringly as did the big, mean-looking woman he trailed after. What kind of people were these, anyway? Only Do'nar seemed uninterested in coming on to me in some degree, and you better believe THAT was a relief.

"Y'know," I observed sarcastically before that man could get talking again. "If you plan to discuss my relationship with Carson, the way I look and what I do with either my or his genitals, I suppose you might as well call me 'Hawk'. Just like you did before when you weren't paying attention. 'Wizard' is an occupation, not a name. I might as well refer to you as 'asshole'."

"Well Hawk - I learned a few things while out in the field with the Wolf this last campaign. He is never anything but barely sociable, but this time! Staring brooding into the fire. Staring brooding back towards main camp. Disappearing into the forest without warning, I suspect to think about you and jerk off - "

He grinned. "Well, he, ah, there was this, um, asshole, who referred to you as a whining Southern wizard one too many times. And after smashing this asshole across the face and knocking him into a mud puddle so large the poor bastard nearly drowned, he finally told us explained - that you are from a - if I have this right - another world entirely? A place that has nothing to do with Southern pig vomit?"

He waved a large hand grandly. "Unimportant! The main thing is, although damned if the thing makes any sense to me, you're from a place not Southern and so we can be friends. I can make allowances for the fact that you're still a wizard,"

"Cowardly, Southern scum! Unwilling to face a man in honest battle! Shooting from ambush!" he responded predictably enough. Riders are nothing if not honest about their prejudices.

"Yeh, right, what scoundrels." Had to interrupt him before his rant on archery picked up steam. Thing was, I knew a bit about the sport - as much as you can pick up anyway being on the team in junior college. I'd learned more since coming here, and I didn't intend to share with Do'nar how many enemies I'd nailed from a distance, or he'd be right back in suspicious mode at me.

I sighed. "Well, it's just that a couple of things bother me about that arrow. Southern arrows are, well, gaudy. Usually striped and feathered with the colors of whatever House the archer swears allegiance to. The arrow that got Carse was plain. A hunting arrow."

I gave him a second to think about it. He didn't disappoint me. Done shut up. He was glaring at me, but he understood. Smarter than he looked. Oh, thank God I don't have to do this alone.

"Aside from that. The arrow went in through his back. Don't know about you, but I have a problem thinking of Carson turning his back to the enemy. Unless they surrounded you?"

His face was slowly turning fifteen shades of red. His hand was on the axe at his belt. "It tells me that I will watch his back. It tells me that his Chosen is smarter than this warrior fool will ever be."

He didn't smile. "Someone wants to kill him - just him. Not because he is the mightiest warrior the Tribes have known. For some other reason. A traitor, within the Tribe? Never in a thousand years has this happened."

"I do not deny it." He grabbed my hand tightly before I could pull away. His voice was almost detached, but those hazel eyes were blazing. "Tell me in more detail, Hawk. Tell me where you come from. What you are, and what is happening."