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Simurg 2	By : Cynthermes Category: A through F > The Cronnex Series Views: 1375 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: The Cronnex and its characters solely belong to Trewin Greenaway and no profit has been made out of this fiction.

Chapter List
- 7
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“As the son and legal heir of the late king Ark’ham, Prince El’lorne is subjected to earn his birthright from the current ruler of Visfern for I am not in any way related to him by blood.” King Tesh repeated and the half-blood finally understood why his guardian was quick to argue in his defense.
“Your Highness, we are not here to challenge your supremacy. In fact we had gone all the trouble to speak with you as emissaries of King Caelas, ruler of Corintha.” It was definitely odd to see a godling resort to pleas and arguments with a mortal demon king when he could settle the matter quickly with his divinity.
“You are an outsider, Cinder. And you have brought me the threat to my sovereignty in the guise of building a mutual alliance. You have no word or sway over the laws and traditions of Ngurknasg.” Despite his cold and steely countenance, Teshnar’ad was waging a war against himself. His resolve was shaking and he was a step away from giving in. The person before him had an expression— oh so familiar in those eyes… the eyes belonging to his beloved. If he would just stop fooling himself for a moment, he was certain the person before him was Niccas, his long lost love.
Cinder’s lips were now compressed into a very thin line. He was reaching the end of his patience, Elyn observed. Their chances of winning the sovereign’s favor and trust have slipped away because of him. But the empath could easily see through the heartless mask the king wears just for them.
The matter of legal succession was even out of the question.
King Tesh was casting a lure meant for the person acting as his protector. “I challenge Prince El’lorne in a duel to the death at the summit of Wlydmast Druim!” This declaration destroyed all room for argument.
The desired reaction was instantaneous.
The throne room exploded into an uproar of beastly agreement.
The pair of elder highly ranked demons who chose not to interfere was horrified but had no more word to convince their ruler otherwise. Among the four demon races the dragon-spawn were the only ones not howling or roaring in approval over the Sovereign’s decision.
Hvergel’mir was silent, expression betraying nothing but he was unsettled of this outcome. Perhaps he had misunderstood his liege’s intentions.
Elyn felt the weight of his helplessness when the king stood up from his throne and was heading straight for him. He was clearly no match for the centuries-old demon whose mere aura was menacingly engulfing the static energy of the room.
The air crackled with such intensity as he approached and the Halfling found himself unable to move, paralyzed in fear like a prey at the mercy of a powerful and dangerous predator.
Teshnar’ad raised his hand and was about to grab Elyn’s wrist when Cinder blocked his path.
The sovereign growled in outrage, grabbed the former Nithaial and pitched him high into the air.
The boy could only stare in shock as his guardian was thrown halfway across the room.
Cinder suddenly found himself on his back, dazed, bruised, and recovering from the demon king’s unexpected attack. The indignant firebird’s temper simmered within him for being caught so off-guard at a time like this. He lifted himself off the ground as if an invisible force shoved him hard on his feet to deal with the stubborn demigod. Breathing harshly and with an unshakable determination in his blood-red eyes he spoke, “Let it be me. It should be me, Teshnar’ad.”
There were several beastly cries of outrage at this bold address of the Sovereign but Cinder ignored them. He was unwilling to use his ethereal rank as the Fourth Star just to win the favor of Ngurknasg or to succeed forming an interracial alliance between two kingdoms.
Even before a pair of bronze demonic arms snatched him to safety, Elyn knew and felt that the rest of the audience simply faded into the background. The godling and the avatar have acknowledged each other’s presence as the sole existence within the throne room.
“What did you say, you insolent fool?” So, Teshnar’ad continues with the façade, Cinder—no, Niccas thought wryly.
“I’ll repeat for His Highness’ sake for he seemed not to hear a thing I have said.” The former Nithaial Elimiel mimicked. “Challenge me, Teshnar’ad, for I have brought the threat to your supremacy.”
The demon king tried not to flinch each time that familiar voice would call him by his true name. He was getting more flustered, angered, and aroused… at the sheer challenge and insolence this new form of Niccas crassly throws his way.
He had his beloved where exactly he wanted him and there was no turning back. “Then you agree to throw your life away for that half-demon whelp?”
“Who gave you the idea that I would accept your challenge just to lose? I will fight to my last breath, your highness.” Cinder replied sweetly with just a hint of arrogance making every nerve in Teshnar’ad’s body spark with excitement and fury.
If the lad before him was less intent on strangling his throat, Teshnar’ad was afraid they might pound each other senseless in the most lewd way noticing not for the first time how those ruby eyes glittered with such an intensity that could easily be mistaken for desire.
“Very well,” His jaws were clenched so hard he could taste blood on his tongue. “Sorcerer, prepare the dagmast circle.” The demon king ordered to no one in particular when Psu’senesh moved to obey.
The demonic teleportation device was barely complete when Teshnar’ad lunged for Cinder again.
He had moved so fast, the godling barely caught outstretched clawed hands aiming for his throat. Teshnar’ad’s broader chest sharply slammed against Cinder’s ribs and the impact knocked them both to the ground.
The next thing they knew, they were wrestling with fairly matched strength. The demigod rolled them on the enclosed space circled with enchanted travel stones.
At once, their struggling bodies shimmered with incandescent light as the spell matrix pulsed with enough magic to spirit them away to Wyldmast Druim.
“Cinder!” Elyn yelled too late as his guardian’s physical form diminished until it was nothing but a ghostly apparition. The instant he managed to break free from the protective hold of bronze arms he rushed towards the teleportation circle only to be yanked backwards again.
The two wispy figures within disappeared soon after.
“Stop, Elyn!” Mordred snapped and subjected the said stubborn Halfling into a backward hug, imprisoning flailing arms and kicking legs with the bulk of his body.
“No! Let go! Cinder!” Elyn struggled harder making it impossible not to turn him around and slap some sense into him.
“Enough!” The pureblood demon prince bellowed.
A shallow cut welled blood and dripped on the side of Elyn’s cheek. One of his claws had struck the fair skin even when he withheld his strength. Mordred resisted the overwhelming urge to hold that cheek and kiss the blood away. “Your guardian has done the best he can, in the most legal and possible manner to save your life from the wrath of the Sovereign! Be grateful and have faith in him.” He said the last phrase calmly and clearly enough for the distraught half-blood prince to understand.
The hissing Grazen slur of a speech stunned Elyn. He looked up, teary-eyed, fearful, uncertain, and felt truly alone for the first time. His parents were dead, his grandfather left him for reasons unknown, and now even his guardian, his only friend, was forced to abandon him to save his life. And yet here stands another person before him, providing him with words of reason and comfort. This Mordred was somewhat different from the haughty, temperamental, ill-mannered demon prince, a part of the empath thought pleasantly.
A nonthreatening clawed hand cupped his cheek in an almost affectionate manner. And with the voice low enough for only the two of them to hear, spoke, “Your guardian is someone special. I believe he calms even the fiercest of storms.”
“How do you happen to know that?”
Mordred tepidly resisted the slow burn that warmed his icy heart. When Elyn looked at him like that… those large aquamarine pools filled with innocence and hope… He was caught between forever debauching that innocence and protecting it with his very life. He wanted to break him, destroy his soul and at the same time, hold him tenderly in contradictory to his cold, cruel nature.
He was in love and he didn’t want to answer. So he turned away from Elyn and faced the demon populace instead. “My loyal subjects, an unforeseen incident has occurred today. Let us pray to the Father Ra’asiel and hope that His Highness, The Sovereign fares well. I assure you he would return by the Father’s will.”
As if he had spoken a magical incantation, the demon populace that had gathered for the audience simply dispersed and went separate ways.
Only three chose to remain before the two princes.
Hvergel’mir, leader of the dragon-spawn approached and bowed to them. “My lords, I am certain that His Lordship knows what he is doing and I have placed my unshakable faith in him. But until he has set his terms with King Tesh, our Sovereign, I now place my loyalty and service to you, my lords.”
“Rise Hvergel’mir.” Mordred ordered impatiently. “Don’t get into the foolish notion that my father is already dead. I trust that he and this whelp’s guardian would agree on something soon enough. Psu’senesh!”
“Yes, my prince?” The demon court sorcerer and intermediary quickly planted himself between the royal demonlings and the dragon-spawn.
“Get this war commander out of my sight and use both of your pacifying magicks to calm the populace. Who knows for how long those unsettled miscreants would keep the peace now that my father is away.” The pureblood prince was close to throwing a tantrum.
“Of course, my prince.” Both demons moved to swiftly follow his command.
“You have any need of me, my prince?” Mordred’s temper almost boiled to the surface when he heard Do’arma’ak’s usual subservient drivel.
“Do me a favor and find idle time. You have driven yourself half-mad with worry whenever my father graces your company. Take advantage of his absence.” The pureblood prince ignored the lost expression that had fallen over the minder’s face and turned his back on the nearly empty throne room while dragging an unusually docile Elyn to his bedchambers.
XxX

Cinder was breathless when he rolled on the other side of completely different slab of stones. The fast spellbound travel was not without a price. The dagmast circle requires the spiritual essence of the traveller as fuel for teleportation. If he were a mere human, he would be dazed and senseless not struggling to keep strong limbs from strangling or incapacitating him.
He only had enough time to draw a little breath when Teshnar’ad was upon him again. There was no punching or kicking but the demigod with consuming strength was attempting to pin his arms over his head and straddling his thighs so the godling couldn’t gain a foothold. Perhaps the avatar planned to incapacitate him and therefore be the victor.
The phoenix-incarnate passively wondered how his adversary could sustain such strength when they had a rather long flight, a journey towards the other side of the continent. And yet he was losing more and more grip as he grappled with Teshnar’ad’s wrists and with bent knees prevented those powerful thighs from straddling him.
The phoenix in him thought, He uses his life force, his half-immortal magic as a source of his strength.
Submitting to his godly wisdom firsthand, he feared his ethereal powers would thrash from his tight rein, next.
The opposite of the sort happened instead.
As he held back his powers, the strain of battling with his godly self severely weakened Cinder and with it he could no longer keep his opponent at bay.
When his hands slackened only a little, Teshnar’ad immediately took advantage, slammed his hands away and captured his wrists pinning them above his head. With a last ditch effort he aimed for a well delivered kick using both his legs with the force coming from his hips down to the pads of his feet.
With this unexpected counter maneuver the demon king stumbled backwards unthinkingly using his elbows and shoulders to lessen the impact. It was a grave mistake when his injured flesh hit the ground.
Cursing, the demigod hastily sprung to his feet and the godling was barely able to stand when he suddenly switched tactics and kept his distance.
Cinder narrowed his eyes when the strange feelings on last night’s brush of death and passion returned. His opponent began to circle him in slow, sure steps, probably studying his posture, his gait, and looking for a weakness to be exploited. He would not fall for the same trick twice!
He equally studied his moving adversary and spotted the dangling strips of torn gauze falling off on the demon king’s side. A whiff of burned flesh sickened him and he hesitated before sudden realization struck him.
The strange room, the devious ambush, his uncontrolled powers, his unseen assailant: all the memories from last night’s deceit and tempestuous tryst sent him reeling in disbelief. They burned his mind like rapid strikes of lightning wreaking havoc on earth, destroying the last vestiges of his amnesia and with the absence of the dagmast charm, he was completely Niccas again; the half-mortal who was made immortal.
In his mind’s eye he saw Teshnar’ad watch him as he entered the hatching chamber. He felt the hot, smoldering pain of desire as the avatar’s familiars spilled his blood. The taste and essence of his lifeblood lingered on his tongue while the demon king savored it like intoxicating wine. He became fair game the moment his dagmast pendant was clipped neatly away.
Sharp scalding pain made Teshnar’ad cry out when punishing eternal flames ignited out of control. His protective barrier almost shattered against the terrible power unleashed from the phoenix’ suffering but fortune smiled at him and despite the nearly grievous injuries, his life was spared.
He survived the blast albeit the stinging burns and he continued to observe from a distance now hidden in glamour, a defensive spell that conceals the caster within interlocking mirrors that reflect the images into an illusion of absence.
He lingered and marveled at the visible cracks of mortality, tearing and mending to shroud divinity within.
The avatar withdrew to his chambers and waited on him while weaving the spell of lure and deceit into a language so old and bare, a song without sound, and a melody vastly hypnotic that could turn any being into a puppet like the lilting tones of a siren…
Within the sanctorum of his soul he watched himself lose any semblance of control and caution, giving in to temptation.
He had committed the unthinkable atrocity… he let another touch his ethereal body, he allowed a mortal to make love to him…
Worse, it was a lover from the past… the only lover who had never betrayed or forgotten him.
He knows me. He knows it is I all this time…
Then what of the reason for this duel?
Troubled thoughts distracted him and before he had enough wit to arm himself, late afternoon sun shone against something metallic and Cinder instinctively raised his arms in defense.
The dagger struck full force but the expected sharp pain didn’t come.
Rather, a rope now bound his wrists with a slip knot firmly in place. The short blade was burrowed to the hilt on the crack between stone and earth. Teshnar’ad tugged on the rope once to make the knot snug enough to immobilize Cinder’s arms. He tugged twice and the godling was skin to skin with the avatar.
Ruby eyes fretfully flicked a glance on the smallest glint of metal visible on the anchor of his tightrope and he heard a dark chuckle so close to his ear in reaction. The former Nithaial Elimiel suppressed a shudder. Ra’asiel’s avatar used his momentary distraction to lure him into his crafty cunning. The dagger was a means for deceit so that when he raised his arms to shield his head and neck, effectively blinding him, the rope (the real weapon) would be cast about to bind his wrists.
As he was pulled closer, so close to feel the warm moist breath on his cheek, his ruby eyes once again strayed on the dagger buried on the earth of the flat-topped mountain that was Wyldmast Druim.
Teshnar’ad could have easily plunged the dagger into his heart when the peculiar rope bit on his skin to earn victory. It matters not that he was immortal, pain spares no one, and he would still lose in any fair duel. He and Elyn would be cast out of Visfern as defeated couriers who have failed their mission.
A sharp tug on his hair, a swift tilt on his chin and he was caught on deep green forest fires. “You said you’d fight to your last breath.”
“To fight you is pointless now.” Cinder met his eyes for a moment then looked away again in resignation.
“Fight me.” Teshnar’ad hissed. “Fight me and kill me! Tis my desire!” These words cut him deeper than any blade, hurt him more than any wound.
“I shall not!” Cinder spat in barely held hurt and anger.
“Are you mocking me for staying bound? You can easily break free from these bonds!” Without an ounce of care or gentleness he pushed Cinder and his tethered hands to the ground and brusquely turned his back reaching for the dagger.
For the third time, the phoenix-incarnate was drawn to it. The last rays of the dying sun gave the sharp blade a reddish gold luminescent glow. This time he could not take his eyes off of it as it drew nearer and nearer. Teshnar’ad raised the blade but he couldn’t move.
He could only close his eyes and wait for the blow to fall. A strong gust of wind howled a wounded sound echoing from the surrounding mountains.
“I should have known it would be harder with the return of your memories. Dreams are indeed ominous for a haunted soul.”
Cinder felt the makeshift rope tear from his wrists and was unaware of mauve feathers dancing frantically in the gale. The phoenix-incarnate was so intent and drawn to the tip of the dagger and the clawed hand clutching his free hand that he heard not a word.
When the wind stilled he was shocked to find the avatar’s hands overlapping his own on the jeweled handle while the blade itself was poised against Teshnar’ad’s vulnerable breast.
How had it come to this?
He wrenched free from this orchestrated pose and dropped the dagger. “You’re trying to make a fool out of me!” Cinder kicked the offending weapon back to its owner and this time produced one for his use.
“And I was guiding you to an easy finish. Must you decline such generosity?” The avatar unhurriedly picked his dagger and sheathed it. Unlike his immortal counterpart he was able to feel the subtle changes. They were alone no longer.
“Stop it! Why are you doing this?” Cinder demanded with a voice bleeding in anguish.
“I deceived you, My Lordship. I took advantage of your mortal guise, assaulted you, and even went so far in seducing you and claiming you as my own. I debauched your virtue! Isn’t it fitting for you to take the life of your impudent servant?” Teshnar’ad replied never sounding regretful at the very least.
The former Nithaial Elimiel bristled in outrage. Teshnar’ad was being too difficult. “Confessions are late! I am no more innocent than you for allowing it. Now tell me what I must do to win your trust for an alliance! Your death has no place if we are to forge this bond between kingdoms.”
The avatar turned his back, inviting treachery to hide a smile. Niccas was getting desperate for his cause.
A particular memory rushed into his head and it was that time when the disgraced Nithaial Elimiel suffered betrayal from his human friends. His transgression was no different than Helias’ or Nassazia’s. It was a sin of the flesh and he wouldn’t be surprised if Ra’asiel personally came to exact retribution from him.
The avatar watched the growing amethyst shadow hovering behind the Phoenix-incarnate from the corner of his slitted eyes. If it was time for reckoning then he had no qualms about facing it.
The feather dagger quivered and jerked from Cinder’s grip before shooting forward. It was demanding blood and its target was none other than the avatar’s heart. What bedeviled magic had possessed his weapon this time? He lunged for it fighting for control when an invisible force equally battled for dominance. The blade twisted and swerved abruptly left and right like a disturbed snake fighting for its freedom.
His strength seemed to fail him when it slithered from his grasp and flew ricocheting towards Teshnar’ad’s unmoving form.
That blundering fool!
With a burst of adrenaline and healthy fear, Cinder flung himself on the defenseless demon king barely getting him out of harm’s way. A pained grunt was his reward.
The feather dagger missed them by a finger’s span and the phoenix-incarnate rolled away when he felt the demon king tense beneath him.
“I turn my back for an instant and then I find a most surprising reunion.” Cind’rikh shot up to see the most unexpected presence at a moonless twilight. “Greetings Beloved, you seem unhappy to see me.” The godling flinched at the endearment when he could only feel cold fury seeping into those words.
“Ra’asiel…” Cind’rikh stuttered, too shocked to say anything more.
“My lord.” Immediately, Teshnar’ad lay prostrate in obeisance but the Opposing One only shot him a withering glare.
If looks could kill, which is possible for a god, the avatar was certain he would be instantly erased from existence.
Yet the Second Star merely studied them wordlessly. The amethyst god stood bare, tall, and proud adorned with his customary breechcloth and rainbow medallion. Blue flames encircled his wrists and ankles like clusters of sapphire suns. He was in his true form and not a trace of mortality and normalcy were present.
In all his godly glory he strode unhurriedly towards his gaping consort to claim his rightful place.
Cind’rikh was close to panic when his husband approached. Ra’asiel’s golden eyes were glowing with rage but the handsome face was cloaked in icy indifference.
The godling shut his eyes from the intimidating sight, trembling pitifully, and instinctively moved a step back as the Lord of Chaos approached. Was it a trick of time and space? Not a muscle moved and the thought of retreat barely crossed his mind when hot and cold fingers traced his cheek and caressed his neck. He didn’t even feel air shift in the movement when warm breath thrummed at the hollow of his throat and he shuddered when a soft kiss was placed there.
Affections were completely out of place in this situation and the godling bit on his lip to keep the whimpers in. The hands moved from their perch at the base of his neck to outline the smooth planes of his shoulders. Another kiss was placed on his collar bone and an agile tongue flicked mischief on the area just above his nipple.
He couldn’t stop shivering maybe in guilt or in fear but the words whispered in his ear shattered the delicate frame holding him intact. “So this pathetic mortal was all it took for you to be unfaithful to me.” Ethereal golden orbs scorched the prostrate creature. “It is most ironic that the pest I dreaded lives right under my wing.”
Cind’rikh’s eyes widened and he gasped when large calloused hands seized his wrists and forced him down to the ground. All gentleness and kindness left Ra’asiel in his blind jealousy. The godling lay sprawled, disheveled, and panting beneath him. His talismanic shirt was torn to shreds; britches were roughly tugged down, aggressive hands and a ravenous mouth soon clawed and devoured him without pause.
The primal actions were devoid of love and tenderness. There were only intentions of domination, possession, and consummation in the mating. And Ra’asiel wanted to claim, possess, and worship his flesh in front of Teshnar’ad.
It was more than a satisfying revenge against a rival lover.
Teshnar’ad cringed even from his bowed position when his Niccas moaned and writhed as his nipples were sucked by hungry lips and pulled by long tormenting fingers. “Nnh—! Stop! Not like…a..ah…! Ungh! Not like this!” He pulled away and twisted with effort, trying to break free from those imprisoning arms but to no avail.

Sharp teeth bit into his lips, a powerful tongue thrust inside, raping his mouth to force silence.
His closed knees were jerked apart and Cind’rikh smelled the strong musk before he felt the wet hard crown nudge at his reluctant entrance.
No! The phoenix-incarnate mind-touched his husband for he couldn’t speak with their lips locked in a searing kiss.
Ra’asiel ignored his tears and the wild pitiful cries issuing deep his throat and stroked his member into full arousal.
It was a pleasure he couldn’t resist and he was hard, aching, and unwilling when he finally gasped for air. “Uhnh! D-Damn… you!”
“You’re more damned wanton between the two of us, Beloved.” Ra’asiel purred as he began stroking their members together; stealing a glance at his pained and helpless avatar still crouched to the ground in obeisance. He didn’t recall giving him leave to rise, did he? He licked his mauve lips in fat satisfaction when he observed how fragile Teshnar’ad was. Just a little more, just a little push and his loyal avatar would crumble; fade away from the recesses of his consort’s mind.
Cind’rikh was ill-prepared when large digits pried his tender folds open. The puckered bud was red and moist in excitement and he bucked wildly when a finger pushed inside. It twisted and played, tortured and teased, fondled and rubbed all over his sensitive places, his smaller pleasure nodes, missing the large lump, the heart of his secret desire on purpose. And yet he was already a slave: ruby eyes fully dilated, skin flushed red, salivating in bliss, dark nipples peaked to attention, and his hips boldly met and swallowed that engorged organ ramming inside of him.
Their coupling was frantic, feverish, and animalistic. It was a sundering, encompassing and all-consuming. For two rippling bodies joined as one, nothing else exists save pleasure, desire, and a mortally wounded demon.
Teshnar’ad died each time his Niccas suffered blissful onslaught, howled in rapture and called out in the blistering heat of passion. His heart ached, his thoughts shuffled and churned in disarray but he continued to watch the dark head loll to the side while the god breathed harsh rasps on his ear.
Was it a trick of the senses or…
“No.” Niccas mouthed in between shallow pants. The dark head was shaking side to side in negation. “No.” He repeated firmly when the lingering aftershocks of pleasure faded.
Ra’asiel froze, golden eyes widened with the unexpected rejection and Cind’rikh used this pause to extract himself from the other’s body causing trapped semen to gush freely out of his delicate, abused hole.
He winced when he felt the warm fluid, the evidence of his surrender, trickling down his thighs. He stood up shakily on naked feet and moved away from his petrified husband.
- 7
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Simurg 2