Lightfoot Read online

  On the shelf was a humble clay cup that he’d kiln fired. It was smooth and even, but the glaze looked lopsided. He’d made a hundred like it, and this was the best he’d managed. A book of piss-poor poems and one-tenth complete ballads sat next to that. Each entry was an example of terrible meter, overstretched rhyming, and lackluster imagination. His mother was the keeper of the great ballad, and even with years of her poking and prodding to impart some inspiration, he’d come up empty.

  Hanging from an adjacent peg, his lute waited for repair. He’d tripped and accidentally caught the instrument on a tree branch. The resulting crash had snapped two strings. Not that it had hurt the sound of it. He couldn’t even strum it in time, much less use it to cast spells.

  He’d tried hard to be what his family and the village expected, but he’d been a failure across the board. He couldn’t dance, couldn’t sing. His primitive paintings lacked perspective, and his music was as attractive as nails on a chalkboard.

  There were only a couple things he was good at. He was at least reasonably handsome and had invested a lot of time into learning the skill of pleasing his companions in the arts of both conversation and seduction. However, those tasks didn’t get put on the name board for the workgroup assignments, not that finding that expertise was hard here.

  Eden’s Meadow was the Deva’s playground. They came to be entertained. That meant that most of the village was attractive and encouraged to be as promiscuous as their duties allowed. The Devas cared not for the chastity of their toys. After all, practice makes perfect.

  They brought back people from across hundreds of realms with promises that they’d be kept safe here. And that was partially true. There wasn’t a single predator to be found, aside from the Devas. They might have to enforce their deity’s ideals in other realms, but here, those things didn’t seem to matter.

  TJ didn’t know much of the higher workings, but the village seemed to be the backstage of their theater. A place where the roles were relaxed. The actors could be themselves and free from the scrutiny of their daily duties. A few Devas stayed in the realm, keeping things running, but most came and went. Sometimes days, sometimes a season, but never longer.

  Aside from the soldiers coming in from the field, not every Deva was an absolute terror. Like Lady Serina, some were kind when they could get away with it, but even they had appearances to maintain amongst their kind.

  While he could easily slip into the Devas compound and keep any number of their women company, none would go against the name board. Their kind didn’t care to govern their subjects’ day-to-day needs, so their decrees were followed to the letter. Any push to adjust it was typically met with a swift and painful death.

  TJ sat cross-legged at the end of his bed and held his head in his hands, lost in thought. He’d been to several revels. The wine flowed, and the music played, but anything less than an absolute masterpiece of dance would get him flayed alive. They would find entertainment in his attempt, one way or another.

  Given his complete lack of coordination on a good day, he’d have to hope they made his end quick. He could always not go, but his failure to appear would have his mother and father killed outright with him, regardless of their status among the Breeze Dancers. If the hosts took extreme offense, they might kill one in ten of his clan in a decimation ritual as well.

  Not seeing any answers, he reached under his mattress and retrieved a small package. Death was never too far away for any villager and if he was going to die anyway, there wasn’t much point in putting it off. He only had one thing he’d regretted not doing yet.

  “This is stupid, TJ. She’s just gonna tear your wings off and make you eat them,” he muttered to himself.

  He cursed his foolish heart, then opened the small hand-woven basket and pulled out the strange cube-shaped gem. It was blood red and roughly the size of a walnut. He huffed a moist breath on it twice, then rubbed it on the simple gray fabric of his robe. Over the next few minutes, he polished each of its flat edges to a brilliant shine. He scrutinized it then rubbed at it a bit more as he tried to remove his fingerprints.

  Holding it up, he let the sunbeam from the window shimmer through the stone. The light refracted, causing several brilliant red flares to dance across the walls of his home. They seemed far brighter than a simple reflection could account for. He’d never seen anything like it before he’d found it high up on a cliffside that the river cut below.

  It had taken him the better part of an afternoon to free it. There hadn’t been a place to stand or hang, so he’d painstakingly smacked a rock against the surrounding surface while doing his best to flap in place. He’d then hammered away the surrounding stone as carefully as he could.

  It was the most precious thing he owned, but his heart fell, nonetheless.

  “It’s a rock,” he muttered. “You’re giving her a rock.”

  TJ pulled the small leather purse out from his robes and tossed it in the center of his bed. Whoever ended up with his hovel next could probably put the small handful of wooden chits he’d earned to use. He hoped they’d raise a toast or two in his name.

  He stared at the ceiling of his home for nearly a full minute before his shoulders slumped. He wanted to scream at them, to run away, to try to fight, but it was all pointless. It would just get his family killed. He’d been raised to know the inevitability of such things. This was simply the way things were.

  Standing, he tucked the crude basket into the folds of his robes and took to the bluebird skies the moment he was outside. He forced himself to not look back. There was little chance he’d be returning.

  He circled his part of the meadow, watching the activity below. Several dozen students sat in a circle of stone paving tiles to the north, each practicing their instruments. A thick haze of magic swirled around most of them.

  As he watched, a familiar brown-haired boy disappeared. Apparently, young Mattias Fleming from a few houses down had finally perfected his invisibility spell.

  Another strummed their lute and raised their hand, causing a startlingly bright ray of light to shoot into the air.

  Fire engulfed the Johnson-Barron twins as they played their flutes. TJ watched, entranced as the blaze shifted into bodies of living flame that danced to their beat.

  TJ sighed, envying them. He’d been a hopeless student, but he’d kept at it every single day. He still remembered the frustrated expression on the instructor’s face with perfect clarity as the man said he’d rather shove needles into his eardrums than take any more of TJ horrific attempts at the lute.

  Getting expelled from the bardic school had easily been the worst day of his life. It was possibly even worse than today. Master Thratum might have just informed him that his life was forfeit, but his music instructor had killed his dreams long ago.

  More than anything in the world, TJ had hoped to earn a powerful gift. For Eden’s Meadow residents without disposition for a school of magic, that path was that of the bard. Those that rose through the magical ranks demanded respect.

  A few like Nixy had grown so formidable through their talents that they were left alone entirely. Once a slave to the whims of the benefactors, the dryad had earned her freedom.

  She was still trapped in their realm, but no one bothered her. Her name had long since been pulled from the name board. Once that was done, not even the Devas cared to keep track of her. She was free to spend her days tending to her garden and served as a reminder to everyone else that such lofty heights could be attained.

  Until then, he and all the rest were dolls they dressed up at a make-believe tea party. Forced to ignore the reality of the situation and pretend that they were here because they wanted to be. To make believe that the Devas were righteous and benevolent protectors. TJ pinched his eyes tight for a moment as he pushed away daydreams of no longer being a powerless plaything.

  He swooped over the tenement section, taking in the cacophony of smells. His senses were sharp, even for a Breeze Dancer, and from this low altit
ude, he could practically taste the city. Freshly baked bread, rich stews, and a floral scent that had to be someone preparing a batch of perfume assaulted his keen nose. He waved to a few people below who happened to look upward more out of habit than anything else.

  Spotting the stone walls of the keep, he eased into a glide. The compound was more than twice the village’s size, with smooth rock walls that glittered in the light and large tapestries that hung on the walls of most of the buildings. Plants from other worlds blossomed around the entrance, slowly dancing to an unheard song as they occasionally released colored bubbles that floated into the air.

  Settling to the ground, he approached a man in elaborate dark red robes that he recognized as Ar’Ink, the Assistant Seneschal. The muscled man was completely bald and kept his metallic skin polished to a silver shine. The only deviation in his appearance from that of a well-polished statue were the onyx eyes set in his face. His robes were immaculately clean and primly folded. The light reflected off the bronze talisman that hung from his neck as identification of his station.

  Typically, TJ was summoned to the keep, and as such, he had only spoken with Ar’Ink a few times since the man had arrived two seasons ago. TJ got the feeling the Assistant Seneschal considered himself too sophisticated to hang out at the tavern. That or perhaps the metal man didn’t eat or drink, so he hadn’t realized that was their primary form of socialization in the village.

  There were any number of strange races in Eden’s Meadow like that. Either way, the man never came off as outright pompous like his predecessor had. Frankly, even if the man kept to himself, most of the village was happy to have him. He served as a buffer between the Devas and the citizens. Usually, that was a short-term position, but Ar’Ink’s body was durable enough to endure what the benefactors might casually dish out.

  TJ bowed low and waited to be acknowledged.

  “Yes?” the man asked in a low rumble of a voice.

  “TJ of the Breeze Dancers to see Lady Serina,” TJ replied.

  The man asked, “And what shall I say is the reason?”

  TJ smirked. “Please inform her that I’m available at her pleasure. I’m confident she’ll see me if she’s not otherwise occupied.”

  The man gave a neutral nod, having expected this would be the answer. There wasn’t a reason to give a citizen a hard time for doing what the Devas encouraged them to do. They enjoyed being sought after.

  The silver-skinned man motioned to a few nearby cushions. “I’ll inform the young Lady. Please make yourself comfortable.”

  “Mmm… that was nice,” Serina purred.

  TJ yawned and nodded his head. His eyes blinked slowly from lack of sleep, but his body was content. Worn weary and utterly spent, but completely sated.

  Serina gave a soft laugh. “Stop that, or you’ll make me yawn, and I don’t sleep.”

  Her hand began to glow as she started walking her fingertips across his bare chest. She kept going until she reached the fine white down that tapered into existence at his shoulders and spread down his back. Shifting directions, she dragged a fingernail under his chin as she gazed into his golden cat-like eyes.

  Wordlessly, her magic twisted its way into his body, and a groan of pleasure escaped his lips. Any sense of his exhaustion melted away, like a heavy blanket slowly pulled from his body.

  “Much appreciated, my Lady,” he replied smoothly.

  “Stop with that, TJ,” she chided.

  TJ shifted the luxurious pillow under his head so he could better see Serina’s naked form. “As you wish, but I don’t want to cause you problems, Serina. If anyone caught me not showing respect or you letting me get away with it, well… we both know what would happen.”

  Serina grumbled, “My family is full of idiots.”

  TJ didn’t hide the sharp breath he’d sucked in.

  “Ok, maybe don’t repeat that. I’d rather not have my beloved consort immolated,” she said with a frown.

  As if in apology for the situation, Serina curled an elegant arm over his chest. The move caused her firm breasts to brush against his side. She dipped low and pressed her lips to his, causing his mind to flutter.

  Without warning, a volcano of her magic erupted through his mind as she placed an unknown blessing upon him. His body shivered in response as it processed the powerful spell. He had to blink several times before his eyes adjusted to the fact he was glowing brightly. The golden aura faded quickly, but he could feel the thrum of something deliciously potent shifting under his skin.

  She gave him a devious grin as she pulled back. “Just something for luck.”

  A bliss-like feeling settled over his body. TJ could only sigh in contentment as he gazed at her nude form. She was young for a Deva, barely into her maturity. Still, her body had a pull that was irresistible and gave her a unique look.

  The woman was tall, being the same height as himself, with short black hair, an athletic body with supple curves in just the right spots. Her soft bluish-gray skin made her dark red eyes seem more stark and deadly. When she chose to let them manifest, her wings were a pure white with a brilliant golden aura that crackled with divine might. She was alien, gorgeous, and undeniably dangerous.

  And TJ was hopelessly in love with her.

  He mentally cringed as that thought danced through his head.

  Due to Serina’s age, she had no official role within Deva society. The gods and angels had not yet chosen her path. Once that happened, she’d have to put the follies of youth aside and take up her mantle, along with finding a Deva lifemate.

  She could have whatever consorts she wanted, but no matter what TJ might wish, she was bound for a future that didn’t include him. Any Deva suitor that saw the way she looked at him would kill him out of hand. While it was entirely appropriate for her to have sex with whomever she wished, the level of adoration she displayed and leeway she gave were not.

  While some might consider him no more than a favored pet, anyone who looked too closely at TJ himself would see the layers upon layers of spell work she’d woven into him and would surely have him executed. Serina had often used him to practice her art, and she’d become a prodigy with her magic. She performed incantations and rituals far beyond what her instructors taught, often dabbling with the highest forms of magic, and usually using him as her test subject.

  She’d continue slamming spell after spell into him anytime she had the power to spare. It had become an intimate thing as they lay in bed together. She worked through her repertoire, and they coupled once her pool was spent. Then she’d begin again. Grinding, she called it, and TJ had long since learned to love every moment. Or most of it anyway.

  She’d once removed his very soul and put it into one of her perfume bottles just to see if she could do it. The process hadn’t hurt, but knowing nothing other than the smooth sides of a glass bottle had been maddeningly dull. He’d had to keep himself entertained by counting the tiny crevices of the cork stopper, slide down the sharp hill that made up the bottom of the container, then begin counting again. The memory still gave him occasional nightmares.

  He’d been like that for over a week before she’d figured out how to reverse the process. She’d used some sort of necromancy to build a soul container. She’d then encased the tiny scroll in metal, then magically sealed it into one of his bones. As soon as he was back in his flesh, she’d nearly crushed him with her hugs and drowned him with her lips as she apologized. They’d then made love as her magic danced and flashed around them.

  Since then, she’d casually stuffed him with divine essence so readily that he’d slowly become a bit more durable than an average Breeze Dancer even when not under the influence of her spells. His earlier fall from a tree would probably have broken his limbs, if not for his body’s adapting to whatever she was doing to him. The cuts and scrapes he did receive were often entirely healed within a few hours. If he closed his eyes and focused, he could almost feel his wounds closing.

  The continued influx had also ha
rdened his muscles and sharpened his senses, but it had made him somewhat uncoordinated in the process. His naturally good night vision had improved to the point TJ no longer needed any background light at all to see, which had messed with his sleep schedule badly. He’d been getting such little sleep lately that he’d started having moments that it felt like someone was looking through his eyes or feeling through his hands.

  He felt like a stranger in his own skin and simply hadn’t had the time to adapt. He’d been too afraid to ask others for guidance on what to do about the situation. Anyone asking too many questions might lead to his death since Serina showed him far too many closely held secrets of the Devas’ powers.

  Whether she knew it or not, he’d learned enough to know that their relationships with the gods weren’t entirely like they portrayed it. Things were far less defined and orderly than they liked to pretend. Not all the Devas answered to a higher power, even if they implied that was the case. Then there was the fact he didn’t really want Serina to stop. Regardless of the risks, her magic felt… right.

  His bed partner stretched and rose from the covers. She hummed happily as she slipped behind the dressing curtain and began making herself presentable.

  TJ took that moment to gaze out the window and toward the purple sky highlighted with orange streaks as the sun disappeared below the horizon. He’d have to at least go through the motions of preparing for the revel soon. His part wouldn’t be until after the feast, but he’d spent his last moments the best he knew how.

  Picking through the discarded sheets and bedding, he located his robes. As he lifted them, the small woven grass basket tumbled free and bounced across the ornate rug.

  TJ bit his lip and decided that perhaps he should just leave things be. He didn’t need to make things more complicated. While she loved gifts, Serina didn’t like thinking about the conditions he lived in. Giving her a shiny rock was the best he could do, and it might only serve to make her miserable. If this really were going to be his end, he wanted to leave while she was still smiling.