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Subject: RP: All Soul's Night mf, fantasy
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(Note: I am not the author; I am only the archivist. The author's
name is on this post, and deserves all the credit.
The following story deals with explicit sex. If you're not old enough
to be here, you're not old enough to read it. Scram.)
This one's a charmer. marawuti has managed to combine a rousing good
story, some really hot sex, and more than a generous dollop of humor.
Ten points to the readers who find the Monty Python, Dorothy Parker,
and Hannibal Lecter references.
[And finally, the following tale is affectionately dedicated to
Livia's real-life counterpart, with the deepest and most unrequited of
desires, from both my wife and I. Yes, really.]
ALL SOUL'S NIGHT PART ONE By marawuti
Word to the wise -- if you ever happen to be traveling in
rural Litharna on All-Soul's Eve, stop in a podunk little village with
a relatively comfortable-looking inn, and a sexy young local woman
offers you generous sexual favors, take my experience as an example,
and turn the sweet little creature down.
Perhaps I should explain. My name is Wulf (or Chuma, or Karis,
or any number of other pseudonyms), and I am what might generously be
called a creative freelance contractor. What this means in real terms
is that I lie, cheat, and steal (usually from people who deserve it,
mind you -- I have some integrity) to make a living.
In this instance, I was in Litharna, land of gunpowder, loud
noises, clanky machines, and religious fanatics, to gain a little
extra income, and to pay a debt to a dead friend (more on that later).
The way from the great port city of Helmsruud to Vosgraad, the capital
city, passes through some pretty wild country, and I anticipated
sleeping under the stars, or sampling the pleasures of various inns of
the sort that reputable travel manuals tell you to avoid like a bad
case of Crimson Pox. I'd never been here before, though I'd read the
people were friendly, if a bit rustic, and still believed in zombies,
werewolves, vampires, and other mythical beasts. Of course, unlike
the authors of the various travel books, I have actually encountered a
number of supposedly "mythical" creatures, and I figured that if the
locals believe in something, I should at least give it some marginal
level of credence.
I traveled well-armed, and took the precaution of purchasing a
brace of pistols in Helmsruud. These were new weapons for me, so rare
outside of Litharna as to be virtually unheard of (the Litharnans are
nothing short of fanatical when it comes to keeping firearms strictly
within their borders), and took some impromptu instruction in their
use from a grizzled dwarf at an inn along the way. I also packed a
rapier and mail-reinforced parrying glove, and, on a whim, picked up a
heartcutter (useful against demons), and a silver kris at a waterfront
shop. I felt like a landsknecht on campaign, but any werewolves who
attacked me would risk getting bloody in the process.
The rural roads of Litharna are both beautiful and disturbing,
with vast green farmsteads and meadows interspersed with ancient woods
filled with gnarled, black trees festooned with moss and lichen, and
deep, quiet rivers which flow so slowly that they seem to move not at
all. When you ride along these roads, you pass farmhouses on lots so
overgrown and wild that you wonder if anyone actually lives in them,
and if they do, what kind of people they must be. Occasionally, you
encounter other travelers, who tip their hats or incline their heads
solemnly, all the while looking at you as if they expect you to sprout
wings and grow fangs at any moment. The people in the towns are a
mixed bag -- some are friendly and gregarious, while others are quiet,
surly, and suspicious. These last invariably sit on front steps, or
lean on split rail fences, motionless save for the slow swivel of
their heads as they watch you ride past with black, unreadable eyes.
It was a land of contrasts, where science fought superstition,
and technology fought to gain ground on magic. These people were on
the frontier, between rulers determined to stamp out the pagan beliefs
of the past, and the dark, ancient powers who did not want to be
disturbed. Needless to say, I traveled in a state of unease, never
certain what the next bend in the road would reveal.
As dusk gathered around me, my horse whickered nervously as the
wind stirred dead leaves and rushed through twisted branches.
"Time to find some shelter," I told her. "Hopefully there's a
village with an inn nearby. I don't relish spending the night out any
more than you do."
She seemed to snort in agreement, and we set off at a brisk
trot.
We were lucky. A good sized village lay less than a league
beyond. To my relief, it was one of the friendly ones --
brightly-lit, bustling even as night fell. Ahead, I saw a large
structure, its windows glowing warmly yellow. It had to be an inn; I
approached it gratefully.
I noted a certain festive quality in the town. Buildings were
decorated with images of what I took to be the local deities -- the
mother- goddesses and horned green men which I'd seen elsewhere, in
the Lastlands, and back in Stoneburg -- as well as various abstract
wheel- patterns and wildly-capering animals. Many windows, I saw, had
lit candles set in them, making the village a wonderland of twinkling
lights.
I hailed a man walking down the street, a little girl tagging
faithfully along at his heels.
"Hi," I said. "I'm from out of town. What's the occasion
tonight?"
He frowned, looking at me as if I was a retarded orc.
"All Soul's Eve," he said, simply. "The night before we
remember the dead."
I thanked him, and rode on, even as he stared after me,
probably muttering to himself about how ignorant foreigners were.
I reached the inn, handed my horse over to a stable boy, and
accepted a room from the slender, weasely innkeeper. With a deep
sigh, I settled down in the common room, looking forward to a meal and
a drink before bed.
Then, she showed up. I'd encountered attractive serving staff
before, but this one put all the others in the shade.
Oh, she was lovely. Young (but not TOO young, by the gods...),
full- bodied, bright-faced, with a graceful, wavy cascade of
ravenswing hair, and dark, wicked eyes that latched onto mine as
tightly as a dwarf's fist around his last gold coin. I was hooked,
and I certainly didn't mind getting reeled in. Shows how much I
know...
"I'm Khaera," she said, breathily, setting down my mug of ale
with scarcely a splash. She wore a white blouse, pulled down to
reveal her shoulders, and the first voluptuous suggestion of two
lovely white breasts, and a long dark skirt and sandals. She moved
like a dancer, however, weaving through the crowd, trays carefully
balanced, eyes steady. I guessed her at not more than twenty winters,
and possibly less, but clearly old enough to know what she was doing.
"Wulf," I said. "Out of Stoneburg. On my way to Vosgraad.
Happy All Souls'."
She looked at me suspiciously.
"Oh, shouldn't I have said that?" I said, as pleasantly as I
could. "I'm not from around here."
She smiled, and I would swear the room grew a few degrees
brighter. "It's considered unlucky to actually say it, but no harm
done. Besides, it's only 'eve,' not 'night'"
I indicated an empty chair next to me. "Can you sit for a few
minutes?"
She scanned the room with a practiced eye. "Everyone seems
taken care of," she said, slithering down into the proffered seat.
"Forgive me if I have to leap up and take an order, however."
"No problem. As I said, I'm new here. Can you tell me what
this holiday is all about, without actually naming it?"
"I think I'm equal to the task." She settled luxuriantly in
the chair, looking for all the world like a very sleek, very sensual
cat, bedding down on someone's chest. "Eve is just the night before.
People don't work -- except at inns, of course, we work all the
fucking time -- and you get ready for the next night. That's when we
sing hymns, and walk through the streets with candles and torches, and
leave out food and offerings for the dead."
"Out of respect for their memories?"
"Hell no -- so they won't rise from their graves and kill us
all."
"How jolly," I said. "I thought you Litharnans were all
modernistic and didn't believe in old superstitions anymore."
Khaera chuckled. "That's how the king and the priests would
like it to be. They'd love it if we gave up on all the old pagan
holidays, and didn't do magic, and all used machines and guns, and
clanking, smoking things to do all our work, and all quietly filed
into church every Godsday and said our prayers to Kybor and asked
Saint Orlan to protect us and deliver us, but... Well, the fact is
we're not all like that, Wulf. Old ways die hard."
"I know," I replied. "I've been to Xesh."
Her eyes widened. "Really? They say they're all incredibly
decadent there."
"You don't know the half of it. I could tell stories."
She leaned forward, face eager, chin in hands, staring at me
with absolute devotion. "Tell me some."
"I don't know if they're fit for mixed company," I said,
cautiously thinking of Mistress Xylara and her whips and dildoes.
"Ohhhh, I wouldn't be too concerned," she said. "You probably
couldn't shock me if you tried."
Hmmmm. I wasn't sure where this was going, but I was willing
to find out. "I've met a dark elf woman who has rings in every part
of her body," I said, quietly.
"EVERY part?" she asked, incredulous.
I nodded. "Just what you're thinking."
"How did you manage to find that out?" Her curiosity was
building, and I noted that she was beginning to breathe a bit heavier.
I raised my eyebrows. "The usual way," I said, in as
off-handed a fashion as I could manage.
"Really?" It was a taut stage whisper. "How was she?"
I shrugged. "All right, I guess. I really don't remember
much, since she tried to kill me immediately afterwards."
It impressed her. "You get around, don't you?"
"It's not as romantic as it sounds, believe me."
"Oh, it's romantic enough for me," she said, voice dropping
even further. "Wulf, I've a feeling about you."
I swallowed. "I'm... glad? to hear that?" I felt nervous;
why, I couldn't say.
"Go up to your room, Wulf," Khaera whispered. "Wait for me
there." She leaned forward, warm lips brushing my ear. "I want to
come up and fuck you." With that, she rose, and returned to her work.
Now, my whirling brain said, logic flickering and fading, there
is an invitation you don't get every day...
I finished my drink and went, unsteadily, to my room, casting a
surreptitious backward glance across the crowded room. Khaera's black
eyes met mine once more, and she gave me a saucy wink.
Well, I thought, what to expect? I'd had barmaids give me
come-ons before, and it usually wasn't worth the silver they asked
for. Then again, Khaera was probably the most attractive woman I'd
seen since arriving in Litharna, and a little innocent recreation
never hurt anyone.
You know, for someone who's been in as many scrapes as I have,
and has been betrayed so often, I can be incredibly naive sometimes...
The soft rap on my door came a couple of hours later, as I lay
dozing, shirt and boots off, breeches still on. I hadn't decided
whether to believe Khaera's proposition, but figured if it was honest,
I might need some rest.
I padded quietly to the door and opened it.
Yes, she was there, etherial and darkly gorgeous in the light
of a single candle which she held on a stand. She wore a light
sleeping shift, and I could see the dark silhouette of her body
beneath it.
"I'm here, Wulf," she hissed. "Going to invite me in?"
I stepped back silently and let her enter, light and quiet as a
ghost.
She turned and faced me, setting the candle down on the
nightstand. She moved closer, eyes bright, and twined her arms behind
my head.
I took a deep breath, consciously willing my heart and
breathing to slow, and my bestirring cock to wait a moment.
"No offense, Khaera," I whispered to her, "but is this going to
cost me?"
She shook her head, black tresses quivering. "Not a thing,
Wulf. I just want you. Now."
As I said, this isn't something that happens very often, and
when it does I usually suspect the woman involved of having a hidden
agenda, but I was willing to batten down the hatches and ride out the
storm. Our lips came together by mutual consent, and in an instant I
felt her long, flexible tongue caressing the inside of my mouth. I
tried to return the favor, but she overwhelmed me.
"Take me," she whispered, kissing the sides of my mouth, tongue
slipping sloppily out, covering my face with hot moisture. "I want
it."
With that, I figured there was no going back (and besides, I
was hard as a rock). I bent down, lifted her bodily, and carried her
to the bed.
"Oh... Wulf," she gasped as I moved atop her, pushing her shift
up, revealing the soft contours of her rounded, fleshy body.
"What do you want?" I asked. "Tell me."
"Everything. Whatever you want to do to me. Kiss me."
I complied, once more uniting my lips with hers, tongues
thrusting and intertwining, her sweet spittle mingling with mine. I
kissed my way across her cheeks and jawline, up to her ears, where I
nibbled, then bit at the fleshy part of her ear, feeling her go rigid
as I did so.
"Yes, Wulf. Yes."
I took this as encouragement, and moved down to her shoulders,
licking and biting, sliding my teeth across her warm skin, feeling it
yield before me.
"Suck my nipples, Wulf. Please. I love that."
I had been on my way there in any event, so I didn't change my
pace, letting her anticipation build as I kissed down her arms,
lingering at the back of her elbow, sliding my tongue along her palms,
kissing and lightly biting fingertips.
"Wulf... Suck me. Suck my nipples, Wulf."
"I will," I said. "You have to be patient."
A sensuous whine entered her voice, a strained longing. "I
don't want to be patient. I've waited for someone like you, Wulf.
I've dreamed of him. Please do what I want."
"I promise," I replied, once more, feeling the exultation of
being in control, dictating the pace of lovemaking (I think I
understand why Xylara liked it so much, now, the horny little
vixen...). "I'll suck whatever you like."
With that I moved back down her arm, licking and squeezing her
soft bicep, tongue flicking across her shoulder, finally moving to the
pale mound of her breast, rising and falling with her increased
excitement, surmounted by a stiff, pink nipple, hard and swollen in
the slightly chill air.
"Please..." Khaera's voice dripped with absolute, slavish
devotion, and I couldn't bring myself to keep her in suspense any
longer. I moved up to the thick, swollen pink prominence, encircled
it with my mouth, and sucked, pausing occasionally to lick and bite
lightly. Her breast was like a vast, whisper soft globe of flesh,
larger than I could encompass with both hands. I wanted to bury
myself in the warm, white flesh, lose myself completely...
"Ahhhhhh..." She breathed out, and I saw her fingers busy
between her legs. I reached down and deliberately pulled them away,
and was rewarded by a moan of frustration.
"Don't worry," I told her, "we'll get to that soon enough.
Patience, remember?"
"I don't want to be patient..." It was what I wanted to hear.
I toyed with both nipples for a time, moving from one to the
other, fingering and pinching one while I licked and sucked at the
other. Beneath me, I felt Khaera's hips begin to rotate, and watched
her smooth white thighs rub together slowly, but with increasing
fervor.
Finally, I let one hand wander down across the gentle curve of
her belly, hot to the touch now, and stroke at her thighs, moving
briefly to touch her pubic thatch, then lower to brush the softness of
her cunt. Another moan escaped her lips, and her legs moved apart
almost involuntarily.
She was soaking by this time, to no surprise at all. Her pussy
was soft and fleshy, and I felt heat radiate from it as she opened up
for me.
"Put your finger in," she said. "Stop touching the outside.
Play with me. Please play with me, Wulf."
I had to admit that this was all exciting me enormously, and I
was forced to break off for a moment while I freed myself of my
breeches, letting my cock free from its uncomfortable prison. Then I
renewed my attention to her pussy, positioning myself between her
raised thighs, admiring the soft pinkness, surrounded by dark hair,
glistening in the candlelight. I stroked lips and slowly spread them
apart, revealing the naked bud of her clitoris, large and prominent,
swollen to bursting.
"Touch it..."
I did, moistening my fingers and stroking the exposed
prominence, listening to her voice trail off into soft, squealing,
uncontrolled cries. At length, I slipped a finger between the wet
lips, feeling the bare interior of her pussy yielding for me. Then I
put in another, and touched her clit with my tongue, sending her into
another paroxysm of ecstasy.
"Lick me... Please, lick it, Wulf..."
As I continued to thrust in and out of her now fully-open cunt
with two, then three fingers, I encircled her clit with my lips,
licking, sucking, and biting lightly, the same way I'd dealt with her
nipples.
It worked. Her groans grew deeper, fainter, and finally
vanished altogether. She toyed with her own nipples, occasionally
stopping to lick a finger and rub the moisture across her own swollen
flesh. At last, I saw her grab a breast and bend her head forward,
long pink tongue caressing her own nipple.
Okay, it turned me on. I like to watch women play with
themselves (and each other, for that matter, but since I'm a man, you
probably already know that), and the surge of passion I felt made me
redouble my efforts on her. My fingers and tongue moved faster and I
would swear the juices flowing from her cunt grew sweeter and hotter
as I did so (then again, maybe it was just me...)
"Fuck me now," she demanded. "Put your cock in me."
"Ask nicely," I cautioned, pulling back, saliva trailing from
my tongue to her swollen clit.
"I'm not asking," she said, firmly, "I'm telling. Fuck me
now."
By the way, I also like a woman who knows what she wants. I
moved up, holding my cock against her straining cunt.
"Want it now?" I asked. I couldn't resist a little more
teasing, bastard that I am...
"Now!" she said in a voice I was afraid would wake up the inn's
other occupants. "Fuck me now."
I thrust in an inch or so, feeling her go rigid once more.
"Fuck me," she gasped. "Make me come. Make me come and I'll
take you in my mouth, Wulf. Do it for me."
I complied, thrusting the rest of the way in, tight box closing
around me. It sent Khaera into another frenzy of passion, silence
giving way to sudden contractions, and a babble of promises, pleas and
demands.
"Take me with you, Wulf... Take me with you when you leave..."
Her eyes pinned me once more, hard and determined. "I'll fuck you
every night, Wulf. You can fuck me any way you want."
Passion had pretty much seized me and run away by this time, so
I was willing to listen, and my logical mind even considered taking
her up on the offer, even as she went on, meeting my thrusts with
grinding hips, grabbing my buttocks and pulling me into her again and
again.
"You can fuck my mouth, Wulf. You can come all over me. You
can fuck me between my breasts..." She gasped, and it felt as if she
was coming again. "I love that. I love to feel come all over my
skin... I love to rub it all... over... me..."
Damned hot stuff, and it certainly inflamed me. Maybe, I
thought, feeling boiling lust race through my veins, and wondering if
I'd make it long enough to come in her mouth, maybe I COULD take her
with me...
"I'll do anything for you, Wulf. You can fuck anyone you want.
You can fuck another woman and I'll watch, and I'll fuck her, Wulf.
I've never fucked a woman before, Wulf, but I'd do it for you... I'd
do it for you. Oh, yessss..." Another silent orgasm, and she
collapsed into a sweating, fleshy puddle beneath me. "I want to go
with you, Wulf. Please take me."
I was silent, pulling my cock free, watching her writhe and
stare up at me from sweat- rimmed eyes, black hair plastered to her
forehead and cheeks.
"Let me show you," she hissed with a level of lewdness that
would do a daemon proud. "Let me show you what I'll do for you..."
She moved suddenly atop me, hands encircling my wet cock, stroking.
Her lips moved along it, tongue flicking.
"Oh, I can taste myself," she said. "I can taste my come on
your cock, Wulf. Yessss..." Then she was quiet, lips surrounding and
engulfing me.
I've raved about the skills of the various women I've met in my
adventures, and I won't go into the same thing here. Suffice to say,
she knew what she was doing -- it made me wonder what she'd been up to
in this little farm town all these years. Her mouth was a slippery
furnace, wet and blood-hot, her eyes were fixed on mine, and I could
feel her desire, and her urgent desire to make me come. I was already
three-fourths of the way there simply from fucking her, and it wasn't
going to take much to push me over the edge.
It was her eyes, more than anything else that gave me that
final push -
- black, probing eyes like bottomless, gleaming wells of desire,
longing, devouring passion... Damn, but these country women
concealed a hell of a lot more desire than city gals, or else
terminally horny from the long days their husbands spent in the
fields... I met her gaze and felt her eyes surround and consume me,
the same way her sucking, pliant mouth swallowed up my fevered cock,
and then I knew I was over the precipice, and there was no going back.
"I want to come for you," I said, feeling the onrushing
explosion. "I want to come in your mouth."
She released me and once more whispered, "Come, then. Come in
my mouth." Then she swallowed me again, the burning black eyes seized
me once more, and I felt the first contraction rage me. Hot come
erupted from my cock and into her willing mouth. Her eyes widened,
then closed hard as she sucked and swallowed, stroking my balls with
her fingers, squeezing gently, prolonging the wracking convulsions
that still tore at me. Eagerly, she continued to suck, moaning with
apparent pleasure, even as my pumping subsided into weak aftershocks,
and a tiny trickle of come. She let my slick, softening cock go, and
looked up at me, eyes still hot, stabbing through me like twin lances.
"You come so much," she said, wiping her mouth. "I like that."
She paused, gazing at me with a strange expression. "So will you take
me, Wulf? I want to leave this place. You're the one I want to go
with."
I was about to say yes, of course, when all hell broke loose.
The door exploded inward as if a White Empire battle wizard was
behind it, and through it charged a gigantic bull of a man, face
contorted, eyes wild, clutching what looked like an oversized pair of
ragged-edged pliers, and bellowing like a dragon in heat.
"Mother-grabbing foreign bastard!" he roared. "Get your filthy
hands off my wife!"
Even as I leaped to avoid him, stumbling into my breeches, I
got the sickening feeling that I'd been had.
"Wife? I didn't know --" I squealed, ducking a ham-sized fist
which crashed down where my head had just been. "She didn't say --"
"I told her!" the human minotaur roared, even as Khaera
screamed at him to stop. "I told her the next time she seduced some
damned foreigner and tried to run off with him--"
"The NEXT time?" I demanded. "She's done this before?" He
aimed a kick at my head, and I scrambled out of the way once more.
Damn, he was slow, but if he ever connected...
"She does it ALL THE FUCKING TIME, you foreign idiot!" He
brandished the strange device he carried. "I told her the last time
that I'd cut the next fucking bastard's balls off!"
The purpose of the item suddenly became horrifyingly apparent,
and my pure self- preservation instinct took over. I grabbed the rude
chair which sat beside the bed and held it threateningly.
"Think that's gonna help you, city boy?" he snarled, advancing
on me. "It won't do shit."
"Hey, look!" I said, glancing at a point just over his
shoulder. "A little monkey!"
"Huh?" he said, thickly, turning around for an instant.
I let him have it, splintering the chair into matchsticks --
dammit, the rubes fall for that one every time... Gods only know why.
He went down with a thud, and I bashed him a few more times to
make sure, then looked up, panting, at Khaera. She sat, pale and
wide- eyed, sheets drawn modestly up around her.
"Is he dead?" she asked.
"I certainly hope not," I said. "In fact, I doubt it. His
skull felt very thick."
"I'm sorry, Wulf."
I glared. "I value honesty in all my relationships, Khaerla.
You disappoint me." I paused, and drew a breath. "On the other hand,
I'm something of a chump. Do you still want to go with me?"
She looked down, fearfully, at her husband. "He'd hunt us to
the ends of the earth."
"I seriously doubt that, love. His kind think 'the ends of the
earth' lie just past Uncle Elmo's dairy farm."
"I have to stay," she said at last. "Gods, I want to get out
of here, but..."
"But?"
"He... he needs me."
I rolled my eyes. "Okay," I said, firmly, gathering up my
clothes and getting dressed, utterly disgusted. "If you ever get up
the courage to actually leave, Khaerla, look me up in Stoneburg. Just
ask for Wulf in any bar. Mind you, I may not be around, I may not be
alive, and I may be enjoying carnal relations with another woman, not
even of the same species, but I will help you if I can. I'm funny
that way."
The husband moved and moaned fitfully.
"You'd better go," she said, sadly. "He has friends in town.
They'll kill you if they catch you."
"Or worse," I muttered, glancing down at his castrating tongs,
and jamming stuff into my knapsack. I looked up. Her eyes were
fearful and full of mixed emotions, and I wished I could say something
to get her out of this town, but there wasn't time. "Goodbye,
Khaera," I said. "It would have been fun."
She nodded. "Goodbye, Wulf."
Now, I was forced to ride the roads of rural Litharna on a
windy All Souls' Eve, never certain whether Mr. Minotaur and his
thick-necked farmboys were hot on my trail or not. This, I reflected,
was scarcely the way I'd wanted to spend my visit to Litharna.
Then again, it was typical. I think the gods must be punishing
me for something, but I've yet to discover exactly what it is...
The night was the sort you read about in those copper dreadfuls
they crank out by the zillion in Litharna and the White Empire -- you
know, dark and stormy. The wind howled, the trees tossed and clutched
at the sky, debris blew into our faces as my horse and I tried to ride
at speed and find some kind of shelter or town we could stay in. I
didn't dare camp considering the fact that Mr. Bullneck and friends
might be in hot pursuit, coupled with the possibility that I might
have a tree fall on me during the night, so our search for
civilization went on.
Now, I know what you're saying. You're probably saying, "Gee,
I bet that stupid idiot takes a wrong turn in the darkness and wind
and blowing shit."
Well, the fact is that you should be ashamed of yourself for
thinking so little of me and my navigational skills. Then again,
maybe not, since I DID, indeed, end up taking a wrong turn.
But shut the hell up anyway.
I'm not entirely sure what happened. Perhaps the trail forked
and I didn't notice. Perhaps it forked several times -- who can say?
The fact is that I found myself guiding my poor mare down a
treacherous, rocky slope, clinging to what appeared to be the granite
wall of a deep valley or ravine. The wind howled particularly loudly
here, and I realized that, what with the noise, treacherous footing
and the fact that the road was wide enough only for a single horse, I
wouldn't be able to turn around until we reached the bottom.
It seemed to take an eternity to actually get to the end of the
slope. My mare slipped a couple of times, but proved herself to be a
real trooper, remaining relatively calm and undisturbed as we rode
lower and lower.
When we at last got to the bottom, lost in windy, howling
darkness, I actually reconsidered turning around, for a few hundred
paces distant, I saw the lights of a village, flashing and twinkling
behind tossing branches.
I paused, pulling my cloak shut against the incessant wind. I
had definitely strayed from the main road, but my error might prove a
blessing in disguise, for Farmer Biff and his Castrating Funsters were
unlikely to find me here, and besides, I had no guarantee of finding
anything like this nearby. I tugged at the reins, and guided my horse
toward the lights.
To my surprise, the plucky mare, who had thus far remained
unfazed by the terrors nature had thrown her way, reared and screamed,
fighting my best efforts to urge her forward. Of course, I should
have trusted her instincts, but I was so far gone by this time that I
only wanted to find a place to hide, and go to sleep.
At length, I got the mare calmed down, and resumed our way
toward the lights, though she whinnied in fear, tossed her head, and
rolled her eyes just the same.
The village was smaller than the one I'd left, but it seemed to
have the usual collection of thatch-roofed, half-timbered houses,
barns, sheds, and -
- to my infinite relief -- a public house which appeared to harbor a
couple of rooms in its upper story. Most of the glass windows
showed All Soul's Eve candles, though at this hour they burned low and
guttered ominously.
I dismounted outside the tavern's door, glancing up at the
weathered sign, which flapped and squeaked in the wind. A skeleton
holding a candle. Reassuring image, that.
With a silent apology to the building's inhabitants, I pounded
heavily on the door, hoping they'd hear me over the rushing roar of
the wind. It took several tries before I felt the vibration of
movement from within, and the "thump" of bolts being pushed back.
The door opened a narrow crack, revealing a dim sliver of
yellow light. A fearful, wide eye looked out at me through the
opening.
"I need a room!" I yelled. "I'm sorry to disturb you so late,
but I've lost my way, and need a place to stay tonight! I've got
money! I'll pay!"
"Are you... alive?" quavered the voice, cutting though the
noise of the wind.
I sighed and rolled my eyes. "Yes, I'm fucking alive. I'm not
an All Soul's Eve spirit wandering the mortal world in search of
victims, if that's what you're asking."
I guess the person on the other side of the door figured that a
real ghost wouldn't be so bloody sarcastic, and opened the door enough
to look out. He was a wizened, old man, with white hair and a
trembling chin. He was dressed in a nightshirt and cap, and carried a
candle.
"I need a place for my horse," I said. "She's exhausted."
He nodded. "Bring her around to the stables. I'll meet you
there."
I sighed deeply once more as I led my mare around toward the
back of the building. Safe again. For the moment, at least.
Shows how much I know...
* * * *
I don't remember much after stabling my horse. I vaguely
recollect the wrinkled innkeeper leading me up the stairs and showing
me to a ratty little room with a straw mattress, then leaving as I
collapsed into virtually dreamless unconsciousness.
When I awoke at last, I had to double check to make sure it
wasn't still night. A single, dirty window, high up on one wall,
admitted a feeble stream of light, barely lighting the dusty, filthy
room where I'd spent the night. I got up, feeling joints creak and
snap, and hobbled down to the common room.
It was about as pleasant and welcoming as the cadaver room back
in the Necromancy Department at the Imperial Academy. The little old
guy who'd let me in served as desultory, surly barkeep, wiping down
the counter with obsessive zeal. Several patrons sat around in the
light shafts and whirling dust motes, hunched over tables, glancing up
at me with unabashed suspicion, then returning to their mugs of Ol'
Grandad's Bitter.
Not all, however. A couple of reasonably personable-looking
rural types noted my entrance.
"Good morning," one said, in a surprisingly quiet and reserved
fashion, gesturing with his mug. "We don't get many strangers here.
Care to share breakfast with us?"
At that point, I was ready to kill for the company of a
civilized human who wasn't intent on sexually mutilating me, so I
gratefully sat down, accepting handshakes gratefully.
"Name's Wulf," I said. "Out of Stoneburg. On my way to
Vosgraad."
"Karl," said the first, a burly but intelligent-looking man in
a plain smock and trousers.
"Helgrun," said the other, taking my hand in the firm kind of
grip that I have come to associate with manual laborers, farmers, and
other salt-of- the-land types.
"I got in late last night," I said. "Didn't catch the name of
your town."
"Guldensburg," said Karl. "I'm surprised you found us. You
must have strayed from the main road."
I nodded. "Damned storm last night," I said. "Couldn't see
for horse manure. I'm glad I found the place."
"Your alternative was falling off the cliff," observed Helgrun,
the jolly fellow. "We find one out there every year or two. Damn
city-bred fool thinking he can travel in pitch black. "Then he caught
my eye and realized what he'd said. "No offense meant, mind you."
"None taken." I decided that it was best to avoid any direct
mention of the previous night's adventures, in case Bobo the Castrator
had relatives in town. "I misjudged how fast it gets dark in these
parts."
I scanned the room once more. I saw that its occupants had, if
anything, even less life and enthusiasm than they'd shown before, and
was also alarmed to note a rather frightening apparition, sitting
alone at a table in a shadowed alcove. She was female, but so ancient
and wrinkled as to be nearly unrecognizable as human, her hair a
greasy grey-white snarl, her eyes thick with cataracts and as
expressionless as a dead fish, her trembling hands holding a cup of
tea in a death grip, her toothless mouth moving silently as she
muttered aimlessly to herself. I tore my eyes away, and returned to
Helgrun and Karl, easily the most interesting people in the room.
"So why's everyone so glum?" I asked. "Isn't it supposed to be
All --" Remembering Khaera's admonition, I stopped myself. "Isn't
this a holiday or something?"
Karl looked nervous and lowered his voice. "All Soul's Night,"
he whispered. "It's bad luck to mention it openly."
"Yeah," Helgrun said. "Used to be a real festival. Day off of
work, feasting in honor of the departed, singing and drinking late
into the night..."
My ears pricked up. "What do you mean, 'used to be'? I note a
distinct lack of festivity in the breakfast crowd."
Karl sighed. "We've been forbidden from practicing most of the
yearly rituals."
"Forbidden? By who? It all seems perfectly harmless to me."
Helgrun picked up the thread (they seemed to be alternating, I
noted; perhaps they were brothers, or lovers, or -- given the rustic
locale -- both...). "The new mayor. We didn't choose him, of course;
the nobles in Vosgraad appointed him and sent him here to oversee
their 'modernization' program."
I made a contemplative noise. "So, I would guess that, in the
new mayor's opinion, 'modernization' means giving up what he considers
outdated, pagan rituals like All S... that is, the current holiday."
Helgrun nodded and Karl continued. "He's forbidden us from
laying out food for the dead, saying prayers in public, the bonfire,
the processional, and most of the religious services, except those
certified by the Kyborists back in Vosgraad."
"So you people think the dead will rise up and devour you
without the rituals?" I asked, quietly. It certainly explained the
innkeeper's weird question of the night before.
Karl shrugged. "Perhaps," Helgrun said, "perhaps not. Most of
us realize that the rituals were just old traditions, but there's
always that nagging thought in the back of your head that maybe,
maybe..."
"I hear you," I replied with sympathy. I'd seen enough in a
decade and a half to make me very reluctant to dismiss the local
practices as mere superstition. I suspected that a quick exit and
resumption of my journey was in order, whether or not the castration
squad was waiting for me on the cliffs above.
"We're not a large community," Karl said. "We mostly mine coal
from the valley wall. We're apparently important enough to their
imperial majesties to meddle in our affairs, however. Doesn't make
them any more popular out here, I must say."
I gestured subtly at the bag of bones sipping tea in the
corner. "Who's the hag?" I asked. "Local wise woman?"
"Don't know," said Helgrun. "I'd heard she was here to visit
her grandson for the festival, or something."
"Looks awful, though," Karl observed, darting glances at her.
"How the hell did she travel in that shape?"
Given the possibility of a night of horrors ahead, I could tell
that the crone's arrival had raised suspicions. Using the magical
senses which had been imperfectly and inadequately trained during my
brief stay at the Magic Academy, I sent a tendril of sensation toward
the woman, searching for magical emanations or any sign of sorcery.
To my intense relief, I found absolutely nothing, only the stale and
thin energies of a very, very old woman.
"I don't think you have anything to worry about," I said.
"I've dealt with necromancers and their friends before. She doesn't
seem the type to me."
"Well, she sure as hell does to me," Helgrun commented.
I let the matter pass, and finally ordered eggs and ham when
the doddering innkeeper finally acknowledged my existence. We shot
the breeze, exchanging meaningless pleasantries, my companions glared
with open suspicion when the old woman hobbled out of the common room
and up the stairs, and we sipped our own cups of tea after the meal.
It was then that Karl decided to shoot the onager.
"I certainly hope you're enjoying your stay, Wulf," he said.
"If anything is going to happen tonight -- gods forbid -- you will
probably get to share it with us."
"Huh?" The comment had come from a completely unexpected
quarter, and riveted my attention. "What do you mean?"
"The road," Helgrun said, calmly blowing and sipping. "The one
you came down to get there. It's the only way in and out of town.
There was a landslide last night --"
"And, of course, you can't clear it today," I said, "it being a
holiday and all..."
"Correct," Karl said, brightly. "Don't worry, Wulf. There'll
be some feasting, and we'll probably get together here tonight and
drink our troubles away 'til dawn. Then, we'll troop up with picks
and shovels and get that road clear for you."
I sighed. My rational mind told me that there was probably
nothing to worry about, and that another day's delay down here in coal
digger-town would probably put my jealous friend off the trail, but
like my two companions, a nagging concern remained buried deep in my
mind.
"Oh, well," I said, simply. "I was hoping to continue on
today, but if I'm stuck here, I'm stuck here." I tend to be
fatalistic when I have no other alternative.
My new friends rose and said their good-byes, claiming family
commitments, then departed, leaving me to contemplate an uncertain and
likely boring day in an isolated village best known for its coal
products, and the spectre of a bloodthirsty horde of shambling undead
creatures looming, misty and threatening, in my feverish imagination.
I scouted around that day, trying to find some other way out of
town. As Karl and Helgrun had so aptly noted, there was none.
Guldensburg lay at the bottom of a deep ravine, with the single
precarious trail, which I had so fortuitously found the previous
night, apparently right before the fatal landslide. The mines lay at
the northern end, while the southern end was a tangled wilderness of
stunted trees, underbrush, narrow streams, talus and various other
debris. I surmised that the local cemetery, the source of
considerable unease, lay in that direction as well, and few really
wanted to tell me anything about it.
Well, gods damn it, I wasn't about to be frightened by a bunch
of ignorant peasants and their bloody superstitions (or so I told
myself). For some reason which I am still at a loss to explain, I
threw back my cloak and marched south, along the single narrow trail,
with an air of determination and damn-your-eyes obstinacy.
A few moments later, I began to wonder if that had been such a
good idea. If the ancient, gnarled forests and their inbred
inhabitants had been bad, this grim, lifeless wilderness was
infinitely worse. Poisoned, I guessed, by generations of mine
tailings, it was a place of dark unease, where the trees were either
long dead and wasting away, or gnarled and twisted, like a man
writhing in the grip of fever or poison. A few ugly birds, their
feathers molting, their eyes sick and glassy, flitted here and there,
but beyond that I felt as if I was the only living thing here. Some
unknown motivation kept me going, however, if for no other reason than
to see the place which the locals feared so much, and to prove to my
own satisfaction that its occupants showed no signs of irritability.
Mind you, my desire to keep going grew less and less compelling
the farther I went, and the later in the day it grew. I was well
ahead of sunset, but afternoon was already casting slanting shadows
when at last I emerged from the tangle and into the graveyard itself.
I gazed around in distress. Gods only knew how they managed to
convey the corpses here through that nightmarish maze, or why they
even wanted to. Had I been a corpse, I'd have risen from my grave
simply to get out of that damned place.
They say that cemeteries are for the living, since the dead are
generally beyond caring, despite what the Litharnans say about All
Soul's Night. Staring back and forth, my unease growing deeper and
less easy to ignore, I wondered at that. This was a place of the
dead, clearly, and one in which the living were only barely tolerated.
It had obviously been here for a long time, perhaps even before
Guldensburg's founding. Ancient stone markers lay scattered about,
some tottering, others completely fallen. All were weathered almost
to the point of illegibility, though a few still bore their markings
-- disturbing images of skulls, grim guardian spirits, swords,
scythes, and antique knotwork of a sort that had all but died out
since the new, forward-looking rulers of Litharna took charge.
There were easily hundreds of mounds here, ranging back as far
as I could see, into shadows where tangled, twisted, tortured trees
once more leaned and stretched crabbed claws toward me, and grey
undergrowth lay thickly, obscuring the burial mounds, making me
uncertain exactly where it all ended.
The place had a sick, poisonous feel to it, even the relatively
recent graves which lay nearby, with freshly-carved headstones, now
bearing sharp, angular, geometrically perfect images of angels and
saints in the currently popular, Kyborist style. Dark weeds sprouted
everywhere, and clouds of gnats swirled up where I walked. Overhead,
grey-black clouds gathered, and a drizzly splatter of rain began to
patter down. I swallowed hard. This place did little to reassure me.
A flash of movement near one of the older headstones caught my
eye. Involuntarily, my hand leapt to my sword hilt, and I abruptly
wished I'd brought my pistols (they were safely hidden in my room, and
their absence was now sorely felt). A dark grey shape moved suddenly,
leaving a low- hanging, lichen-laden branch waving behind it.
As those who have read my other memoirs are probably aware, I
am not an especially brave man. My favorite pursuits include stealing
from people who can afford the loss, eating fine food, and making love
to as many attractive women as will have me. My current situation
afforded no such opportunities, but even as my heart hammered with
fear and my breath came in short, tension-laden gasps, I wondered what
the hell I had just seen.
Fighting my better instincts, I drew my sword and parrying
dagger, and stalked slowly forward, feeling stiff grass and weeds
crunch beneath my heels. The air was deadly still, save for the
off-key cawing of one of those diseased crow-creatures, sitting
dejectedly on a tombstone, lamenting his lot in life.
I approached the place, both weapons trembling in my grip, and
stepped forward, around the base of a sizeable burial mound.
What I saw made me recoil in shock and horror. It was the
crone from the inn, crouching in the lee of the mound, staring up at
me with rheumy, filmed eyes, toothless mouth drawn up in a ghastly
grimace.
We probably scared the hell out of each other, for with a thin
cry, she leapt up and dashed back into the forest, branches and
undergrowth crashing behind her. I didn't bother pursuing, or even
remaining in the area, but turned tail and fled myself, back toward
the trail, back toward Guldensburg, and away from this place of death.
The farmers and their castrating tools seemed almost welcome in
the face of the horrors I imagined. Something was up, no question --
I wasn't certain that the dead would rise and kill us all this night,
but neither was I inclined to find out. Dashing through the muddy
streets of Guldensburg, heedless of the stares I gathered in my wake,
I determined to leave my noble horse behind, and climb out of this
trebly-damned valley alone (I was also leaving my expensive and
probably indispensable pistols behind, as well, but as noted, I wasn't
being completely rational). Then at least it would all be behind me,
and the only foes I was likely to face would be living, and would
bleed if you shoved a dagger into them. I almost relished it...
Of course, in my agitated state, I wasn't as careful as I could
have been. I raced up the trail, toward the landslide, intending to
simply scramble over the thing. It wasn't that easy; once I reached
it I discovered it to be a slippery, treacherous pile of rubble. I
launched myself onto the obstruction just the same. It was muddy,
wet, and I found myself unable to maintain any kind of purchase.
Bull-headedly forging ahead like an ogre mercenary at the mess table,
I kept trying to scramble up. Finally, a stone slipped under my foot,
and I felt myself falling. I scrabbled for purchase, and succeeded
only in dislodging more stones, which cascaded down with me in
another, smaller, avalanche, sending me tumbling over the edge,
slipping and sliding down the canyon wall, rocks and gravel pouring
after me.
I hit bottom hard, fetching up against a twisted pine tree.
Then a dozen stones cascaded down upon me, one hit my head, and I
crashed into darkness, neither blissful nor restful.
* * * *
When I awoke, my head hurt as if a demon whip-master and his
beastpack were chasing each other inside my skull, all singing dwarf
love ballads with the chorus "Brace yourself, Helga!" After a brief
moment of disorientation, I realized that some kind soul had
transported me back to my room at the Skeleton-and-Candle. I further
realized, with rapidly growing dread, that the feeble ray of light
from my dirty window was almost entirely absent. I'd managed to kosh
myself around mid-afternoon; given a couple of hours of insensibility
on my part, it was probably almost sunset.
A million horrible thoughts raced through my fevered mind, not
helped by a sudden commotion of voices from the common room below.
Forcibly calming myself, I inventoried my weapons -- dagger and rapier
still there (my benefactors had, at least, been honest), and looking
under my bed I found my brace of pistols safe in its case. I took a
deep breath, and very deliberately loaded both pistols, ramming home
cap and ball, then packed up a dozen more charges and stowed them in
my belt pouch. Although I knew that the forces which controlled these
pistols were entirely natural, and based in science rather than
sorcery, the primitive side of me still saw them as something magical,
which could shoot fire and make thunder, and drive off the creatures
of the night.
Silly primitive side...
I made myself as presentable as possible, and headed for the
stairs down. There, a crowd was engaged in what seemed a lively
debate.
"No!" shouted a red-faced, well-dressed man with a city-bred
look about him. "I am mayor of this settlement, appointed by this
nation's legal authorities. I have been charged with overseeing
modernization of Guldensburg, and by Saint Orlan, I will do it!"
A man in rough garments, who looked as if he should be chewing
on a stalk of wheat, protested.
"The ceremonies don't do no harm!" he shot back. "They keep
the dead at rest, and keeps the rest of us happy! It's time! We
gotta have the ceremonies!"
The mayor shook his head vehemently. "The authorities have
forbidden it! Any of you who participate in any procession to the
cemetery will be arrested for sedition! I have my orders!"
Another villager, somewhat less of a hayseed, with a look of
some intelligence about him, spoke up.
"You may have your orders, mayor, but we have ours as well," he
said, in a quiet voice, which somehow seemed to quiet the unrest
around him. "They are orders far older than anything from your
masters, and we will follow them, whatever the consequences."
"Silence, Gustal!" barked the mayor. "You've been a
troublemaker ever since I came here! I forbid you from going to the
cemetery!"
"Silence, yourself, city-born fool," Gustal replied. "We
didn't want you here. We didn't ask the noblemen in Vosgraad to send
you here, telling us to forget all the old ways. If you don't want us
to go to the cemetery, 'Mayor' Ulfred, then you're welcome to stop us.
For my part, I'm going. Who's with me?"
With that, Gustal turned, and strode for the door, most of the
room's occupants following him, despite Mayor Ulfred's blustering and
bellowing. Outside, they shouted for fellow celebrants, and were
joined by more, singing and laughing. Torches were lit, and the
procession moved noisily out of the village. The old innkeeper
shuffled in, barred the door, and returned to work.
As the crowd departed, leaving the room virtually empty save
for a couple of villagers, hunched over their mugs, drinking in grim
silence, I walked in, and sat down next to Ulfred, who looked for all
the world like a punctured bladder in the process of collapse.
"It's hard to enforce the rules when you're the only one doing
it," I said, as sympathetically as I could. "Still, you can't blame
them. They've been doing it this way for generations."
Ulfred looked at me, and took in my rugged traveling clothes,
swords and pistols.
"Not from around here, are you?" he observed.
"Neither," I said, tartly, "are you. How the hell did you get
involved with these rubes?"
"I never wanted to," he said, voice plaintive and tired. "I
always wanted to be a lumberjack."
"Hm." I took a glance at his somewhat pudgy physique. "I guess
civil service is the next best thing, eh?"
Since poor Ulfred seemed the only decent company, and the sun
had completely set, I ordered some dinner and we chatted for the next
couple of hours. My fears of the day before were receding -- since
the villagers had decided to do the proper ceremonies whether the
authorities liked it or not, I figured that the chances of a massive
uprising by the vengeful dead was considerably less likely. I even
wondered what sort of rites they carried out in that gods-forsaken
graveyard, and was glad I didn't have to witness them.
At length, I turned to Ulfred, who was well into his cups by
this time, and asked, "So, assuming they do all the proper ceremonies
and such, when do you expect the happy revelers to return?"
Ulfred seemed about to reply, when a knock sounded at the door.
"It's Gustal! Open up!" Outside, I saw the glitter of torches
through the inn's closed shutters.
He grinned. "About now, I'd say."
The innkeeper moved painfully to the door, and raised the bar.
Then, all hell broke loose.
What came through the door had been Gustal once, all right, but
now it was something else. His clothes were battered, torn and
bloodstained, and he moved with a stiff, graceless shamble. Worse,
the entire side of his face had been torn away, revealing bone,
gristle, and dangling tendons. Half of his face was normal, if
somewhat slack and glassy-eyed, which made the horrid death-rictus of
his injured side even more terrifying.
His first victim was the innkeeper, who perished swiftly, the
Gustal- thing's hands around his neck. Both Ulfred and I stood
abruptly, staring in shocked silence. I was unable to move, to grab
weapons, or to even cry out in the moments that followed, as Gustal
shambled into the room, gurgling loudly, followed by a dozen others,
all mutilated, in torn clothing, eyes dead and clouded. In a moment,
they were upon the remaining patrons, who either stared, wide-eyed, or
tried to flee, but were caught and dragged down by innumerable
mindless dead creatures.
Then Ulfred screamed, a loud, high-pitched shriek of pure
disbelief and terror, and he dashed blindly from the table, straight
into the waiting claws of the Gustal-thing. His screams continued for
a moment as Gustal's fingers, now incongruously terminating in curved
talons, and his teeth, went to work on the mayor's pudgy body, sending
blood and other, even less savory, substances flying.
I admit that it broke my reverie, and I fell back toward the
stairs, drawing my pistols. A black-haired zombie lurched into me,
clumsily swiping at me with its dead hands. I was fortunate that not
all these things were as fast and deadly as the former Gustal, for I
easily eluded it, and discharged both pistols at close range into its
skull. The thing's head exploded messily, and the body fell, flopping
and crawling feebly, still coming after me even without all its proper
parts.
I ran for the stairs; my room had a stout bar on the door, and
holding out against the zombies seemed preferable to being butchered
like Ulfred.
It was Gustal who stopped me. I was bare inches from my door
when powerful arms seized me, dragging me back, slamming me against
the opposite wall. I fumbled for my rapier, managed to get it free,
and turned on my assailant. The once-handsome man emitted a low
snarl.
"Livething..." it gurgled. "Gustal... You become dead,
too..."
I drove my rapier into Gustal's throat, but it did no good. He
raked me with dirty claws, and his snapping, near-fleshless jaws
sought my neck. I swung again, hoping to decapitate him, send him
falling to the floor like the first zombie, but he was too quick,
parrying with his forearm, allowing the blade to sink into his
nerveless flesh, then charging into me, overbearing me, sending us
both down, his clawed hands around my neck.
Once again, and not for the last time, I realized that I was
about to die. The snarling, grinning face of the abomination which
had once been Gustal swam above me, and I felt my breath squeezed from
my body. The nightmare apparition faded in and out of darkness; I
fought for breath and failed, chest burning, screaming silently for
air, and knew that it was all over...
Then a voice echoed in my head, a deep booming voice of
authority, like the sound of thunder in the mountains.
"Leave him. He is worthy. Bring him."
Gustal seemed to hear it, too, for his mutilated head inclined
slightly, as if listening, and the pressure on my neck abruptly
lessened. Not that his hostility was lessened in any way, for the
zombie-creature then buffeted me heavily on the temple, grabbed me and
pounded my head against the wall until the flashes of red and black
overcame me, and I lost consciousness, for the second time that day.
Hell of a way to end a festival, huh?
Part of me mused that this business of waking up with pounding
headaches after getting bashed in the head was likely to get old real
fast. The rest of me just hurt. I sat up, opening my eyes, and tried
to make sense of my surroundings.
I was a bloody mess, of course, my head bruised and cut, blood
from a half-dozen small wounds caking up on my cheeks and neck. I had
been divested of most of my clothing, with the exception of a pair of
breeches. My clothes and possessions were nearby, however, flung into
a dark corner of...
Where?
It resembled nothing less than a nobleman's bed chamber, all
gilded wood, expensive paintings, ornate furniture, expensive rugs. I
myself sat on an elaborate four-poster bed, silk coverlet beneath me.
Everything was in shadow, with a few candles burning, shedding wan
light through the room. I swallowed hard. This was not what I'd
expected.
High, velvet curtains rose nearby, which I assumed concealed
windows. I dragged myself painfully from the bed and limped toward
them, pulling them aside to reveal tall, leaded panels, hinged to
provide access to a stone balcony. Beyond them I saw the valley,
stretching out beneath full moonlight -- one moon was three-quarters,
the other half. With a sinking sense of disappointment, I stepped
onto the balcony, feeling vertigo grab at me as I saw that I was at
least a hundred paces from the ground below, at the foot of a sheer
precipice. A great, turreted manse surrounded me, dark stone, hidden
in a fold of the valley wall. A narrow trail led from the main gates
down to the valley, but that was far below me, as well.
Steadying myself, I stepped backwards into the room. I hadn't
seen this fortress while exploring, but then most of the valley had
been obscured with mist, and I hadn't done a detailed survey of the
ravine walls, in any event.
My mind was whirling with questions and possible escape routes
when it suddenly became apparent that I was not alone in the room.
I whirled, and with growing fear, saw tendrils of white mist
creeping in through the crack beneath the door. As I gaped, the
tendrils grew thicker, more substantial, and finally wove themselves
together into a tall, human shape. The shape solidified, became
opaque, and...
Two glinting, black eyes regarded me with a mixture of
curiosity and apparent hunger. Unable to speak, I let my gaze wander
up and down, considering my now fully-materialized roommate.
Oh my... Even in the jaws of death (or worse, undeath) I
hadn't forgotten how to appreciate an attractive female. This one,
despite her rather disturbing origin, certainly fit the bill. Tall,
slim, an air of tangible haughtiness dripping from her every curve,
she had a long, sharp- chinned face with the aforementioned black
eyes, slightly slanted, exotic and deep, still gazing at me with a
disturbing, if somewhat incomprehensible, expression. Straight,
night-black hair cascaded over pale, bare shoulders, exposed by the
long, black gown that clung to her like a second skin, revealing a
spare, lithe form. As she approached me, still inspecting me with an
appraising, emotionless stare, she seemed to glide across the floor,
moving like a ghost...
A ghost? I wondered. Perhaps my impressions were more
accurate than I thought. Her skin was nearly bone-white, but her lips
were dark red, glinting in the feeble candlelight -- a bit too healthy
and ruddy for a ghost, I decided, staring and still trying to decide
what to do. She'd taken no offensive action, and her manner was not
threatening; besides, my weapons were in the opposite corner, and
she'd clearly be able to intercept me should I try to go after them.
At last I broke the heavy silence, and croaked, "Who--?"
But that's all I managed, for her eyes abruptly shifted from me
to the tall windows behind me. I turned suddenly, following her gaze.
When I saw what she was looking at, my frayed nerves pretty much
snapped like a rotten twig.
A terrible shape was out there, descending from the moonlit
sky, flapping great black wings, red eyes gleaming. It reached the
balcony and abruptly changed, transforming into a second tall,
obviously female form. If the first had caught my eye, the second
frankly impaled it.
The fact that she was naked had something to do with it, but
she'd have been a sight wearing sackcloth and ashes. She strode into
the room with all the confidence of a knight in armor, despite her
nudity. Fine blonde hair fell below her waist, and her body was
strongly built, but at the same time aggressively feminine -- large
and ripe, and bordering on downright plump (a type I'd always been
fond of, by the way). Her shoulders were broad, bespeaking
barely-restrained strength, arms muscular. Two large, fleshy breasts
rode proudly above a round, smoothly white belly, aureola expansive
and pink, nipples barely raised stigmata in their centers.
Marble-white thighs met in a shadowy tangle, moving together with
strong, rhythmic action as she walked into the room -- no doubt in my
mind how this one moved, unlike her dark-haired companion.
The dark one spoke for the first time. "Ah," she said,
addressing the blonde woman, and I saw the flash of white, white
teeth, gleaming like spearpoints in shadow, "you've come at last.
Welcome, sister. We have a fine repast this evening."
My heart lurched at that, and suddenly everything -- the mist,
the white skin, the great black flying shape, the teeth -- made sense.
I was definitely not in the presence of Rexxaran vestals here, I
realized, and tensed for a dash at my weapons. I was determined to
sell my life dearly, and hoped that my silver kris remained in my belt
pouch along with the rest of my possessions. I wasn't sure whether
silver was effective against vampires (I found myself debating whether
that was for werewolves, instead...), but it couldn't be any worse
that what I had, which was nothing.
I never got beyond the tensing stage. The dark vampiress' gaze
shot back to me, and I felt pinned as if by multiple crossbow bolts.
My entire body went rigid, and I felt my very breath lock in my lungs.
The bruises and abrasions from my fight with the zombies throbbed and
protested, and I wanted to scream in agony, but couldn't. The bitch,
I realized, could probably strangle me with a whim and never lay a
long-nailed finger on me, but I suspected that she had more exotic
entertainments in mind.
My guess was confirmed when I was lifted bodily, as if by a
huge, unseen hand, and thrust back onto the bed. The pressure on
chest and throat eased, but I remained pinned, helpless as a butterfly
in a nobleman's display case.
"There," said the dark one. "He's yours to play with, now."
The blonde woman's eyes widened, and her face broke out in a
simpering grin, revealing her own jagged fangs. "Really?" she asked,
all a-twitter. "All mine?"
Her companion nodded, and together they approached the bed. My
heart hammered with fear, but as usual, my basic male nature seemed
unable to completely forget terror in the face of such raw beauty. I
felt my cock begin to stiffen, despite the fact that I was probably
facing a fate worse than death.
The first vampiress noticed this and nodded approvingly. "He
will make a fine first addition to your herd, Eva."
Eva, the strapping blonde, moved closer, climbing up onto the
bed, mouth open, face eager and savage, hair a dark golden cloud,
fangs gleaming, and crawled slowly and sensuously toward me, large
breasts hanging down invitingly, dragging along the silk coverlet as
she approached.
"Patience, sister," cautioned the dark woman. "I've a few
things to teach you this evening."
Eva drew back, with apparently great reluctance, and kneeled
near me, still within easy reach of my unprotected neck. The sight of
her, crouching like a stone statue, mass of blonde hair curving around
great, pillowy breasts, columnar thighs united in a pale swatch of
glittering pubic hair, sent pulsations of desire through me, and I
felt my cock harden further.
"He is excited, Eva," said the first, apparently senior,
vampiress. "These cattle are so very predictable and easy to control.
He knows you intend to kill him, yet he wishes to rut with you
nonetheless."
Eva smiled. "He is handsome, Yasmin" she said. "I would not
mind rutting with him before I took him."
Yasmin nodded. "So you shall. You will learn that human blood
is an exquisite intoxicant, and blood taken when a human is at the
height of ecstasy is the finest you can consume. The master spared
this one so that you could have him, and see how passion can make the
blood hot and delectable."
I didn't like the sound of that -- many people make a
connection between sex and death, but these vampires seemed to take it
literally.
"Do as I say, Eva," Yasmin continued. "Take off his breeches."
Eva didn't need too much convincing, and dug strong fingers
into the fabric of my leggings, claws ripping, and in a moment the
entire garment was shredded and cast aside. My cock, freed from its
restraint, sprang up, uncoiling like a serpent and hardening
instantly. Eva grinned happily at this.
"Look, Yasmin," she said. "He's so excited. Even though we're
going to kill him?"
"Not kill, really," Yasmin cautioned, taking up a seat on the
other side of my recumbent, naked, and magically-restrained body.
"He'll die, yes, but he will live on as your first slave. You can
have him whenever you want, and he'll be servant to your every whim.
No mind of his own, of course, but he won't really need one. Slaves
are such fun, Eva. You'll see."
I wanted to yell, to scream, "Fuck you, bloodsuckers -- I've
already been a slave once and I'm not gonna do it again for the likes
of you!" but Yasmin's magical bondage kept hold of me, paralysis
gripping every part of my body except the important one.
"Now," said Yasmin, "to the real work."
In her eagerness, Eva seemed determined to finish me there and
then, and once more crawled across me, great breasts grazing the
feverishly hot skin of my cock. Her mouth opened wider, fangs
shining, a tiny droplet of saliva dripping from her lips to my chest.
I wanted to scream, to resist, to fight or flee, but I remained
helpless. And besides, Yasmin seemed to want to drag this out a bit.
"No, no, sister," she cautioned, placing a restraining hand on
Eva's rounded white shoulder. "You must pleasure him first, if you
are to fully savor his essence."
Gods, said the little comedian which lives in my brain and
makes smart-ass comments when they're least welcome, at least you'll
die happy. My experience with the life-sapping snake- daemoness at
the Alabaster Temple came back to me, and I reminded the little fucker
that I had been anything but happy in the face of death at that point,
so why the bloody hell should I be now?
Yasmin's long, black-nailed fingers encircled my cock, lifting
it upright and presenting it to Eva like a prize cucumber at the
harvest fair.
"You know what to do with this, don't you?" Yasmin asked, an
edge of sarcasm in her voice. "Back when you were a simple farmgirl,
you played with the boys, didn't you?"
Eva's face narrowed into a razor-thin smile. "I did, Sister,"
she replied. "And the boys loved every moment of it. Like to see
what I used to do?"
Yasmin nodded, and Eva positioned herself between my slightly-
spread legs, a curvaceous monument of alabaster flesh and white-blonde
hair, massive breasts pressing down, pillowed beneath her. My breath
came faster, my heart pounded... Oh, Phaedra suck it all, I thought,
I'm doing exactly what they want...
"First, I touched them lightly with my fingers, like this," Eva
said, conversationally, stroking my cock. "Then I played with their
balls, like this." Her hands cupped my testicles and squeezed
lightly. I desperately wanted to moan or cry out, but my throat
remained restricted, and I felt waves of burning energy rebound and
chase each other back and forth inside me, building deep in my belly,
roiling like an oncoming storm.
Eva continued squeezing my balls with increasing pressure with
one hand, then took my cock in the other, holding tightly, and began
to stroke. Damn, this woman was strong -- I wondered if she'd been
the proverbial horny milkmaid in her mortal life, milking cocks with
the same fervor she'd milked daddy's dairy cows; she certainly had the
hand development for it.
"See?" Eva said. "He can't move, but you can tell it's driving
him crazy. The boys just loved this. Some of them came all over me
just from me touching them. I hated that. I wanted them to fuck me."
"They were young, Sister," Yasmin commented, settling into a
nearby chair to watch the proceedings. "I'd always preferred the
older mortal -- they have much better control."
Eva's smile widened. "I agree. Those boys... They were
always so embarrassed when they came quickly. I licked it up, anyway.
They liked that."
Finally, a thin groan escaped from my clenched throat, but it
only spoke a fraction of the suppressed agony I felt. Damn, I was
usually able to bleed off my excess energy by making noise - - these
bitches didn't seem inclined to grant me that luxury. Then again,
they were planning to kill me and make me a mindless slave, so my
welfare probably wasn't uppermost in their minds...
"Hear that?" Yasmin said. "His pleasure is growing unbearable.
When he comes, his blood will be the finest you've ever consumed."
"Mmmm," Eva said, still stroking. "I love it. It's like a fat
white sausage, isn't it?"
Even in my reduced state, I resented the implication, but I was
unable to say anything about it.
"Those who survived this far," Eva went on, "got my tongue.
Such good boys they were."
With that, the fanged mouth slid luxuriantly open, and a moist
red tongue emerged to run itself slowly and thoroughly up the
underside of my cock.
"Did they come when you did that?" asked Yasmin. I expected to
see her taking notes, but no such luck.
"Sometimes," Eva replied. "I didn't mind that as much. I
learned to like the taste of a man's come. It can be quite a lovely
thing, though it was an -- what's the word I'm looking for?"
"An acquired taste?" Yasmin suggested.
Eva nodded, making her tongue do strange things to my taut
flesh. "That's the word."
"Your vocabulary has certainly expanded since you joined us,
Sister."
Eva giggled. "Thanks."
Now she combined fingers and tongue, tugging with renewed
enthusiasm at my cock (damn -- she MUST have learned on cow teats, I
thought...) as she licked and briefly enveloped my cockhead with her
mouth.
"After this," she said, "I sucked them for a while, then when
they were ready, I let them fuck me. Hard."
"Mmmmm," said Yasmin, who clearly seemed to be enjoying the
show. I saw her hand busy between her legs, and heard her breath come
quickly. Hell, I guess we're all the same, whether we're alive or
dead...
"Mmmmm," repeated Eva, red lips encircling my cock, sharp teeth
grazing flesh. From the look on her face, I was afraid that she'd
chow down there and then (and imagine how painful THAT would have
been), but she restrained herself.
"Oh, I want to bite him," Eva breathed, running her lips up and
down my cock. "I want to bite him so bad. I loved those boys' come
so much -- I loved how it tasted... But you've shown me how delicious
blood can be, dearest Yasmin..."
With that, she hauled herself up, straddling me, hands roughly
cradling my cock, rubbing its head against distended, pink cunt lips.
"Ohhhhh, how it feels, Yasmin..." Her voice was drum-tight
with excitement. "How wonderful it was to fuck them, there in the
barn... Now... Now..." And with that she slid down, cock held
between the glistening lips of her pussy. Then she devoured me,
letting my taut member move into her tight, dark depths.
"Such a cock this one has, Yasmin, such a cock..." Eva was
lost. She leaned back, heavy breasts straining. She cupped them in
her hands and tweaked her own nipples, until they turned pink and hard
and swollen.
Nearby, Yasmin had hiked her gown up completely and slipped a
single finger into her own cunt, a dark recess between lean thighs,
and moaned gently as she did so.
"Are you going to come, Yasmin?" Eva demanded, even as she
moved up on her knees, letting my cock move out, then plunged down
again, enveloping me in moist warmth.
"Yessssssss," hissed the dark-haired vampire. "I'm going
to..." Her fanged teeth clenched heavily. "I'm coming now..."
"Oh, so good, sister Yasmin..." Eva's voice was tight, too.
"Sooooo good..."
I was rapidly moving that way myself, even though I realized it
would mean my own extinction. But Eva's tossing halo of blonde hair,
her rich, luscious body, bobbing breasts, swollen nipples, and the
excited expression of barely restrained passion, eyes half-closed,
lips parted and gleaming red, tongue out, her manner wild and
unrestrained as an animal -
- it all conspired against me, and I knew I was about to come.
"He's coming, Eva," warned Yasmin, standing and moving toward
me. "In a moment..."
That was my moment. My cock suddenly contracted, gushing hot
semen into Eva, and a steady cry escaped my imprisoned throat.
Eva leaped from her position, and then down between my thighs
and, in an instant of sheer agony, sank sharp fangs into my haunch,
even as hot semen cascaded down upon her, running down my thighs to
join with my streaming blood in her mouth. She moaned softly as hot
blood surged into her mouth.
Then it was Yasmin's turn. She attacked my throat with equal
passion, and more pain shot into me... Gods, no...
My blood spewed from me and into the mouths of the two
vampiresses, and I felt the room spinning, darkness deepening... Only
a moment, and it would all be over...
The horrible sucking pressure on my neck lessened suddenly, and
Yasmin pulled away, with the sensation of a jagged needle being
suddenly withdrawn from my flesh. I abruptly realized that my
paralysis was broken, and I took the opportunity to scream, loudly.
It seemed to surprise Eva, who also tore her fangs from my thigh, with
a similarly agonizing sensation.
Despite my sudden reprieve from damnation, I was unable to
move. I remembered the sensation well, from the Alabaster Temple,
where the snake daemoness had drained my life energy until I was on
the brink of death. I lacked the strength to fight back, scramble off
the bed, or do anything save let my scream trail off to a ragged wail,
and lie, blood soaked and panting, on the silken coverlet.
Eva and Yasmin didn't seem overly concerned about me -- I was
pretty much out of action in any event -- their attention was focused
on the balcony outside, where yet a fourth member of our little drama
had appeared, amid billowing black fabric. Gods, my fading mind
thought, what fresh hell is this...?
What little consciousness I retained reeled in horror. The
visitor was none other than the hideous crone from the graveyard...
Phaedra save my sorry ass, I thought, was she mistress to these two?
Another undead monstrosity come to torment me? My mind whirled red
and black, and I realized that I didn't have long to live.
In my last moments of mortal existence, I watched as Yasmin
reacted violently, hissing and abruptly transforming into a spindly,
daemonic human bat, her eyes flaring red, monstrous mouth open, fangs
poised... The thing which had been Yasmin launched itself at the
intruder, while the less experienced Eva still crouched between my
thighs, staring in perplexity.
The crone stood her ground, raised a hand, and intoned
syllables which I recognized in the dim reaches of my memory as
magical. The snarling vampire-thing stopped short, falling back,
transforming once more into Yasmin, and suddenly one of the nearby
chairs leaped up of its own accord, shattering into sharp fragments,
which flew like daggers through the air, slicing into the vampire
woman's flesh, piercing her, sending cascades of black blood that was
not blood pouring out onto the rich carpet.
"Bitch..." snarled Yasmin through bloody lips, as the wood
fragments began to grow, sprouting leaves, transforming into heavy,
vine-like growths, surrounding her body, then closing down on her in
an impenetrable mass. The black mess that passes for vampire blood
oozed out as Yasmin's angry snarl turned into a drawn-out shriek of
agony, then trailed into silence.
Eva screamed, hand at her mouth, looking on in disbelief. It
was all she had time to do, for the great wood vines leaped with
murderous intent from Yasmin's sundered and pierced body, and
enwrapped the golden- haired vampiress, bearing her to the ground,
silencing her final cries. In a moment, all that remained were thick
writhing vines, and rich green leaves -- by far the healthiest things
I'd seen since arriving in the valley.
My breath came in quick, feeble gasps. I still had trouble
comprehending what had happened, and my confusion did not lessen when
the crone, the hideous, malformed, snaggle- toothed and spare-haired
harpy, glanced to the bed and swiftly hobbled to my side.
"You poor bastard," she whispered, in a honeyed voice that was
completely incongruous coming from that emaciated old body. "Are you
killed?"
"Not yet," I rasped in a feeble, cracked voice. "Help me..."
She looked frustrated, casting disgusted glances down at where
the two vampire women had lain. "I didn't expect those bitches to be
here... Good riddance, though..." She looked directly at me with
opaque, fishy eyes. "I'm going to have to drop my glamour to save
you. I don't need it anymore, anyway." She drew back, her outline
shimmered and melted, and in the place of the horrid, gnarled crone
stood a vision of loveliness.
She wasn't especially tall, but her curvaceousness made up for
the deficiency. Slim, athletic, pale-skinned, with short blonde hair
and an earnest, innocent-looking face complete with wide blue eyes,
turned-up nose, and light spatter of freckles. If Eva had been a milk
maid, this one was without doubt the farmer's daughter. She wore grey
traveling clothes, but these did little to disguise the fact that she
was a creature of radiant beauty and fierce energy. I felt as if I'd
known her before -- and I don't know, according to the Recreationists,
I probably had, in a previous life - - and saw in her the same hint of
strength and power as I'd seen in such diverse women as Ushandra the
warrioress, Xylara the Xeshite noblewoman, and Sarra the druidess.
I'd loved them all, in my own way, and the mild but strong blue gaze
of this woman stirred the same feelings, despite my weakened
condition.
She laid hands on my chest and forehead. "Ready?" she asked
and, without waiting for an answer, intoned another enchantment, blue
energy flickering around her head and down her spine. A moment later,
the energy coalesced in the center of her forehead, then flowed down
her hands and into me.
The agony of my wounds lessened, my overtaxed heart slowed, my
breath came easier. I could feel my veins fill with blood, and my
very soul pulse with renewed vitality. Gods...
I looked up at her. If I'd been smitten at the sight of this
vision, I was now completely ensnared, captivated, and infatuated. A
beautiful woman is one thing, but a beautiful woman who saves your
life out of the good of her heart...
Yeah, I was lost. It was an emotion I would come to curse in
the following years, but at that moment it beat, bright and pure, in
the depths of my oft-abused but still living romantic heart.
"Thank you..." I whispered. "I almost... I would have..."
She nodded. "You'd have died. You probably wouldn't even have
had the consolation of rising as a vampire, either. They weren't
quite finished with you."
"From where I'm lying they were," I replied, testing out my
muscles as I rose to my feet. "I'm sorry for my informal attire...
They shredded my breeches..."
The blonde woman threw me what remained of my clothes from
their place in the corner, then rummaged in a closet and tossed me a
new pair of loose trousers.
"Those," she said, "should do. I'm Livia, by the way. I think
we've met."
"Wulf," I replied. "Yes, a couple of times, and the second
time you scared the living crap out of me."
"The feeling was mutual. What the hell were you doing in the
graveyard?"
"Oh, just exploring," I replied, hurriedly pulling on clothing.
"I might ask you the same question."
"I'm here incognito," she told me. "Then again, that's
probably obvious. I'm here looking for something that was stolen from
me."
I took a quick stock of my other possessions. My weapons,
including my pistols, were intact, to my vast relief.
"What exactly are you looking for?" I asked. "I have some
skill in that area. I could help. I think I owe you, anyway."
"Yes, you do," she said, matter-of-factly. "I think the master
of this house is responsible for the massacre down in the town. He
stole something from me."
I frowned. "What? Don't be cagey, Livia. I think we can help
each other."
She rolled her eyes. "Gods. Save a man's life and he thinks
he's your frigging husband. All right -- I think that the bastard who
runs this place stole a wand from me. A magical wand. Do you know
anything about magic?"
I nodded. "I'm not as stupid as I look, as hard as that is to
believe."
"It's called the Black Wand. It can be used to raise
skeletons, zombies, ghosts -- that sort of thing -- and bind them to
the user. It normally only works on one at a time, but this son of a
bitch is very powerful, and I think he used the energy of the
villagers' ceremonies to aid him. My guess is that he's raised every
corpse in the valley, and plans to create more servants from the
surrounding towns."
Damn. Images flickered through my mind of twisted, ghoulish
figures motivated by creatures far more perverse and evil than the two
vampire women, crawling slowly but purposefully up the walls of the
valley, lurching through the night, descending on the towns nearby,
converting their inhabitants into more mindless zombies... Khaera...
Gods...
"So who's this friend of yours?" I asked. "Where can we find
him?"
"Lord Thazar," Livia told me. "And he's no friend of mine.
He's a vampire, like those two -- I think they're his wives, or
concubines, or girlfriends, or something..."
"Well they're plant food now," I said with grim satisfaction.
"Nice casting, by the way. Druidic?"
She raised her eyebrows, impressed in spite of herself.
"You're right, Wulf. You're not as stupid as you look. All right, I
accept your offer. I'm going to need help killing Thazar and taking
that wand back in any event. I think he's going to be down in his
vault, raising more dead with the wand. I suspect he has visions of
conquering all of Litharna and turning it into his own private
mausoleum. Vampires are like that -- megalomaniac assholes, every
one."
I couldn't say I disagreed. Hurriedly, I attached my baldric
and started loading my pistols.
"Those won't do any good," Livia cautioned. "Magic and a
wooden stake are the only language a vampire understands."
I didn't stop, but continued, ramming powder and ball into the
pistols. "These will at least slow them down. My heartcutter might
hurt them. It's designed to fight demons, and they're a hell of a lot
tougher than vampires."
"You might be right. I'd always wanted to test that theory,
anyway."
"Well, I'm going to be your happy guinea pig, my dear," I said,
standing, black heartcutter in one hand, rapier in the other, loaded
pistols at my belt. "Now let's go kick some undead ass."
Unfortunately, despite her considerable intelligence, Livia
didn't know the manse any better than I did, other than the fact that
there was a subterranean vault where one could raise undead monsters.
The structure had, she told me, been the haunt of some rich nobleman
until about fifty years previously, when it had been abandoned after
the nobleman in question massacred his entire family and ate them with
a nice pasta and a full-bodied red wine. Typically, the locals had
decided the place was cursed, and avoided it, leaving it open for Lord
Thazar's occupancy.
"Why is it," I said, as we moved tentatively down a dusty
corridor, "that vampires always seem to be attracted to old, run-down
mansions?"
"They believe their own propaganda, I think," Livia replied.
"Look -- there are stairs here."
I followed her, sword ready. We made our way down a narrow
flight of stairs which had once been richly carpeted. I was hoping
that the other undead of the mansion were elsewhere, possibly crawling
off to join the swelling ranks of Thazar's zombie army, when a ragged
gurgling and shuffling sound from below us suggested that I was wrong
once more. A half-dozen ragged things, the remnants of a number of
villagers who had been dead at least a year, shambled up the stairs at
us, rotting arms outreached, their empty eyesockets glowing
yellow-green.
"Stand back!" Livia ordered in a voice sharp enough to make me
stop short and retreat a few steps. She unleashed a torrent of
blue-white magical energy which engulfed our attackers, blotting them
out completely. When the firestorm subsided, the walls and stairs
were scorched and smoking, and all but two of the zombies had been
reduced to smoldering fragments.
Now it was Livia's turn to fall back, slipping past me, face
drawn and pale, recovering the energy she'd expended.
"They're all yours, swordsman," she said, voice weak.
"Thanks a lot," I grunted, advancing.
My fight with Gustal had taught me that subtle swordsmanship
meant nothing to zombies. I would have to hack the bastards to
pieces, rather than rely on a single killing blow.
Fortunately for me, these were older and slower than Gustal,
and had already been weakened by Livia's attack. As she stood behind
me, panting, I tried to keep images of that pert chest rising and
falling out of my mind, but they crept in nonetheless, even while I
fought for my life. I hacked, taking off an arm here, a hand there.
Finally, one fell, his leg tendons severed. I swung hard, my
light rapier cutting into the second surviving zombie's neck. Its
head flopped backward, still hanging on by a thread of rotting flesh,
and its claws swiped at me. I hacked again, and another arm fell to
the stairs, where it twitched and flexed, trying to crawl up after me.
Another chop severed the head completely, and one final blow bisected
the thing into flapping, feebly moving sections. I cut a few more
large pieces up, then urged Livia down the stairs, past the
still-animated and hostile, but largely ineffectual, body parts.
It proved to be just the beginning. Our host hadn't been lax
in his security arrangements, and a regiment or so of reanimated
monstrosities barred our way as we moved down stairs, through
hallways, onto the main floor, and toward the ominous portal, which
Livia told me led to the dreaded "vault." We hacked our way through
all of them, but by the time we reached our destination, we were both
a bloody mess, clothes shredded and filthy, eyes glassy, breath short.
"Are you sure," I said, panting, leaning on my rapier, gazing
with considerable trepidation at the yawning opening, "that you have
enough juice left to cast anymore? You've been going at it like a
dwarf miner at a silver vein."
Livia heaved a deep breath and looked directly at me. True,
she was haggard and weary- looking, her lovely blonde hair plastered
to her face in sweaty strands, her clothes ripped and stained with
obscene zombie-fluids. I doubted she had more than a spell or two
left before she passed out.
"I've got to, Wulf," she said. "I may not be the most morally
upstanding individual in creation, but I'm partially responsible for
Thazar's having that wand, and I'm not about to be party to the
disasters he's about to bring. Besides, that bloodsucking bastard
stole my property, and by Phaedra, I'm not going to let him keep it
without a fight."
I cocked an eyebrow at her. A number of strange thoughts
whirled through my brain, and only a few of them had anything to do
with the mission at hand.
"You know something?" I asked, mildly, trying to get back the
breath which our running battle with the zombies had stolen. "I've
always wondered what I'd have been like if I'd been born female."
She got my drift and frowned sourly. "Nice try, swordboy," she
said. "For one thing, if you'd been born female, you wouldn't be
anywhere near this good looking."
I sighed. I was once more, it seemed, falling deeply in love
with a woman who would rather sleep with a sweaty orc than me. Oh
well...
"Come on," I said. "Let's get this over with. At least we can
die together."
"Don't count us out yet, Wulf," she said, as I led the way
through the portals and toward our destiny. It hardly reassured me.
I suspected that the long-dead nobleman built his manse atop
the traditional ancient shrine to dark gods, for the stairs were
obviously very old, and the walls were carved with badly eroded images
whose nature would probably have really disturbed me had I inspected
them too closely.
"Light?" I suggested as inky blackness closed in around us.
"Or are you worried about attracting too much attention."
Livia didn't reply, but quickly cast a witchlight spell,
surrounding us in a faint blue glow, enough so that we could see our
way, but hopefully not enough to alert our foes. We'd see in a few
moments, anyway.
Deep below us, I heard snatches of a deep voice, intoning what
were obviously arcane syllables. I recognized one or two from my
illicit reading of necromantic texts in the university library, and
found myself actually quite glad that I didn't understand the rest --
necromancy is infamous for driving its practitioners mad, and I didn't
relish the thought of joining them.
At length, with the voice growing louder and more unsettling,
we reached the foot of the stairs, and cautiously moved down the short
stone corridor we found there. Beyond, the corridor opened into a
vast, vault- roofed chamber, dimly lit by torches, and crowded with
rank upon rank of grinning, rotting, milling undead creatures, all
facing the raised dais at the opposite end, where stood the being who
could only be Lord Thazar, vampire monarch and necromancer supreme.
He was about what one would expect from a pretentious,
megalomaniacal vampire noble. He wore a long, black tunic, secured by
a silver skull-belt, and a gleaming silver pectoral in the form of a
skeletal bird or dragon -- so, I thought, the silver is for wolves,
after all... Thazar himself was a long-faced, distinguished-looking
individual, who might have been handsome had he not been so
preternaturally pale and drawn- looking. His eyes lived, however,
dancing and gleaming with malign energy, as he continued to chant, and
waved a short, black wand topped with a silver skull. I perceived,
rather than saw, a tangled skein of magical force connecting him to
the monsters in the chamber through the wand, like a foul puppeteer of
the damned (okay, okay -- I'll try to tone down the metaphor...)
I wasn't entirely sure what the hell we were to do next. There
was no way this side of hell that I could hack my way through the
crowd of undead alone, and as I had noted, Livia's magical reserves
were nearing exhaustion. Before I could suggest a quiet retreat and
emigration to the White Empire, Livia stepped from behind me, into
full view of the towering vampire on the platform.
As I gaped in disbelief, she spread her arms and shouted, with
considerable volume for such a petite creature, "THAZAR!!!"
That stopped the chanting, and the vampire-lord's gaze locked
inexorably onto my companion.
"So!" he shouted in a deep voice that echoed against the
vaulted roof (why do villains always have to shout "So!" when things
like that happen, anyway?). "I felt the destruction of my wives, and
I wondered who could have accomplished such a thing. You're just in
time, you sorcerous bitch, to witness my final triumph!"
Livia laughed. "You've been reading too many bad novels,
Thazar," she replied. "Now, if you'd said something original, I might
be worried!"
I stayed discreetly out of sight, hoping that Thazar wouldn't
realize she'd had help. I loosed my heartcutter, hoping against hope
that its effectiveness on demons would at least be of concern to a
vampire. It was a thin hope, I realized...
"For a woman, you've got stones, I'll give you that," said
Thazar in a less melodramatic tone as he leaped lightly down from the
platform, and approached Livia, the undead legion giving way before
him. "But now you're here, what are you going to do? I hold all the
cards, little girl. I can tell that you're almost exhausted, and I've
just finish reanimating every corpse in this pathetic little valley."
Livia seemed unfazed. "You have something that belongs to me,
you bloodsucking bastard," she growled. "Give it back and send these
corpses back to rest."
Thazar, to his credit, didn't throw back his head and laugh
like a maniac. He only smiled. "What? And waste all this effort?
Gods, woman -- the dead are pissed enough as it is, what with that
pathetic holiday cancelled... I would have raised the dead with your
useful little wand here, but adding those celebrants in the graveyard
was just a pleasant diversion. There are dissatisfied dead all over
Litharna. They'll have their day soon enough."
"Bastard!" spat Livia. "The dead want to be left in peace, not
dragooned into an army for your personal glorification. Give up the
fucking wand and we'll leave you in peace!"
Thazar still didn't seem to take her seriously. "You're in no
position to give orders, bitch," he said. "The most you can hope for
is that I take pity on you and recruit you as a replacement for Yasmin
and Eva. Oh, and where is that swordsman they were playing with,
anyway?"
My heart hammered, but I remained in hiding. He didn't know
that I was still alive, and there was no sense in surrendering
whatever small advantage we retained.
Thazar stopped about a dozen paces short of Livia. His gaze
remained fixed on her, and so far he had apparently not noticed me. I
wasn't sure where this was going, but I certainly didn't like it much.
Still, Livia had proved herself resourceful, and...
And, I realized as she stretched out a hand, she still had any
number of cards up her sleeve...
"Return," she said, simply, and I saw a thread of magical
force, much like the one connecting Thazar to the zombies, solidify
and thicken between her hand and the Black Wand. As Thazar stared
dumbly, the thread snapped back, yanking the wand from his hand and
into hers.
"I always protect my property, Thazar," she said, pointing the
wand at the vampire lord. "You've had your chance, now it's my turn."
Completely disarmed by Livia's gambit, Thazar stood in shocked
silence as a stream of white magic shot from the wand, caught him in
the chest, and sent him flying. His connection with the zombies was
broken as well, and one after the other, they collapsed to the ground.
Another blast from Livia caught Thazar as he struggled to
stand, pounding him down again. But the vampire was not completely
without resources. He cast, as well, creating a bubble of protective
energy around himself. The blasts from the wand deflected, streaking
off into the surrounding darkness, and he rose to his feet,
transforming into a snarling bat-thing, racing toward Livia.
Now was my moment. I stepped out, and struck with my
heartcutter. The black blade cut through Thazar's protective bubble,
but caught and skidded off his vampiric flesh. His burning eyes
glared furiously at me, and a clawed hand struck me aside. I fell
heavily against the wall, felt pain lance through my shoulder, and
watched helplessly as Thazar bore down on Livia, who sent the last of
her magical reserves into a final, pyrotechnic strike. It pushed him
back, singed his brown-black fur, but it didn't kill him. It was up
to me now -- as admirable as Livia was as a sorceress and fighter, she
was no match for an enraged vampire lord. If I didn't do something,
we were finished.
I rose, casting my rapier and heartcutter dagger aside, and
drew my brace of pistols, ignoring the pain in my shoulder as I
thumbed down hammers, leveled at the oncoming horror, now almost
entirely bat-like, its jaws and fangs slavering, eyes bestial and full
of hatred, and pulled both triggers.
Thunder and lightning filled the chamber. Fire cut into the
monster's chest, and it screamed in uncomprehending pain. I could
almost feel its confusion -- no, no; it was a mortal weapon, not even
enchanted, it shouldn't harm the flesh of the deathless ones...
No, I thought to myself, it shouldn't harm you. Not unless the
balls were packed with fragments of wood taken from shattered
furniture in one of your bedchambers, you unnatural freak...
Yes, wood -- it hurt him, drove splinters deep into Thazar's
chest, tearing enchanted, invulnerable flesh... But would it kill
him? Gods, if he survived...
He didn't get the chance.
Behind me, Livia held the wand and chanted softly. All around
us, the dead once more lurched to horrific life, slowly and painfully
rising, shambling forward, reaching out with ragged claws, champing
with rotted teeth, growling and groaning...
"Your tormentor," Livia whispered. "The one who would deny you
rest, and make you slay your loved ones. Take him, brothers... Take
him, and return to the blessed arms of Phaedra, where you will find
peace..."
Swords, daggers, pistols... All were useless against vampires,
for they healed too quickly, and shrugged off the effects of most
mortal engines. But against the flesh of the undead, flesh driven by
hatred, and the desire for vengeance -- a vampire can survive for a
while, but not when wounded and bleeding, and not against an endless
tide of vengeful once- slaves, now-enemies, whose feeble minds
remembered their mortal lives, and desired final peace beyond death...
Thazar screamed for quite a long time as wave after wave of
clawing, biting, tearing bodies rolled over him. Many of the zombies
fell, sundered by Thazar's claws; even weakened and near death, he was
a fearsome opponent, but in the end it was no use to him. The monster
at last fell, ripped to pieces by the animated shells of those he
would have used as slaves, and denied rest...
Livia muttered a last incantation, releasing the zombies, and
they collapsed once more, dead now and forever. Then, eyes rolling up
in her head, Livia herself fell, the Black Wand slipping from her
grasp.
Oh Gods... Not again... I hastened to her side, my shoulder
pulsating with agony, and lifted her up, checking for pulse and
breath. No, I thought, memories of Sarra the elf druid still fresh in
my mind, please...
She still lived, by the gods. Her pulse was weak, her breath
shallow, but her collapse was one of exhaustion, not death.
Despite the pain which lanced through me, and the weariness
which urged me to join her, to fall and sleep, I stowed the Black Wand
at my belt, then lifted Livia and carried her up from the vault, from
the place of death, and out through the main doors of Thazar's manse,
into the grey light of dawn...
All Souls' Night had ended, and I wondered if a single living
thing remained in the valley to appreciate it.
* * * *
As it turned out, there remained a few isolated homesteads left
dotted about the gorge; I located one after a long, laborious climb
down the valley wall from Thazar's manse, aching and tired, and
burdened by Livia's unconscious form. The family -- a burly miner,
his wife, teenaged daughter and twin adult sons -- had spent a
terrifying night behind barricaded walls, fighting off periodic
assaults by Thazar's undead. Fortunately for me, they realized that I
was alive and didn't feather me as I approached, calling out for help.
Newly re-dead corpses littered the landscape around the house, some
sprouting arrows, others rent by sword or axe blows.
After initial suspicion, the miner, Udor, and his wife, Franya,
took us in with expressions of sympathy and concern.
"Where are the monsters?" Franya demanded. She was a strong
woman, but the night had left her haggard and weary, dark circles
under her eyes. "They stopped attacking just before dawn."
"All dead... again," I said. "We killed the thing that was
responsible." I took care to keep the Black Wand hidden -- no telling
how they'd react if they saw it. "It's all over."
Udor and his wife sighed with relief. Their children all lay
sleeping about the house in various postures of exhaustion, and it
looked as if their parents ached to join them.
I ate and rested as Franya saw to Livia. Within an hour, she
had regained consciousness, and ravenously devoured the bread and
vegetables offered by the family.
We spent the rest of the day, and the following night with the
family; by morning Livia had recovered most of her strength, and
looked a bit more like the bright-faced woman who had rescued me the
night before.
We bade goodbye to Udor and his family early the following
morning. Livia left them a small pouch of gold and gems, an act which
made the family stare in astonishment -- I suspected it would leave
Udor as the wealthiest surviving landholder in the valley.
I hastened to leave the deathly silent streets of Guldensburg;
as I had feared, not a living thing had survived in the town. Neither
human, dog, cat, nor horse remained, though when I looked down an
alley, I saw scuttling rats. At least, I reflected, they were all
truly dead now, and beyond the reach of Thazar and his ilk. All the
same, we wasted no time heading up the trail out of the gorge, only to
find the way still blocked by the landslide that had trapped us all
down here.
Livia frowned. "Dammit," she muttered. "I'm not looking
forward to this. Step back."
With that, she intoned a series of invocations, moving enough
earth and rock to allow passage. We scrambled over, back down onto
the road, and finally out of the valley. I looked back. Livia's
magic would have the added benefit of helping the few remaining humans
in the valley escape, as well -- I doubted anyone would want to
continue living down there, given its cursed history...
I wasn't terribly concerned about the mad castrators, after the
horrors we'd witnessed. In any event, we encountered nothing more
terrifying than a startled deer, and reached a relatively friendly
village by afternoon.
"Since I've done what I came here to do," Livia said, as we sat
together at the local inn that night, "I'm heading for Stoneburg."
I raised my eyebrows in surprise. "Stoneburg? That's where I'm
from. Why the hell haven't I met you before?"
She shook her head. "I have safe houses all over the place. I
haven't been to the 'burg in a couple of years. I'm planning on
staying there for a while, though. Perhaps we can get together some
time."
"I look forward to it," I said, gazing at her and feeling that
sinking "let's always be good friends" sensation that I always feel
with women I don't stand a chance with. Gods, there was something
about her... An intangible union of innocence and unbridled
sensuality, a depth to her rich blue eyes that I wanted to dive into
and explore, lose myself in...
She smiled. "I'm shipping out through Tarnstranz, north of
here. The quickest route is through Kenth, and I suspect an escort
would be a very good thing to have. Care to accompany me?"
Really. Maybe, I thought... No -- she obviously asked because
she trusted me to be a gentleman and never make unwanted advances.
Sometimes I truly wish I was one of those heartless rakes who can
seduce the iciest of women, then leave them crying... Then again, I
don't think I could ever live with myself.
"I'd be glad to," I replied. "I've come to enjoy your company.
In any event, I think I owe you for saving my life."
She waved a hand. "That debt's been repaid in full, if it ever
was a debt. I'm asking you as a friend."
Oh, Gods, the siege engine has sprung... We're doomed to
friendship. Never to touch, never to kiss save in the most chaste and
fraternal manner, never to fall together in passion's embrace...
Oh, for Phaedra's sake, shut up...
"Then I'm with you all the way," I said. The next few words
were among the hardest I've ever uttered. "I can only go as far as
Tarnstranz, though. I have some very important business in Vosgraad
before I head back home."
I'd swear she almost looked disappointed. "Well," she said,
"then I'll have to see you when you get back to the 'burg."
"We'll do that," I said, trying to imagine what she looked like
naked, while simultaneously trying to keep myself from doing so, and
frustrating myself enormously in the process. Most of you probably
know what I'm talking about...
When we slept in separate rooms, I was pretty sure that she
wanted to keep our relationship chaste and friendly, and consoled
myself with self- abuse. Though it was far from what I wanted, at
least it helped me get to sleep quickly...
Gods... Livia... The eternal unrequited love...
Well, lust anyway...
EPILOG -- WATERFALL
Kenth is a wild, unpopulated province of the vast Litharnan
state; a few hardy pioneers have settled there, felling trees, setting
up farmsteads, hunting, fishing, but in the main, it is an untouched
wilderness of vast fir forests, sylvan glades, cold rushing streams,
and craggy mountains touched with snow. It reminded me of the Elven
Isles.
Gods know, Livia and I grew close in the days we traveled
through Kenth. Friendly, but still thoroughly platonic, which is
about where I expected it to remain.
Her life was about as varied and rootless as mine. She'd been
raised by her mother, a small-time hedge sorceress who had had a
string of boyfriends and little time for her. She'd left home at
fourteen, discovered men soon thereafter, and (here, I had to bite my
hand to keep from moaning) women only a little later. A string of
unhappy relationships, including cohabitation with at least one highly
abusive man, followed, until, as near as I could guess, Livia decided
that she herself was the only individual she could truly rely on, and
obtained sorcerous training at a very disreputable magical institute.
Things were hopping from then on. She hired herself out
variously as security and larceny expert, salted her money away with
the Kyborist bankers, and by the time she was twenty she had enough to
buy a nice mansion in Godshome. Through all that, I noted, she
continued to rely on herself, though got the general impression that
her bed rarely stayed lonely for long.
"And now you're an international power broker with interests in
a dozen countries, right?" I asked.
She laughed. Yes, it was a melodic, joyful laughter, and she
looked like one of those untouchable, but serenely beautiful angels
from old Kyborist murals when she did so. "Not really, Wulf. I'm
comfortable enough, but I'm not what you would call wealthy."
"You're what I would call wealthy," I growled. "But then
again, I'm the one who blows all his money on petty luxuries and loose
women."
"Mm." It seemed to come as no surprise to her. "I'm not
without my own petty luxuries," she said. "Or with my own loose..."
she paused, mulling over her next choice of words "...companions."
I took this all in stride, and we moved on to my own life
story. I actually told her the entire story of my adventures during
and after the Imperial Veldt Lands disaster -- the invasion, the
battle, my transformation into a lion-man, enslavement in Xesh, and my
part in the great goblin invasion of the Elven Isles. I even told her
about the women -- the late and lamented Sarra, the very much alive
and perverse Nineh and Xylara, the supple and submissive Alrynna, the
evil snake daemoness, the multiply-pierced and infinitely twisted dark
elf Thae'lynn, and of course my beloved Ushandra, who remained at the
top of my list of cherished memories...
I glanced over at her. She seemed interested, if relatively
unimpressed -- I suspected that my sexual escapades were nothing
compared to hers (even though she had been distressingly spare with
details, I realized that she was hiding some tales that would have
curled my hair).
"Interesting," she said. "I suspect that you've got quite a
variety of spiritual influences. That would explain your wanderlust,
and the fact that you took to being a lion-man so easily. I wonder
what else we could turn you into --"
"Not a chance," I cut in. "I enjoy being human too damned
much. I don't want to be a lion-man again, even if I was hung like a
--" I bit my words off suddenly. "Uhhhh, you know what I mean."
She smiled what I can only described as a wickedly warped
smile. "Don't be so sure what you want, Wulf. There's a lot in your
future. I can tell such things."
"Really? Precognitive as well as beautiful and sorcerously
talented. So what do you see in my future?"
"Oh, I never said I could see your future. I just know you
have one. I'm talented that way."
"Hm. Talented." And probably talented in ways I would never
get to find out, either. Saint Kybor's Testicles, this woman had
begun to frustrate me...
We rode for days, through uninhabited wilderness, following the
only major trail in the province. It was unspoiled land, all right --
we met no one, and were unmenaced by man, beast, or otherwise. It was
easily one of the most pleasant and relaxing journeys of my life.
It happened the day we rode near a towering granite wedge of
mountains. Rivers flowed down from the mountains, creating great,
thundering waterfalls, and our trail led us past a particularly
spectacular specimen.
There are certain places that I consider "special." Not
necessarily magical -- magic is a tangible, measurable thing that can
enhance and improve a place, but there are "special" places that have
a magic of their own, separate and distinct from the kind that turns
people into frogs and cuts down shambling zombies.
This, I think, was one such place. The waterfall roared down
from on high, around a great boulder rounded and smoothed over the
centuries, and landed in a deep, icy blue, almost perfectly circular
pool. Trees grew nearly to the water's edge, stopping just short on a
rocky ledge which surrounded the pool. The world was a study in blue,
white, green and grey, from the blinding blue-white canopy overhead to
the stark, featureless gray of the stone and the rolling waves of
green which surrounded us. I sighed, drinking in the beauty,
listening to the rush of water, soft at this distance, flowing around
us, and felt cool gentle moisture on my skin from the veil of mist
surrounding the falling column of water.
Sudden inspiration seized Livia. She vaulted down from her
horse and bounded over to a nearby ledge, just a few handspans above
the chill blue water.
"Let's go swimming!" she declared, flinging arms overhead,
bending backward, and whirling merrily. I blinked hard as she shed
her clothes like a lithe, blonde selkie emerging from the waves, and
stood before me like an image carved of pure ivory, warm and alive,
eyes bright, white teeth bared in a broad grin.
Oh, such a sight... Everything I'd imagined and more -- taut,
creamy pink and white, a perfect union of angles and curves... I felt
a stirring between my own thighs, and struggled to ignore it.
"Well?" she demanded. "What are you waiting for?" With that,
she dove in, a geometrically flawless arc of white flesh, splashing
into the water, becoming instantly one with the element, vanishing
from sight, and reappearing, glistening and sleek, a dozen paces
distant.
I approached, still unsure of what to do, and seated myself on
the ledge from which she had launched herself.
"So how's the water?" I called as Livia's lithe, pale form dove
in and out of the pool with the grace of a porpoise.
She surfaced, crystalline water sluicing from her face as she
pushed her hair back and cast me an impish grin.
"Great!" she said, her melodic voice cutting like a knife
through the roar of the waterfall. "Damned cold, though. Want to
join me?"
I chuckled. "I'm afraid icy water isn't my favorite medium, my
dear," I replied. "I'd love to stay and watch, however."
Her expression suddenly evolved from sweet and innocent to
downright predatory, then her head and shoulders vanished beneath the
water.
I was still wondering how to react when a geyser of water shot
up in front of me, and Livia's lithe, naked body appeared, hauling
herself up onto the rock with me. Her pink skin was white with cold
now, her delicate pink nipples swollen, breasts bouncing lightly, blue
eyes wide and gleaming.
"You stay and play or get out," she said, wickedly, and before
I could respond, wound slender but strong arms around my neck, and
fell backwards, dragging me, yelping helplessly, into the pool.
The cold hit me like a very large club, driving breath out of
my body, sending me streaking to the surface, sputtering and gasping,
dragging her along with me. I didn't have long, for an instant later,
Livia's lips met mine, and I slipped under once more, still struggling
despite the fact that my mind frantically screamed something like,
"She wants you, you idiot! Kiss her back! This is your chance! The
woman you've been lusting after finally wants your hot monkey love!!!"
Not that anything was terribly "hot" in that ice-bath, but I
was willing to go with it. My hands were too numb to really feel
anything, but I stroked up and down her back nonetheless, pulling her
close, feeling her lips once more search out mine, and the heat of her
tongue upon my own, in burning contrast to the cold water around us.
By this time, I was completely out of breath once more, and
struggled again to the surface. I looked at her, and saw pale blue
eyes hot with passion that could melt the snowpack in the mountains
that soared above us, and bring the cold water to boiling.
With unspoken consent, we moved to the shallows, and onto a
ledge near the thundering curtain of the waterfall. Icy spray misted
the air, and I was so cold as to be completely insensate, and didn't
mind terribly shedding my wet clothes, and pulling her naked body
against mine.
I saw her lips move, but couldn't hear anything over the
waterfall. I suspected I knew what she was saying; something along
the lines of "take me now, you stupid ape," sentiment with which I was
entirely in agreement.
Gods, but she was beautiful, more so now because of the wild,
uncivilized place, and the feral gleam in her large blue eyes. Gone
was the demure, pale-haired sorceress, replaced by a ravenous
white-skinned goddess, delicate fingers stroking my face, my lips, my
chest, lips moving across my body, kissing and biting lightly. Her
body was a gentle combination of curves and angles, neither overly
slender nor excessively fleshy. Her breasts were perfectly sized to
her body, and exquisitely formed, with nipples tight and hard in the
cold. Her stomach was slightly curved, leading with near
architectural grace to her muscular thighs, and downy, almost
invisible pubic hair.
In a moment, I was on my back, heedless of the rough stone
behind me as she moved astride my chest, taking my hands in hers and
moving them to her breasts, which I stroked and squeezed, watching
with growing excitement as she leaned back, eyes half-closed, mouth
open in a moan, exposing tiny, pearly teeth and sharp pink tongue.
Obviously, feeling was coming back to Livia's extremities, and I
tested the hypothesis by squeezing first one nipple, then the other,
feeling her tense and shake against me.
Then she kissed me again, moving down this time to kiss her way
down my chest, bite at my nipples, then flick her soft tongue along my
stomach, to my thighs, and across the head of my surprisingly erect
cock. She grinned up at me nastily, and encircled my tumescent organ
with both hands, running a stiffened tongue up and down its underside,
stroking around its head, stroking and sucking at my balls...
Well, I WAS pretty numb, but my blood was definitely flowing
again. As her tongue continued its insistent exploration of my now
completely engorged prick, I ran my fingers over her wet hair, face
and shoulders. Blessed heat enwrapped my penis as she finally took it
into her mouth and slowly, slowly -- maddeningly -- slipped it deeper
and deeper inside. Teeth grazed my skin lightly, and her tongue moved
wetly up and down it. Then, cold overwhelmed me as she slid me out,
then in again.
I was moaning a blue streak by this time, though no one could
hear me over the roaring waters a few feet away. An odd sensation
swept over me -- desire mixed with deep affection and protectiveness
for this strange sorceress who was both innocent and sybarite in a
single body. When she released me, I grabbed her shoulders, looking
deeply into her eyes, and pulled her up until she was entirely atop
me, my erect cock sandwiched between us. I smothered her with a deep
kiss, and she responded, wrapping her arms tightly around me.
I felt the vibrations of loud cries from her throat and lips as
I slipped one hand between her thighs, feeling hot waves pulsing from
her soft, moist pussy. I rubbed swollen lips, and felt the place
where her clit sprang erect, a hard nubbin of wet flesh. I squeezed
and stroked, feeling her moans and a cyclic tensing of her body as I
stroked more and more forcefully.
Gods, I wanted this woman -- more, perhaps than any woman I'd
ever wanted before, which is saying a lot. She was definitely ready
for me, but I wanted this to be special. I stood with great effort,
feeling muscles and joints protest, and old scars ache, but I didn't
care. I lifted her in my arms, feeling her slender but strong body
against mine, arms twined around my neck, eyes still fiery and
passionate. Her lips continued moving, and it wasn't difficult to
figure out what she was saying.
I carried her into the steady, pounding rain of the waterfall,
and set her down upon the smooth rock beneath it. Cold, stinging
water pounded down on us, filling the world with noise and icy
sensation. She moved onto hands and knees, shapely buttocks thrust up
toward me, short blonde hair plastered across head and shoulders,
leaning on her forearms, her most intimate places revealed for my
pleasure, waiting for my touch...
I slipped a finger into her cunt, feeling heat and wetness,
then stroked my cock against its pink, yielding flesh. A cry echoed
from her throat, over even the roar of the water as I slipped my
rock-hard member into her, feeling the walls of her cunt close around
me, clamping down tightly, giving way only with difficulty, yielding
before me, and finally sucking me deeply inside.
I pressed in, burying my cock inside her, feeling the softness
of her ass cheeks against my hips, her thighs against mine. I held
her hips and pushed off, pulling out, then plunging in again, again,
again, again. I moved faster, and I felt her honey-sweet cunt grow
still tighter, and watched her tense, convulse and writhe beneath me.
She was a pale hourglass of flesh, angular shoulders tapering
to slender waist, then flaring once more into the rounded softness of
hips and buttocks, moving forward, back, forward, back, my cock buried
between her white thighs, plunging in and out, driving her on and
on...
I was driving on pretty well, too, and I realized that I wanted
to come for this woman. After more long minutes of thrusting, hot
flesh alternating with ice-cold water (I suppose that it was a tribute
to the burning lust I felt for Livia that I never once worried about
losing my erection in the cold), I felt whirling lines of sensation
center on my cock, felt myself racing toward final release. She
didn't stop me, and hadn't expressed any concern about getting
pregnant (since she'd apparently had dozens of lovers before I burst
onto the scene, I suspected that she had dealt with such
eventualities), so I drove on, pushing myself toward the edge, felt it
rush up and over me, felt that last, desperate moment tottering at the
brink, then tumbled over into sensation, my body contracting, crying
out in a voice swallowed up by the roaring waters, feeling my cock
pour my passion deep inside Livia's own orgasm-racked cunt...
I don't remember much after that; my next clear memory is of
the two of us, lying together in warm sunlight on the dry rocks at the
water's edge, dozing in each other's arms, not speaking, simply
enjoying each other's presence in silence and with a closeness that
went beyond simple words.
* * * *
Of course, it wasn't going to last, and I should have known it.
We continued on the next morning, and despite my enthusiastic
suggestions, there was no repeat performance. Livia was polite, even
affectionate, but she had my measure, and knew that I would not press
the issue. I remained frustrated, and wondered whether it would have
been better had we never had our moments of passion beneath the
waterfall.
Well, by the Gods, I wasn't going to be dismissed that easily.
We reached Tarnstranz, a bustling port which sat alone along the
northern coast of Kenth, and was the region's sole outpost of
civilization, several days later. My last moments with Livia were
spent on the docks, as she waited to board the sleek cruiser, "Skate,"
a ship which she had chartered for her personal use.
"Goodbye, Wulf," Livia said, hugging me close. She fitted
nicely beneath my chin, and her body was warm against mine. "I'm
sorry that I've been so difficult these last few days. We'll talk
more back in Stoneburg."
I was sorely tempted at that moment to join her, and sail
aboard "Skate" back to the hustle and bustle of Stoneburg, where I
could prove to her I was a worthy addition to her stable of "special"
friends. But duty called. I had made a promise, and it was a promise
I intended to keep.
"I don't like goodbyes," I said. "I've had too damned many of
them. I prefer 'see you later'."
"Well," she said, smiling up at me, "see you later, then." She
kissed me, with more passion than I expected, lips parting slightly,
and a faint trace of tongue touching mine, before she drew away, and
hastened down the gangplank and onto "Skate."
I waved as the ship departed and, to my own surprise, watched
as it dwindled on the horizon and vanished altogether.
I sighed and gritted my teeth. Vosgraad, I thought. Vosgraad
next, then home to Stoneburg. Back to Livia and an uncertain
future... Would we see each other as more than friends, I wondered?
Or would I always be her best buddy, like a beloved brother in a
family that didn't believe in incest? Would that magical moment
beneath the waterfall be an isolated incident, a cherished memory
separate from all else, or was it the curtain- raiser to greater
things?
Once more, and not for the last time in my life, I had no idea.
Again.
--END--
[Wulf will be back -- he's got that errand in Vosgraad, after all --
as will Livia (no surprise there). Will they ever find true
happiness, or will the little minx keep frustrating him? Time will
tell.]
--
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