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Chapter Twenty-Eight
I advance to the front of the column despite a primal instinct that urges me otherwise. The tree-covered road beneath our horses is little more than a wagon rut through the woods, and my mind wanders with every clop of my steed's hooves. At the height of its day this road would have been guarded by watchtowers. Now, the only thing lingering from that bygone era are old ruins and hunter's blinds.
I look high into the boughs and imagine fucking a nice tight hole resting between two perfectly formed buns bent over the rail of one of those blinds. Yes, it COULD belong to Talen as he's just pretty enough to meet my standards. But just as easily, I could fuck Cory or another of the attractive boys around me. Perhaps I'd even fuck Talisac, but only because I'd want to punish him just before I slit his throat. Nah, even then he wouldn't deserve me.
And after I blew my nut it'd be absurd not to hunt. Why deprive me of the kill itself?
If I had more time, I'd climb into those branches and shoot a deer or two. There's nothing like the smell of fresh blood to whet one's appetite for...other things.
As the tri-fold suns of Wynwrayth ascend to their zenith, the forest glows with shadows that dance at the edge of my vision. Everything is tinted in varying hues of green. The leaves swallow all noise save for the rustle and clank of our moving column of men. Looking over one shoulder, my line of sight is partially obscured by a cloud of rising dust.
A hundred men: the air around me smells of their sweat coupled with horse stink. It's a decent show of force but will it be enough?
A noise to my left alerts me to Talen, who rides up alongside me.
"There are advantages to riding up front, Kian," he says. "We'd be blanketed in that stuff by now."
I scowl at the image of all that filth covering me from head to toe.
He tosses me a waterskin, and I drink deeply from it. "Thanks," I say.
"Karandras says about a mile ahead there's a clearing where a structure called Crupp's Bridge crosses the Firehole. Once we're across we'll be about halfway to Wraith Watch."
"Do you think they know we're coming yet?" I ask between gulps.
"I don't see how they COULDN'T know we're coming. This small army is hard to miss even with all these trees around us," he says.
I hand the skin back to him and then press my heels to my mount's flank to spur him forward along the path. I join Correldon in the lead; he's riding a silver-haired mare. His remarkable bow rests across his muscular thighs; an arrow taught on the string. When I ride up beside him, he glances over his shoulder, green eyes quiet and reflective. Oddly, Cory lingers only a moment on my face and then stares with what can only be jealousy at Talen.
What a strange reaction; how have I never noticed this before?
"Afraid to let your boyfriend out of sight?" he challenges Talen.
My young lover clenches his jaw but says nothing. It's kind of endearing; sometimes he gets that expression when lapping up the cum I've sprayed all over his face.
"Anything?" I ask the comely elf. His face has that teenaged quality that I find so desirable.
He shakes his head in the negative. As our horses move along, my gaze slips to the bend directly in front of us. In particular, I note how it begins to widen; in the distance there's the sound of water racing over rocks.
"I haven't seen a thing," Correldon mutters. "It's almost like they've nothing to fear: like our little demonstration here is the same as a fly buzzing about your head. However, if we bite you can be sure they'll take the time to swat us dead."
What an unusual metaphor. "I hope for all our sakes that we're more than just flies," I say.
The bridge appears. Made of stone, it spans the Firehole, which is much wider here than I saw in the mountains. The water races by underneath it, frothing and leaping over large boulders protruding from the stream bottom. The engineering leaves me awestruck; the stones have literally been quartered on all sides and made to fit perfectly against one another. Even my eyes (that can notice the smallest of imperfections) fail to discern any hint of mortar; it must be designed in such a way that the weight of the rock is enough to hold everything in its place.
There has to be sorcery at work here.
Correldon urges his horse forward, almost standing in his stirrups. I follow, partly hypnotized by the clenched roundness of his butt and partly because I'm filled with curiosity: I want to behold the river's secrets before the column of soldiers shatter the serenity and muddy the water.
I guide my horse to a stop on the far side. Its hooves clack with an eerie, almost hollow sound as they strike against the stone. I lean against my saddle and peer below. I spot moss swaying back and forth; brown trout as long as my arm poise themselves lazily against the current. In knee- high elephant grass and the shade of four huge poplars Cory and I dismount. I proceed to lead my horse to the riverbank for a drink and feel his eyes lingering on the long line of my body. I make sure to give him ample opportunity to see how well my ass fits my trousers.
Cory sidles up, his soft brown boots making the smallest of sounds in the grass. Across from us the column halts. Karandras blows his horn to signal a stop, and the men saunter to the bank to refill waterskins, to water their mounts, and to stretch their legs. Karandras joins us on the far side.
"Kuanni?" he asks.
"Not a sign," Cory replies.
"We'll rest here for an hour and then continue. Let us know the minute you spot danger."
"Your friends are coming to join us," Correldon says, turning to me.
Following his gaze, I spot Talen riding with Angelaria and Calvin. Calvin gestures wildly about to the left and right as if he's got a story to tell about every little thing in sight.
"In the days when I used to come here as a kid, there was an annual fair. You'd have liked it milady," he says. "It was like a little circus with tents and colored flags and games for the weary traveler. Of course, it turns out a lot of them were rigged by thieves from Wraith Watch. Thieves have never been my choice of company, but I'm shrewd and often got the best of them. Some of the worst in their lot became assassins, but don't fear. I've yet to meet an assassin who's better with a blade than an average ten-year-old boy."
"Do you play dice?" Talen asks.
"Aye that I do and I'd be willing to teach you for a small fee. There's a method to it you see, not just holding the dice but knowing exactly when to bet and when to step away from the table."
Talen arches one eyebrow and dismounts, but doesn't say anything. Of course Talen's a consummate dice player, and he's just begging for an opportunity to take this oaf's money.
Angelaria starts to dismount when Calvin quickly throws himself out of the saddle and leaps to her side.
"Thank you but it's not necessary. I can climb down off the back of my own horse, Calvin."
"I know," he says flatly, "but why refuse a lord his pleasure? Any man worth his salt would beg for an opportunity to debase himself at your lovely feet."
"Oh really?" She asks.
"It's true," Calvin replies, licking his lips.
Angelaria turns toward me so that the back of her head's facing him and then rolls her eyes. "Help me," she mouths. "I've had to put up with him the entire way."
Talen grins, "Oh this is too choice." He barely stops himself from laughing.
"Strange," Correldon says quietly.
"What?" I ask.
"You humans are so two-faced, talking behind each other's backs just to avoid a confrontation, yet you willingly endorse flirting even though it brings about an undesirable result."
"That's why elves are never good at politics," I say, though my statement is entirely conjecture since I know next-to-nothing about elves. Still, Correldon doesn't know this and that's all that matters.
"The bridge," Calvin continues. "Has been here for a long time. Centuries I think. Isn't that right, Karandras?"
The commander nods, carefully pulling at his chin with his fingers.
What's he thinking about?
"Yes. I remember the fair always arrived mid-winter. It started out as a celebration by the cult of Venerick. They believed the hunter god would appear when the first rays of Valinas fell across the stones on the western edge of the bridge. Venerick's a powerful god, draped in bearskin and with antlers sprouting from his skull. He's the god of the forest and of the hunt. No matter what, he's always surrounded by a pack of black hounds. As a reward, he's known to transform faithful into dogs. Together they'd chase the fabled white stag through the woods until sunrise when they're returned to their mundane lives. In addition to this blessing, anyone that kills the white stag during the night is granted a single wish."
This piques my interest. "A wish...what kind of wish?"
Calvin's eyes twinkle. "Anything you could POSSIBLY desire."
"Hah! I know what you'd wish for, Calvin!" Karandras exclaims. "A horse dick to satisfy the ladies."
Calvin guffaws. "There's not a lad here that doesn't wish he was bigger down there."
"I don't," I say. Uncomfortable silence follows my outburst.
"Well most women, lad, like bigger cocks. You'll find out someday," Calvin answers as smugly as possible.
Does he think I don't get laid? "Mine's huge already," I reply. I put my right leg forward so the bulge in my trousers is more visible. When he sees it, Calvin's eyes almost bug out and his mouth drops open for a good ten seconds.
Talen nods and says, "Trust me...that's not a sock. Kian needs no magic to help him out. Now onto a different topic, gents...what's to keep someone from wishing for more wishes?"
Calvin clears his throat and wipes sweat from his brow. He stares at me a moment longer, clearly upset by what he's just seen, "Venerick wouldn't allow it...one wish as the reward...that's it."
"There's no such thing as wishes," Karandras states. "It's a bunch of nonsense dreamt up by clerics that are high on spirits."
"I assure you that there ARE such things as wishes," Angelaria says. "It's the most powerful magic that we learn as sorcerers and witches. Some of us never learn its secret. But I hope that I'm not one of them." She smiles and her teeth flash in the sunlight.
"Are you a sorceress?" Calvin asks. "I never in my wildest dreams thought to encounter an enchantress in the wood. But I should have suspected that one as gorgeous as yourself could weave a spell upon me."
God...could he be any more annoying? It makes me want to puke.
"Yes dear," she says, "But you also never asked."
Calvin laughs. "You surprise me constantly, lovely lady. But if you dabble in the magic arts then I may have something you'll take an interest in. It's a thing I've been carting in the hopes it'd fetch a fair profit. If you're indeed a magician, I think you'd have more use for it than just about anyone I've tried to pawn it off on." He turns and walks over to his saddlebag. Angelaria rolls her eyes at me and THAT makes me chuckle.
"Ah-ha," he says. He returns with a book in his hands and opens it before her to inspect.
Even I can see it's far from ordinary. Calvin's tome is octagonal and made from two wooden covers over which are stretched sections of black-and-silver crocodile-skin. In turn, these enclose sheets of beaten electrum, each bearing both stamped and etched images and words. The book's fastened with a clasp opposite a pair of electrum hinges. The clasp is a black human hand that swivels at its wrist to grasp a bestial hooked tail. The book bears no title or author.
Angelaria takes her time to examine it, running her fingers over the surface of the strange reptilian skin and paging through its contents. From her reaction, this is a thing that demands instant respect.
"Where did you find this?" she asks. "This book is worth a fortune. Do you have any idea what you've found here?"
Calvin feigns surprise and shoots me a sideways glance. "Then it pleases you, does it not?"
"Oh yes. It pleases me greatly."
"See, lad," Calvin says, "Size isn't everything."
"Keep telling yourself that." I clear my throat and ball my fist, secretly wishing that I could punch the smug right off Calvin's face. "What exactly is it, Angelaria? And, I might add...what's it going to cost you to get it?"
"What? Oh, it's a spellbook, but one that I've never seen. There're spells here that I can cast, ancient spells that I'd never heard of, and spells on some pages that are beyond my level of mastery. It's all absolutely indescribable. It'll take some time to decipher, but the knowledge in this book is truly unique."
"We can discuss price tonight," Calvin says in a lascivious tone, "to give you time to inspect the wares. When we rest you can come to my tent; I'll have dinner brought for us. A little get together among scholars, no?"
Talen tugs on my hand and I turn away. "What?" I snap.
"Let it go. She wants the book."
"Let what go?"
"You know...," Talen gestures with his eyes. "Come," he says, walking after Karandras. "Let's go ask him how long we're going to stay here. If I've anything to say about it, we'll cut it short before you end up killing him."
"I haven't thought about killing him just yet. I've been thinking more on the lines of a slow and painful question and answer session where I get to break fingers if what he says irritates me."
"Now you're being childish."
"You think I should just ignore all of this flirting don't you?"
"Yes, actually I think you should. It's beneath you. And...you've got me."
We join the commander who's conferring with Correldon over an old vellum map. Karandras straightens it out to see it better. "How far to this ravine?"
"An hour at most. It's close and probably the best spot for an ambush."
"Can we skirt around it?"
"No. It's topped by thick rows of thorn bushes. If we try to go around we lose probably two days' worth of travel, not to mention scraping up and possibly injuring our animals. In addition, places on the ravine will be too steep for the wagons carrying the supplies to follow. We've to take the road...it's our only choice."
"We'll split the force then with fifty men following you through first. When you reach the other side of the gulley, we'll start our way through. That way we don't all get caught in a trap IF there is one."
Talen speaks up. "How steep are the cliffs?"
"It's a gorge with twenty foot walls at its highest point," Correldon says. "The problem we have are the animals and the wagons. They might as well be the cliffs of Tempest Mountain."
"Or maybe not," Talen offers. "Kian and I can scout ahead. We'll climb the top of the ridge and make sure you're not wandering into a trap. If we find anything, we'll come back and tell you."
"What then?" Karandras asks.
"Fire," Correldon says. "Men and animals alike have a universal fear of fire. We'll burn them out of the forest surrounding the gorge. Rain fire down on their host. Then we'll swoop in and trample those that are left. But you two aren't going alone. I'm coming along."
"We'll take the ridge on the left and walk all the way to this point here about a quarter a mile from the entrance of the gorge," I say. "That's where it seems to pan out a bit before it crosses this stream and heads to the hollows where the old fort is. Then the three of us will walk back along the north edge and make a complete circle. We should be back in a few hours at most."
Karandras' neatly-trimmed goatee bristles black; his eyes shine with thought. Gently he squeezes my bicep, "Take two more men with you. They're my two best or I wouldn't recommend them: rangers of Venerick that survived the assault on Cullen's Bridge two winters back. They're battle hardened and light of foot. It'll give you a better chance if you're caught and have to fight free."
I'm about to object when Talen cuts me short. "The help'll be appreciated, commander."
Karandras shakes my hand and leaves me with the vellum map; he mounts his gigantic horse once more and guides it back across the stone bridge to the band of soldiers making merry next to the water's edge. My eyes return to Angelaria who's now lost in the book she's got sitting in her lap.
"She's holding it like a baby," I say.
"Mm," Talen nods, "But how can you tell they're women from here?"
I turn to see what HE's obviously looking at. Karandras is giving orders to two hooded fellows wearing emerald green cloaks. "Not them, idiot," I say, "Angelaria."
"Give it a rest. You whine an awful lot. Do you realize I've put up with your whining for years now? It never stops and it's always 'me me me' with you."
"I hope you mean that lightly," I tell him.
"And if I didn't? Would the great Kian Lightfoot be cross with me and not take me to his bed?"
"Now you're being sophomoric."
"No more than you are by preoccupying your mind with her. You think you can get anyone you want, and I'm almost willing to give you enough rope to hang yourself."
"I CAN have anyone I want. Don't push me, or I'll fuck someone else and then you'll be crying like a baby because someone else has enjoyed me," I say.
Talen's expression goes instantly flat. "You couldn't fuck Cory," he says.
"Like I'd want to."
Talen chuckles. "He's a gorgeous elf. I even imagine him invading me. But I say it again; you couldn't fuck him even if he were ordered to by his elven queen."
"Is this a challenge?" I ask.
Talen doesn't immediately reply. After a moment, he says, "Relax, would you? Can't I have a bit of fun at your expense?"
"Well...just don't say things you might regret later," I say.
The two figures split from Karandras and approach us. The one on the left is tall and thin with a pinched face and sunburnt nose. His eyes are spots of yellow green and his hair is thin and wispy white. He stands six or so inches taller than myself and carries a sword sheathed in a scabbard that has large shiny glass jewels along its length. Two of them are blue, the others green, and the scabbard itself is wrapped in polished caru leather. High boots rimmed in rabbit's fur adorn his feet, the tops of which are tied with small clasps. About his shoulders is a cloak patterned in spots of light and dark green; they alternate with smaller black spots in the manner of forest camouflage. He wears a soiled jerkin with one formerly ripped pocket held with bright red string.
Next to him is a shorter fellow (but no less broad across the shoulders). His hair (in contrast) is shiny black, and he wears a clean-cut mustache that tapers to sharply-pointed tips. Dark brown skin circles a pair of black eyes, making his nose appear to protrude from the middle of his face like the pointed end of a crooked weather vane. He has on a thin red shirt over a chainmail vest (which though silver) is lackluster and drab. On his feet are two mismatched boots, one black and the other brown. Across his back rests an axe from the ironclaw orc clan. The blade is emblazoned with decorative etchings of underground burrows; the handle's made of stiff and polished yew. On his left arm is a small iron buckler with four studs sharpened into points.
The man on the right introduces himself first. He stops directly in front of Talen and throws up his left hand. "I'm Palker Ray. This is my companion and friend, Zorin Kael. I believe that you're the one known as Talen, and you must be Kian." He cracks a smile.
"What gave me away?" I ask.
"The blond hair," Zorin says. He has a gravelly voice. "Especially that color: Atlantean blond. It's very rare. It's a prettier color than even elven silver."
Behind me Correldon shuffles his feet, but otherwise doesn't say anything.
"No insult was meant by my comment, friend," Zorin Kael says.
Talen looks up at Palker Ray. "An interesting axe," he expresses. "Where did you find it?"
Zorin Kael and Palker Ray fold their arms defensively. "Haven't you heard of the battle at Cullen's Bridge?"
"I can't say that I have," Talen says.
"Three years ago, the orcs of the ironclaw clan emerged from their underground burrows in the Icewall Mountains and attacked the farms around Rendla Fee, killing men, women, and children indiscriminately. One of the sages believed that the attack was promoted by the harsh winter. But there were those of us that believed (and rightly so) that their attacks were caused by the devils of the deep," Palker states.
Zorin Kael picks up where Palker left off. "I remember it like yesterday, and it chills me like a good lager to talk about it still. The snow, you see, kept falling for weeks until we'd to climb out onto the roofs and knock it off lest it come bursting through the timbers! Palker and I...well...we'd first heard of the strange goings on around the old mine shaft at Cullen's Bridge, but what prompted us to move out and do something about it was ole Karandras who'd gathered thirty men together in Rendla Fee and sought to ride south through the blizzard to the bridge where clerics had reported a war band of orcs had gathered. Karandras, you see, is a religious man, and wouldn't allow a church to Venerick to become desecrated...at least not on his watch. We followed him for an hour but were too late. The orcs had slaughtered the clergy when we fell down upon them on the southern slope of Cullen's Bridge. Several of my companions were killed. I myself got cut across the throat with that there axe which is probably why I've lost my good singing voice," he bellows. "My friend Palker here killed that orc and kept the axe as a memento of my close encounter."
"You expect me to believe that you got your gravelly voice because of a war wound?" Talen asks.
"Believe what you will," he states. "But the story is a good one even if the truth is stretched a bit around the edges."
It's my turn to laugh then. I clasped hands with Palker Ray and then with Zorin Kael.
"Don't you think that we should be going?" Correldon utters. "We'll have time enough for war stories after our little romp through the woods is over."
"The elf speaks wisely," Palker Ray says. "The longer we wait, the more daylight burns for us. The entrance to the gorge is about five miles from here. If we want to make it there and back before dark, we'll have to run."
Zorin claps me on the shoulders and starts off with Palker following behind him, kicking up little clouds of dust at their feet. Talen and I follow after, taking to a comfortable jog that has us dripping clean sweat from our chins and fingers before the hour's out. It takes me a minute or so to get used to the shifting of the sword between my shoulder blades. But after that, I swing into a rhythm, keeping pace with the larger men who possess a stride almost twice my own.
Correldon takes up the rear, barely making a sound as we jog out of sight.
Chapter 29 will be posted next week. Happy New Year!