Chapter 18 - Mila
Mila gripped the haft of her poleaxe in her right hand and unslung the broad kite shield she had on her back with her left. Beside her, Pointer was scratching out the details of the ambush that lay ahead of them on his slate; five trolls were lying in wait around the next bend, three were armed with the massive, ironbound clubs their race favored while two sported sheaves of heavy javelins. They were deployed in standard ambush formation, all on the left side of the road, concealed on the high ground among the pine trees that dotted the mountainous landscape the party was travelling through. Mila had fought a troll only once before, years ago, but the memory of the huge, rock-like creature and its immense strength was not easily forgotten. She was glad she had brought her poleaxe; the heavy hammer on the opposite side of its axe blade would be one of the few useful weapons the group carried against the tough hide of a troll. The polearm required two hands for effective use, but she readied her shield nonetheless, planning to use it for protection against the javelins until she was close enough to the trolls to discard the protective item and start swinging her primary weapon.
Pointer was dressed in a stout but elegant black leather jack, purchased in Top Town the morning of their departure. The armoured garment had a thick leather hood, robust enough to protect against all but a direct strike from an arrow. His estoc remained in its sheath at his belt, but the elf had unwrapped a strange looking bow from an oilskin that he had across his back. The orc had long wondered what had been contained within the strangely shaped package the elf had been carrying since they met and she now took a closer look at the curious projectile weapon. Made out of various metals and with odd wheels at the end of each arm, the bow had a double string and an ergonomic grip. It looked almost dwarven in style, but the orc knew dwarves preferred crossbows to hand drawn weapons. She doubted what use an arrow from a bow, especially one that wasn’t a crossbow, would be against troll hide, but the elf seemed confident in his weapon. Still, thought the orc, at least Pointer had his estoc. The stiff bladed thrusting weapon was ideal for exploiting the weak points of an armoured foe and may even be able to penetrate a troll’s armoured skin.
She had less confidence, however, in the weaponry the remaining members of her party had to hand. Bann’s sword would be about as useful as an iron bar, and the orc had given the young barbarian her heavy crossbow, hoping he would be able to put the weapon to good use. Dayna’s weapon of choice, her staff, was even less apt for the impending brawl, and the warg-rider wondered if the elf knew any magic that would be effective against the behemoths they were about to battle. The elven mage also had a dagger, not that the small blade would be of much use, and, for some bizarre reason, was currently using the tiny weapon to etch a patterned ring around the trunk of a large nearby pine tree. That just left her warg, Alagar; Mila knew her old friend’s bite could crush steel, but she worried about the damage he could potentially receive attempting to close with the trolls.
She tried to hide her worry as she formulated a plan. “Alright guys,” she hissed, “here’s how we’re going to do this...”
A short while later, Mila walked around the bend in the road, shield on her arm and polearm held resting on her shoulder. The way ahead seemed clear, but, from behind the eye slits of her sallet, the orc scanned the treeline on the left side of the road warily. Just as she began to make out the monolithic form of a troll in the shadowed gloom of a pine tree’s foliage, the hidden figure moved suddenly. Battle tested reflexes kicked into gear faster than thought and the orc raised her shield, crouching and taking a knee as she did so.
There was a loud metallic thump and her arm jolted as a weighty javelin smashed into her shield. Guard still up, the orc scurried forward a few steps before taking a knee once again, just in time to receive the impact of another thrown spear. A ferocious bellow echoed out from the grey pines, and three lumbering, granite-hued gargants piled out of their concealment, advancing toward the orc like an avalanche. Just as their roaring charge reached the road, an arrow sang over her left pauldron to smash into the leading troll’s chest. Mila grinned behind her high gorget as she saw Pointer’s projectile sink into her attacker’s flesh - it wasn’t a killing wound, but the elf’s bow certainly had power enough to hurt the charging brutes.
The rogue’s arrow was followed half a moment later by the heavy thunk of a crossbow firing and Mila saw one of Bann’s heavy quarrels thump into the wounded troll’s shoulder. The behemoth staggered and dropped to his knees, his two comrades passing him as his stride faltered. As she observed the two charging beasts slow just enough to scan the geography behind her for the hidden archers, Mila threw down her shield and stood, gripping her polearm grimly. Another arrow flew over her head, scoring deep into the opposite, unharmed shoulder of the wounded troll as he struggled to rise, roaring furiously, from his kneeling position - Pointer stood up from the behind the rock at the bend in the road where he had been hiding, stepping out into the open and knocking another arrow in a fluid motion as he did so.
Of the two opponents still on their feet and facing the orc, one snarled ferociously, spittle flying from his maw, and resumed his charge. The other, a female pillar of muscle and growling menace, sidestepped with astonishing agility to move past Mila in an attempt to close the distance between herself and the arrow spitting elf. Pointer fired again, placing a staggeringly precise shot into the wounded troll’s eye. He had loosed three arrows in the time it had taken the trolls to cover thirty yards - a feat that would have had Mila in awe, were she not bracing to receive the charge of a furious tower of rage.
Mila danced nimbly to the left as her opponent’s club smashed downwards with force enough to leave a head-sized divot in the hard-packed dirt of the road. With skill born of years as a mercenary, she punched her right hand up and forwards, driving the steel spike capped base of her polearm into her enemy’s face. While only a bruising hit, the quarterstaff-style attack set her up perfectly for a downwards hammer swing with the business end of her weapon and her opponent bellowed in pain as the blunt tines of the hammer head crunched into his shoulder.
The troll she was fighting was no whelp, however. Although his left arm now hung uselessly, he lashed out with the club in his right hand at Mila’s right leg, low and with lightning speed, looking to sweep the armoured orc’s legs from under her with his heavy club. The blow caught Mila on her right greave. The troll hadn’t been in a position to put his full strength behind the strike, but, even so, the quick attack would have easily bent the steel plate with its force had the orc not moved with the impact, letting it carry her to the side. Still, she grit her teeth as pain throbbed up her leg and she scrambled to regain her footing.
Behind her, Pointer discarded his bow, drawing his estoc as the female troll bore down upon him. He was fast, but the troll had the impetus of a landslide and he would not have been ready to meet her charge had not another of Bann’s heavy quarrels sliced through the air beside him to smash into the roaring woman’s thigh. The elven rogue skipped backwards just in time to avoid the rib shattering lateral swing of the troll’s oversized bludgeon. Ten paces behind the elf, Bann dropped the crossbow, drew his own sword and readied his shield, wondering whether the wooden disc would survive even one hit from the troll’s devastating weapon.
Snarling through the pain, Mila kept moving left around her towering foe, seeking to keep him shifting his line of attack as she recovered from the vicious blow she had taken. She swung her poleaxe in a sweeping left to right arc. The orc knew her attack was not a real threat, but it let her keep the initiative by forcing the the troll to back up, buying her time to gain her footing. The greenskin warrior followed up her swing with a quick forwards thrust, seeking to drive the spike on the head of her weapon into the grey beast’s chest. The troll was prepared for the attack, however, and swung his club across his body, right to left in a low guard that parried the orc’s jab. Using the momentum of his blocking maneuver, the big fighter swept his arm over his head and around behind his back before following through with a brutal swipe that was aimed at Mila’s head, or, rather, where Mila’s head used to be. The experienced mercenary had let the troll’s parry carry her weapon wide to her right by releasing her left hand’s grip on the haft, hunching low as she did so such that the brutish swing that followed the troll’s parry passed, roaring, over her head.
Seeing her opponent momentarily off-balance after his heavy attack, the orc twisted her hips and rotated her torso counter-clockwise, exploiting the opportunity presented with a devastating swing of her poleaxe. It was an all-or-nothing attack. With only her right hand guiding the heavy weapon, her left arm outstretched in counterbalance, adding momentum to the attack, if she missed, she would be caught hopelessly out of position.
She did not miss. The heavy head of the hammer caught the troll on the side of the knee, pounding into the vulnerable joint with terrible force. The sickening crunch of crumbling cartilage and bone was drowned out by the troll’s bellow of pain and the gargantuan warrior dropped his weapon as his hand went to his disintegrating knee. Mila stepped back, bringing her weapon up to finish the fight with a downwards blow to the wounded creature’s head. It was only then, arms above her head, chest exposed, that she saw the two javelin armed trolls standing in the road beyond her collapsed opponent, weapons in hand and aiming at her.
Pointer lunged two steps forward, sliding his boots over the dirt of the road and ducking low under his opponent’s massive elbow, seeking to get behind the towering woman. With the elven rogue out of the way, nothing remained between Bann and the immense warrior. Steeling himself as best he could, the barbarian held his shield before him and advanced on the behemoth. The troll did not hesitate, quickly switching targets from the elf to the barbarian, and swung a cruel backhand swipe at the young fighter. Bann swivelled his hips to the right, bracing his shield against his side as the terrible blow made contact with the oaken surface. His world went blinding white with pain and the youth felt his feet lift off the ground as the troll’s club picked him up and flung him through the air like wet rag. A childhood spent scrambling and tumbling up and down the mountain slopes that surrounded his home was all that saved him from shattering bones as he slammed into a nearby patch of scree - instinctively, the boy tucked his head and rolled with the crunching impact, his sword and splintered shield flying from his grasp, his helmet bouncing off the rocks.
Stunned senseless, Bann lay still where he had been thrown, but the troll had no time to finish him off. Now that he was behind the hulking woman, Pointer plunged his estoc out and down from an inside right hand guard, sinking the stiff, pointed blade into the rock-like skin of her lower back. It was a good hit, and would have incapacitated almost any other opponent, but the troll was not just any other foe. With an inarticulate roar, the behemoth rounded on the elf, sweeping her club in a deadly arc as she spun. The monumental force of the troll’s movement yanked the elf’s sword from his hand. He had never fought something so massive and with a hide so tough before, but Pointer’s reflexes were all but supernatural. The elf let the hilt of his weapon go instead of uselessly trying to fumble after it and leapt toward the troll’s incoming blow, stepping inside the reach of the dreadful club and wrapping himself over the woman’s broad forearm. The troll took her left hand off her weapon even as she continued rotating, seeking to grab the elf as he clung to her right arm, but Pointer pushed down with his arms, adding his strength to the momentum of his initial lunge and utilising the inertia of the huge beast’s spinning turn to carry him up and around the statuesque soldier he was fighting. With an outstretched arm, he caught the gargant’s neck and swung himself over her shoulder.
Bellowing with frustration, the troll grabbed Pointer’s arm just below the elbow, crushing with terrifying strength as she tried to pry it from her throat. With pain lancing up his limb, the elf kicked down with his heel, striking the blade of his sword where it protruded from the big warrior’s lower back and eliciting a distressed snarl from the troll’s maw. At the same time, he brought his left leg up, fumbling for the poignard he kept in a boot sheath. Sensing the danger she was in, the troll dropped her club and reached behind her head with both hands, enfolding the thief’s skull in her massive palms, crushing and pulling, the muscles on her immense arms bulging with titanic strength. Pointer’s hand pawed helplessly at the hilt of his dagger as his vision faded.
Mila knew she was about to die as she watched the two javelin-wielding trolls tense their muscles for the throw. Her brigandine, chainmail and padded gambeson were enough to stop a sword blow or an arrow, but, with their corded muscles and terrifying size, a hit from a troll’s javelin had a good chance of slicing through the layers of metal she wore like a bolt from a ballista. Just as the moment reckoning approached, however, a flicker of black flashed through the trees by the side of the road.
Alagar came flying out of the woods, his jaws open in a dreadful roar. The trolls twisted their heads to look at the new threat as the massive warg crashed into them. The snarling beast’s teeth clamped around the nearest behemoth’s throwing arm while his bulk plowed the two stoneskins into one another, sending them staggering backwards. As the troll in danger of losing her arm to the hulking mass of fur, muscle and fury cried out in pain and tried to yank the warg off her mauled limb, her comrade quickly scrambled to his feet and stepped around the grappling troll and warg, seeking an opening to make a thrust with the javelin he held. His efforts went unrewarded. A large pine tree suddenly materialised ten feet above him to plummet with a heavy, solid and final crunch onto the crown of his head.
Bann screwed his eyes shut and then opened them again, trying to blink away the staggering pain. As his vision swam into focus, he saw Pointer clinging grimly to the troll’s back as her huge hands strained to rip his head from his shoulders. Tasting blood in his mouth, his chest burning with pain with every breath, the barbarian seized his sword and willed himself to his feet. The elf’s hand was jerking spasmodically beside his thrashing legs as the huge warrior he was struggling with crushed his neck in her attempt to tear apart her assailant through brute strength. A surging rage swelled inside the youthful northman - not hot or wild, but ice cold like a glacial lake. The young man saw the troll’s exposed armpit. His hand clenched around the hilt of his sword. He spat the blood from his mouth and began to run.
Teeth bared in grimace of anger, Bann raced across the ground and threw himself upwards, twisting his waist in the air as he jumped and thrusting his sword up and into the troll’s side. A simple arming sword with a somewhat broad tip, designed for both cut and thrust and specialized for neither, it was far from the ideal weapon for stabbing through a troll’s thick hide. With the strength of Bann’s rage behind it, however, the blade sunk deep into the troll like a winter wind bites to the bone. Grey blood gurgled from the hulking warrior’s mouth as cold steel slid into her lung. Her hands fell away from Pointer’s head. As the elf slid from her back to slump gasping on the ground, the stoneskin collapsed slowly to her knees before falling face down against the earth.
Mila looked at the troll before her. The massive warrior was prone at her feet, writhing in pain and clutching his destroyed leg with one hand while his other arm twitched spasmodically, thanks to the crushing blow the orc had delivered to his shoulder. Beyond the incapacitated beast lay the still forms of two of his comrades; one with an arrow sticking out of his eye, the other’s skull crushed by a tree. Alagar stood over the fourth troll, growling menacingly. Her arm from the elbow down was a mangled mess of flesh, all but torn from her body. The orc glanced over her shoulder to see Dayna crouched beside Bann and Pointer, their dispatched opponent sprawled face down and leaking blood beside them. The elven thief was sitting against a rock beside the barbarian, nursing his neck and head, clearly in some discomfort, while Bann had unbuckled his leather jerkin and pulled up his shirt to examine a mean bruise that was slowly coalescing across his well muscled chest.
“Are you guys ok?” the orc asked, one hand gripping Alagar’s saddle for support as she limped over to Bann, Dayna and Pointer.
The elven mage looked up at her, her expression ragged and exhausted. Using magic to transport something as huge as the pine tree she had used as a bludgeon had left her feeling completely worn out. “I’m fine, but Bann and Pointer need healing,” said Dayna. “What about you?”
“Took a hard hit to the leg, but I should be ok to ride,” said Mila. “Drasich’s only two days away. We should get moving before more of the advance guard show up.”
Gomp came around the bend in the road, leading the two horses. “Help me get Pointer onto Bann’s horse,” said Dayna. “He shouldn’t be walking. I’ll ride with Bann. I’m not sure he can keep himself in the saddle.”
The elven thief pushed himself up off the ground and, grimacing with discomfort, climbed wearily into the saddle, aided by the two women. Bann was much worse off and, once Dayna had mounted her horse, the orc hefted the young man upwards, grunting with effort as she tried to get him seated in front of the elven mage. The youth gave Mila a wan smile, blood staining his teeth. “Those bastards hit like an avalanche.”
“Nice work, bringing one down like that,” said the orc, giving the barbarian a nod.
Bann winced and spat blood. “I had help,” said the boy, waving weakly at the nearby elf. He looked around at the other party members and continued with awe in his voice. “You all felled one on your own, though. I’ve never seen anything like that.”
Pointer was massaging his neck where it had been so recently and cruelly mauled. He smiled and dipped his head modestly at boy’s words.
“Magic can be pretty useful,” said Dayna by way of an explanation, wearily rubbing her eyes before climbing up behind the young warrior.
“Luck,” said Mila. “Mine almost had me. How are you holding up?”
“I’ll be fine,” slurred the barbarian before spitting another gob of blood. “Must’ve bit my cheek when I got hit.”
The orc didn’t believe Bann’s words in the least, understanding the bravado of young fighters as she did, but she let it slide. More outriders of the warhost could show up at any moment and she had to get the group moving. She mounted up quickly and the weary party resumed their westward progress. Gomp flitted along beside them, Mila in the lead, followed by Dayna, holding Bann upright before her, while Pointer rode along at their side. The young man kept slumping forward in the saddle in front of Dayna, occasionally spitting blood and groaning whenever the horse jolted over a rough part of the track.
“Are you going to be alright?” the mage asked the young warrior.
Bann attempted to straighten his posture, sucking air through his teeth as he fought back the pain radiating through his battered body. “Yes ma’am,” he said. “Just a bit bruised. The blood’s because I bit my cheek.”
“You don’t need to call me ma’am,” said the elven woman. “Just Dayna is fine.”
“Uh, sure,” said Bann trying to speak without clenching his jaw.
Despite two days on the road together since leaving Top Town, the young warrior still felt somewhat apprehensive in the presence of the spellcaster. Seeing that she could up and drop parts of the landscape on people who got in her way had not improved his anxiety. To make matters worse, the young man had found himself getting almost debilitatingly aroused at the drop of a hat since they had left the mountain town - the presence of the curvy orc and the lithe elf and the lingering memory of their salacious introduction caused him no end of discomfort in his groin and left him aching for release. For the past two nights, when they had made camp, he’d quickly volunteered to go fetch water or firewood or to patrol the perimeter, using the each opportunity to furiously masturbate and hoping that the two women wouldn’t notice how much time he spent away from camp on supposedly very simple tasks.
“Bann, you were very brave back there,” said Dayna.
“Th-thank you, ma’a-,” the youth began before cutting himself off. The pain in his chest was boiling up like water in a kettle, but he clenched his fist and pushed the searing sensation down.
“I notice you seem to be avoiding me when we make camp. I hope you don’t think I feel any ill will towards you. I know our people may be at war, but I want you to know that I’m grateful you’re helping us stop Gaermeon,” explained the mage. “I’m sorry if I came across as a little standoffish.”
“Ma’am, you have every right to be more than a little upset with me and my people and I’m amazed you haven’t turned me into a toad or something,” the barbarian said, trying gamely to talk through the throbbing ache in his chest. “I didn’t think you were mad at me or anything, and even if I did, I’d still follow you until I repaid my debt.”
“So how come you take any chance you can get to get away from me at camp?” said Dayna.
“Um…” Bann swallowed anxiously. “I, uh…”
On the horse beside the barbarian and the mage, Pointer’s shoulders shook with silent laughter and he looked over at Dayna, a wry grin creasing the corners of his mouth. Hovering nearby, Gomp chortled with glee.
“Oh!” said Dayna, cheeks flushing pink as she clued in, remembering the lingering effects of the magic she had dispelled from the young man. In front of her, Bann hung his head, his face burning with embarrassment so powerful it made him temporarily forget the pulsing ache of his injury.
“Don’t let these two assholes give you a hard time, Bann,” said the mage defiantly over the sounds of Gomp’s mirth. “That’s just a side effect of the spell that was put on you! It’s completely normal.”
The young elf gave Pointer a dirty look. “Besides,” she continued, “it’s not like this bastard has been any better after I fixed the spell on him, and Gomp’s always been a dirty little shit.”
Mila eased her pace until she was only a little in front of her horse-mounted comrades. “We talking about Bann sneaking off to have a wank in the woods every night?” said the orc, grinning evilly.
“Oh, not you too!” objected Dayna. “Leave the poor boy alone!”
Bann had turned a deep shade of crimson and seemed intent on studying his horse’s mane.
“Girl, leaving the poor boy alone is exactly why he’s off beating his meat by himself,” quipped the buxom warrior. “Look, kid, if you need a place to stash that slab of a cock, you just come find me, ok? The imp and I had a bet on how long it would take you to ask for a tumble.”
“Hey!” objected Gomp. “Bet’s off if you’re just going to go presenting yourself to the boy!”
Without taking her eyes off the road ahead, Mila lifted her hand over her shoulder and raised her middle finger at the imp. “Just saying,” she continued, “if Dayna’s not going to let him have a ride, I’m happy to help.”
Pointer doubled over, chortling without sound in his inimitable fashion. “Oh, grow up!” huffed the young mage to the older elf, leaning over and slapping him on the leg. “You’re all a bunch of lecherous bastards.”
The small group’s banter drifted easily through the evening air as the sun set before them until Mila hoved them over at a small, wooden homestead that clung to the valley walls, nestled comfortably between the pine trees and rocky outcroppings. A small stone barn with a wooden roof perched further up the slope from the cheerful house.
“This seems as good a place as any to stop,” said the orc, dismounting as her comrades caught up with her. “Let’s see if they’ll let us buy some hay and rest up in the barn for the night.”
“Good idea,” agreed Dayna, sliding off her mount and turning to help Bann.
As Dayna helped the injured members of the party to dismount, Mila limped up to the front door of the small cottage and knocked upon it. After waiting a moment and knocking once more, she called out an inquisitive ‘Hello?’.
“I don’t think anybody’s home,” said the orc warrior, returning to the party.
“Well, surely they won’t mind if we shack up in there for the night,” said Dayna.
There was plenty of hay for the horses in the stone building and the springy straw looked like it would be quite comfortable beneath the party’s bedrolls. Dayna used a push of her will to ignite the small fire that Pointer built just outside the barn doors. Alagar wuffed happily and immediately settled down next to the cackling flames. There was a small spring only a short ways further up the slope behind the barn and Dayna told Bann to sit down and stop being silly when he volunteered in a weak voice to retrieve fresh water.
“You’re hiding it well, but you need to take it easy, Bann,” said the elf. “I’ll get the water.”
Pointer sat down across from Bann, gently massaging the sides of his head, confirming to himself that the troll’s vice-like grip had done no permanent damage. His arm, neck and skull still throbbed, but the ache had subsided from a fierce pounding to a dull pulsing drone. He rolled up his sleeve to examine the vicious purple bruise that encircled his arm where the troll had grabbed it.
“Looks painful,” said Mila with a grunt as she eased her injured leg out from under her and sat down next to Pointer. “Not broken, is it?”
The thief shook his head. He pointed at the orc’s leg and then turned his palm upwards before raising it quickly.
Mila intuitively grasped the unspoken question. She unbuckled her greave, pulled off her tall boot and rolled her trouser leg up. The skin where she’d been clubbed by the troll was puffy and swollen and had taken on a slightly darker green colour. The orc poked the injury unceremoniously. “Eh, it’s fine,” she said. “We greenskins heal quick. Don’t get those nasty looking stains you pale folk show when you take a punching.”
Pointer pointed quickly at the orc before tucking his finger back in to make a fist, his thumb sticking out to the side. He wiggled his hand.
“What’s that mean? I’m lucky?” asked the orc.
The elf nodded.
The greenskin laughed. “This nightsign thing is easier than I thought,” she grinned. “Maybe you can teach me it?”
Pointer smiled back at her.
When Dayna returned with their refilled waterskins, the group unpacked their rations and ate a quick meal of salted meat and bread. Bann ate slowly, and Dayna noticed him wincing every time he swallowed. With full bellies, they watched the fire die down to embers before moving into the barn to set up for the night. Alagar curled up at the entrance to the squat stone building, his sharp sense of smell and superb hearing making him as good a sentry as their defensible position required. Gomp had passed out with startling speed, sprawling himself atop a burlap sack that lay near the door. Mila and Pointer had set up their sleeping spots near the door as well, and the tall elf helped the orc remove her various pieces of armour. Bann did the same, grunting with discomfort as he unbuckled his leather jerkin after he had laid out his blanket further back in the dark recesses of the small barn.
“Let me have a look at where you were hit,” said Dayna, walking over to where he sat, her own bedroll tucked under her arm.
“I’m fine,” insisted the barbarian, but the mage ignored his protests and lifted his shirt to examine the violent bruise that had formed on his chest.
“That’s a broken rib or two, at the very least,” said the elven woman. “Here, lie back. I know a trick that will help.”
Feeling strangely vulnerable, Bann lay back on the comfortable mattress that his sleeping blanket created atop the hay. He watched as the pretty sorcerer kneeled beside him, pressing her hands together and closing her eyes. After concentrating for a moment, she opened her eyes again and laid her palms against his wound. Her hands were soft against his skin and the pain in his chest dulled considerably as he felt a cool pulse flow from where she made contact with his pec.
“Is that magic?” asked the youth.
Dayna nodded. “Just a little bit of elementalism. Not my specialty, but pretty much every mage knows how to heat things up or cool things down a little bit. Is it helping?”
Bann breathed deeply for the first time since the battle with the trolls. The elven woman’s magic eased the ache significantly. Unfortunately, as the pain in his chest receded, his brain decided it could finally focus on more pleasurable impulses. As Dayna slowly slid her hands across the broad bruise that marked his torso, the young northerner felt a stirring in his loins.
“Thanks, that feels nice, but maybe I should try and sleep?” said Bann, hoping to put a cap on his steadily rising arousal.
Dayna took her hands from his chest and spread her own blanket beside his. “Go on,” she said, lying down beside him and sliding a hand back over his skin. “It’s a simple spell - I should be able to maintain it while I rest.”
His attempt a failure, Bann lay back and closed his eyes, knowing that his steadily inflating erection would make sleep a difficult objective and hoping the darkness would conceal his embarrassingly aroused state from the elven woman’s notice. Still, the soothing cool sensation emanating from where her fingers lay on his skin drastically reduced the throbbing ache that had dogged him since the fight. He lay still, enjoying the much blessed relief and trying not to think about how pretty the elf lying beside him was.
It didn’t work. What seemed like an eternity later, Bann opened his eyes again, his swollen cock tenting his kilt obscenely. Dayna was still lying beside him, her hand on his bare chest, a cool tingle radiatiating from her skin and her flowery scent drifting into his nose. There was something else, though - a faint slapping noise reached his ears and the boy raised his head slightly to look in the direction it was coming from.
His shaft throbbed powerfully. In the moonlight spilling through the wide door of the barn, Bann could see Pointer and Mila quietly fucking. The muscled, curvy orc was on her back, her legs wrapped around the elven thief’s waist, her arms around his neck, while the lean man steadily pumped his hips, humping her with silent intensity. As he watched, more sounds became clear - the quiet huff of his breathing, the orc’s stifled grunts and moans. Bann’s dick ached with jealousy.
“They’re not being especially subtle, are they?”
Dayna’s voice startled the young man and his head dropped back with a thump.
“Uh, not really, I guess,” mumbled Bann.
The woman beside him shifted quietly in the dark, sliding her hand down from his chest to where his kilt was buckled about his hips. “Do you want to…?”
Bann could barely manage an answer to the question she left hanging in the night air. “Yes,” he whispered.
The elf fiddled with his kilt buckle with one hand until Bann moved his left arm up to help her. He breathed heavily as the two worked together to free his turgid, searing hot phallus from the concealing garment and gasped when Dayna’s cool hand wrapped around the throbbing, rigid column of aroused flesh. The elf gave it a few, idle pumps with her hand before reaching down to slide her hose and underwear off.
“It’ll never…” he murmured, thinking about his oversized cock and the elf’s slight body as she disrobed. “It won’t fit.”
“Magic,” said the elf, by way of explanation, and climbed on top of him.
Bann reached under the hem of her tunic to grip Dayna’s pert buttocks as she swung a leg over his hips and straddled him. The elf sat upright over him, taking care not to put any pressure on his injury, and the warrior could feel her warm, moist cunt against the skin of his pelvis, his engorged cock nestling stiff against the crack of her ass. In the dim gloom, Dayna looked down at the wonderstruck youth, eyes half-closed with lust and biting her bottom lip in desire, before pulling her tunic up over her head to reveal her flat stomach and perky, handful-sized breasts. The barbarian ran his hands up her sides and over her tits, halting when his fingers found her small, hard nipples. He squeezed hungrily, pinching the erect nubs between his thumb and forefinger while Dayna reached behind her back and wrapped her fingers around his eager cock. Bann slid his hands back down the woman’s lithe form to her ass as she put one hand beside his head and eased herself forward and down, raising her butt as her breasts descended to brush lightly against his pecs. With her other hand still holding his girthy shaft, the mage rocked forward, grazing her hard nipples across his chest and guiding his swollen glans into her pussy. To the background noise of Mila and Pointer’s passionate rutting, Dayna slowly slid back down Bann’s rigid tool.
The elf’s cunt was exquisite - warm and slick with her juices, clenching firmly around Bann’s needy schlong. The youth groaned and squeezed her butt, subconsciously thrusting upwards into the salubrious hole as she supported herself on her knees and elbows over him. With her beautiful face inches in front of his, Dayna gave a tsk of warning.
“Uh uh,” she chided softly. “No strenuous activity while you’ve got those broken ribs.”
Bann couldn’t help but give her a shamefaced smile. “Sorry ma’am.”
Arching her back and pushing her cunny down his veiny shaft, Dayna’s head moved to hover over the young warrior’s bruised chest. She paused momentarily, his cock fully hilted in her welcoming snatch, and leaned in to gently caress his injury with her lips. A blessedly cool sensation flooded the aching area, subduing the pain. Bann’s blissful sigh at the healing touch turned into a lustful groan as the woman riding his dick rocked forward again. With a steady, gently increasing pace, Dayna began to move back and forth, shunting the boy’s cock in and out of her needy pussy, moaning softly as she fucked herself on his deliciously massive breeding tool.
Close by, at the front of the barn, Pointer and Mila paused their own quiet mating to glance over at the other rutting couple. Bann blushed when he heard the orc call out an encouraging ‘Atta boy!’.
Dayna turned give her green-skinned friend a disdainful stare. “Can’t you keep her busy, Pointer?” said the mage, archly.
The sinewy rogue shook his head helplessly and gave Mila a firm pinch on the ass before grabbing her waist and turning her over. The orc raised herself on her hands and knees, still grinning wickedly at Bann and Dayna as Pointer got to his feet to squat behind her and stuffed his cock back into her juicy twat. Bann watched as the lean swordsman mounted the brawny warrior like a dog and marvelled at the circumstances he had found himself in.
“No point in being shy!” grunted Mila as Pointer took her hard and fast from behind, her large tits glinting in the moonlight as they bounced to the rhythm of her partner’s thrusts. “Give her a good pounding, lad.”
Dayna was bouncing only slightly less vigorously, thoroughly enjoying the broad, long fuck-pole that she was using to conjure an orgasm from of her quim. “You’re terrible!” retorted the mage to Mila’s leering cheers. “Stop encouraging the boy - he’s wounded!”
“Don’t let that hussy make you get ahead of yourself, Bann,” said Dayna, turning her attention back to the well-hung lad she was mounting.
The orc’s ridiculously frank, debaucherous attitude and the way she needled her elven friend with her obscene language made Bann laugh. He gave Dayna’s butt a hearty squeeze as his inhibitions fell away.
“Wouldn’t dream of it, ma’am,” he said, smiling back at the beautiful elf bouncing on his dick.
The barn filled with sounds of animalistic rutting as the two couples fucked determinedly. Pointer lowered himself down to Mila’s back, placing his hands and knees beside her own on the hay strewn floor as they mated like dogs while, nearby, Dayna propped herself up over Bann and vigorously humped his engorged member. The heavy slap of skin and the wet squelch of dripping fluids mingled in the air with sounds of lusty panting and grunts, broken only by Mila’s and Dayna’s contented moans as they quivered through numerous orgasms.
Eventually, Pointer could no longer withstand the sublime embrace of Mila’s pussy and he bucked his hips voraciously, slamming his pelvis against the ample cushion that was the orc’s large, round ass and inseminating her her powerful blasts of hot seed. The orc growled happily as she felt the elf’s ejaculate pour into her and pushed back against the male’s pale, muscled body. The sight of the buxom orc joyously taking the elf’s spurting deposit pushed Bann over the edge and, despite Dayna’s earlier warning, he couldn’t stop himself from thrusting upwards, hips spasming and balls contracting as he seeded the elf woman’s cunt with his own surging cum. The youth let out a feral roar through clenched teeth, groping Dayna’s perky ass violently and pulling her fuckhole down to the base of his pulsing shaft while his sloppy, hot jism pumped upwards to fill her to the brim.
“Oh fuck!” gasped Dayna as the young man stuffed her pussy with jets of slimy, white cream.
The sheer quantity of ejaculate the barbarian was pouring into her quim astonished the elf and she struggled to hold herself above his bruised chest as he finished filling her up. After a giving a few more weak thrusts, the youth looked up at Dayna, panting. “Thankyou,” he groaned, “that was amazing.”
Dayna lifted herself off the hefty shaft stuffed in her cunny, rolling to one side and collapsing with tired satisfaction next to the spent youth. A warm flood of seed oozed from her spread cunt as the lad’s mammoth cock slid from her. The thing was of obscene proportions, even as it deflated and softened.
Mila was lying on her stomach and Pointer was using a rag to clean off the orc’s semen stained nethers. She grinned as she watched Dayna flop back on her bedroll, sighing with satisfaction. “Sounds like she should be thanking you,” grinned the orc. “I want a go on that fat piece of meat next time.”
Behind her, Pointer gave the orc a sharp slap upon her bare buttocks at the implied disparaging commentary about his own equipment.
“Ha!” chortled Mila. “Don’t worry, old man, you’re alright.”
The next morning the group roused early and ate a quick breakfast of bread and cheese. As they ate, Mila, Pointer and Bann checked their weapons. The lean elf thief helped Mila put on her armour once breakfast was finished while Bann slipped his own leather jerkin over his head. Still recovering from the rough handling he’d received the previous day, Pointer mounted Bann’s horse once more while Bann shared Dayna’s saddle, the mage placing her hand on the young warrior’s chest, under his armour, and resuming her gentle cooling magic.
Once upon the road again, Pointer and Mila rode side by side at the front of the group. “So, this nightsign thing,” said the orc to her elven comrade. Pointer raised his eyebrows. “Show me how it works.”
Pointer’s brow knitted in thought for a moment before he pulled his slate off the loop on his belt upon which it hung.
By the time the group stopped for lunch, the orc had already figured out a few basic gestures. Mila picked up on body-language quickly, the innate ability greatly assisting her in learning the thief sign-language. The party took lunch a short distance after the road had turned to climb a ridge-line and the party admired the view the vantage point offered once they reached the apex; the ridge descended downwards ahead of them, cleared of trees on either side of the road. The mountains around them also descended in scale, their pine tree skirts gradually changing to deciduous forest. In the distance, the forest came to an abrupt end where it had been cleared to make way for farmland. Like a boulder in a meadow, the grey bulk of the city of Drasich rose above the surrounding fields.
Bann chewed a sliver of beef jerky and gazed upon the far-off metropolis. “It’s huge,” said the barbarian. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Mila walked up beside him. “First time out of the plains, huh?”
“Yeah,” said Bann, still looking at the huge city. “I’ve been to Gallantfield, and Top Town too, now, I guess, but nothing like that.”
Pointer put his hand on the orc’s shoulder and pointed at a distant column of dust to the north. The procession causing the disturbance was heading towards the distant city.
“That must be the host,” said Bann, following the elf’s guiding gesture with his eyes.
Mila expelled her breath in a low whistle. “That’s a big army. There were only two, maybe three thousand at Knife Valley and that was a real shit-show. This is going to be messy.”
From behind her, Dayna spoke up, “Will we make it to Drasich before them?”
The orc popped the remainder of the chunk of bread she was holding into her mouth and turned to climb into Alagar’s saddle. “If we hurry, we can make it by nightfall,” she spoke around her mouthful. “That should put us a day ahead of them.”
Without Dayna’s soothing touch, Bann would never have been able to maintain the quick pace the orc set. Evenso, as they jolted along the road, every thump and bump sent a jagged shard of pain through his chest. He grit his teeth, biting the pain back. Such was his focus that he did not realise that the road had levelled out - the pine trees, their constant companions thus far, replaced by broad-leaved oak, elm and aspen - until his horse came to an abrupt stop behind Mila and Alagar. The orc was looking warily up at two harpies perched on a sizeable branch that hung over the road.
The two winged women were wearing the typical leather jacks their kind prefered and carried light self bows in their hands. Each also had a long knife in a scabbard at their belts. The bows they carried would do little against the greenskin’s brigandine; even Bann’s and Pointer’s leather armour stood a good chance of turning aside their arrows.
“Oi, northman, greenie!” called out one of the women. “What are you doing travelling with elves? Don’t you know there’s a war on?”
Mila slowly reached down to rest a hand on the heavy crossbow strapped to her saddle. “None of your concern, ladies,” she said in a low, measured voice that carried a tone of impending violence despite the peaceful words she had chosen. “Just let us pass and there won’t be any bloodshed.”
“Ha,” cackled the other harpy. “That’s where you’re wrong. You’re heading the wrong way if you’re looking to avoid bloodshed. Drasich’s a doomed city. Best you leave those two pointy-eared fops and head back into the mountains. You too, northman.”
“You know those puny sticks you’ve got won’t even put a dent in my steel,” growled Mila. “Just get out of our way.”
The harpies stretched their wings, chuckling, knowing full well that the orc would be hard pressed to mark either of them with the crossbow as much as they would be unable to harm her in return, once they were airborne. “Fair enough, orc!” called one as they took to the air. “Just don’t say you weren’t warned.”
“Friends of yours?” said Mila to Bann, watching the two figures lift themselves above the treetops and fly westwards along the road.
“They must have recognized my kilt,” replied Bann.
“Scouts for the host, no doubt,” said the orc, shaking her head and urging Alagar onwards.
The sun had just set by the time they reached Drasich’s walls, lighting the sky beyond the city with a fierce orange glow. A cluster of wagons and rural folk on foot were queued at the gate, awaiting entry, but shuffled aside as the well-armed party rode up. A human wearing the the purple and white tabard of the city guard over a chainmail hauberk looked up from the wagon that she was examining.
“There’s a line, dontcha know?” said the guard.
Dayna nudged her horse forward, fishing a small amulet from her belt pouch as she rode up to the soldier. She showed the guardswoman the pendant. “I’m a member of the university - I have urgent news regarding the approaching army.”
“What about those two?” said the guard, gesturing towards Mila and Bann. “It’s an army of frothing greenies and batty northerners - these ones might be spies. Can’t trust the bastards!”
The guard on the other side of the wagon jerked his head up at his comrade’s words. The face under his helmet was green and a pair of tusks jutted past his lips. “Hey!” he barked, “What’s that you said about orcs?”
The female guard had the decency to look embarrassed. “Uh, nothing Kanko! She’s got a kilt wearing barbarian with her too!”
“He’s with me,” objected Dayna. “Who gives a fuck about his clothing.”
“Don’t be a fucking idiot, Serta,” said the orc guard to his fellow. “There’s been bloody harpies flying above the city all day - you think they’re going to send a spy in through the gates, in the company of a couple of elves no less?”
“Fine,” spat the human guard, gesturing them through the gates with a curt nod of her head.
“Yeah, Serta, don’t be a fucking idiot!” called out Gomp, once the group had safely entered into the city, unable to pass up the opportunity to be an ass. The tiny demon chortled with glee, ignoring Dayna’s annoyed glare, as the guard’s irate cursing faded behind them.
“We may have to get you some pants,” said the mage to her barbarian ally, “but first I need to see a librarian.”
They found Trelisopoles in the archives, surrounded by a hive of bustling activity. A large portal shimmered in the open area before the main desk and his various acolytes were piling books, texts, scrolls and numerous other documents beside it. As Dayna walked over to the beholder, a figure in a gray robe stepped out of the portal, picked up a few large tomes, and stepped back into the sizzling circle of light.
“Trelis!” Dayna called out in greeting as she strode up behind the hovering, tentacled creature. “Am I glad to see you!”
The beholder turned, a broad smile creasing the mouth below his main eye. Bann and Mila both struggled, and failed, to stop themselves from staring at the outlandish creature. “Dayna!” Trelis’ voice rumbled. “I was wondering where you’d gotten to! How did the journey east go?”
Mila watched, astonished, as the beholder enveloped her elven friend in a hug of writhing tentacles. Despite his strange, fearsome appearance, the creature’s demeanor was friendly and disarming. Charming, even.
“Oh, but it’s a long story, Trelis,” said Dayna, stepping back from the embrace. “I need to get a meeting with the department deans and the archmage. The city watch and governor, too.”
“That’s a tall order, my dear,” said the creature, looking away and pausing briefly to tap a few stacks of books with a tentacle. A waiting apprentice began shifting the stacks closer to the portal. “We’re all dreadfully busy - this invasion, you know - I still have so many tomes to transfer to safety!”
“I know, I know,” said Dayna, “but it’s incredibly urgent. I have important information about the army.”
Trelisopoles turned to look at the elf shrewdly. “It really is important, isn’t it?”
Dayna nodded earnestly.
Late the next morning, Mila stood on the battlements above Drasich’s north gate, watching a band of centaurs ride past, whooping and cheering, just out of bow shot. Bann, Pointer and Alagar stood beside her. Soldiers in the city’s livery lined the walls, armed with bows and swords or manning the large ballistae and catapults that were mounted on the evenly spaced turrets. Below her, in the street before the gate, a company of spearmen was assembling to their sergeant’s barked orders. Beyond the troop of centaurs, the warhost was taking the field - columns of goblins, orcs, trolls, minotaurs and barbarians were arriving and forming up.
“How’re your ribs?” said the orc, turning to look at Bann. The lad was gently prodding his side while he watched the army fill the fields beyond the wall.
“Feeling much better already,” he replied.
Trelisopoles had managed to get Dayna into a strategy meeting that key members of the city had been invited to - as the chief librarian of the university, he and the other deans had been asked to attend. While Dayna was off informing the city and university leadership of what she had discovered, her colleagues had sold their horses, at a decent markup, to a noble scrambling to flee the city before all routes of escape were blocked. With the coin from the sale and what remained of the purse Cress had left with him, Bann had visited an apothecary, who had treated his wound with a fast acting healing salve, and had equipped himself with a new axe, shield and iron helmet. He had also replaced his battered leather jack with a chain hauberk that hung to his knees, over his kilt. With the bow and arrows that Hedda and his friends had given him slung across his back, completing his loadout, he felt well prepared, at least in terms of equipment, for the impending battle.
“Well, I told them everything,” said Dayna, climbing up the steps to the battlements behind her friends. “I don’t know what good it’ll do, though. The guard captains said that the best tactic was still to hold the walls and wait out the siege while reinforcements from the other free cities get here. The archmage said that he’d strengthen the wards around the tower, but the college mages who can cast useful spells will be on the walls.”
Mila gave the mage a nod by way of greeting. “I’d agree with the captains’ assessment, ordinarily,” she said, before turning to look at the horde marching onto the field, “but they don’t look like they’re setting up for a siege.”
“What do you mean?” said Dayna, puzzled.
“I’ve only seen a few siege actions,” explained the orc, “against much smaller fortifications than this, but the practice is to dig earthworks and set fortified camps around the target to prevent sallies or escape. These guys are forming up in battalions for what looks like an assault.”
“I can see campfires, though,” interjected Bann.
“It’s going to take most of the day for an army that size to get properly in position,” said Mila. “The campfires will be to keep ‘em fed while the rest of their friends take the field - it’s not a sign that they’re setting up for a proper siege. Still, I don’t see any war engines - catapults and the like. Weird.”
“I wonder what they have planned,” said Bann, his voice betraying his worry, looking out over the mass of soldiery.
“I don’t like it one bit,” agreed the orc. “Let’s go have a look at the pedestal room again.”
The group walked back to the university through streets deserted but for groups of soldiers bustling to and fro. Stacks of buckets were piled beside the pumps that drew water from the underground aqueduct that supplied the city and what citizens who hadn’t fled the city gathered in the crossroads and squares they passed, receiving briefings from guards. An air of anxiety hung over the settlement.
The few mages the group passed upon entering the vast, U-shaped university building paid no heed to them, and Dayna led comrades through the huge building to the base of the Omnigarch Tower. Passage to the pedestal room at the top of the tower was provided by a water-wheel driven elevator system. Small wooden platforms, big enough for only a few people at a time, cycled steadily up one of two tall shafts to the top of the ancient structure and descended down the other. Over two hundred feet tall, the tower offered a grand view of the surrounding city, but to climb the stairs that ran up its numerous levels was an exhausting, slow task. The elevator was a much less arduous option, taking any passengers to the penultimate floor, whereupon the visitors would have to ascend a short stair that would put them out on one side of the highest chamber. At the top, the pedestal room, as Mila had taken to calling the Omnigarch Chamber, was a large, circular area, thirty feet in diameter with a high ceiling. Tall, ornate, came glass windows surrounded the room and four balconies protruded from it at cardinal points. A large black granite plinth with a slightly concave top sat in the centre of the chamber.
While her comrades were oblivious to it, Dayna could feel a thickness in the air as they passed through the redoubtable warding magics that had been cast upon the tower.
“So, this Gaermeon is going to try and put that jewel on this pedestal here,” said Mila, patting the waist high stone plinth. “Then what?”
“Well, anything, really,” said Dayna, anxiously teasing a lock of her hair around one of her fingers. “The whole tower would then act as a giant wand or staff - a massive amplifier for any magic cast through it. I don’t know what she plans to do with that power, but it can’t be good.”
“So we kill her before then,” said Bann. “We just shoot her with an arrow or chop her head off or something before she gets here.”
Gomp snorted. “You can’t kill demons like you can people, stupid,” said the imp. “We’re basically immortal.”
“He’s mostly right,” said Dayna. “Firstly, they’re surrounded by their own magical field - strong enough to turn all but the most powerful of blows. Secondly, if you do manage to get through that field, the demon will just disapparate and reappear near whoever she’s tethered to on this plane. If you managed to stab Gomp, here-”
“Don’t tempt me,” growled Bann.
“If you stabbed Gomp, for example,” continued Dayna, “he’d reappear near me.”
“So, what if you killed the tether, then?” said Mila.
“Well, you don’t have to kill them, per se. Knocking them out would work too,” explained the mage. “In that case, the demon could survive a short while off whatever energy they had within themselves or was latent in the area already. You’d then have to inflict a serious enough injury on them to send them back to the outer realms. Even so, if they were powerful and fast enough, they might be able to tether themselves to someone nearby who let them. Sometimes, if an area or object has enough power within it, a demon could connect to that as well - a lot of stories you hear of ghosts are because of that.”
“Fuck. This is getting really complicated. I was really hoping I’d just have to stick my sword in the shitstain’s face and call it a day,” groaned Mila. “I’m guessing Kalliya is Gaermeon’s tether, so we’ll have to find a way to take the traitorous bitch out and then go after her pet demon, all before they get the stone onto this thing.”
While the group pondered the enormity of the task ahead of them, Pointer scribbled on his slate and held the board up to them.
This won’t help, but I’d like to take Kalliya alive. I need to ask her some questions. It’s important.
He had underlined the last word
Mila rolled her eyes. “Really?” she sighed. “Well, if it’s that important, I guess we can try. Any other requests? Maybe we need to get her to bake us a cake too?”
Dayna and Bann laughed weakly as the orc continued. “Speaking of cake, anyone else ready for lunch? Least we can do is die on a full stomach. I’m starving.”
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