The Exile’s Path, Chapter 06

The Exile’s Path, Chapter 06 - A Darkening Road

Fiona looked at Tula and Reld solemnly. The trio were seated at the dwarven smith’s table, the remnants of lunch between them. Aside from the table, the frame of her bed and a single ironbound chest, the small woman’s home was empty; the three friends had spent the morning loading chests and crates full of the dwarf’s possessions into the sturdy covered wagon she had parked behind the smithy, now hitched to a pair of stocky dwarven hill ponies.

“So here it is, friends,” began the blacksmith. “I’ve been straight with the two of you so far - I’m a smith, originally from Tach Mandun - but there’s a bit more to me than you might think.” Fiona paused to sip from the metal tumbler before her before continuing. “Back home, my family are what you might call ‘historians’. We try to preserve dwarven lore and learnin’ for future generations of dwarves and, where some of that knowledge has been lost, we try to recover it.”

“I came to Bal’s Post about three years ago,” the smith explained, “but I never really intended on settlin’ down here as the harbour blacksmith. It was just a role I could fulfill while I tried to chase down a lead I’d been pursuin’. You see, a long time ago, when the elves first came from across the sea to found the old Empire, the dwarven holds fought to resist their invasion. The cities we now call the Free Cities fought too, but they were the first to fall and one by one the dwarven clans were isolated and forced to surrender - all but one.”

Tula nodded - but for the last fact about one dwarven hall holding out, the story was a familiar one; the dwarves’ fierce resistance, despite their eventual surrender, secured them a semi-autonomous existence within the borders of the empire. They had to pay tribute, but were permitted, within limits, to govern themselves. The deal was somewhat similar to that which had been struck with many of the northern clans - the barbarian, tauric, harpy and greenskin clans were too wide ranging in the northern wilderness and lacked unified leadership to be much more than a minor hindrance to the empire’s existence. Thus, most had come to like accords with the Empire’s envoys to avoid the carnage of a punitive legionary expedition.

“In the south, though, the human kingdoms - Dirne and Tennebrin - didn’t try to resist the Empire,” continued Fiona. “They saw what happened in the north and, when the Empire turned south, they struck deals immediately. That was a problem for that lone dwarven stronghold. It wasn’t located in the Shield Wall mountains like Tach Keelig, or in the Shrouded Mountains like Mandun, Canneroch or Voluch. No, it was dug into the mountains between the Darksea and the Sand Dance, close to where Longreach is now - that’s mostly why it was able to hold out so long.”

Fiona paused to take a deep drink from the tumbler of whisky she had before her and continued. “With the two remainin’ human kingdoms allying with the Empire, the dwarves took drastic measures - they sealed the gate to their deepfast. But they couldn’t simply lock the door and throw away the key; they had taken in refugees from the northern holds, refugees that carried with them numerous artifacts and technologies my people knew could not fall into the hands of the Empire. Knowin’ that, should they not survive their self-imposed exile, other dwarves would need a way to get back into the city, they sent an expedition to Tach Mandun with a single key.”

“The silver cube,” said Tula.

“Yep. But the expedition never reached Mandun. Somewhere along the route it was betrayed or ambushed and the key was lost. A few years ago, a family contact came to my clan and said they knew where this key was - here, in the possession of the Ducal family,” Fiona paused and locked eyes with Tula.

“You plan on stealing it,” said the orc.

“It’s not stealin’ if it was yours to begin with,” retorted Fiona. “Anyway, my folk sent emissaries and envoys, hoping to buy back the key fair an’ square, but the Duke wasn’t having any of it. He and his kin know that the cube is a key, they just don’t know where the door is. And the dwarves don’t plan on tellin’ them.”

“So how are we going to nick it, then?” said Reld, leaning forward and whispering loudly like a player in a pantomime, as if there could be agents of the duke surrounding the smith’s house already. The lad’s stomach fluttered with excitement - the idea of a heist, from the duke’s castle, no less, was exhilarating.

“Well, that’s where you come in,” said the dwarf, pushing back her chair and standing up. “I need someone who can pass as a guard.”

“Explain,” said Tula, watching her small friend walk over to the footlocker she had left near the back door.

Fiona knelt in front of the sturdy chest and unlatched it. “I’ve not been sittin’ on my hands, girlie,” said the smith while she rummaged through the container. “I did a bit of scoutin’ over the years - found a likely entrance through a sewer that drains into the moat. It doesn’t smell like roses, but it’ll get us into the cellars. I also managed to acquire this,” she added, pulling a tabard with the orange livery of the castle out of the chest. “Hopefully, with a guard escortin’ me, I can get to her ladyship’s quarters and retrieve the key. I just hope nobody asks too many questions as to why a guard is leading a dwarf through the castle.”

“Whores,” stated the orc. Fiona ceased her rummaging and turned to look at her friend.

“What now?”

“We can present ourselves as whores - that should explain our presence adequately,” explained Tula. “I still have the dress Victoria gave me - do you have anything to use as a disguise?”

“Hmmm,” Fiona pondered a moment before delving back into the footlocker. The dwarf’s excavation revealed a number of fascinating items; a strange, black breastplate, clearly made to match Fiona’s measurements, a black leather harness from which hung a hatchet and a long dagger, both also constructed from the same black material as the breastplate, rope, a grey cloak, a few leather pouches and cases and finally a long, oilcloth bundle.

“What’s all this?” said Reld, walking over and kneeling beside his friend. “I’ve never seen armour like that!”

“Durium,” said Tula, joining the pair. “Dwarven steel.” The old warrior’s voice, usually stoic, carried a note of awe.

“Yep,” said Fiona, grinning. “As hard as steel, but half the weight. Depending on how you forge it, comes out black as an abandoned mine. Go on lad, ‘ave a look,” she added, nudging the cuirass towards the lad.

While Reld picked up the wondrous piece of armour, Tula examined the hatchet and dagger. All three items were fashioned from the same black steel. All three were masterfully crafted and marked with a small sigil of clan Mandun.

“It’s amazing,” cooed Reld, putting the armour down reverently and looking over at the small axe and long dagger that Tula was examining.

“These weapons are a masterpiece,” commented the orc.

“Aw, thanks,” replied Fiona, her voice displaying a mix of pride and embarrassment. “Made it all myself. Let me show you my pride and joy, though,” added the dwarf, stooping to unwrap the long bundle.

The device the smith produced was comprised of a long steel tube, fastened to a dark wooden crossbow stock, with a trigger mechanism located near the hand grip. Unlike a crossbow, however, it lacked a bow. Instead, two wheels were attached to either side of the barrel mouth and a thin, black metal cord was wound around both, stretching over the tube entrance. Another mechanism connected a lever to the right side of the barrel and there was a third wheel located below the barrel, just in front of the trigger mechanism.

“It looks kind of like a crossbow,” said Reld, examining the curious device.

“It is,” said Fiona, picking up the strange weapon like a mother lifting her child, “but thanks to a durium spring, string and cams, we could do away with the lath that you see on human crossbows.”

“Uh, what?” said Reld.

“Bows like this don’t have arms because we know how to work metal better than you ignorant surfacers,” laughed the dwarf. “The tube means we can shoot a wider variety of ammunition, too. Not just quarrels. And there’s no whopping great bow arms to get in the way in a tunnel or mine.” The grinning smith patted Reld on the head patronisingly.

“Thanks,” replied Reld, dripping sarcasm. “You let me know when you learn how to tack a sail, or where the livewell is on a boat and then you can call me ignorant.”

While Reld and Fiona bantered and teased each other, Tula had picked up the leather webbing with the dagger and the axe hanging from it and was examining it with a thoughtful expression. The webbing had leather straps that fastened around each thigh, the waist, over the shoulders and across the chest, with more straps linking everything together down the sides. After pulling the weapons off it, she thrust it towards Fiona.

“Here,” said the orc, handing the equipment belt to the confused dwarf. “Wear this.”

“Really?” objected Fiona. “It’s not all that sexy.”

“It will be if it is all you are wearing,” said Tula, grinning mischievously, “although we may need a male opinion,” she added, looking over at Reld.

“Huh, I think I see where you’re goin’ with this,” chuckled Fiona, stripping off her clothes until she was clad only in the black leather thong and bra she favored as underwear.

A few buckles later and the small tanned woman was strapped into the webbing. Reld, for reasons he couldn’t fathom, found himself thinking that the short woman needed a riding crop to complete the ensemble, but instead simply nodded approvingly. The straps seemed to amplify Fiona’s curves in all the right ways, squeezing things together and displaying certain parts of her physique in a manner that caused his cock to throb happily in his shorts.

“Uh, I’d say that works fabulously,” grinned Reld.

“I can see that,” laughed Fiona, giving a knowing glance at the lad’s bulging crotch before rotating slowly so he could fully appreciate her ensemble. “Go on, boy, strip off and show me just how much you approve!”

Reld laughed at the small woman’s bossy tone, which, strangely, seemed to suit her current attire. Eyes still travelling over the dwarf’s toned body, he hurriedly began pulling off his clothes. While he got naked, Tula sauntered over to the table and leaned against it. The greenskin slowly disrobed as well, watching Reld’s clumsy attempt to shuck his his own clothes and free his inflating cock as quickly as possibly.

For her part, Fiona didn’t bother removing her strappy outfit, nor her black leather bra and thong, and simply got down on the floor on her hands and knees. She pulled her thong to one side, offering herself to the eager lad.

“Alright, mount up!” grinned the small, muscled woman.

With an excited grunt, Reld kneeled behind Fiona’s ass and used a hand to rub his stiffening phallus against the moist lips of the woman’s cunny. Fiona let out a satisfied sigh.

“Can’t help but get a little antsy before a job, you know?” said the dwarf, looking sideways and up at Tula, who had finished peeling her own clothes off. “And we do have a few hours to kill before dark.”

“I know what you mean,” agreed the orc, grinning as she watched Reld mount their dwarven friend and idly rubbing her own cunt. “I am the same way before a fight. It is a good thing we have the boy here to make use of.”

“Can you guys stop talking about me like I’m some sort of toy?” grunted Reld, halting the massage he was giving Fiona’s quim with the bloated head of his dick.

Fiona giggled. “Don’t be silly, lad. You love it.”

Tula met Reld’s harried expression with a knowing smile. “Why have you stopped, boy?” said the orc, reaching to tease one of her dark green nipples. “Get moving. You have a job to do.”

“You two are impossible!” sighed Reld. Despite his objections, however, the youth knew the two older women were right in their assessment. There was something incredibly arousing about the way the pair so casually used him to sate their carnal desires. His sigh turned into a groan of delight as he pushed his hips forward and sunk his turgid length into the dwarf’s sopping twat.

With one thumb hooked under the crotch of Fiona’s thong, pulling it to one side, and his fingers gripping the smith’s firm buttocks, Reld eased his cock into the warm, tight depths of Fiona’s fuck-hole. Before him, the small woman lowered herself until her elbows were resting on the floor and laid her head on her arms.

“Mmmhmmm,” breathed the dwarf, feeling Reld’s balls come to rest against her clit. “Nice and slow to start, just like that. But no stopping until you’ve made me cum at least once!” she commanded.

“Yes ma’am,” Reld acquiesced, slowly sliding his phallus backwards, out of Fiona’s divine hole. The woman’s cunny gripped his tumescent breeding-pole exquisitely as he withdrew, as if protesting his retreat. Biting his lip in pleasure, he pushed back into her and watched his veiny shaft, slick with Fiona’s juices, slide back into the welcoming embrace of her quim.

Reld looked up, tearing his eyes away from the sight of his cock being swallowed up by Fiona’s delectable cunny, only for his gaze to fall on his green-skinned mistress, leaning against the table in front of him. A droplet of milk had escaped her pierced left nipple and was now trickling down the heavy curve of her ripe, full breast. Tula’s fingers were hard at work - the orc was finger-fucking herself with one hand and massaging her erect clitty with the other. There was a strange possessive, hungry look on her face, but, somehow, the orc looked imperious, almost regal, despite the obscene masturbation she was engaged in.

The orc met Reld’s gaze and nodded slightly, the corner of her mouth turning upwards in a small, approving smile. As he rhythmically pounded Fiona’s quim, the tall, green-skinned woman walked towards him, stepping over their dwarven friend, and presented her moist cunt to the hard working lad. Tula’s large clit was fully erect, protruding from its hood and engorged with arousal. Reld needed no instruction - he leaned forward, seeking the swollen pleasure-button with his mouth until his nose pressed against the orc’s mons and his lips wrapped around his objective.

Tula grunted approvingly when Reld latched onto her clitty and began flicking his tongue over the erect nub. The boy was a novice, but an eager one, and his oral ministrations caused her cunt juice to flow until it oozed past her labia in a thick, translucent strand that dangled obscenely from her pussy-lips.

The sounds of Reld’s slurping mingled with the rhythmic slap of his pelvis smacking against Fiona’s butt to create a lurid beat, over which could be heard a mixture of moans and grunts of delight as the trio fucked. His time spent in Tula’s various holes had trained him well; his stamina was prodigious, his technique well-practiced, and he thoroughly worked over the fit dwarf’s cunny just as he had been taught by his orcish mistress. While he worked, he focused on the juicy cunt mashed to his lips, using the distraction to take his mind off the delightful squeezes that Fiona’s quim delivered to his pistoning shaft as she rode out her pleasure.

Although he did not cease pumping his girthy tool into Fiona’s spasming pussy, eventually Reld did have to pull his lips away from Tula’s cunt. He had nursed a few, small orgasms out of the tall, green woman - her butt had stiffened under his hand and he had felt her quiver and heard her groan in delight - but his jaw ached and he needed to give it a rest. He looked up at his greenskin lover, grinning, his lips and chin slick with the slimy discharge of her pussy while his hips continued their steady thrusting into Fiona’s sloppy cunt. Tula ran her hand through his hair in approval.

“I have not heard from our friend in some time,” remarked the orc with a smile, looking down at her protege. “How are you faring, Fiona?”

She didn’t really need to ask - Fiona’s mewling orgasms were plainly audible, if inarticulate, status updates.

“Fuckin’ boyo’s fuckin’ pounded my cunt silly,” panted the dwarf. Sweat beaded on her tanned skin, making her glisten in the evening light cutting in through the windows. “Go on lad, get off me and give Tula a stuffin’.”

“Yes ma’am, just let me finish up here,” murmured Reld, his thrusts slowing but becoming more controlled and deliberate and the hand he had pressing Tula’s crotch to his face dropping back down to join his other in firmly gripping the dwarf’s pert buttcheeks. “Can’t leave -uh- a job half -ungh!- done!”

Fiona’s eyes suddenly shot open as she felt hot jets of viscous fluid spurt forcefully into her well-used cock-hole. “Oh shit, kid,” she grunted in pleasant surprise, “I thought you were bankin’ that for Tula!”

Tula was no longer standing over the rutting pair, having moved aside to recline on her side next to them, her head propped up on her arm. “He is a good boy,” explained the orc, a proud smile on her lips. “He will be able to seed me as well.”

“That’s fuckin’ handy, that is,” groaned Fiona, languishing in the sublime sensation of her cunt getting properly filled, her eyes almost rolling back in delight. “There’s nothin’ quite like feelin’ a hot load surgin’ into you, eh?”

Behind her, Reld gave a final few, small thrusts, his balls swinging as he finished up in Fiona’s quim. A sloppy dollop of his cum squeezed out between his flexing cock and the dwarf’s pussy-lips, chased soon after by a significantly heavier torrent as the lad slid his breeding-pole from the orifice that had treated it so well. Fiona rolled onto her side, her cunny dripping cream, and watched as Reld calmly moved over to where Tula was now lying on her back, legs spread.

Without any fuss, the lad positioned himself above the greenskin, his shaft still rigid and coated in an obscene mixture of his cum and Fiona’s excretions. Holding himself up with one arm, Reld used his other to guide his swollen girth into Tula’s inviting hole. Once his glans was comfortably seated in the entrance to his mate’s twat, Reld moved his arm up to mirror the other - just below Tula’s armpits - and lowered his body against hers. The amazonian orc then wrapped her arms around the lad’s shoulders and upper back while her legs folded over his buttocks, pressing her lush curves against his youthful muscles. So joined, the two began to mate.

Fiona got to her feet as Tula and Reld began to fuck. She could feel some of the boy’s healthy deposit sliding a slimy trail down the inside of her thigh, but simply smirked cheekily and shifted her thong back into place. Beside her, her comrades were copulating passionately; it was not the simple satiating of carnal needs that Fiona and Reld’s prior rutting was - no, Reld and Tula were like a well oiled machine, the human lad moving atop the orc woman, thrusting into her with smooth motions that were in sync with the undulating movements of her hips as she raised them to each of his pushes.

The youth had his lips fastened to the orc’s pierced left nipple, sucking on the aroused nubbin with his eyes closed. Tula, too, had her eyes shut and one hand on the back of Reld’s head, pushing him against her impressive, round tit. The pair were locked together in a tableau of intense sexuality. Fiona could see a glistening mix of their combined juices seeping from where their genitals were joined. Not quite able to tear her attention from the scene, the dwarf sat down on a nearby chair, her legs spread, and absently scooped up some of Reld’s oozing deposit before licking her fingers clean.

On the floor in front of her, Tula and Reld were rutting with passionate, animalistic intensity. The boy’s thrusts into the orc’s cunt were short and urgent, the skin of their groins never separating as Reld mashed his pelvis against Tula’s mons. Fiona toyed with her own cum-drenched cunny as she watched her friends breed, teasing her seed-slick cunt-lips and slimy clit with one hand while the other kept her thong pulled to one side. The frenzied fornication she was observing, the heavy scent of sex in the air and the sensation of Reld’s sloppy ejaculate seeping from her freshly fucked twat set the dwarf’s juices flowing once more and she managed to achieve climax just as Tula and Reld reached their own peak.

With an almost feral growl, Reld held himself against Tula’s body, his ass bucking spasmodically as his shaft pulsed and throbbed within his chief’s cock-hole. He could feel Tula’s arms around his neck, crushing him against her massive titties, wetness covering his cheek as milk spurted from her thick, erect nipples. The orc was growling too, low and fierce, a noise not unlike a giant cat’s purr.

“Fuckin’ hells, guys,” chuckled Fiona, watching Reld pull his spent phallus from Tula’s cum-filled cunt. “Make that look any more fun and we’ll end up skippin’ the job and just fuck around all night.”

“Do not tempt me,” laughed Tula, getting to her feet after Reld flopped sideways onto the floor, thoroughly spent. “He is a good mate,” she added, looking down at the supine lad, “although I worry we have tired him out?”

“Ha! Not a chance!” snorted Reld, picking himself up and stretching. “But maybe I’ll get you two to do all the work next time.”

A few hours later found Reld, Tula and Fiona standing in the dark on the bank of the castle moat. They had eaten a quick, take-out dinner of chicken pie, bought from a street vendor after Fiona had used her merchant pass to get the party through the city gates. Tula wore her dark blue dress, her dagger tucked into her boot, while Reld wore his tunic, shorts and boots. His disguise, as well as Fiona’s gear, was stashed inside a large, waterproof leather sack that the dwarf had made him carry. The smith stood beside the boy, her scandalous outfit hidden by a dark grey hooded cloak.

Across the moat from them was the entrance to the castle sewer. After checking that the coast was clear, the trio quickly undressed and packed their clothes into the dwarf’s sealable leather sack. With Fiona leading the way, the group waded into the murky water. Reld looked over at Tula, his heart thumping with excitement in his chest. The orc grinned back at him, her tusks glinting in the moonlight.

The swim across the moat was easy and short - the defensive obstacle was designed to slow down an assault, not to completely prevent one - and a few minutes later the trio emerged on the other side, where a metal grill blocked off the circular entrance to the castle’s sewer. A small trickle of vile fluid splattered from the pipe into the water the party had just swum through and Reld was glad the dwarf had made sure they entered the slowly flowing moat upstream from the sewer outflow, so as to avoid the worst of the stinking liquid.

Fiona knelt beside the grating and fished a small leather bundle out of her sack, unfolding it to reveal a set of strange metal implements - various files and shims, many with hooked or notched edges and points. Selecting two of the metal shims (“Lockpicks,” explained Fiona) the smith-turned-thief fiddled with the heavy iron lock that held the grill shut and exhaled in satisfaction a moment later when the bulky padlock opened with a solid *ka-chunk*.

“C’mon,” hissed Fiona, swinging open the grating and stepping inside.

Once inside the mouth of the sewer and shielded from the sight of anyone across the moat, Fiona delved once more into her sack and produced a small stone bowl and two phials of syrupy liquid. The dwarf emptied the contents of the phials into the bowl, mixing them with a finger, until, to Reld’s astonishment, the concoction began to subtly glow. Using the dim light of the dwarf’s bowl, they set off down the tunnel.

The trio were still naked from their swim, thinking it wisest to wait until they were out of the sewer and a little drier before getting dressed once more. Thankfully, however, the tunnel they entered was wide enough that they could walk on the sides of it and stay out of the shit creek that ran down the centre. Unfortunately, it was low enough that both Reld and Tula had to walk doubled over.

By the time they reached the end of the sewer, Reld’s back was aching. The room they entered smelled worse than the tunnel they had traversed thanks to the large pool of noxious sludge that occupied it’s centre. Pipes in the ceiling directed waste from the castle above into the central pool, while another pipe on the far side emptied cleaner water into the pond, creating enough flow to keep the sewage moving out towards the moat. Stone steps on either side of the outflow tunnel, leading up to a rough mezzanine, enabled the group to avoid wading through the foul water.

“Not quite the heroic adventure you imagined, eh lad?” chuckled Fiona, once the three were up on the wide ledge looking over the revolting pond.

“Not really,” grunted Reld. “Kinda wishing we’d stayed at your place and kept on fucking.”

“Over here,” said Tula in a loud whisper. The orc had walked around the mezzanine and had discovered a wooden door set into a slightly recessed part of the wall.

Fiona and Reld moved to join her, the dwarf unfolding her lockpick set upon reaching the door. “This should open up into the dungeons and cellars,” whispered Fiona, fiddling with the lock. “There’s a few ways up into the castle proper from there.”

“We should redress, then,” said Tula.

Hoping he didn’t smell too atrocious, Reld put his tunic, shorts and boots back on and then slipped his padded gambeson over his head, followed by the Bal’s Post tabard. He cinched his sword-belt around his waist. By the time he and Tula were clothed once more, the dwarf had the lock open and was getting dressed as well. Sure that his heartbeat was echoing throughout the castle, Reld followed the two women through the door.

The castle dungeons did not see much use, as those criminals caught and convicted by the city watch were housed in the separate jail attached to the watch barracks. As such, the party found themselves tip toeing through a network of deserted corridors. Some of the former cells had been given over to use as storerooms, however it was clear that not even the lowliest of castle servants came down into the depths the party were travelling very often. There were brackets for torches set into the walls, but none were lit, and the faint, pale light of Fiona’s stone bowl did nothing to make their surroundings any less eerie.

As the party passed a dead-end hallway, lined with steel-barred cells, however, they heard a soft voice calling out.

“Giles? Giles?!”

Tula halted abruptly.

“That is Jessamyn,” stated the orc in a low whisper.

“What?” said Reld and Fiona, simultaneously.

“That voice - it belongs to Jessamyn,” repeated Tula.

“What’s she doing here?” hissed Fiona.

“I do not know, but we must investigate.”

Reld could see Fiona was about protest, but held back. It was clear Tula would not have heard, anyway; the orc was already stalking off down the corridor. He scurried after her, with Fiona treading softly beside him.

They caught up with Tula as she stopped in front of one of the disused cells. Within, sure enough, was a rather forlorn looking Jessemyn. Drawn in chalk on the smooth flagstones of the cell and only dimly visible in the faint light cast by Fiona’s bowl was a large, strange mark.

“T-Tula?” squeaked the blonde girl. “Fiona? Reld? What are you doing here? Where’s Giles?”

“What are you doing here?” responded Tula. “And why should Giles be with us?”

“Oooh, I don’t know!” groaned Jessemyn. “An elf came to the inn earlier this evening and Giles took him down behind the old warehouse and I followed ‘cos Giles has been acting so weird lately but while I was hiding and watching them Lord Tomas came up behind me and he pulled out a knife and he yelled at Giles and said he was going to take him to see Lady Emily and then told the elf to take me to the dungeon and then suddenly there was this big goat woman beside me and then suddenly I was in here and then the goat lady vanished and I don’t know what is going on!”

“What the fuck?” whispered Reld.

“Aww shit,” muttered Fiona. “Fuckin’ elves and fuckin’ magic. This is all goin’ pear shaped. Time to get the box and get the fuck outta here.”

“Get her out first,” instructed Tula. “Then we get the box.”

Fiona cast another frustrated glance at Tula, but kneeled before the cell door with her lockpicks nevertheless. In short order, another lock gave way under her deft touch. The moment the clicked open, Jessemyn opened the door and stepped out.

“Thanks,” she said, pushing between Tula and Fiona.

“Where are you going?!” said the orc, her stoic demeanour, for once, giving over to surprise as the blonde girl started off down the corridor.

“I have to find Giles,” said Jessemyn boldly before stopping a few paces down the cellblock. “Although I’m not really sure where I am right now…” she finished lamely.

“Alright! Fuck!” grumbled Fiona, striding forward. “Why don’t we go find the king and queen and maybe the hells-damned Emperor of Thae while we’re at it?! C’mon, I’ll show you to the servant’s stairs. They should take us to the apartments.”

With a visibly grumpy Fiona leading the way, the small group proceeded into the dark until they entered a section of hallways that seemed to see more use - the torches in brackets were no longer unlit and most of the cobwebs had been swept from the eves. Fiona crouched and stashed her stone bowl back in the leather bag and thrust it into Reld’s arms.

“So these stairs,” explained the dwarf with a nod towards a stone spiral staircase that led upwards, “should take us into the living quarters of the castle. Tula, you’ll have to lead the way up there - this is the limit that I scouted.”

“What about me?” asked Jessamyn.

“Well, ideally I’d leave you here, but seeing how quickly everything’s got fucked already, I think it’s best if you come along. Just stay quiet and pretend to be a whore!”

“Uh, Fiona, I am a whore,” whispered Jess, to the dwarf’s visible annoyance.

“Yes, but act like one who’s meant to be here!”

The staircase that Fiona had guided them to provided access to almost every storey of the castle. On the first floor, it connected to a plain stone corridor that led to the kitchens and servant’s quarters. Using the staircase, servants could reach the guest and ducal family’s apartments on the upper levels. It was, in effect, a backdoor to the castle interior and the group used it to climb up to the topmost floor, where the duke and his two children had their rooms.

Unfortunately, the entrance to the highest storey was guarded.

“Alright, boyo,” hissed Fiona, “time to shine.”

“What do I say?” frowned Reld, a churn of nervous nausea swelling in his gut.

“Tell them you are bringing us to see Lord Tarant,” interjected Tula, thinking quickly.

“Lord Tarant?” queried Reld.

“A lord who resides in the castle, currently,” explained Tula impatiently.

With the three women behind him, Reld steeled himself and proceeded up the stairs. There was only one bored guard standing dutifully where the stairs joined the hallway - a helmeted human woman leaning on her spear haft. This late in the night, visitors were uncommon, and she raised her brow in curiosity as Reld led the small group out into the corridor.

“Well well,” drawled the soldier, looking over the motley party. “Wot ‘ave we got ‘ere?”

“Whores for Lord Tarant,” mumbled Reld.

“Wassat boy?” grunted the guard. She looked carefully at Reld. “I never seen you about before. And Tarant’s quarters are one floor down.”

“Uh, no!” stuttered Reld. “He was moved! Some sort of mess in his old rooms! Big mess!”

The soldier looked at the clearly nervous boy. Her expression shifted subtly. “New on the job, huh?” she shrugged. “Don’t let a captain catch you without a helmet, lad. What’s in the bag there?”

Reld could feel the sweat beading on his brow, sure that he looked like a soaked mess to any observer. The guard would check the bag, see Fiona’s tools and weapons, and then raise the alarm. He could feel Tula tensing beside him and wondered if the orc was going to pre-emptively incapacitate the soldier.

“My tools and toys,” announced Fiona, a coy smile curling her lips as she stepped forward and saved the day by opening the front of her cloak to reveal the salacious garb she wore - all straps, leather underwear and tall black boots. “I’m sure you, *ahem*, understand.”

The soldier’s eyebrows raised. “I knew that old man was a kinky one,” she grinned. “Tried to grab my ass more than once. Give him an extra spanking for me.”

Fiona laughed warmly and gave the woman a wink before turning on her heel and stalking sassily down the hallway with the rest of the band trying to look nonchalant as they followed her. Around the nearest corner, however, the dwarf’s facade fell away and she was all business. Reld, meanwhile, took the opportunity to suck in a few lungfuls of air, trying to steady himself.

Suddenly he felt Tula’s hand on his butt. He looked at her by his side, a proud grin on face, and felt strangely rejuvenated. Thus bolstered, when the orc led the group to the entrance to Lady Emily’s apartments, the lad approached the guard with much more confidence. Striding boldly up to the bearded soldier at the door, Reld didn’t permit the guard the first word.

“Is the lady in?” he snapped.

“Uh, what?” sputtered the soldier, trying to make sense of the motley crew before him.

“The Lady Emily, trooper! Is she in her quarters?!” growled Reld, letting indignation drip from the syllables.

“Uh, no, not presently,” muttered the guardsman. “Hey now, who are yo-”

The troopers words were cut off abruptly when Tula delivered a ferocious right handed sucker-punch to the man’s jaw. Reld caught him by the front of his tunic before he hit the ground, while Fiona unhooked the guard’s keys from his belt.

“Very nice!” chuckled the blonde smith, beaming up at Reld. “Now toss that helmet on your head and stand watch by the door. If someone comes, knock twice on it to give us a warning.”

Reld nodded the affirmative at his small chum, but she was already unlocking the door to grant the three women entry while Tula casually picked up the unconscious soldier. A moment later, the youth was standing alone in the corridor, a slightly-too-large kettle helm seated on his head.

There were two things within the apartment that caused the three women to gasp in surprise.
First was the dead body. It was not just any dead body, too. No, this was the body of the duke himself, ruler of Bal’s Post, stretched out on the table in front of the large floor-to-ceiling windows, a dagger plunged into his chest. The second was Giles, strapped to an X-shaped frame, completely naked and helpless, his head hanging senseless against his chest.

“Giles?” blurted Jessemyn.

“Fuck!” groaned Fiona.

“This could be a problem,” said Tula.

It was a problem. Before Jessemyn had taken two steps towards her beleaguered brother, two knocks sounded out from the heavy oak doors. Tula and Fiona acted with speed born of experience. The orc dragged her unconscious guard over to the huge window, past the duke’s corpse, and tucked herself behind the curtain. Fiona seized Jessemyn’s hand and bodily hauled her up the stairs, past her struggling brother, into the Lady Emily’s sleeping area, where she bundled the confused lass under the bed.

Outside, Reld thought of Tula and sucked in a lungful of air. He slapped a grimace on his face and hoped his knock was early enough for the group inside to find a place to hide, for walking down the corridor towards him was the Lady Emily, the Lord Tomas and a tall, pale elven man with shoulder-length black hair.

“Where’s the soldier who was here earlier?” sneered Lord Tomas upon reaching Reld. “Changing of the guard is not for hours.”

“Sick, I think, milord,” said Reld, trying to stand as straight as he could. “Pulled me in from patrolling downstairs so he could go fill the loo.”

“There is a lady present, trooper,” quipped Tomas. “I’ll have none of your barracks-room talk before her!”

“Leave it, Tomas,” hissed Lady Emily, opening the door to her quarters. “We have matters of more substance to attend.”

Once the elf and the two aristocrats had proceeded inside, Reld permitted himself a small smile. He felt quite chuffed at his burgeoning ability to blag, although the sensation contrasted uncomfortably with the worry he felt towards the predicament his friends were in within the apartment.

Inside Lady Emily’s rooms, three pairs of ears, their presence unbeknownst to her, listened to the conversation that developed between her, her brother and their elven guest.

“I appreciate the prompt payment,” said the elf, his voice calm and eventoned. “I hope you have found my services satisfactory?”

“Most satisfactory indeed,” came Lady Emily’s voice in reply. “Although, things are not quite finished, are they?”

“No, milady,” agreed the elf. There was a subtle roar, like a distant waterfall, and then the elf spoke again. “But my assistant and I can put the final pieces in place at your command. May I ask what you intend to do with the boy? He knows of my presence, of course, and we have his sister imprisoned in the disused cells below.”

“Well, I was going to kill him,” mused Emily, “but then I remembered a little artifact I had delivered from Firandil recently that I have been dying to test out. Have you ever seen one of these before?”

“Oh, how exquisite,” said the elf. “That will be quite effective in keeping him silent.”

“What does it do?” said Lord Tomas.

“Bring him down from there, dear brother, and you shall see!” cooed Emily.

There was the sound of metal shackles being fiddled with. Underneath Lady Emily’s bed, Fiona clamped her hand over Jessemyn’s mouth and kept the furious girl still. Tula risked peaking around the edge of the curtain.

Lord Tomas had unfastened Giles from the frame he had been shackled to and the bard now lay on the ground, unmoving. Looking down at him was the Lady Emily, a curious metal collar in her hand, a tall elven man and a hulking creature that looked like a cross between a goat and a woman. The creature had digitigrade legs, covered in dark brown fur and ending in hooves. The fur continued up her flanks, thinning over her immense buttocks to reveal thick-looking dark brown skin. The creature’s torso was only sparsely furred, but for the goat tail protruding from above the cleft of her ass, leaving her stomach and her monumental breasts almost bare. The fur thickened on her shoulders and from her neck up she had the head of a strange goat, replete with two six inch horns that sprouted from above her goat-like ears.

Tula had barely taken in the strange creature’s appearance when Emily knelt over Giles and fastened the collar about his neck. What followed made the day’s events, from breaking into the castle to finding the duke dead to seeing what was obviously a demon, seem utterly banal.

Giles began to change. His limbs spasmed and twitched and shifted. His body seemed to pulse and warp. His body hair grew longer, his face contorted and stretched. In the course of a minute, what was once Giles became a massive short-haired hound with a pointed muzzle and whip-like tail and fur that was black over his back and head and russet-gold over his underbelly and legs. The boy had kept his mass upon changing and thus there was now a hundred and sixty pounds of unconscious dog lying in front of Lady Emily, who immediately fastened a leash to the collar, tying him to a nearby pillory, and strapped an adjustable leather muzzle over Giles’ maw.

“Remarkable!” exclaimed the elf. “A doberman, albeit an overly large one! I’ve always been fond of that breed.”

“You turned him into a dog?!” murmured Tomas.

“I do like my pets,” said Emily, her voice impish with delight. The woman clapped her hands excitedly, obviously pleased with herself.

“What happens if you take the collar off?” asked Tomas, stepping away from the huge canine and walking over to the drink trolley near the table that carried his father’s corpse. “Does he turn back?”

“Oh no,” laughed the elf. “The collar stays on unless you know a mage significantly more powerful than I am.”

“But darling!” whined Tomas to his sister, pouring himself a drink. “I thought we were going to use the boy as our alibi! Father slain by the manwhore he had hired and all that!”

The lordling leaned over the back of one of the dining chairs and examined the corpse of his father upon it. His sister came to stand beside him.

“Oh, the plan changed a little, brother-dearest,” said Emily, sweetly. “No-one would believe that contrived tale!”

A strange look crossed Tomas’ features as he gazed at the body before him. “Is… Is that my dagger?” muttered the young noble, putting his drink down and examining the body more closely. “Maerin, why did you use my dagger?”

Beside him, Emily put her hand on her brother’s shoulder, turning him to face her. “It was a ridiculous plan, Tomas. Nobody would believe a mere whore killed father,” said the woman. “But father and son, killed by one another’s hand in a heated argument?”

Tomas’ face drained of colour as the dagger punched into his gut. Emily stepped back as her brother fell to his knees, gazing up at his sister, his murderer, in disbelief.

“Now that is a story people will believe,” smiled Emily, looking down at her handiwork. “Alright Maerin, you should probably magic these two over to father’s quarters now.” The noblewoman idly looked at the blood staining her fingers and continued, almost as an afterthought; “I think I’ll take a trip down to the baths. Don’t forget to kill the girl in the cells once you’ve finished up here.”

Turning her back on her brother, who, thanks to the nature of his wound, was taking some time to expire, the Lady Emily calmly walked out of the room. As she departed, Maerin’s hulking familiar stalked over to the dying Tomas, seizing him about the neck and hefting him upright. The elven mage came to stand nearby, leaning over the table to place a hand on the duke’s body. Then, with a slight furrowing of his brow, the mage and his familiar vanished, taking Tomas and the Duke with them and leaving the room empty.

When Lady Emily emerged from her apartment on her own, Reld was both confused and relieved. The fact that Lord Tomas and the elf were not with her was worrisome, yet the noblewoman appeared calm and relaxed, not like someone who had just discovered three thieves hiding in her personal chambers. As the aristocratic woman walked away down the corridor, Reld peeked back through the doors, but the view was too constricted to see anything. The lad shrugged and went back to standing guard, waiting for some sort of sign from his friends inside.

Jessemyn was in shock. After the mage and his demon had vanished, she had rushed down the stairs to where her brother had been. Instead of her brother, though, she was greeted by the biggest dog she had ever seen, groggily picking itself up off the floor.

“Giles?” she spoke, her words heavy with concern.

The big canine looked at Jessemyn, a blend of recognition and panic in its eyes.

Jessemyn fumbled with the buckles of the creature’s muzzle. Beside her, Fiona began to object, clearly worried about the dog’s massive jaws and immense teeth, but Tula quietened her with a hand on her shoulder. The moment his mouth was free, the dog let out a scared yelp, followed by a plaintive whine.

“Oh gods, Giles,” moaned Jessemyn, throwing her arms around the huge beast’s neck and tugging futilely at the metal collar. “We’ll fix it! I’ll get this thing off you!”

The big dog whined once more and tugged against his sister’s pulling, but the collar was clearly not coming off. Eventually, the girl gave up and simply hugged the dog that had been her brother. Tula knelt beside the unhappy pair, resting a hand on the blonde girl’s back and on Giles’ black-furred flank.

“I hate to do this,” announced Fiona, interrupting the forlorn group, the silver cube in her hands, “but it’s time to get the fuck out of here. I have a feeling there’s goin’ to be a lot of guards runnin’ round the the hallways very soon.”

When the three women emerged from Lady Emily’s rooms accompanied by a massive dog, Reld was stunned. Tula took in the lad’s astonished expression in one quick glance and quickly explained the situation.

“Fiona has the cube, Emily murdered her father and brother, the dog is Giles and we need to leave. Now.”

“Well, I see I managed to miss pretty much everything exciting,” grumbled Reld as the party hightailed it down the corridor, back towards the stairs.

“Don’t worry lad,” huffed Fiona, jogging beside him. “I have a feeling things are going to get pretty fuckin’ exciting pretty fuckin’ quickly.”

“They will probably discover the bodies in the morning,” said Tula, before turning to look at Jessemyn. “Although that elf may discover your absence much sooner.”

“I don’t mind if he finds me,” snarled the blonde wench. “Maybe he can tell us how to fix Giles before I slice his nuts off.”

“We shall figure this out,” soothed Tula, “but we should get out of the city first. The Lady will send out people to find you and your brother.”

The soldier guarding the top of the stairs didn’t have a chance to raise the alarm. Once again, Tula’s devastating punch collided with an unsuspecting soldier’s jaw and the party were racing down the steps moments after Reld had lowered the unconscious trooper to the floor.

Once down in the old dungeons, the party slowed their pace, although Fiona did not waste any time mixing up her glowing concoction to provide light and instead grabbed one of the torches from their brackets. Reld was pleased to have the dwarf leading the way - he was sure he never would have found the correct path in the maze of dilapidated cellars and crumbling cells. Fiona never hesitated when she came to a junction, however, until she got to the one that led to the cell Jess had been imprisoned in. Halting abruptly, the dwarf suddenly smothered her torch in her cloak, singeing the garment badly.

“Fi? What’s going on?” whispered Reld, surprised at the sudden stop.

“There’s someone her-”

The dwarf’s words were interrupted by a bright white light as Maerin stepped around the corner, an orb glowing white in his hand. Looming behind him, cast in dreadful shadows, was his female beastman companion. The elven mage quickly recognized Giles’ and Jessemyn’s presence within the small party - it was hard to miss the bard’s giant canine form.

“Excellent,” smiled the mage. “I was just looking for you.”

And then he vanished, casting the hallway into darkness and leaving his brutish familiar standing in front of Reld and Fiona.

Reld didn’t hesitate. One of the key tenets of combat that Tula had drilled into him was that if you have to fight, then try to be the one to land the first blow. The bestial demon in front of him appeared to be unarmed, but the lad didn’t let that stop him - in one smooth movement, just as he had been taught, Reld drew his sword and slashed at the creature while stepping towards it.

Months of hard practice and years of demanding physical labor had turned Reld into a strong lad, in good shape. Even against an armoured foe, the slash would have been a difficult one to resist. The naked beastman didn’t even flinch. Strange sparks cascaded from where the lad’s slash slid across the demon’s chest. The creature bellowed and a shimmering white glow appeared above her hands, which were spread wide and low in the ‘ready’ position for someone planning to tackle another, and a wicked looking battle axe appeared in each gargantuan fist. Reld launched himself backwards as the demon swung the weapons at him, as if trying to give him a murderous hug, and tumbled backwards into Jessemyn.

It was pitch-black in the dungeon, but dwarves and orcs were comfortable fighting in the dark. The moment the elf’s magic light disappeared, Fiona tucked and rolled sideways into the open cell that had been to her left, dragging her equipment bag with her. Further back, Tula’s dagger was out of her boot and in her hand lightning quick, and her keen ears picked out the sound of Reld’s attack, pinpointing the location of the melee at the front of the party.

There was one other in the party, too, who didn’t need sight to perceive what was happening around them - Giles suddenly discovered he could almost hear the shape of the others in front of him. There was Reld’s foot sliding forward and the rasp of his sword flying from its scabbard. There was the grating report of his blade hitting the demon. The brief glow of the beastman’s axes materializing confirmed the positions of the combatants his hearing had predicted. It also lit up Tula’s body, just for a moment, as she launched herself through the air, dagger in hand, directly towards the demon.

Jessemyn fell backwards as Reld backed into her, bringing the two of them down to the ground with a painful thump. She couldn’t see a thing. All she knew was that there was a monster in front of her. She felt Reld try to roll aside, but her own instinctive need to scramble away from the threat hampered both of their efforts as she grabbed onto the lad atop her and tried to push herself back out from under him.

The beastman wasn’t blessed with overly sharp hearing, nor particularly astute night sight. What she did have, however, was tremendous strength, an axe in each hand, and the knowledge that the hallway in front of her was a target rich environment. With a bray of violent delight, she lurched forward.

Her forward momentum ceased, however, when Tula’s left arm clotheslined her across the chest. The impact was followed immediately afterwards by a sharp pain in her ribs as the orc began furiously shanking her with terrible, angry thrusts of her dagger. The beastman’s magical nature prevented the dagger from plunging too deeply into her, but such was Tula’s strength and ferocity that the orc was scoring numerous shallow wounds and the pain began to tell.

Further back, Giles was frozen, overcome by the assault upon his senses. Standing there, confused, he suddenly heard Fiona’s voice in front of him.

“Move.”

The boy-turned-dog stumbled to the side. There was a *thunk* in the darkness, coming from the same direction as Fiona’s voice. A cluster of… somethings whooshed past his shoulder, startlingly fast, and he heard a clatter of many steel objects impacting stone wall of the passage behind him. He also heard the meaty sound of flesh being hit, coming from the same direction, and grunt of pain.

The scent of blood reached his nose. Strange blood, not belonging to any of his comrades. His nose and ears told him the elven mage was behind him, in the direction Fiona had just shot her weapon. He turned, just as Maerin relit the glowing orb. Instinct took over, and Giles bounded towards the pale man.

Maerin swore. Somehow, someone in the irksome little party had shot at him in the darkness and managed to hit him in the arm. He cast a light cantrip upon the steel ball he used as a focus, holding it in his left hand while conjuring a hand crossbow into his right. The light illuminated a small steel dart that had lodged itself in his left bicep. There were many more of the darts on the ground beside the wall behind him. The mage didn’t have time to analyse the strange projectiles, however. He had a plan - if he tossed the ball down the corridor, he would illuminate his targets perfectly. While Tlakk, his familiar, tore her way through the pathetic band, he could stand back and unload his supply of pre-loaded crossbows into them. That would teach them.

The wizard’s plan changed quickly, however, when the light of his cantrip shone upon the snarling, oversized canine bearing down on him. Maerin raised his crossbow and fired wildly, just as Giles smashed into him, jaws latching onto the mage’s hurriedly raised arm.

And then the mage and his familiar were gone, and Fiona, Tula, Reld, Jess and Giles stood or lay panting in the darkness. There was a moment of heavy breathing, then Fiona got her glowing mixture going again and each member of the party scanned one another, checking to see if anyone was injured, or worse.

“We got lucky,” said Fiona, packing up her crossbow. “I think he was just as surprised as we were.”

Reld kneeled near Tula. The orc had received a slash across her thigh from the flailing demon she had tackled and the lad was tying a strip of cloth he had torn off her dress over the wound. The greenskin’s tight garment had torn in more than a few places during her wrestling match and Tula was surprised at how disappointed she was to see it in such a state.

Tula’s minor injury was thankfully the worst the group suffered - the quarrel Maerin had shot at Giles had gone wide, grazing the dog’s shoulder and drawing only a little blood. Giles found himself entirely unbothered by it, despite knowing that a similar injury, if he had received it before he had been turned into a dog, would have left him in a near hysterical state. Nevertheless, he did like the way Jessemyn fussed over the injury, although he was frustrated at his his inability to say thanks but for a quiet woof.

Once Tula’s injured thigh was bound, the group resumed their journey to the sewer exit. They did not have far to go, but they moved warily, expecting the mage and his demonic familiar to ambush them at any moment. Maerin did not return, fortunately, but it was an anxious, tired party that finally reached the courtyard behind the inn.

“Well, here we are,” sighed Fiona. The dwarf turned to look at Jessemyn and Giles. “I’d recommend you two get out of town as quick as possible. The Lady Emily doesn’t seem to be the sort who’ll forget about you.”

Jessamyn looked confused and frightened. Giles looked… well, like a giant dog, but he cocked his head to one side and let out a worried whine.

“What?” grumbled Fiona. “You can’t come with me! Go get your kit, lass, and go! North, south, east, west, it doesn’t matter! Besides, having that great galumph of a dog with you will keep you safe enough - I don’t know many who’d want to mess with a beastie like that.”

“Why can’t we bring them with us, Fi?” said Reld quietly.

Fiona ignored the youth and continued to mutter under her breath.

“We will bring them with us, Fiona,” stated Tula.

“Yeah? And who’s goin’ to keep ‘em safe?” huffed the dwarf. “It’s not a kind world out there - plenty of rough types who’ll take your money and your life if you give ‘em half a chance.”

“Please, Fiona,” said Jessemyn. “It’s a rough enough life here - I should know, I’m a tavern wench. Besides, you yourself said Giles looks fierce enough now to keep the worst away. We won’t be any trouble - we might even be useful! Please let us go with you while I look for some way to help Giles!”

“Bah!” spat the dwarf pacing back and forth for some time before throwing her hands up in disgust. “Fine! Come along then! But we’re leavin’ now, so you’ve only got a minute to say your farewells to your folks!”

Victoria and Danton came out say bid the strange group goodbye. Jessemyn and Tula had explained the situation as best they could to the couple and had watched the parents go from denial to grieving acceptance over their children’s predicament. Victoria had broken down in tears when Giles had responded to her words of shock and disbelief with a pitiful wuffle.

Tula, however, had assured the pair that she would help Jessemyn find a cure for her brother, and the amazonian orc’s quiet confidence lent the innkeeping couple some strength. So it was that Jessemyn was given a pack stuffed with all her parents could spare; money, clothes and food. Finally, Danton handed his daughter a stout wooden cudgel - the very one that dwelled beneath the bar and had brought a swift end to many a common-room fracas. With a fierce embrace, the couple bade their children farewell.

Reld and Jessemyn sat in the back of the wagon, with Giles trotting easily behind them, as the party departed Bal’s Post, heading south. The youth could tell the blonde girl beside him was in some distress and his heart ached for her even though part of him was filled with burning excitement at the potential adventures that lay like the moonlit road ahead of the wagon.

The lad didn’t really know Jessemyn all that well - he’d seen her in the tavern, of course, maybe even given her bottom a squeeze when he was deep in his cups - but now they were travelling companions, thrown together by circumstance and the orc Tula. He tentatively patted the girl’s back.

“She’s not really mad,” said Reld.

“Huh?” said Jessemyn.

“Fiona,” replied the boy, jerking his head towards the front of the wagon where the dwarf sat beside Tula. “She’s not really mad. I think she wants to help you, she just doesn’t like it when a plan goes all wonky. Something about being a blacksmith, or maybe a dwarf.”

“What about Tula?” said Jessemyn. “She’s your… I don’t know, wife? Girlfriend? Did she mean what she said about helping me and Giles?”

“Ha! Me and Tula are… Yeah, I guess it is kind of weird,” nodded Reld. “She’s my chief, I suppose, and if there’s one thing I know about her, it’s that if she says that she’s going to do something, she bloody well gets it done.”

“Your chief?”

“Yep,” said Reld, smiling proudly. “I’d do anything for her and if she says we’re helping you and Giles, then we’ll fucking do it!”

“You’re a funny boy, Reld,” said Jessemyn, her sad frown turning into a wan smile. “How did you end up calling an orc your chief?”

“It’s a weird tale,” chuckled Reld. “It might take some telling.”

“Well, I hear it’s a long way to Tennegen and on to Longreach. I think there might be time.”

“Well, if you want,” he sighed, leaning back on his hands and watching the lights of Bal’s Post fade. “It might get a little raunchy in parts, though.”

“Boy, you do know until about an hour ago I worked as a whore in a dockside tavern, right?” snorted Jess. “I could write a whole book about ‘raunchy’.”

The wagon trundled onward into the southern night, chased by the sound of Reld’s laughter.