Portal to Arandor Ch. 11

Drahden sat alone in the corner of the tavern. His only company was a bottle of brandy that was going down too fast. Everything had gone according to plan, so why was he so miserable?

He knew why. He had sworn an oath as Protector of the Realm and he could not break it.

From the moment he was sure Rebecca had come through, every move he made was calculated. And it paid off for tonight when she had cursed him and was ready to get on with her life. He hoped in time that she would forget about finding the portal to return home, because if she tried to find it, he would have to stop it and it wasn't something he relished doing.

Drahden sipped his brandy and replayed the events of the last month. At first he was disappointed because she did not get his Tolkien reference. He knew it was a long shot, but he enjoyed testing people and seeing the look on their face when they discovered that he was one of them. But he carefully watched her and he knew she was from the other world. The way she spoke, the way she moved...everything. He had observed her from the first and by the time they had got to Wrexridge, he had known everything about her. It wasn't just the things she told him. True, he learned about her divorce but he saw things she didn't tell him. Like the habit she had of flipping her hair back when she was nervous or how her cheeks flushed when she had tried to flirt with him.

He remembered back to the night in the inn when he rescued her from Bernard. It was difficult to not notice her beautiful naked body as she knelt before Bernard and sucked his cock or how she looked with her legs spread on the bed. The sight of her that night made his cock stir and he wanted to just take her right there, but he couldn't. And he almost slipped up later when he kissed her by the fire. Oh, how close he was to having her.

Instead he had to be cold with her. It was hard at first, but he played his part, just as he had been playing a part since he first stepped into this strange new world. He knew she hated to act the whore each night they went out. But he knew that if watchful eyes saw him with a reputable woman there would be questions about his loyalty to the Protectorate. He smiled slightly when he remembered how each and every time she was dressed as the whore, she tugged at her bodice to cover her breasts. And he also remembered how difficult it was to hold back from burying his face in that wonderfully soft white cleavage.

Getting Rebecca to Wrexridge was easy. She was so naïve about everything and completely trusting of him that he felt ashamed. He had bribed Robert to take her horse and head back the way they came. The poor fool was so in love with her, that he would do anything to help her. Once he knew everyone was off their trail, it was an easy ride north. Along the way he met with his network and set up the scenario in Wrexridge.

He knew Samuel from his early days in the realm. Books were fascinating to him and he learned many things about the realm which helped him adapt quicker. When he started to build his network, Samuel was a person he could trust to be discreet. The task he had now asked him to do was far beyond anything he had asked for before, but Samuel performed admirably. Once Rebecca got the job, he told Samuel that he could do whatever he liked. All Drahden had to do was drive Rebecca away from him to the kindness of a bookseller. And that was accomplished easily enough with a pleasant night with a local whore.

Yes, he should be pleased but the final argument with Rebecca tore at his heart. How he wanted to just take her in his arms and kiss her and make love to her. So many nights on the road he lay near her. Sometimes the urge was so powerful he wanted to strip her bare and fuck her until she begged for more. He was used to getting his way with women and this situation killed him.

Now he would watch her and they would get through the winter. Samuel would be his eyes and ears. But she was headstrong, even his made up stories about the portal not working did not deter her from wanting to at least try. He hoped she didn't want to after the winter, but it would be very, very hard to have to kill her.

Besides there was another that he had shared his hopes and fears with. It would not be fair.

After Drahden left the elves and met up with his fellow man, it was Wrexridge where he ended up. He learned the ways of the men and coupled with his skills as a fighter, he quickly blended in. But not enough to escape the watchful eyes of the other Protectors.

It was about six months after he crossed over and late one night when returning from yet another tryst (he was amazed at how women threw themselves at him), he was accosted by a figure that practically materialized from the shadows. Drahden was startled, but quickly drew his sword and pinned the shadow to the wall.

"Ah well done, Sir Knight," said the deep voice from within a black cloak.

"I am no knight," replied Drahden, not moving the sword.

"Of course not. You've not been in this realm to be part of the great houses, am I correct?"

Drahden didn't answer and grew very suspicious.

"Reveal your self, sir," he demanded.

"Very well, but remove your sword and buy me a drink and all will be revealed."

The stranger's voice was friendly enough, so Drahden sheathed his sword and led the way into a nearby tavern. They took a seat in the back and ordered two pints. Drahden looked at the stranger. He looked to about late thirties. His hair was blond, unusual for that area, and his eyes were icy blue. The man was dressed in black from head to toe and he noticed a flash of a dagger on his thigh.

"Tell me who you are," Drahden asked quietly after their pints had arrived.

"My name is Rothan. I am a Protector of the Realm." Rothan took a long swallow of his beer. "Now let me ask you a question."

Drahden shrugged. "Go ahead."

"Did you ever wear a leek on your clothing on St. David's Day?" Rothan said with a sly smile.

Drahden's jaw dropped. "How do you know about that?" he asked.

"Quiet, boy. We do not need to raise suspicion." Rothan leaned in closer. "It's been a while since I've been in Wales on March the First."

"You're from...from back there," Drahden whispered. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Norway, to be exact. But I used to venture to Wales every now and then. Must be the Viking in me," he said with a laugh.

"I cannot believe this!"

"Believe it."

"How did you know?"

"I have my ways. Let us just say that when people turn up suddenly with strange accents, I make it my business to investigate. Once I heard you speak, I recognized the Welsh accent. Then I watched you and knew that you had crossed over."

"But I thought I had blended in." Drahden drained his mug and called for more.

"Oh aye, you were doing well, but you made a few mistakes here and there."

"Like what?"

"I saw you drinking at a tavern and I think you were fairly drunk. Your guard slipped and you said 'cool' when someone showed you their sword."

Drahden reddened.

"So how long have you been here, Rothan?" he asked, wanting to change the subject.

"So long, I've lost count," he laughed. "I came over one day when hiking along the coast. A terrible icy fog came in and I got lost in the fjords. When the fog cleared, I was here, but there were no more fjords!"

"Have you tried to go back?" Drahden asked.

Rothan narrowed his eyes. "Have you?"

"No, and truthfully, I don't want to. I feel like this is my home now."

Rothan smiled. "Good, then that is the first step."

"First step to what?"

"Meet me tomorrow and you shall find out."

Rothan told him the time and place and then slipped out of the tavern and into the night.

The following night Drahden found himself in yet another tavern with Rothan and two more pints. There was a dice game going on and Drahden was itching to play.

"There will be plenty of time for that my boy, but tonight you will begin your education."

"Education for what?" Drahden asked. He was suspicious of this strange man in black.

"To be a Protector of the Realm, of course."

"Explain please," Drahden said impatiently.

"Protectors swear an oath to ensure anyone who crosses over does not go back. For if word got out of this place to our old world, imagine what would happen. We would be overrun with scientists, thrill seekers and hucksters. Imagine it if you will."

Drahden thought about it and decided that it would be very unpleasant indeed. He pictured fast food restaurants in Wrexridge and the forests of the elves plundered for natural resources. "You're right. We would ruin this place just like we are ruining our other world."

"It's not we anymore. It's they. You are part of this world now. Forever," Rothan said.

"And if I tried to go back?" Drahden asked.

"You would be killed."

Drahden took a long draw off his mug and watched the gamers in the other corner. He wondered what they would have thought of Las Vegas.

"What else does a Protector do?" Drahden asked, getting intrigued.

"Your job is to observe. If you suspect someone who has crossed over, then you are to watch over them and make sure they do not return. Hopefully you can get them settled and show that life here is better."

"So I would have to reveal myself."

Rothan nodded. "But do it in a way that is subtle. I used the Wales reference. Use a similar way – drop a reference that only someone from the old world would know."

"So when do I become a Protector?"

"In time. First you must go through some training. Then you need to swear an oath." Rothan looked at Drahden seriously. "Are you willing to take the oath and become a Protector?"

"I am."

And so it started. Drahden spent days and nights with Rothan learning what must be done to keep the realm safe. It was different than learning to use a sword, for the art of spying was delicate. Rothan taught him many useful things in addition such as herbs and poisons. He explained that the more Drahden knew, the better his chances of survival were.

Weeks went by and Drahden learned who the other Protectors were, how to reach them and how to use a network. He also learned the arts of the dagger which was an excellent way to defend yourself in the situations that Protectors sometimes found themselves in. Above all, Protectors had to be apart from others in society. Aloofness, stealth, cunning and loyalty only to themselves and the oath were essential.

"People will call you a rogue because of your traits and your black clothes," Rothan explained one night. "Go along with it. Trust me."

Finally one night Drahden was ready to take the oath. Rothan arranged for a secret ceremony in the forest outside of Wrexridge. They were joined by two other Protectors – both men. It was a solemn occasion at first. The men were dressed in their usual black clothes and cloaks. Rothan stood before Drahden.

"Drahden, you have completed your training and are now asked to join the ranks of the Protectors. In order to join us, you must swear to uphold an oath or die. For in order to join us you must pledge to never cross the boundary back to the other world. Do you agree?"

"Yes," Drahden replied in a steady voice.

"You must pledge to protect the secrets of this realm until your last breath. Do you agree?"

"Yes."

"You must pledge to never let another cross the boundary to the other world and if they do, you must kill them. Do you agree?"

Drahden swallowed. "Yes."

"And you must never take a wife or get intimately involved with anyone from the other world. Do you agree?"

"Yes."

"Then I declare you a Protector of the Realm, Lord Drahden. Welcome to the brotherhood." Rothan withdrew a sheathed dagger and placed it in Drahden's hands. "Please accept this gift from your brothers."

"Thank you my lord," Drahden said, slightly overcome with the weight of responsibility.

The other Protectors came over one at a time and embraced Drahden and welcomed him. It was the proudest moment of his life.

"You look to be lost, my lord," said a female voice to his right.

Drahden shook himself out of his reverie and gazed up at the most perfect set of breasts protruding from a bodice he had seen in a long time. He smiled.

"I think I have found what I am looking for," he said.

"Oh...have you now?"

Drahden nodded. "What is your name?"

"Mirabelle," was the reply.

Drahden laughed. "I knew a Mirabelle not too long ago."

The whore laughed. "Were her tits as nice as mine?"

"Nay, not even close," Drahden said, flashing his seductive smile. "Although...I might have to inspect them closer."

Mirabelle giggled and held out her hand in invitation. "I can accommodate you, my lord."

"I'm sure you can," Drahden said as he stood up.

Mirabelle led the way through the busy tavern and out the back door to the cold night air. "Have you a room, my lord?"

Drahden thought about his comfortable bed, but Rebecca would still be there until tomorrow when he'd find her a new place. He couldn't do that to her again. Thinking of everything angered him again and coupled with the brandy, he felt his rage bubbling up to the surface.

"Right here will do," he said as he roughly pushed Mirabelle against the side of the wooden building.

They were in an alley which did not smell very pleasant and was overrun with rats, but he knew it wasn't the first time anyone coupled out here. Mirabelle looked a bit shocked as she was hoping for a luxurious room based on how he dressed and what he was drinking.

"But my lord," she said, whining a bit.

"Shut up," he growled and pulled her bodice down so that her breasts spilled out. In an instant his mouth was mauling her creamy white breasts and dark nipples. Already his cock was hard from the roughness. Grabbing her hand, he pressed it against the front of his pants.

"Ohhhh," was all she said.

Drahden continued his assault on her breasts. He didn't care if she liked it or not, she was being paid to pleasure him and only him.

"Pull up your skirts."

Mirabelle knew better than to protest so she hiked up her skirts and showed her bare pussy. Drahden pushed his hand between them and rubbed but she wasn't getting wet. "Stupid whore," he thought.

"Turn around."

She complied with his orders and presented her backside. Drahden spit on his hand and lubed his hard cock. He had to have release and soon. Anything to kill this anger and despair. He put his feet between her legs and spread them wider with his knees. Mirabelle squeaked in protest but he ignored it. With one thrust, he was deep in her pussy. He pinned her against the wall and started to move in her. His teeth nipped her neck and shoulders and soon she began to moan. He smiled.

"Tell me you like it," he whispered in her ear.

"I like it, my lord."

"You like what?"

"I like it when you fuck me," she said in a small voice.

He thrust harder and she moaned louder. Then he reached around and gave her breasts a good squeezing. Although he was rough, she liked it. Just like a whore, he thought. He increased the intensity of his strokes and entered into a distant place in his mind. He was going through the motions but his mind was striving for release of something pent up. Maybe it was the frustration of being on the road and not able to touch Rebecca, he thought vaguely.

Whatever it was, it welled up inside him and threatened to come out. Drahden fucked the whore with abandon, immune to her protests, her moans turned to little yelps of pain. He plunged her pussy with everything he had. His body smothered hers and his breath was hot on her neck.

Suddenly the release came viciously and without warning. He shook uncontrollably as his orgasm overtook him with force.

"Oh fuck...oh fuck, Rebecca," he cried. "I want you so fucking bad..."

He stopped thrusting and pulled out of the whore in a daze. His seed dribbled off his cock and he collapsed to the ground in anguish. Mirabelle pulled her skirts down, took one look at him and scurried off, not even waiting for her gold.