The Enchantress of Ingley Ch. 06

The light of the prince's glowing sword scattered down from above, and mingled with the moon and starlight shining down through the shattered ceiling to produce strange shadows. For a moment, it appeared as if they were dancing about, leaping from fallen bookshelf to tumbled wall, resting here and there on broken cabinets and upturned tables.

Amidst the faint echoes of the movements of the men above, there was something else. A soft, feminine voice that was hardly above a whisper. Someone, or something, was down there with him.

Hafred drew himself up short, and strained to listen. For a moment, he thought of calling for the others, but there was little he could tell them without a definite idea of what might be lurking amongst the shadows. Just as he thought he might be able to make out what that whisper was saying, Rufus's voice rose higher from above. The words were lost, but it was definitely a tone of surprise, if not alarm.

"Shh, worry not, dear boy," This time, the voice was clearly audible, no mere whisper. Her sultry tones were inviting, alluring. "My sister and I mean no harm."

In the darkness at the far end of the cellar-laboratory, a subtle movement caught his eye. A woman's figure stepped forth, but she was difficult to focus on. Rather than a clear image, she resembled little more than a shapely silhouette of slightly denser, darker shadows. Darkness itself cloaked her form, like a silken shroud.

"W...who are you? What are you?" Fear began to grasp at Hafred's heart, yet he stood his ground, his knife clutched in a white knuckled grasp.

"Oh dear, dear boy. We will not hurt you. I am Elthyne, a nymph of shadow." Hafred did not find the words reassuring.

She turned in place, and lifted something from the darkness behind her. It was a woven wicker baby's basket, showing signs of being singed. Carefully, she stooped and placed it in the stagnant water that covered the floor. With a gentle push, she sent it floating and bobbing toward him. He let his eyes follow the empty cradle as it drifted ever nearer.

"You are the first to visit our mistress's home since that bitch enchantress and her thrall came, all those years ago."

At the mention of an enchantress, Hafred's eyes shot up to the shadowy woman, "Your mistress? And was this enchantress from Ingley?"

"Our mistress was the Witch of Dark Grove, a few years shy of two decades past, a foul enchantress came and slew her." There was a definite sadness in Elthyne's tone, and despite the fear of facing such a supernatural creature as the shadow woman must be, Hafred felt for her sorrow.

"She was not from Ingley, though she had a man from that village with her. A brute of a man, he slew my mistress and burned her home. It was all that my sister and I could do to save the child."

Hafred's gaze drifted back down to the basket. "A child?"

The shadowy woman nodded, slowly pacing along the edge of the shallow, murky pool which separated them. "Mistress had a daughter. We were told to save her, to take her to the village, and find her a good home. We stayed here thereafter, that we might teach her the ways of her blood when she was old enough. But she never came, she never heeded the call."

The smith's apprentice furrowed his brows. Elthyne's story certainly was interesting, and there was a certain ring of truth to it. He wasn't certain how, but something deep within urged him to believe those words. Slowly, he sheathed his knife, forcing himself to relax. Something tugged at his mind, however. Of all the girls and women he knew in the village, only two fit the story of having been a foundling. One was the treacherous, spoiled brat which the squire had taken in.

The other was Jenrea.

For a moment, the thought that Jenrea might be a witch sent his heart racing, but something else, that same sense within which had urged him to believe the shadow woman seemed to disagree with the idea. It rang hollow in his mind. It couldn't be true.

"Miss," He began, with careful words, "We have come seeking clues as to where we might find an enchantress. Perhaps this one you speak of is the one we search for?"

His question was answered with a sharp hiss, then in a softer tone the shadow clad woman swiftly added, "I doubt this is the case. The enchantress I speak of was from far away, and it was a long time ago. Further, I can't imagine anyone actively seeking her out. She was a dark and twisted woman."

The smith's apprentice frowned in thought, and was just about to ask more of what the shadow woman knew, when more sounds from above caught his ear. This time, there was the clatter of a sword to the ground, then the scrape of metal buckles across steel plates. Without being able to see what was happening, he feared the worst. Hafred turned and hastily made his way back to the stairway up.

With a heavy sigh, the shadow nymph followed. When she moved, her feet barely brushed the surface of the water. It was only enough to cause faint ripples to emanate from where each delicate sole fell. The shadows were more defined when she passed through the moonlight, clinging to her shapely figure like gauzy black silk. Hafred was too distracted, too worried to really enjoy the view.

Hafred paid the woman little mind as he lurched up the worn, weathered stone steps, and crashed through the underbrush beyond. He wheeled about toward the nearest tumbled wall, and in an instant his long knife was in his hand. A sweeping slash cleared a curtain of leafy vines away, and he ducked within.

Elthyne was close on his heels, moving barefoot through the rubble and tangled plants with a preternatural silence and ease. She might as well have been Hafred's own shadow, albeit a much more shapely version, so closely did she follow him.

As he ducked under the archway, the scene before him brought him to a full stop. The Prince was nowhere to be seen, but then again he likely was waiting out front still. Instead, another nymph cloaked in shadow was draped about Lord Rufus, where he stood near a ruined wall across the gaping chasm that used to be the interior floor. Unlike the woman who had accompanied Hafred from the basement, her shadows were drawn away as if they were a veil, exposing dark, rich skin that seemed woven from shadow itself. She was, in a word, beautiful. Radiantly so.

Rufus's armor was in disarray, the straps unfastened, the plates drawn back to expose the dark leather beneath, drawn tight over the man's broad chest. He appeared to be in a daze, his expression torn between longing and suspicion. His arms grasped the woman's shoulders, though his own touch seemed gentle. Clearly, the warrior seemed more concerned with his duty than any threat she might have posed.

As Hafred watched, the other shadow nymph dipped her head, and played soft lips along Rufus's neck, down toward his chest. She spoke in an alluring, half murmured tone that still managed to be comprehensible even at the distance Hafred stood, "You don't know how lonely it is here, all alone." Her hands, dark skinned and tipped with long, tapered nails, traced down along that taut leather, and she visibly trembled as she nuzzled Lord Rufus's chest.

"She's right, in her way," Elthyne's voice startled Hafred out of his shocked stare. "It has been a long time since my sister and I have had company."

Hafred turned his head to her words, only to find her slender arms slipping about his own shoulders. Although she was still clad in those wispy shadows, he could hardly feel them. All he was really aware of was how soft her skin was, how warm she felt as she pressed luxurious curves up against his back. Almost every part of him just wanted to melt into her embrace. Almost.

There was still a nagging doubt, then the image of Jenrea played across his mind's eye, frowning with disappointment at him. It was enough to lend him the strength to pull away from the shadow nymph.

Lord Rufus apparently had no such thoughts, for he slipped his own powerful arms about Elthyne's sister, and drew her in close. The warrior tilted the other nymph's chin up, and he dipped his head to catch her lips fully with his own, in a longing, lingering kiss. The dark skinned nymph arched up against his muscular frame, and her hands settled gingerly about his waist.

"Lord Rufus!" The smith's apprentice cried out in frustration, "What are you doing?" Perhaps the knight didn't realize he was being observed. Surely the man couldn't be so pent up as to forgo their search for a woman. Although he had to admit, the two nymphs were terribly enticing. If he didn't have Jenrea in his heart and thoughts, he certainly could see himself dallying with them.

His call went unanswered. Indeed, Lord Rufus seemed more intent upon Elthyne's sister. His hands slipped down to cup her plush rear, and she lifted one slender leg to hook about his hip. With an easy lift, Rufus drew the nymph from her feet, and turned to press her against one of those crumbling, vine-covered walls.

A quick glance back to Elthyne for help merely confused Hafred more. She stared at him in a mix of mute shock and some degree of fear. He wasn't certain what he had done to cause such a reaction, and a pang of guilt shot through him. "Sorry," the youth apologized for whatever he had unknowingly done, "It's just that we have a job to do."

"One which can merit no distractions, but I think our good Rufus is a lost cause, at least until the nymph is done with him."

Hafred and Elthyne both turned about fully, as Prince Cantrol stepped through the archway behind them. He shrugged casually, and turned his gaze across to the scene opposite them.

Rufus had drawn more of that gauzy shadow away from Elthyne's sister, baring her full breasts to the moonlight. His lips closed hungrily about one nipple, while his hands gripped her hips with a firm grasp. Thick fingers dug in against soft, supple flesh. The nymph's hands were busy as well, unbuckling the knight's leggings, seeking to free him from the prison of leather and armor as best she could. Even with so much of his mail scattered about rather than worn, it was still a time consuming task.

"Once a nymph starts ensnaring a man, little he can do may stop her. Indeed, only the voice of an enchantress might overpower a nymph's wiles, or true love, whatever it might be." Prince Cantrol spoke with a calm, almost lazy tone, and leaned back against the archway through which they had all just passed.

The voice of an enchantress. For a moment, Hafred thought back to his own memory of Jenrea. But there had been no voice involved. Perhaps it was a measure of how much he cared for her, that he had been able to shrug away Elthyne so easily? The thought that what he felt for Jenrea might be the poet's 'true love' brought a blush to his cheeks.

It also explained Elthyne's reactions. Even as he toyed with the idea of Jenrea, the shadow nymph was backing away from him. After what she had told him about what that long ago enchantress had done to their mistress, he could hardly blame her. Hastily, he raised one hand.

"It is the latter, I assure you, miss." He sounded apologetic, as if he wished the nymph's charms had affected him more.

"Indeed," Cantrol added, "He's got a pretty little thing back in the village, waiting for the conquering hero's return." Although the last was spoken with a smirk, Hafred couldn't help but feel that the Prince's teasing was good natured enough.

Elthyne still seemed on edge, but she ceased her retreat. "Sthelyne won't harm him, I promise." Her voice was hardly more than a bare murmur.

Across the void, a soft, cooing cry announced the moment when Elthyne's sister, Sthelyne, finally found her prize. Slender, dark skinned hands fished the older knight's thick length free, and stroked along it with a gentle rhythm. Her hands might have been half hidden by the smooth, silken expanse of her own thigh, but their motions were unmistakable. As was the expression of pleasure creeping across Rufus's usually grim face.

As beautiful as Sthelyne might have been, Hafred was still embarrassed at the scene the two were making. Finding somewhere else to rest his gaze, however, was just as awkward. At first he turned to Elthyne, but she mistook his own glance for renewed interest, and soon her hands slipped up to his shoulders. He shrugged them away with an apologetic smile, before turning back to the Prince.

Cantrol, however, was simply paging through a little black book. Whether he had found it in the ruins or always had it on him, Hafred could not say. He seemed wholly disinterested in the amorous entanglement just those few yards away, but also unwilling to duck back out of sight.

"It's not fair that Sthelyne gets all the fun," Elthyne pouted.

Hafred glanced to Elthyne at her words, anything to keep his mind from the way Sthelyne's slender legs wrapped about Rufus's form, or the way she gasped, then moaned gently as the warrior pressed her up against that ruined wall, undoubtedly sinking deeply into her with that thrust.

"Why don't you, uhm..." The apprentice smith let his words drift off, as he turned his gaze back to the Prince, unsure of whether suggesting the nymph keep the Prince company would be taken the wrong way.

Without looking up from his book, Cantrol waved his hand dismissively. "Before I left the castle, the current court wizard laid a charm on me to keep the fae beings of the woods away. I imagine that she could not approach without permission."

"Oh." It was all Hafred could say on the matter. Magic was still a wondrous thing to him, yet the Prince treated it as just another commodity. For a while, he let his gaze drift back across the gaping chasm between them and the older knight.

By then, the two were wholly locked in the throes of passion. Rufus's powerful arms supported Sthelyne's body, her inky skin glistened in the moonlight. Her back arched, and each driving thrust caused her breasts to bounce and heave. Her full lips parted with each wanton moan, and her nails clawed up along the thin leather which still clung to Rufus's torso, only to grip at his hair. She drew his lips toward one perked, succulent nipple.

With a cough, Hafred hastily turned aside, and began to retreat through the archway. As he went, however, the Prince looked up.

"What, going to leave me here alone with a magical creature of the wild?"

As Hafred stammered over an answer that wouldn't get him into more trouble, Cantrol just laughed and waved his hand again. "She can't touch me, remember? I'll call for help if anything does happen." The rising cries and groans which echoed across the ruins had the prince adding a hasty, "Loudly, most likely, so as to be heard."

So embarrassed was the young smith by the whole exchange, that he rushed out amongst the vines, and sat down upon an old, toppled stone just outside the wall. Elthyne joined him silently, and though she laid one hand gently on his shoulder, to reassure him, she did little else.

With his head in his hands, Hafred listened to the goings on for many minutes, as it passed from a mere pleasurable interlude to what sounded like a sexual frenzy. It had been a strange enough turn of events that he'd completely forgotten to mention what Elthyne had told him, about the Witch and a daughter who might possibly be in the area.

With Lord Rufus enraptured by a fae woman, and Prince Cantrol just allowing things to go forward, Hafred wondered if they would have any luck in their search that night at all. It felt as if he were the only sane man among the three.