Dragonslayer

"Pleased to meet you," the other merchants chorused.

"Pleased to meet you as well," Vesian replied, even as Aurengarge surreptitiously caressed his back beyond her father's notice. "I am Vesian de Surrac and this is my squire Thibault d'Agney."

"Have you come to these lands on the duke's request?" Jaspert asked, oblivious to his daughter's lusty looks at Vesian. He could only wonder how regular an occurrence this way for her. But the merchant's question distracted him, even as the woman's hand found its way down his back to his swordbelt.

"What request is that?"

"You've not heard? Oh, foolish me! The duke's daughter, the lovely Lady Alienor, has been abducted by orcs!"

"Orcs?!" Vesian blurted, pushing away Aurengarde's insistent hand.

"Aye, so the tale goes. Lifted her right out of her carriage and fled into the forest."

"Well, I cannot be sitting around like this when a lady is in the clutches of such a group of beasts."

"Wait, sir!" cried both Aurengarde and her father, but the merchant continued over his daughter. "There is more. Folk tell that the orcs serve a sorceress, wicked and vain in equal measure. She lairs in a ruined keep in the forest, daring the duke's best knights to come and rescue the maiden. So far, none have succeeded."

"That is no matter," said Vesian as he pulled Thibault to his feet. "We have a duty to rescue her regardless of the danger. Come, Thibault!"

"We had only just sat down," the squire complained, but Vesian was having none of it.

"We can eat in the saddle." He took the reins back from the injured Berenger and vaulted into the saddle. "Point me to where I might find this sorceress' keep," he called back to Jaspert.

"Follow the road north to the priory at Waisnon. The priests there will tell you the way. Good luck, sir!"

Aurengarde rushed to them before they could ride off. She pressed a loaf of bread into Vesian's hand. "Do eat something before you go off to fight the sorceress," she begged, "and if you're ever in Bordonne during the winter, we live off the harbor near the Cloth Market."

Vesian smiled down at her. "Fear not, you will see me again. And perhaps I will see more of you next time."

She smiled wide, but before she could respond, Vesian kicked his horse into a trot and rode off over the bridge with Thibault in tow.

"A sorceress?" Thibault called over Vesian's shoulder as they trotted away. "Aren't you a little too eager to face a sorceress?"

"Why should I not be eager? We've faced worse before."

"Have we?" Thibault asked with honest skepticism.

"Well, witches. And what is a sorceress but a witch writ large?"

"What is the Great Boar of Luys but a pig writ large?" Thibault asked dryly. "and how many knights were ever gored to death by a common pig?"

"A maiden is held prisoner by orcs, Thibault. We cannot sit idly by. Not while we call ourselves knights."

"I don't call myself a knight," his squire reminded him. "But if you want to rush off and face a sorceress, I can hardly call myself a friend if I let you do it alone."

"That's the spirit! Come on, I know the priory they were speaking of."

"Thank you, Brother Jauffre!" Vesian called the following morning as they road away from the priory. "I will follow your directions and return to you soon enough!"

The elderly brother waved goodbye to them as they rode away, leaving their sumpter horse in his care. The priory sat a mile from the edge of the forest, which loomed larger and darker with every step they took. As the forest drew nearer, the fields gave way to wooded pastures for sheep and goats before merging into the forest altogether. The boughs closed in about them and soon enough the road began to fade away. In short order, they were alone beneath the trees.

Thibault looked around uneasily.

"You're sure the prior's directions are enough?" he asked, one hand one his sword's hilt.

"Follow the road until it ends, then head north until we reach the fallen oak by the pond. Turn northwest and continue until we reach the bare hill, and the keep will be visible from the top. What more do we need?"

"This forest is vast," Thibault complained. As the horses shifted from a trot to a walk in the forest's encroaching undergrowth, he looked from the forest floor to its leafy canopy with grim suspicion. "We could easily get lost in here. I'm not even sure which way is north."

"The moss," Vesian said, pointing to a stand of mighty oaks where moss grew up one side, "it always grows on the north side."

"Did you learn that from the witch you were fucking?" Thibault asked.

"From Sir Grifo the Bear. He's now the castellan of Chateau Herstale, but he was my banneret when I was first knighted. We spent nearly a year in the forests hunting orcs."

"Well, at that time I was still squiring for an old man who had trouble putting his breeches on, so I find myself a mite unsure out here in the forest."

"Stick close to me and watch your step. We will be alright. It's not the Dalamari Forest, after all."

"And thank the gods for that," Thibault grumbled. He swatted a long hanging branch out of his face and glowered at it as he rode past. "I've no interest in dancing eternally for the amusement of some fae lord."

"This forest has you rattled, it seems. Are you afraid we'll find a basilisk in here?"

"I'm afraid we'll find a sorceress in here. I know the vows you've sworn, but must you be so eager to rush off into unknown danger? We could have had a good meal with those merchants yesterday. We might have even been able to sneak that girl away into the woods for a bit of fun. But you had to go running off to save this damsel instead. All for a duke who is a notorious miser."

"He wouldn't dare refuse the Order's reward. The duke is happy enough to cross men, but the gods are another matter."

Thibault grunted in indifference. "I'd be happy to be cheated of a reward as it means we will have made it out of here alive." He cast suspicious looks at a fallen tree, its roots stretching in the air like a great many-fingered hand. Vesian laughed.

"It's merely a forest. But do keep up your guard, it can't hurt."

They rode on in silence, Vesian cheerful and Thibault gloomy, until they reached a pond where a tall, thick-trunked oak had fallen across it. A family of water fowl had made their nest in the middle of the pond, weaving sticks and grass together to create a comfortable platform at the end of a gnarled branch. As Vesian passed into the clearing around the pond with Thibault in tow, a deer looked up from drinking and bolted off into the forest.

"There's our fallen oak," Vesian declared. "Now we turn northwest and look for a bald hill." He looked back toward his surly squire. "Cheer up, nothing to be seen but ducks and deer."

Thibault looked up through the hole in the tree cover over the pond, as if he expected something to swoop down on them at any instance.

"The most dangerous things in the forest will be hiding themselves," he grumbled.

"No, the second most dangerous things in the forest will be hiding themselves," Vesian corrected with a scholarly point of his finger toward the sky. "The most dangerous things have nothing to hide from."

The thought did little to cheer up Thibault, who guided his horse around the pond and followed Vesian off to the northwest. In another hour or so they reached the bald hilltop. Vesian found a place near the base to tie up their horses and, after feeding from the saddlebags, he and Thibault donned plain brown traveler's cloaks and crept up to the top of the hill.

The top was rocky and devoid of trees, though a number of thorny bushes and brown shrubs meant it was not fully bald. Vesian knelt down behind the largest of the bushes and looked across the green forest canopy.

The tops of the trees rose and fell, undulating like the surface of the sea. In one place in particular, they rose high like a great green bubble in the surface. The bubble had been pierced, opening a great rent through which they could see the crumbling ruins of an old keep.

"See?" Vesian said to Thibault over his shoulder. "Right where the brother said it would be. There's nothing to worry about."

Thibault grunted in indifference, but Vesian saw the squire's unease fade a little. The man was more at home in the fields than the forest. Clearly, the forest was wearing on him.

"There looks to be a good path toward the keep along that stream," Vesian said, pointing to a gap in the trees where they could see a stream they had crossed earlier that ran toward the keep. "Keep to the stream bed and out of sight."

"Hmm," Thibault scratched his chin nervously. "That stream would make a good path for orc raiding parties. Parties who might come by this hill and spot our horses."

"All the more reason to do this quickly. Orc raiders prefer to travel in the dark, we're not likely to encounter them now. It's nearly midday. And those in the keep will likely be half-asleep and off guard."

"And the sentries?"

"Orcs hate sentry duty. They turn quickly to distractions like games, fistfights, and tormenting their prisoners. Which includes that fair young maiden they captured."

Thibault sighed. He checked his sword and dagger again, having left the lance with the horses.

"Very well. If we die, we die, but there's no sense waiting around for it."

"There's the man I know. Come on," Vesian said, turning to head back down the hill. "Leave the horses and we'll get a closer look. With a little luck, we can be on our way back to the priory in a few hours."

Unseen eyes watched the knight and his squire approach. From high in the crumbling keep, in what was once the master bedroom, Yvaine the sorceress stood over her scrying bowl. A wide, shallow bowl of crystal, its enchantment turned the still surface of the water in it into a window through which the sorceress could spy on distant areas. Her rich red cloak wrapped around her, she watched their passage through the forest intently.

The knight is handsome, she thought to herself, feeling the soft velvet with her fingers. But not one of the duke's men. Who else have I ensnared in this scheme? Has the duke already run out of knights? I've barely begun.

She placed one hand on either side of the bowl and leaned closer to the water, her cloak falling open to expose her naked body underneath to the cool forest air. The crest on the knight's surcoat caught her eye. Order of the Griffon, a knight errant. What does that change? She lifted a hand to tap her chin in thought. A knight with no personal connection to the duke might be more amenable to delivering her message. She idly twisted a silver ring on her finger, studying the pair of them. They were more careful than the others, who had to a man come charging in, blades drawn.

She was prepared for that now. But her mind went to the ways that she might use this newest arrival. The Order of the Griffon was a formidable bunch, far more suited to fighting her magic than the duke's men, who trained for war. Yvaine smiled to herself as a plan formed in her mind.

Her thoughts were disturbed by a shadow falling across the pool, and Yvaine's eyes flicked to the doorway. There loomed the hulking figure of an orc, naked except for a swordbelt of rough leather from which hung a crude iron saber. In his right hand the orc held his thick green cock, stroking it in his broad, rough hands. He stepped forward into her room.

The dull green flesh was not to her liking, and his tusk made kisses uncomfortable, but the orc and his fellows had a raw musculature to them that set her heart pounding. Their big hands and thick cocks made her weak and even now, with the two intruders bearing down on her, she felt her body growing warm and wet for the orc.

Out of the side of her eye she watched him approach, stroking his cock. Yvaine bit her lip, but fought her lust back down inside of her. The orc sidled up behind her, brushing aside her cloak to put his big, strong hands on her hips. She felt his hard cock against her bare legs and his hot breath against her neck.

"Mistress," he rumbled, his deep voice causing her whole body to tingle. He spoke the Aquitan tongue crudely, with an oafish mouth best suited to his own people's bestial tongue, but Yvaine understood him all the same. "We await you in the bed below. Unless you want me here, now." He slid his hands up her body to grope at her big breasts. Yvaine felt her nipples stand up and she quivered under his calloused hands, feeling the strength in them. As much as she longer for him to throw her down on the rude bed and fuck her until he burst, she could not ignore the approaching knight and his squire.

"Not now, Ughaz," Yvaine commanded. She planted a hand on his chest, which was at the height of her head, and pushed the brute away with one delicate hand. "We're about to have visitors. Prepare your warband. These two look like they will be interesting."

The orc snarled and turned his eyes to the pool.

"They are near?" he growled, letting go of his cock. Yvaine's eyes went to it swinging between his legs and she bit her lower lip again.

"Very. We must be prepared. Go and get ready for battle, and we will take care of this," she grabbed his cock between two hands and gave it a stroke, "afterwards."

Ughaz smiled, showing his sharp teeth.

Using first the stream bed and then a thicket of berry bushes, Vesian and Thibault drew closer to the keep. Vesian donned his helm, but kept the visor raised so he could watch the battlements for any sentries. Even as he drew within bowshot of the keep, he spotted no activity on the walls.

"Still no one there?" Thibault whispered from behind.

"Nothing. Just an ornery looking crow."

"Damn. Feels like an ambush."

Vesian nodded to himself. Slowly, he drew his sword from its scabbard. They had reached the base of hillock where the keep stood. All around the base of the hill, the ground was covered by thick foliage, leaving only a single path through them to the keep's front gate.

"There must be another way in,' Vesian mused. Keeps always had sally ports so that the defenders might sneak out to attack a besieger, or else bring in needed supplies unnoticed. Surely, this one was no different. However, finding their way to the sally port in all this undergrowth would be a difficult task.

They crept around the base of the hill but found no other path through the thicket. Vesian could not even spot where the sally port might be. With a heavy sigh, Vesian resigned them to a frontal assault. He unslung his shield and Thibault did the same.

With a deep breath, Vesian and Thibault nodded and begun the attack. Swiftly but quietly, they hurried up the timeworn steps to the front gate. The keep loomed over them silently, gray and foreboding in its dilapidated state. Rotting beams jutted out over the edge of the parapet, some looking like they were bound to fall away at any moment.

Vesian reached the open gate and looked over his shoulder to Thibault. The squire was three steps behind him, visor lowered and shield raised. He gave Vesian a nod of approval, but Vesian could see through his visor and tell he was anxious. Without another word, he slipped through the gate and into the gatehouse beyond.

The ruined gatehouse was dark despite the midday sun high above, leaving Vesian squinting into the shadows. Somewhere above, a crow squawked, and Vesian saw a shadow move.

"Orcs!" he cried, and three of the big, hulking brutes leapt from the shadows, iron swords in their hands and dulled mail shirts on their broad chests. Vesian raised his shield just in time to catch the first blow, and it glanced off the shield and away, but hard enough to set his arm ringing. Vesian responded with a thrust at the orc's bare foot that sent the brute leaping back, but his companions were next to attack.

Vesian found himself pushed into a corner, outmuscled by the taller and broader orcs. Vesian realized he was in danger of being surrounded and attacked from all sides. His savior was Thibault, who appeared in the gatehouse doorway and drove back an attacking orc, slashing his sword in a wide arc. One of the orcs was driven back, relieving Vesian's threatened flank. However, the other stepped forward and blocked Thibault's advance, driving him back to the narrow straits of the gatehouse portal. Vesian seized the opportunity and darted forward, his shield held ready to block but also to cloak the movement of his sword. The blade darted forth like a viper and caught the orc in his hand, riding up his mail sleeve to carve a long furrow in his sword arm.

With an agonized cry, the wounded orc drew back. Its companions were confounded for a moment, and Thibault used that moment to step through the narrow gate again. He feinted a shield blow, then thrust his sword into the face of an orc. The orc retreated from it quicky, but exposed his wounded companion to Vesian's strike.

Vesian's blade struck home, tearing through the already wounded orc's knee and calf muscle. The orc howled and fell, his companions suddenly struck with fear. They wavered in their resolve for a moment, and Vesian pressed the attack. He swung his shield rim into the orc's chest, and the raider blocked it with his arm, only to take Vesian's swordpoint in the thigh. He howled with pain, but before Vesian could further injure him, the other orc seized his companion by the collar and hauled him through the opposite portal of the gatehouse and into the courtyard beyond.

Stopping only to quickly finish off the fallen orc, Vesian and Thibault followed them, shields raised and visors lowered. The light of the sun streaming through the tree branches lit up the courtyard and, at its center, the cage that held the damsel, hanging over the open pit of the keep's well.

She was pale and beautiful, despite the tears streaking her face and the accumulated dirt on her skin. She cried out when she saw Vesian, reaching one white arm through the bars toward him.

"Look out! There are more orcs in here, and the sorceress lies in wait!"

Vesian forged ahead regardless, bearing down on the injured orc. The brute stumbled in his fellow's grasp as they made their way toward the covered arcade below the outer wall, making for the door of a chamber set into the wall.

As Vesian reached them, the uninjured orc threw his fellow forward to safety and whirled to face Vesian. The wounded orc scrambled away to the safety of the darkened chamber, while behind him, steel clashed.

The orc positioned himself between two pillars supporting the wall, neatly preventing Thibault from executing a flanking maneuver. His blade rang against Vesian's sword and, despite being nearly a foot taller than Vesian, the orc gave ground. He backed toward the door where his companion had vanished, the ringing of swords echoing off the stone wall.

Thibault fell in behind Vesian as the orc retreated into the darkened side chamber, descending a short flight of stairs. The orc struck at Vesian's feet, nearly knocking him from the stairs, but Vesian hopped over the strikes with agility. The orc roared something in his bestial native tongue and a lower, hoarser growl answered him from the darkened depths of the chamber.

Vesian stepped in something at the bottom of the steps. He did not know what it was, but suddenly everything seemed wrong. From the darkness, something lashed out at him. Many somethings. He felt vines wrap around his sword arm, pricking him with their thorns. They wrenched his arm, thorns digging into his wrist and with a cry, he dropped his sword. More vines ripped their way up from the earth and out from the walls, immobilizing him completely.

"Thibault!" he cried, but from the courtyard above came the sounds battle once again. Vesian was torn from his feet, hurtling up to the ceiling of the chamber. There, he was buffeted about by all manner of unseen obstructions until he was slammed into a solid roof.