LaSola of the Singing Bow Ch. 01

Prologue

The maiden stood tranquilly, her flaming red hair cascading down her back. The loose, flowing white gown served to enhance the lush contours of her full figure. Her deep green eyes were strangely dull, denying the vigor one of her tender age and healthy body should have evinced.

The maiden's bare feet did not seem to feel the coldness of the marble beneath them. She stood like a statue in front of a stone altar that looked remarkably like a bed with a very high headboard. But the likeness carved into that 'headboard' left no doubt this was indeed an altar to some malevolent, hideous deity.

Ringed around the maiden stood other beautiful youths, half a dozen female and nearly twice that number male. Their comely forms were all totally nude, the slight chill of the room making itself felt in the form of numerous goosebumps, some taut nipples, and other such signs.

At the back of the room stood another female, clothed in but a single rich robe of pure scarlet. She was by far the most magnificent of the very attractive company. The woman was slightly below average height and weight, but unquestionably dominated the room by her physical presence. There was an unworldly gleam of ancient and terrifying knowledge behind those preturnatural blue eyes, which had a strongly disquieting affect on what otherwise might seem the face of an angel. Seemingly a few summers older than the rest, the stunning blonde had large breasts that pushed the scarlet material straight out from her body. A golden belt served to emphasize the delicate waist and the generous curve of her posterior, which could only hint at the perfect shape of her legs and feet, those being totally hidden by the robe.

There was a faint, eerie music permeating the room, although the source was a mystery. Black candles burned in numerous holders around the room, giving off a pungent, somehow distasteful odor along with an ominous shade of light. A ceremony was obviously in progress, and seemingly nearing its conclusion.

The blonde woman stared for a moment at the graven image before her. She slowly raised her arms wide as though to embrace a lover, and leaned her head backwards as if gazing through the high ceiling at an object far above. At that sign, the naked youths began a low chanting of an indistinguishable nature, and the maiden slowly advanced to the steps at the foot of the long altar. The chanting rose slightly in volume as the maiden mounted the steps, her eyes locked on that dreadful carved image. As she stood at the foot of the altar, the maiden unclasped the gown, which fell at her feet to reveal her naked, nubile body. Stepping to the center of the altar, the maiden turned to face the blonde, who lowered her gaze hypnotically onto those glazed green eyes. As if receiving instructions, the maiden lowered herself to lay flat on her back on the altar, her head towards the image, her legs slightly parted to expose the tender core of her untouched womanhood.

Still with her arms raised, the blonde walked to the side of the altar, eyes now locked onto those of the carved image. Stopping at the edge of the altar, she murmured some arcane words, then reached for one of the two objects sitting in a niche at the base of the headboard. It was a silver bowl, which had ancient runes engraved totally around its circumference. She placed the bowl on the altar between the legs of the maiden, and the chanting of the youths took on a much more intense tone.

The blonde deftly parted the tender flesh of the maiden to reveal her most secret place. She began stoking the pink folds therein with a light touch, delicately caressing the inner lips, bringing the faintest gasp from the maiden. At the sound, the woman smiled enigmatically, and began stroking more vigorously, sliding two fingers into the virgin channel, then stroking the entire length of the exposed mons. As that delectable mount rose ever so slightly to meet those tantalizing fingers, the woman smiled in satisfaction, and then flicked a fingernail lightly over that nub which represented the most sensitive part of any woman. The maiden gasped almost inaudibly, and the blonde attacked all portions of the exposed womanhood before her, rubbing the clitoris, stroking the labia and the vulva, penetrating deeply with two or three fingers into that previously untouched organ.

Although the maiden's body did not move from its supine position, the flesh trembled, her sex pulsed as the first honeyed fluids began to drip from her arousal, the nipples became hard and distended, and her mouth parted slightly as her breath became shorter and more ragged. The scene was having its effects on the surrounding youths, as penises became turgid, breasts became flushed and firm, and sexual fluids began to seep from several of the males and females. In only a few moments, the maiden experienced her first and only orgasm, and the woman quickly moved the bowl into position to catch as much of the precious fluid as possible as it spurted from the enflamed nether lips of the young girl.

As soon as the flow had stopped, the woman stepped to the head of the altar and picked up the second object from the niche. The handle and blade of a silver knife echoed the runes engraved around the bowl. Without hesitation she nicked the large aureoles of the maiden's breasts just below the still distended nipples, and pressed the bowl into the flesh of those globes to catch the blood spurting from those cruel wounds. The maiden made not a sound at this savage action, seemingly unaware of ought but the last vestiges of her subsiding orgasm. When the bowl had been filled with enough blood to satisfy that sadistic beauty, the woman mixed the two precious liquids together with the silver knife, and then raised the bowl as though in offering to the grotesque object of the cult's worship.

Again the woman mouthed arcane and terrible words, then drank down the normally blessed contents of the bowl. Finished, she placed the bowl and the knife back into their niche, and released the robe from her own body. Naked, she walked to the foot of the altar and mounted the steps to stand above the still mesmerized maiden, gazing down with a strange lust and excitement at the desirable body beneath her. Then she lay down fully on the exposed girl, rubbing her sex against that of the maiden, her breasts against those bloody breasts, and kissed the girl full on the mouth.

The woman lifted her upper torso with one hand, and reached again for the knife with the other hand. Still pressing her sex between the legs of the immobile youth, she placed the tip of the knife against the girl's chest, directly above the strongly beating heart, and for the third time spoke awful, unknown words. For just a moment their eyes locked, a faint glimmer of recognition and terror flickering through those of the maiden. Then, with a strength seemingly impossible in one of such a small frame, the woman slowly drove the knife deep into the heart of the helpless victim.

As the life oozed out of the supine body beneath her, the woman began to shake as though seized by some unseen, powerful force. Her beautiful face was transmogrified by evil and degenerate lust. The bodies and voices of the youths surrounding her were enflamed by unnatural desire, and they began slowly converging on the gruesome scene before them. As the woman continued to shudder from some bizarre orgasm, the youths pressed themselves above and around the two prone, naked bodies. One of them lapped at the remaining fluid in the bowl. In a hideous parody of an orgy, they gradually completely hid the two figures from view.

* * * * *

LaSola of the Singing Bow strode into the town - hardly more than a village - with barely any consciousness, and no concern of how she must appear to the inhabitants. At just above twelve hands high and weighing nearly seven stone, she was a full hand taller than most men, and nearly as heavy. Her unusual weight was not due to heavy bones, but rather to strong thews and well-exercised sinews. Nevertheless, there was no doubt in the minds of any of the onlookers that the stranger was all woman.

LaSola's dark hair fell nearly to the small of her ramrod straight back. Her lovely facial features were belied by the stern visage of her large, piercing black eyes and the firm line of her full red lips, uncolored by any artifices. LaSola's shoulders, only slightly wider than the average woman's, were nearly square across. They bore an unstrung long bow, heavy quiver of arrows, and half-full rucksack with no noticeable effort. The fullness of her high, firm breasts could not be disguised by the light mail armor on her upper torso, nor the lithe comeliness of her long legs hidden by the short leather skirt around her narrow waist. A long dirk, almost the length of a short sword but with a thinner blade, hung from a wide leather belt. Sturdy sandals enclosed her feet with leather uppers laced up to the knees. She moved like a panther, effortlessly and gracefully, but with total awareness and readiness to act. For all of her feminine beauty, no observer doubted that this was a warrior.

Knowing that the headman's dwelling would be at the center of the town, and the largest, LaSola marched directly to her destination. A single guard stood in front, and LaSola stopped five paces away, showing her empty palms.

"I come in answer to the Summons," she said simply.

The guard looked at her with some appreciation of both her beauty and her warrior manner, but obviously without any great belief that this woman could be the solution to the problem. "There is already one within who speaks with the headman and the elders," the guard responded. "He also came in answer to the Summons." And if anyone might be able to solve their problem, the guard thought, that man would be the one.

"Yet I have come in answer," LaSola repeated, "and it is my right to be seen."

The guard nodded agreement. "Stay," he commanded. "I will inform the headman."

LaSola waited silently as the guard went inside to declare her presence. So, another had been brave enough to answer this Summons! There had been another Summons, three summers past. It had requested a warrior with no explanation of the problem, but with a fairly large sum offered by the three villages of this district. This second Summons was unusual in many respects. First, such problems were usually solved with the first Summons. Second, this time it was explained that youths from the villages were disappearing, more with each passing summer than in the past. Third, it was said all who had answered before had also disappeared. And fourth, the sum now offered was truly princely, a sum that must nearly beggar the three villages. Of all, this was the most ominous sign.

The guard returned abruptly and held open the way. "You may enter."

LaSola nodded her thanks, and stepped into the dwelling. As with most of these rustic towns, the first chamber of the headman's dwelling was a meeting room large enough to host all of the village elders, as well as any other guests to the council meetings. The actual living quarters were all at the back. LaSola looked about.

The headman did not give himself airs, other than to hold the decorated spear which was the sign of his office. He was seated in a sukh, a frame made of wood and leather covered by furs. The elders, five men and four women, were also in sukhs in a semi-circle, four on each side of the headman. Two guards, heavily armed and who looked as though they knew how to use their weapons, stood behind and on each side of the headman. In front of them, with his back to LaSola, squatted a very large, very muscular man with long, dirty golden hair. The elders stared at her with great curiosity, as rarely did a woman answer a Summons. LaSola appraised the others each in turn, from the headman down to the guards. Finally, the headman spoke. "I would think you a Shakan," he declared.

"I am LaSola, called She of the Singing Bow," she replied, impressed by his knowledge and perspicacity. "I am of Shaka."

"Then be welcomed, LaSola of the Singing Bow, of whom we have heard your praise sung even in this humble village. Receive our thanks for answering the Summons," he said formally.

The squatting man raised his head at the sound of her name, and turned to view her as he rose - and rose. He stood at least three hands higher than LaSola, perhaps four, as tall as any man in her tribe, and was more massive than any, weighing at least twelve stone. His shoulders were as broad and flat as a shelf, and from them hung a huge lion skin that covered his massive torso down to the top of his thighs. One bare arm displayed muscles that bulged and rippled even in relaxation. His legs brought to LaSola's mind a huge thoroughbred horse; massively dense in the thigh, much slimmer in the calve, but with corded knots that spoke of speed and strength, with surprisingly small feet that looked rough, having perhaps never known any footwear. A wide belt of some metal unknown to LaSola encircled his waist, emphasizing its slimness. From this hung a huge broadsword on one side, and a short sword on the other.

The man's eyes were a piercing blue, and the sun's effects could not disguise a fair skin, which contrasted sharply with LaSola's own dusky hues. His features were sharp, angular, as though chiseled from the side of a mountain, although it must have been by a master craftsman, for they were somehow quite pleasant, and masculinity handsome. They were also still young; LaSola judged him to be five, perhaps even six summers less than her own twenty-seven.

"I have heard that name," the man said, with a voice that spoke of large boulders rubbing together, a deep and pleasant rumble, but without sophistication.

"Then you have the advantage on me, stranger."

"I am called Crag."

"Of course. How fitting." LaSola turned back to the headman. "Have you journeyed to Shaka, or were you forewarned of my coming?"

"No to both. Even in our small towns, we have heard of the great warrior kingdom that lies across the Great Desert. A race of ebony giants, it is said, fierce fighters whom no invading army has ever conquered. On that knowledge, I made a venture. We did not know, however, that those of the Tribes ever hired out as mercenaries, or even responded to a Summons."

"Normally, we do not, only under dire circumstances. Because of certain - events - in my youth, I have taken a vow to protect other young people whenever the chance befalls. This is why I have answered your Summons, as the problem is reputed to affect the young."

"For the most part, that is true. Those who have not attained their majority seem to be the greatest victims of this strange affliction upon our villages. But we have spoken with this champion you see before you, and have agreed to accept his services."

"Is the Summons then filled?" she challenged.

"Even in Shaka, you must know the strictures of a Summons. Only one can be engaged in answer until they succeed and are rewarded - or fail. However, ours seems to be an unusual case. As you must know, we have had seven answers in the past three summers. None have returned to even shed light on the challenge they faced. The disappearance of our youth remains shrouded in mystery, and that of our would-be champions even more of an enigma. Thus have we explained to this stalwart before you, and thus shall we enlighten all who come in answer."

LaSola stared at the giant youth with frank assessment borne of hard-won experience. He returned her look as a mountain might send back an echo to a querulous shout. Neither evaluation seemed to bear any rancor or superiority towards the other, but neither did they concede a single whit.

"Due to the nature of the problem, we have offered a change to the normal answer, subject to the decision of the first chosen champion. The challenge may either be shared by one or more, in the case that the champions agree to join forces - with the offer being shared equally in the event of success - or each champion may undertake the Summons on their own, with the successful champion taking the entire offer. As we have already agreed to accept Crag as a champion, the decision is his."

The two warriors stared at each other for long moments. Crag broke the silence, as was his right.

"You say you wish to protect the youths. Do you not seek the offer?"

LaSola returned his gaze unflinchingly. "I have come to protect the youth, that is true. But the offer may serve to protect other youths, as there are many on this orb who do good works for the young which need gold to serve their cause. Thus had I intended to invest the rewards of this work, should I prove worthy to the task."

Crag pondered these words. "I seek the offer, as well as the good name of this deed," he finally said, with a brutal honesty. "Yet I do believe the good heart and desire of this woman. We cannot, it seems, partner, yet I would not deny her a chance to seek her desire. Thus will I say, we shall both seek the answer, and the victor shall gain the reward."

The headman and his elders nodded and grunted at these words, and even LaSola marveled at the generous offer of one so young and inexperienced in the world. While they could not be friends, at least they would not be enemies.

"This is well said," the headman intoned. "And so let it be." He looked to the famous warrior for her confirmation.

"This is well said," LaSola attested with a slight nod of her head. "And so let it be."

* * * *

LaSola was surprised by the difficulty she had in tracking the mountain giant. In fact, it was only because his great weight left impressions in soft places in the earth, despite his careful placement and light tread, could she trace his passage at all. There was no real need to follow the man. The Headman had told them both the same information, little as it was, that anyone knew of the problem.

Young people, generally between fourteen to twenty summers, had been disappearing from the three villages at the foot of the Kredl Mountains for the past forty summers. Such was always true of isolated villages, of course, where wild beasts, young lovers eloping, accidents, and other such perils took their toll on the innocent and unlucky. But the villages had experienced more than their share. In the past ten summers the number had grown to the point where the villages had banded together under the leadership of the headman of the largest of the three villages, Tuscan, to lessen the risk. They had formed patrols, enforced curfews, brought in stored water and provisions to reduce the need to search for such, even forbade youths to travel to certain suspect areas of the mountains without armed guard. All to no avail. Even guards and patrols disappeared. Rarely had any traces of the victims been found, save for a few odd weapons.

The problem became worse with each passing summer, which had led to the first Summons, and now the second.

No, LaSola did not need to follow the young warrior to know whence he traveled - to the areas of the Kredl Mountains deemed most responsible for these strange occurrences. It was because she was vexed, with herself more than with the giant. Always priding herself on rising early to face the day's challenges, she was mortified to learn the mountain man had left Tuscan before she had even risen. She now trailed him, so she told herself, to learn if this early departure was his norm, or from a desire to best her in this answer to the Summons, and thus to gain the gold and glory for himself in spite of his fair words.

The third day was drawing to a close, and still she did not feel she had made up much of the distance between them. In addition to the time she occasionally spent in regaining the trail, the mountain man was moving very quickly though the woods, certainly more at home as he got closer to the mountain than she would ever be.