LaSola of the Singing Bow Ch. 01

The sound of falling water came to her ears, speaking of a small waterfall in the gentle foothills. LaSola was pleased. Her water supply could be replenished with the sweet mountain dew, and she might at least soak her travel-soiled body for a few moments, if not have the luxury of actually bathing. As she approached the falls, she could hear an unknown bass sound, which a boulder might make if it could sing. She therefore came very cautiously to the edge of the woods, where she could spy upon the source of this strange sound.

Lo! LaSola was startled by the scene, which greeted her senses.

In a shallow of the pool at the base of the small waterfall stood the mountain giant, Crag, naked as the difference between truth and deceit. The muscles on his massive frame rippled and bulged as he rubbed at his broad back, his bulging pectorals, his hard, flat stomach, his smooth, narrow hips, and his bunched, taut buttocks. The water sparkled in the shafts of light filtering through the trees, lent various hues by the sunset. The sound she had heard emanated from the man's lips, evidently some surprisingly gentle song sung by his hardy, stoic race.

But the part to which her eyes returned more often than the rest was that which rested between his loins. Even though she was certain the freezing water must be having some adverse affect on the size of the monster, the man's sexual organ was nevertheless in proportion to the rest of his body. Limp though it was, it must be half again the length of her hand, and as thick as several fingers. What must that monster look like when fully raised up in righteous anger!

A disquieting sensation crept through the warrior maiden's core as she witnessed this body, which seemed to have been crafted out of a piece of pure white marble and was amazingly beautiful in her eyes, stroke itself with those powerful hands. Her breathing became somewhat short; the nipples of her breasts became hard and sensitive against the leather of her jerkin. The place between her loins, which had been known to her own hands only a few times and certainly to none other, seemed somehow to be warmer and moister than she could recall, and tingled with an uncanny, pulsating glow that was totally new. All gods of the Skensa and Zoolus! Could this be physical desire, which she had often scoffed at in others of her sex, whom she had scorned as weak and silly? The gods forbid!

Yet she could not deny the response of her body, nor tear her eyes from the magnificent physical specimen before her. She needs to do something, anything to break this pitiful mood. To sneak quietly away would not do; LaSola had never run from any challenge in her life, and this mere physical attraction would not be the first. No, she must face it, show it to herself as the foolishness it was, and conquer her feelings. She must treat this young giant as she would any other warrior, as any other man.

LaSola deliberately made a noise as she left her covering to enter the clearing around the pool. With an alacrity she found amazing in one of his size, the monstrous mountain man leaped from the water in a single bound, snatched his great broadsword from the rock on which it lay, and stood in a position of defense as she appeared from the trees.

"Hold, young warrior!" LaSola declared, proud of how steady her face held. "I mean not to attack you, merely to share this pleasant bathing pool, should you deem it mete."

Instantly recognizing the woman, Crag blushed a furious red, and lowered one hand from his sword hilt to cover his private parts.

"This pool belongs to mother mountain, not myself," the man said with a shaken voice. LaSola was amused at this reminder of his innocent youth, helping to regain some of her confidence in the situation. "You may share or not as you wish. I was even now finishing my ablutions," he claimed, starting to move towards his clothes, which were hung on a nearby branch.

"Nay, let me not disturb your bathing, nor deny you the pleasure of this cooling water, which opportunity may not pass again soon on this perilous quest. As a fellow warrior, I seek only to gain myself some comfort from this water. Let not my presence deter you."

Not waiting for a reply, LaSola turned to a nearby branch and began stripping off her own clothes as though Crag were another female, or she another male. Obviously still embarrassed by the situation, but clearly aware of the challenge the woman had flung him to stand on equal footing as warriors without regard to sex, Crag hesitated for several moments. Seeing LaSola calmly stripping, with no seeming regard for his nudity, the young stalwart reluctantly laid his sword back on the rock and returned to his place in the pool. However, he was now facing in the other direction, and wishing he could move into deeper waters without fear of being thought ridiculous for his modesty.

Totally nude, and assured of her self-command once again, LaSola placed several arrows and her bow within easy reach and waded out into pool. She too wished she could move to deeper waters. Recognizing the reason for the man retaking his exact previous place, she felt compelled to show no more modesty than her challenge allowed. Rather, she took care to turn in any direction she pleased, splashing and rubbing at herself as though alone in the world, concentrating on removing the dust from her travels and not on the alluring male body a few short paces away.

Glancing over his shoulder, Crag noticed LaSola's seeming indifference to him, and made somewhat bolder in turning his body so that he could more easily observe her figure - without, of course, being too obvious in the maneuver. LaSola was the first woman whom he had actually seen totally nude, as the mountain clan were very modest (perhaps from the nearly constant chill of their habitat), as well as the fact that liaisons between unmarried youths - or even older adults - were extremely rare.

Crag barely splashed water over himself as he studied the dusky beauty's body. He had noticed in the headman's dwelling how tall she was, and seemingly well formed. Then, however, he had truly observed her as a potential rival in answer to the Summons. Moreover, she was a warrior whose fame had spread even as far as his small, remote mountain village, where prowess in battle was prized over every trait except devotion to family and clan.

Now he noted the distinct, almost sharp features to her aristocratic nose and cheeks, the large, lustrous dark eyes and the generous, sensual mouth.

Her neck was long and slender; leading gracefully to deep hollows under her collarbones, emphasized by the muscles that rippled across her wide, straight shoulders. Her breasts seemed larger than any he could recall in his village, in spite of the much more slender frame from which they protruded proudly, firm and straight when she was erect, dangling enticingly when she bent to wash a thigh or an ankle. The aureoles were a generous dollop of dark, rich chocolate on those dusky mounds, and her large nipples were stiff and protruding, no doubt from the chilling stimulation of the mountain waters. Her slim, firm waist showed proudly the hard, flat stomach which swelled downwards to full, womanly hips. Even though her buttocks were also full and round, he could see the strong muscles playing beneath that dark, velvet skin, leading his gaze to long, slender legs that were powerful and muscular, yet were amazing shapely to his eye. And when she turned in his direction, his breath caught in his throat, and his maleness began to rise in spite of the cold.

Her womanly bush, black curly hairs tantalizingly dripped water down into that secret valley between her thighs. It occasionally revealed a flash of pink inner flesh as she raised a long, slender foot to be stroked and washed, and then as she actually rubbed her hand over that delectable mound to cleanse her private parts. As she did so, she could not help but observe the young giant standing as rigid as his mountain home, his own small hill half upright, his hot gaze locked upon her sex.

Instantly, all of her self-delusion was washed away as her nipples expanded, almost painfully, her mound swelled and tingled even more so from the touch of her own fingers, and that strange warmth of desire flooded her body. She stood frozen for several beats of her loud heart, then turned sharply to march toward her clothing.

"I have finished bathing," she announced curtly.

Crag, his spell broken, also rushed from the water to cover his nakedness. His face flushed once again, much more hotly than before, in a combination of lust, embarrassment, and shame. Fie, that he should have so betrayed the comradely trust the renowned warrior had seemingly vested upon him; that his untutored young maleness should so treacherously have betrayed his good intent!

Avoiding looking at the other, both hastily dressed in silence, not bothering to dry off at all. They made no evening fire, and over the dry provisions each ate LaSola mumbled only a few words, and Crag none.

As they curled up in their sleeping rolls, at least ten paces from the other, sleep came hard to both. In each mind, visions of the other naked body, so beautiful, so desirable refused to depart in spite of the best efforts of the strong willed warriors to conquer that phantom opponent.

* * * *

As they ascended the lower slopes of the Kredl Mountains, LaSola and Crag were much happier in their relationship, having battled and bested the huge boar on the previous day. The squealing, snorting berserker had come charging out of a thicket in a murderous rage, heading straight for Crag. The pair walked some dozen paces apart, as they physically tried to maintain the distance that had sprung between them after the incident in the pool. As large as Crag was, the monstrous beast must have weighed a couple of stones more, with tusks more than two hands long, and foam streaming from its gaping mouth.

The maddened animal closed the distance between itself and the mountain giant in an instant, barely affording Crag time to whip his broadsword from its sheath and assume a fighting stance. Yet before it could fully close upon its prey, Crag remotely heard a deep thrumming from behind him, followed by a singing sound that passed closely by his side, and beheld an arrow bury itself deeply into the heaving breast of the charging boar. The beast barely broke stride, but its reckless pace did seem a trifle abated and its beady eyes wavered just slightly to seek the source of this unexpected injury.

That instant proved long enough for Crag. Like a mountain lion, he leaped a full pace to the side; just enough to avoid the direct path of the boar, and swung his great sword in a flashing arc that deeply severed the throat of the monster. The sword was ripped from his hands, embedded in the flesh of the dying animal, still hurtling along in its powerful momentum. Another thrum and another arrow sang through the air, this time finding the side of the great beast. But it was merely an assurance; the boar's front legs suddenly collapsed beneath it, and its great snout ploughed into the ground leaving a furrow several paces long before the animal fully came to a halt. It gave one final shudder of its huge body, then sagged limply to the ground.

Pleased with this efficient teamwork, the two said little as they butchered the huge hog, taking the best parts along with them to be cooked and fire-dried at their evening camp. There was little conversation as they continued their trek, but now the distance between them was much less than before.

As they ate Crag offered, "Now I understand and appreciate the name LaSola of the Singing Bow."

"And I can see the power and speed with which you wield that mighty sword," LaSola returned the compliment.

That night they slept on either side of the doused fire, only a pace or so apart, but facing in opposite directions. They both tried to keep their thoughts away from the scene in the pool, and the knowledge that the other alluring body lay so close by.

The following day, they were truly climbing upon the back of the lower mountain. They had wandered the foothills and lower slope without any signs whatsoever of any of the villagers, or anyone else. The going became a bit more tedious to LaSola, who was not accustomed to steep slopes, but Crag did not even notice the rugged terrain. Of course, he would undoubtedly be less comfortable on the shifting sands of the deserts and marshy plains from whence LaSola had come.

LaSola knew their travels would grow much more difficult hence, in both the paths they trod and the dangers they would face. Somehow, having this quiet young giant at her side, with his knowledge of the mountains and the strength of a god, gave her more confidence than she had ever believed having a mere man by her side could ever produce. It was not that she doubted her own prowess in battle or abilities to face unknown challenges. She merely felt augmented by this additional force, as though she herself had somehow gained new powers, new knowledge, and new limbs with which to reach out and grasp the world. It was strange and somehow simply wondrous.

* * * *

In the fortnight that had passed since their brief battle with the wild boar, LaSola and Crag had faced many perils together. They had encountered a band of brigands, more than a score of the murderous cutthroats. The warriors had killed most of them before the rest had fled in terror and disbelief at the power of the two giants, the pale male and the dark female, believing they must be demigods at least from their appearance and fierce skills in battle. They had faced trolls and quickmire, and even a mountain dragon, fortunately for them one of the smaller variety. The last encounter had nearly cost Crag his life, and he still ached from deep talon wounds in his side. But they had survived them all, and had grown quite close as fellow warriors, although their still smarting psyches from the pool incident would not let either admit to any desire stronger than comradeship in arms.

At each encounter they had evaluated and analyzed, weighing the possibility of that particular danger being responsible for the many years of peril that had caused the Summons. Each time, for various physical, logical and chronological reasons, they had eliminated all of these dangers in their minds as the actual goal of their quest.

At length they came to a dark, foreboding glen in a high valley between two sharp, towering peaks. Each conveyed to the other an eerie sensation, as though there seemed to be some uncanny, perhaps magical force at work in the way things were shaped, the way in which things were viewed, and the way in which their perceptions and beings interacted with their surroundings. Without any words being passed or even glances exchanged, the two warriors drew nearer to each other, their attention directed to opposing areas in view of defense, and their hands poised over their favorite weapons for instant use.

Several hours passed thusly as they traversed the seemingly endless glen, bringing added tension and alertness the further they progressed into the stygian depths. Suddenly, without any warning, they were beset upon by nearly a score of attackers rushing from out of the trees, and swinging down from the branches on strands of vine.

Although the attackers seemed physically ordinary, mere men of average size and with the usual weapons, the incredible silence and ferociousness of their attack made their normal appearance seem even more bizarrely abnormal. The strength of the men was at least double that of ordinary men, so that the unusual size and strength of their intended victims were severely tested by the vicious attack. LaSola noted their grim silence, as well as the glassy expression of their faces, especially their eyes. The lack of shouts, war whoops, imprecations to God and such irrelevant nonsense all too common to such bouts of combat made this even more terrifying. The ringing of steel upon steel, the merciless piercing of flesh with sword or arrow, and the deadly serious grunts of effort or reception of wounds of the combatants, was the only noise they made.

Almost amazingly, as they used no shields, LaSola and Crag had received only minor wounds in the fray. More than a dozen attackers lay dead or severely wounded around them, yet these fierce foes had not managed to pierce the circle of defense the two heroes seemed to create around their backbones, which supported one another in their symbiotic maneuvers.

Just as they began to believe they might be victorious, another score of attackers swirled down upon the pair from the ground and the tree branches. This attack was intended solely to divide the defenders. Although costly, it was eminently successful, in that the duo were driven apart into separate encounters, each facing more than half a dozen obviously suicidal foes.

Having been forced to abandon her bow in the closeness of the fighting, LaSola was reduced to using her long dirk, barely more effective than a large hunting knife. Valiantly though she fought, LaSola was struck from behind with the flat of a broadsword, contusing her head and rendering her unconscious without any significant wound. It seemed as though that must be the object of the enemy, for they instantly swarmed upon her supine form, intent upon capture and not killing.

As there were no shouts of triumph, and Crag was still involved with defending himself against attackers whom certainly seemed intent upon killing him; it was a few moments before he noticed that he fought alone. Enraged at the thought he had allowed harm to come to his comrade, Crag fought like a berserker, roaring in his fury as he slashed with his broadsword in one hand and stabbed with his dirk in the other, felling one after the other of the grim warriors. Shortly, they all lay dead around him.

He realized there was no use in calling LaSola's name. She had been taken, and he had best hasten to follow while the light allowed him to at least gain the direction her kidnappers had gone. He was not certain why they had captured rather than killed the woman, but of one thing Crag felt certain: they had found the cause of the Summons.

* * * *

LaSola became aware of her surroundings quickly, without any of the vagueness of her first awakening. Within the span of a few scant heartbeats, LaSola ascertained three important facts; first, the size and contents of the cell in which she was imprisoned. Second, the strength and limitations of the chains binding her hand and foot to the cold stone wall. And third, that she was totally nude. LaSola stared about the barren cell dispassionately. Other than her own chains, the only 'furniture' in the room was a similar set of chains on the wall directly across from her. There seemed little chance of escape from the solid stone walls, tiny window barred with thick iron bars and a solid iron door that boasted a large and heavy latch mechanism, no doubt clamped on the outside with a thick lock.

She vaguely recollected the first time she had awakened during the latter part of her journey to this prison. She had been bound hand and foot and hung upside down from a pole so she could not prove any threat to the men carrying her. She also remembered being brought before the seeming leader of these ominously fierce and silent warriors, an extremely pale and beautiful blonde woman. The picture of the woman's eyes stood out sharply amongst all of the fuzzy memories of the battle and subsequent capture.

Suddenly and without sound the thick iron door swung open, and in stepped that unearthly blonde goddess LaSola had crystallized from her otherwise hazy memories. The woman was even more beautiful than she recalled, her golden hair circling her head like a nimbus, her eyes shining with an ethereal force that seemed to throw out a literal light as they focused upon LaSola. This was a face and body many men might well have been willing to kill for.