Lovers' Veil

"We need to leave," he whispered, his breath warm and moist on her ear. "Now."

She kissed him, her lips mashing against his, her tongue driving into his mouth. When she broke the kiss after long seconds, she nodded, keeping quiet.

He gently eased her away from him and motioned for her to stay put. He slipped back through the tear in the canvas and drew his sword, looking around. After ensuring that the way was clear, he waved for her to follow.

They ran into the thick woodlands surrounding the camp, neither speaking. Even the loathing she felt at the nearness of the iron in his weapon couldn't quell her elation at seeing him or of being free of the satyrs. As they went, both cast repeated glances back toward the camp, checking for signs or sounds of pursuit. There were none.

Once they had gone a ways, they slowed their pace to something they could more easily maintain in the dense forest. When they slowed, she deemed it safe enough to speak.

"My Prince," she breathed, "come to rescue me." She paused long enough to kiss him again.

He returned the kiss and said, "I told you I'd find a way out."

As they began walking again, she watched his brawny erection bobbing before him. She smiled, reaching over to brush his cock lightly with her fingers.

"The effects of the nymphs' pheromones will wear off after a while," she said.

His face reddened, the coloration noticeable even in the dark. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have allowed them to effect me like that."

She shrugged, still watching his meaty cock wave back and forth. "All males are effected by them. You have nothing to be sorry for. And when we find a good place to stop and rest, I'll give you relief from it."

Kissing her as they walked, he said, "Only if I can return the favor."

"You may," she giggled.

"There were six tonight," he said, turning serious once more. "Ducis sent one away." He blanched as he spoke and she chose not to ask him what, exactly, he had seen. "Even with one gone the combined effect of the other five was too much."

"I told you, they've evolved for just that purpose, to elicit that very response. Satyr or not, every male feels it."

They walked in silence for a time before she spoke again. "Luckily, with five of them, the entire camp ought to be occupied all night. With luck, they won't notice that I'm gone until sometime tomorrow morning. But the instant he knows that I'm gone, Ducis will be after us. And he won't be alone."

"So where should we go?"

"I think our best chance is to go south, to the clearing. If we can get there, we should be able to do what we've wanted all along and cross through the Veil to your side."

"Alright. What about the trolls? They attacked us before during the day. It's nighttime now. What can we do to stay away from trolls?"

"Nothing while we're in the forest. We just need to keep moving, keep quiet as we can and hope for the best."

She could see by his expression that he didn't like her answer. But he simply nodded and quickened his pace a bit. She walked a little faster to keep up.

They drew up short, nearly falling, as a massive, blubbery being with hairy, warty, green-brown skin stepped from behind a huge tree to block their path. She screamed, trying to backpedal, trying to draw Leofrick with her. The ogre, wearing only a dirty, greasy loincloth, hefted a gnarled, misshapen wooden club and took a ponderous step after them.

Leofrick pushed her behind him and drew his sword, facing the ogre. The creature stared at him for a long moment with squinted eyes that were nearly lost in folds of greasy flesh. It then swung its club in a backhanded attack, swatting the sword away. The weapon spun from Leofrick's grasp, into the dark tangles of the forest. As he leapt back in surprise, Leofrick bumped into Rhyannon, causing her to lose her balance and topple over backward.

She scrambled to her feet, shrieking at him to run. Instead of retreating, he dove in the direction his sword has gone. The ogre's hand lashed out, smacking him in the side, driving the wind from his lungs and sending him to the ground in a sprawl.

The ogre stepped forward, towering over her, grinning with malevolent glee. Pushing her away, the force of the shove sending her to the ground once more, the ogre grabbed Leofrick with one hand and lifted him high off the ground. Turning, the enormous creature slammed Leofrick against the trunk of a tree.

Screaming, Rhyannon clambered to her feet and tried to run, only to feel the impact of the ogre's hand against the back of her head. The dark forest around her went darker as she fell face-first to the ground.

When she awoke, the sun was rising and she found herself flat on her back, tied very tightly with biting, coarse rope. Groaning softly at the pain in her head, she looked over to see Leofrick lying at her side. Like her, his hands were bound under his back, his ankles were lashed together. Unlike her, he was covered in mottled bruises and a crosshatching of cuts and scrapes. She watched him, holding her breath, until she saw his bare chest raise and lower with shallow breath. Tears of relief came to her eyes.

He's alive!

Struggling against her bonds and her headache, she sat up a bit, trying to look around. She froze at the sight of the ogre standing before a large, tarnished copper cauldron a few yards away. The cauldron sat in the middle of a pile of burning wood. Her heart nearly stopped at the realization of what the ogre had planned for herself and Leofrick.

Trying not to panic, she wiggled and wormed herself to a nearby tree and put her back to it. Quietly as she could, she sawed the biting rope around her wrists against the rough bark. As she worked, she watched the ogre.

It stirred the cauldron with a very large copper spoon that had a cloth-wrap handgrip. After a while, the ogre tossed the spoon to the ground and stomped away, vanishing into a ramshackle hovel that blended so well with the forest around it that Rhyannon hadn't even noticed it before in the morning gloom.

Not long after it went inside, the ogre returned. It carried handfuls of shriveled plants and chunks of putrid meat. After tossing the new acquisitions into the boiling cauldron, the ogre picked up the spoon and resumed stirring. It didn't bother even to wipe away clinging bits of leaves and dirt that hung to the spoon.

Rhyannon felt a surge of jubilation as the rope around her wrists parted. Moving slowly, trying not to draw attention to herself, she untied her legs and stood, creeping over to where Leofrick lay. The feeling of phantom pins and needles tormented her as circulation was restored to her. Crouching low, she set to work on the rope around his ankles.

She nearly had the first rope loose when a bellow of rage shattered the morning stillness. Turning as she stood, Rhyannon screamed upon seeing the ogre rushing her. She tried to run, but her half-numb legs were rubbery from having been bound so tightly for so long. She stumbled, just able to keep on her feet.

The ogre caught her in a moment, picking her up and throwing her to the ground. Rhyannon's breath left her in an explosive exhalation as she struck the ground and blacked out.

Chapter 21

Prince Leofrick Wykeham moaned, groggy, as he tried to move. Unable to lift his arms or legs, his entire body overwhelmed with an ache that hammered in time with his pulse, he slowly opened his eyes. The realization that he was bound tightly hand and foot, lying on his back on grass still damp with morning dew, made his eyes widen.

The ogre!

He froze, listening, and heard water sloshing. The sound was interspersed with the occasional metallic tapping. He frowned, struggling to make sense of what he was hearing.

Giving up on placing the odd mixture of noises, he turned his head gradually, not risking any quick movements that might draw notice to him or ratchet his pain to a new level. Rhyannon lay next to him, hands bound beneath the small of her back, her ankles drawn together by more of the same prickly rope that held him. She was bruised and bleeding, not moving.

He gasped and rolled over to face her. The abrupt movement send a wash of pain and nausea through him but he barely noticed. On his side, he lay still, unblinking, watching Rhyannon until he saw her bare chest rise and fall gently with breath. He released a breath of his own he had not realized he had been holding. Shutting out his own discomfort, he squirmed his way closer to her.

It was only then that he noticed the ogre standing by the fire not far away. The creature was using what looked to be a large, tarnished copper spoon to stir the contents of a copper cauldron that sat in the middle of the roaring fire. The stirring of the mix in the cauldron was the source of the sloshing sounds. From time to time the spoon would smack the side, resulting in the tapping noise he had been hearing.

After watching the ogre for only a few seconds, Leofrick wormed the rest of the way to Rhyannon's side.

"Rhyannon?" he whispered, keeping his voice as low as he could, glancing over at the ogre. "Rhyannon? Are you awake?"

When she made no response his concern for her grew again. He wiggled, searching for a way to free himself. He was surprised to find the ropes holding his hands behind his back to be lose.

They must have absorbed some of the dew and expanded.

He worked at the ropes, quickly slipping his hands free. All the while, he watched the ogre, casting brief glances at Rhyannon, hoping for some sign of wakefulness from her. She remained still but for the shallow rise and fall of her chest every few seconds.

His hands free, he eased Rhyannon onto her side, rolling her just enough so that she faced the ogre and he faced the ropes that held her delicate hands trapped behind her back. Fighting the numbness of his own fingers, he picked at the cords, using Rhyannon's body to shield his efforts from the ogre should the obese creature think to look over. Once her hands were free, he rolled her onto her back once again and risked giving her pale lips a quick kiss.

Blood from one of her cuts touched his mouth and he tasted a zing that reminded him of the feeling in the air during a lightning storm. The sensation gave him pause, it being so unlike the coppery taste of his own blood when he had suffered split lips during accidents and fights. The reminder on her inhumanness gave him pause only for a moment and did nothing to quell his love for her.

"Rhyannon," he whispered again, desperately trying to gain some sort of response from her.

He moved slowly, untying his own ankles and shifted to free Rhyannon's. As he fished, he looked up to see the ogre still stirring with one hand, half turned to watch them. Leofrick went still, both from fear of the discovery and the abrupt realization of what the ogre had in mind for them.

The knowledge that the ogre had already hurt Rhyannon filled Leofrick with rage. The thought that the creature intended to throw his lady love alive into boiling water to make stew kindled his wrath to a frenzied state. He heard a low growl escape his throat as he stared at the ogre.

The creature responded by pausing, its piggish eyes widening in silent shock as it met Leofrick's infuriated stare. Then the ogre tossed down the spoon and bellowed. The roar sent birds flying from nearby trees.

Leofrick only had a vague recollection of having had his sword knocked away by the ogre's club before. He had no idea how he was to beat the thing but knew only that he must. If he failed, he knew, both he and Rhyannon would be thrown into the cauldron, whether dead or alive, to be boiled and eaten.

Furious, he forced himself to remain still, trying to give his circulation time to fully restore his limbs before the fight, not wanting to challenge the ogre further for the time being. But the ogre stomped closer, glaring at him, thick, stubby fingers clasping and unclenching in the air.

Leofrick rose quickly as he could. His movement caused the ogre to hesitate, as if surprised, for only a moment. With another bellow, it rushed forward.

Leofrick ducked, dodging under the wide sweep of an arm layered with both blubber and muscle. He backed away, toward the boiling cauldron, trying to lead his opponent away from Rhyannon and gain himself a bit more time in the process.

When the ogre charged again, rather than run or duck, Leofrick met the attack, throwing himself low. The impact with the ogre's thick legs sent a hideous wave of pain through Leofrick's battered body. Unable to keep from crying out, he gritted his teeth, biting off the sound, turning it into a low groan of agony. The ogre, knocked off balance, toppled over, falling beyond Leofrick.

A loud bang issued from behind him, followed in the same instant by the sloshing of water, the hot sizzle of dowsed flames and screams of torment from the ogre. Rolling over, fighting the pain-induced nausea that nearly doubled him over, Leofrick forced himself to his feet.

The ogre thrashed on the ground, screaming. The sounds were pitched high, not at all fitting to the creature's thick, obese form and apparent strength. The fire was out. Beside the ogre lay the copper cauldron, on its side, one side of it mashed downward nearly to the middle. Most of the boiling water and the assorted chunks of ingredients has spilled out, forming a large puddle that steamed heavily in the cool morning air. The ogre lay in the center of the scalding puddle. Angry red blisters marred the creature's green-brown flesh as it rolled to and fro, eyes squeezed shut, keening with agony.

Leofrick sought a weapon but could find nothing that he thought would stand a chance against the ogre. He looked back to see the creature staggering to its feet, still wailing.

The ogre bumped into a tree, the impact causing several of the sickening blisters to rupture. Bawling even louder, the ogre lashed out, splintering the trunk of the tree. The snapped trunk crashed over, taking limbs from other trees with it. Turning, the ogre ran into another tree, which met the same fate as the first.

Realizing that the boiling water had blinded the ogre, Leofrick stepped away, only turning his back once he had reached Rhyannon.

He picked her up, forcing aside the pain of his own injuries, and carried her in his arms, cradling her to his chest. Turning, he walked away into the deeper forest, taking them away from the blinded, enraged ogre as the creature continued to destroy the area around its filthy hovel.

Rhyannon's lack of movement concerned him; he wanted to stop and check on her more thoroughly. Yet he didn't dare pause for fear of discovery by another ogre, another band of trolls or the satyrs they had escaped from the previous night.

He walked as quickly as he could until he could go no further. Finally, he stopped, out of breath from exertion, exhaustion and pain. Kneeling, he lay Rhyannon on the ground as gently as he could. He ran his hands over her naked, bruised body.

"Rhyannon, come on. Wake up, my love. We're safe. Come back to me," he pleaded. "Come on, Rhyannon, wake up!"

"What happened?" a very small voice from behind him asked.

Leofrick jumped, spinning, ready to defend himself and Rhyannon. To his amazement, he could see no one at first. Finally, glancing down, he saw the gnome.

The gnome was, at most, six-inches-tall and dressed in hand-woven clothing that consisted of a blue shirt, black pants, brown boots and a peaked red cap on his head. The gnome's hair and long beard were purest white.

"What happened?" the gnome asked again.

Still stunned, Leofrick spoke softly, saying, "We were attacked."

"By what?"

"An ogre."

The gnome answered with a solemn, sage nod before half turning to one side and letting out a series of low whistles. More gnomes, maybe twenty-five in all, emerged from under the cover of ground ferns and behind trees. Though the coloring of the clothing differed from the first, all were dressed alike and looked very similar.

The first gnome turned his attention back to Leofrick, saying, "I promise thrice not to use your name against you should you chose to give it to me of your own free will."

Leofrick nodded. "My name is Prince Leofrick Wykeham."

"You're human?"

"Yes. And I promise thrice not to use your name against you should you give it to me of your own free will. I shall make the promise with blood if need be."

The gnome waved a hand, wrinkling his nose. "Blood isn't required. Not with gnomes. My name is Ninwick. I'm Eldest of the Caranock clan. Please allow us to aid you and your lady."

Not fully believing that he wasn't dreaming, Leofrick only nodded, muttering a brief thank you. Ninwick motioned to the other gnomes. All of them, Ninwick included, moved to Rhyannon. Working as one, they lifted her still form over their heads.

Ninwick glanced up at Leofrick, asking, "Can you walk?"

"Yes."

"Good. Follow us, please. You'll be given food, water, shelter and medication to heal your wounds."

He followed, watching the surreal sight of Rhyannon as she seemed to float along a few inches above the forest floor, her body hiding the gnomes who carried her.

"Do you need help carrying Rhyannon?" Leofrick inquired.

"No need," Ninwick answered. "Gnomes are stronger than we look. We can lift- Wait! Rhyannon? I knew she looked familiar! Princess Rhyannon Ensorcelledlight?"

"Yes."

Ninwick whistled softly.

"I'm sure she'll reward you and your people for your help," Leofrick said.

"None required. The Royal Princess is in need and we're able to help. So, we help; both her and you. You must be the human she's been traveling with."

"I am."

"The King and his pet changeling have put out an offer for a sizable reward for any information that leads to the two of you landing back in their hands."

"So we've been told."

"By whom?"

Briefly, he told of their capture by the satyrs and their escape late the previous night.

Ninwick whistled again. "That's very distressing news, my human friend. Satyrs are greedy and the moment they discovered that the Princess was gone two things would have happened. First, the camp leader would have sent out hunters to find the pair of you. If they find you, she'll be hauled back to the camp and you will be killed on sight. The second thing is that the camp leader would have dispatched a runner to go to the King with news of your presence. This way, even though they can't get what they really wanted from the Princess, they'll still be entitled to the reward if she's found because of their information. And I'm sure the King won't be told that the pair of you spent over a full day in their camp before the runner was sent. Even if he finds out, the camp leader will simply claim that he didn't know who his hunters had brought in and that he sent the runner the very instant he realized who he had."

"Either way," Leofrick surmised, "we're hunted now by satyrs in these woods and soon we'll be hunted here by the King and his forces."

"That sums it up nicely."

"Can you hide us from the searches?"

"We can, yes, and we will. But there's another problem to be dealt with, my human friend."

"What might that be?" Leofrick asked, not liking the prospect of more complications.

"I just said it. You're human. How long have you been on this side of the Veil?"

"A few days," he answered, overcome by a sinking feeling, thinking back to conversations he'd had with both the pixie, Aspen, and with Rhyannon on this same topic. "I've been warned of the dangers of staying in Faerie too long."

Ninwick whistled before saying, "You're already in danger of not being able to go home. If we hide you, you'll want to stay hidden until the search for you here has ended. If not, if you're caught, you'll be killed. The satyrs will want you dead for both sneaking back into their camp and for stealing the Princess away from them. The King wants you dead for pretty much the same thing. He catches you, you'll be executed for running off with his daughter. And, as she's promised to the changeling, if the King doesn't kill you, he will."