Mud and Magic Ch. 04

She fled up that familiar slope, urged on by Rhys' deep, long strokes, his hand kneading her breast and pinching her nipple on her behest. She came hard and fast, shivering in his arms. No. Faedal hadn't taken her this way. It was always from behind. First her pussy than her ass. Several times each night, until she couldn't walk. And then some more. Faedal didn't know about this kind of tenderness, this kind of magic.

Elara wished he could see her now, how much -- despite his best efforts to break her -- how much she relished it. She carved bloody furrows in Rhys' back as her ass came off the sheets, meeting his every thrust with one of her own, the noises of sweaty flesh meeting mid-thrust, her wails of lust and defiance loud enough to make the mirror tinkle in sympathy. She came again, with Rhys balls deep within her. He whimpered and she withdrew her nails from his back, pulling him against herself by his firm butt cheeks. She kneaded his buttocks, pleaded for him not to stop and he moved again. His breath came in short gasps, his thrusts were no longer incredibly patient strokes. He was close, she could tell. And she urged him on to really fuck her, as if his life depended on it. She knew hers did, her sanity at least. Rhys pulled her upright in a monumental feat of strength, until she rode his knees. Elara gladly took the reins and drove herself onto his length, burying her teeth in the soft of his neck. And suddenly it was all over. Rhys bucked under her, just once, and the sensation of his hot seed spilling into her was all-encompassing, taking Elara with it. They crumpled onto the mattress in an undignified heap, their combined juices leaking everywhere when Rhys pulled out.

"Ow, ow, ow," he whimpered. "What in the Pits was that?"

Elara reached out and gently touched his shoulder. There were few moments more sacred to the deities of nature than mating or birth or death. Her healing spell arced from her fingers, nearly causing her to climax once again. It removed the bleeding gashes on his back and the bite marks on his shoulders and neck.

"I am sorry, Rhys. Sometimes...," Elara slumped onto the mattress next to him, placing her head on his lap. "sometimes I need a reminder that I am not broken. That I have won. I think." Her eyes begged for forgiveness. "I am sorry it had to be you."

"You screamed something in Elven as you tore into my back," he said. "Didn't get what, apart from 'Faedal something'"

Elara winced. "I- I've spoiled the mood enough already. I am deeply sorry-"

Rhys cut her off with a kiss. "I want to know."

"When we first met, I told you that Carver gave me to Faedal as a gift."

"Yes. I remember that. What has that to do with you going berserk during sex?"

"Everything, Rhys. Faedal tried to break me. He said 'When I am done with you, you will never want anyone but me.' And then he proceeded to rape me. Every day until I managed to escape."

"And you proved him wrong tonight?"

"I don't know." Her eyes gleamed, large and vulnerable. "Maybe he did break me after all."

"Do you want him back?"

Elara shook her head vehemently.

"Did I..?" Rhys spread his hands, at a loss for words.

Elara's eyes lit up. "Oh yes. Much better than he ever could. And I'm sorry I tore you open."

Rhys' grin was vicious. "If you want to stick it to him ever again, don't hesitate to ask."

Elara rolled on top of him and buried his face with a cavalcade of kisses. "Thank you. So. Very. Much."

He struggled out from under her, groaning. The sheets under him made wet, sucking sounds. "Ugh, why do I end up in ruined and cum-stained beds every time?"

Elara laughed. "I'll help you clean up. And the bed?" She shrugged. "We have another one right over there. That's still in tip-top shape."

* * * *

It wasn't even dawn when the attack came. Rhys and Elara woke up in each other's arms when the bell started ringing. Elara didn't even bother with clothes. She fell on hands and knees and shifted, her body taking on the form of a long-limbed, big-eared great cat with silver fur. Rhys hastily pulled on his clothes, grabbed his daggers and, the snarling silver cat by his side, ran into the taproom. Bleary-eyed civilians stumbled in through the door, clutching clothes, family members or even pets. Ewan and another of Tegan's men were in attendance, shuttling the arrivals down the stairs into the cellar.

Hilgrun waited by the door, fully armored up and her sword at the ready. She threw Rhys and Elara a long, knowing glare. "Idunn was pretty pissed," she said, a small grin flickering on her lips.

Rhys blushed. Was that a compliment?

"Let's go," Hilgrun snapped, squeezing past a halfling woman and her six children, Elara and Rhys hot on her heels. Idunn waited by the toll booth. Thin fog gave the grey pre-dawn an otherworldly air, turning small lanterns into barely visible pools of light.

"That was faster than I had feared," she said. "Elara. Please find out what kind of trouble is coming our way."

The druid snarled and dashed into the undergrowth. Not even the grass rustled.

"Hilgrun, you're our anvil, so you stay with me. Rhys. Your job is to protect the inn. Intercept anyone trying to get in or who tries to burn it down. The cellars are made from stone and should hold if the house comes down but I don't want to push my luck."

"Yes."

He trotted back to the inn, just as Hendrick, Tegan and three other soldiers left the watchtower. They moved around the inn and disappeared between the buildings, Probably securing the smithy and any back entrances into the inn, Rhys mused.

He looked up and down the road. In the east, he could see torches move under the trees. Rhys exhaled and cast the shield spell Idunn had taught him the previous night. His fingers shook, yes, but the energy construct remained stable. He drew his belt dagger. And suddenly, an almost detached calm came over him. Elara had been right. Try as he might, he would never be able to anticipate how the coming minutes or hours would turn out. He could only prepare as best he could and react to the enemy's moves. Hilgrun marched up and down in front of the toll barrier, muttering to herself.

Elara, quiet like a shadow, appeared next to Idunn. Even the lady dwarf jumped as she pressed her snout against Idunn's crotch. She used her paw to draw something into the dirt, something Idunn disliked, going by the sudden scowl. Despite her obvious anger, she placed her hand on the cat's skull and fondled the fur between her ears.

Rhys left his post at the inn's front door and joined her. "What is it?"

Wordlessly, Idunn pointed at the ground. Elara had carved Dwarven runes into the packed earth.

"Ten Archers, two casters and twenty footmen?"

"Yes. And the archers will flank us, mark my words." She gnashed her teeth. "Hilgrun!"

"Yah?"

"It's Rhys and you covering the road. The cat and I need to go into the bushes."

"Is now really the time for that?"

"Unless you want a squad of archers peppering your ass then yes."

"Just bloody perfect. Me and the mageling," Hilgrun snarled. But Idunn wasn't listening. She dashed into the undergrowth, with much less grace than Elara. The cat shook her head and sprinted after Idunn.

"There they are," Hilgrun said. The few lights were barely enough to light the road and in the fog, the first rows of footmen appeared like specters freshly risen from their graves. The clatter of their armor and weapons belied their otherworldly appearance. First came spearmen, barely visible behind their square shields. Behind them, illuminated by torches borne by every fifth man, came the mace and sword wielders. In their midst, Rhys more felt than saw a nimbus of arcane energy.

Hilgrun strode into the midst of the road, her blade over her shoulder. "Listen, cowards!" she yelled. "I am Hilgrun, daughter of Ulric Thorson, slayer of twelve ice trolls and the best stinking swordmaiden south of the Frostspires. Who of you thinks is mighty enough to cross blades with me?"

The advancing troop didn't even flinch. A sharp "Charge!" was the answer. The spearmen advanced on Hilgrun while six others fanned out from behind the shields. Now Rhys could make out a robed figure. A large book hovered by his side and a lantern, seemingly made from ghostly energy, illuminated it. He raised his hands to cast a spell.

To the north, the sky suddenly lit up and a chorus of painful screams could be heard. Everyone froze -- apart from Hilgrun. The blonde barbarian charged past the row of spearman and slashed her sword in a wide, horizontal arc. The outermost spear wielder screamed like a stuck pig as she neatly cleaved through armor, flesh and spine, causing him to crash to the ground. A moment later, one of the swordsmen howled and crashed to the ground, buried by a hissing, spitting mass of silver fur, claws and teeth. The screams turned into a gurgle then there were only the wet sounds of tearing flesh and cracking bones. Two others converged on Elara but, by the time they had raised their weapons, she had already bounded away, a roaring, slashing streak of pain, causing havoc in the enemy's ranks.

"What are you doing?" the robed man screamed. "There's just three of them!"

"No there aren't! In the name of Justice, begone!" Tegan rushed out from between the buildings, her shield and mace brighter than any light Rhys had ever seen. A swordsman met her, raising his round shield to block her strike. The metal disc might not even have existed. The mace crashed against it, shattering the shield into dozens of sharp metal shards. Some hit the swordsman, causing him to scream in agony, others tinkled off the few stones left in the road. But the mace didn't stop, turning the shield arm into a limp tube of flesh.

"Enough!" the robed man roared. He pointed at Hilgrun, surrounded by three spearmen and two swordsmen keeping just out of the range of her blood-streaming great sword. A headless swordsman lay already at her feet, the helmet a good ten feet away. The caster snapped a few syllables and a strange azure glow shot out from his palm, surrounding Hilgrun. Her feints and dodges slowed until she stood, frozen in place, a mask of impotent fury on her features.

Rhys froze. Time seemed to slow to a crawl. Hilgrun was done for unless someone could help her. But who? Idunn was nowhere to be seen, probably busy torching the archers beyond the trees. Elara -- somewhere between the rear ranks. Only me... but what can I do? I can't fight all these guys at once!

"I really can't make it much easier for you imbeciles!" the caster screamed. "Kill her already!" He kept his hand stretched out, pumping more magic into the spell holding Hilgrun in place.

Rhys threw his dagger at the attackers closing in to finish Hilgrun. He had no expectations of hitting anyone, not without proper training, but the weapon skittering off the ground at least might cause a distraction. His hand dove into his pocket and closed around the Disjunction Stone. At once, his shield fizzled. But that wasn't important. Much more important was the caster.

"Hey, asshole!" Rhys pulled the stone free, aimed and threw. The caster, hand still pointing towards Hilgrun, turned his head. His eyes, glowing in the same azure fire as his hand, went wide as if he saw Rhys for the first time. A moment later, the fragile stone hit his forehead and shattered into a cloud of glittering particles. At the same time, the blue glow around his hand vanished, as did the lantern. With a muffled sound, the book hit the road, immediately trampled by one of the swordsmen trying to protect the caster.

"You fucking cheaters!" Hilgrun screamed, followed by the sound of bodies crashing to the floor. Rhys wasn't looking. He ducked under the slash of a swordsman, pulling his shin dagger free as he ran. Another enemy appeared before him, only to stumble and fall as Elara came over him like an avenging horror. And then there was no one between Rhys and the caster, who fumbled to yank a scroll from his belt. Leading with the dagger, Rhys barreled into him. The caster coughed once then his hands came up and clamped around Rhys' throat. An icy chill emanated from his long, spindly fingers.

"A nice trick you pulled, whelp! But don't think for a moment I won't drag you down with me. I don't need magic to end a scrawny reed like you!" He clamped down, the thumbs cutting off the blood and air flow in Rhys' neck. He redoubled his attacks, jabbing the knife into the wizard's side and back for all he was worth. He rammed his knee into the wizard's crotch which gave him a far too brief moment of respite but then the inhumanly strong grip was back.

"Why- won't- you- die?" Rhys gurgled. His knees began to buckle and his eyes were failing fast. There was no blood on the dagger, just dust. The wizard laughed and laughed. His hands were around Rhys' throat, pressing all life from him. Throat. Unable to-

Rhys' hand came up in an arc as his knees gave out, the gleaming tip of the dagger leading. With what little strength he had, he shoved. His hand passed between the wizard's arms, still moving up and up. The blade entered the wizard's mouth and went upwards, straight into his brain. The last thing he saw before he hit the ground was the wizard's face, a mask of incomprehension while his skull turned to dust. A heartbeat later, Elara's paw scythed through the vision, dispersing the last vestiges of the wizard. Looking at the sky overhead, Rhys saw a quintet of tiny fireballs. All around him were the screams of the dying.

* * * *

He came to with a start, shooting upright in his bed. His hands went straight for his throat. No pain, just a certain amount of soreness. Trying to steady his racing breath, he looked around. He was back in the room he had shared with Elara. Outside, the sky was the radiant orange of sunset.

A large hand touched his naked shoulder. His gaze followed the arm. Hilgrun sat next to his bed, wearing only an open shirt and a kilt. She had three ugly star-shaped wounds on her left breast. Another, a long slash which seemed still very fresh and raw, ran along her stomach. She smiled. No dismissive snarl as usual, a genuine, warm smile which even lit up her icy blue eyes. It really suits her.

"You really should have that looked at," Rhys rasped. "Doesn't it hurt?"

She grinned. "You bet it hurts. That one missed my lung by only a few inches." She caressed one of the spear wounds. "And I'm lucky my breast plate was there to cover my stomach, otherwise we wouldn't be talking and I'd be trying to sort my innards back at Hilgrun's Cauldron."

"Why are you sitting here then instead of having Elara-"

Hilgrun stopped him with a finger to his lips. Rhys flinched back but no punch, no harsh words came. Her voice bore the unmistakable notes of ceremony when she spoke again. "Thanks to you, Rhys, I was able to walk away from this battle victorious. Let these wounds, shared between warriors, remind us always what we have fought -- and bled -- for."

"We won?"

"Of course we won!" Hilgrun said, pumping her fist. She winced. "I really should let Elara treat that." She gently rolled her shoulder. "After you dealt with that pesky wizard, things turned into an even bigger mess than it already was. Even Ewan landed a killing shot." She shook her head, grinning. "About ten of them surrendered."

"You let them run?"

"If I had been in any condition to keep on fighting, I would have slain them to the last," Hilgrun growled. "Tegan has nine of them in the cells below the Watchtower. The tenth Idunn has sent back to Carver, to deliver a message."

"Is it wise, kicking the hive like that?"

"No idea. As you know, I'm not much for strategy. She'll have her reasons. But I do know one thing."

"Hm?"

"Tossing that blasted stone was the stupidest idea you could have had. You're a bloody sorcerer. How can you magic anything if you can't use magic?"

"You saw that?"

"I was paralyzed, not blinded. Besides, when you're nervous, you're always fingering that thing through your pocket."

"That's... damn perceptive of you. And give me some credit. It worked, didn't it?"

"Well, kind of. You nearly croaked anyway. Oh, before I forget." Groaning, Hilgrun stood up and fetched something off the washing table. "Your daggers. I cleaned and sharpened them." She placed them onto his covers.

"Thank you." Rhys turned one of them over in his hand. "And now what?"

"Once Idunn is done questioning the prisoners with Tegan, it's back home I guess. More training, Rhys. Always more training."

"Hey, now that we're battle-bound... you could go a bit easier on me, can't you?"

"You wish, sweetling. It's obvious you still have much to learn." She pulled her shirt around herself and headed for the door. "And one more thing."

"What is it?"

"We may be friends now, Rhys... but to lay me, you'll have to beat me, fair and square."

... to be continued in Chapter V: A Visitor

I hope you enjoyed this twisted fantasy of mine. If you did -- or didn't -- please leave a vote and/or comment. I'd love to hear from you.

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