Scholarly Works Ch. 02

The scholar stood atop the wall, dressed only in the slender white gown of the garden. It had been ripped up to her thighs, exposing her knees, the band of cotton helping her to ascend the columns up to the height of the wall. She studied over the hills, a smile on her lips, as she looked down into the travelling bag. All the notes she'd carefully taken in her discussions with the Emer, his servants, and the Harpies rested in the bag. They would make for quite a juicy bit of information for the Imperial Library.

She looked down into the courtyard. The two harpies slept with their wings over their heads, among the branches of the garden trees. She'd quite enjoyed their company, the two full of cheer and interesting stories of their homelands. The Emer's discussions had been somewhat more difficult to grasp, usually because of the price he exacted for them. She took a breath, sitting down slowly, to relax herself.

Just thinking about it made her heartbeat race, and tingling afterimages ran across her eyes. The places where his tongue had run over her body had continued to experience the increased sensitivity. Their refusal to calm was beginning to worry her slightly. She had asked how long the tingling sensitivity to gentle pressures would persist, and he had only smiled. The Naga so often did in response to her more personal questions. It wasn't all bad, though. While she had grown more sensitive, her body seemed to be shaking off exhaustion faster than it had before. Climbing the pillar had been surprisingly easy, barely even speeding her heartbeat.

The Emer had made it quite clear to her that she was not to tell anyone about their tryst. She, the scribe, and the two harpies were the only ones who knew of it, and all of them were depending on the Emer's protection and warmth. She felt safe enough about running off. She knew it would disappoint him to see she had not stayed, and she could so easily imagine how she might've. But she had barely even explored this country, and there was still so much more for her to find. She rested a hand on her stomach somewhat nervously. She could feel a strange twinge of disappointment inside of her at her decision. A brief flash of what it would be like to stay, shockingly vivid, playing across her mind's eye. She turned out towards the desert, and began climbing down.

A gold coin bought a set of drab travelling clothes from a merchant in the early morning. She changed in an alley, watching her surroundings with trepidation. The sand-colored tunic, trousers, and cape hid her body from the sun. The clothing seemed a bit covering for the heat, but once she put it on, she found the air flowing underneath it rather refreshing. She entered the nearest tavern, and within moments, was signed up with a caravan. The caravan leader was taking one of the dangerous passages south through the mountains. A dozen humans, male and female, a silent red-headed elf woman, and a couple of dwarves she could only assume were men, made up the travelers.

The leader of the caravan introduced her to their guides. Four Minotaurs stood in the corner of the room. She'd heard stories of them before, but she could not entirely help herself as she approached them. Her jaw dropped, her eyes wide. They each stood more than eight feet tall, towering over her. They had the upper bodies of men, broad-shouldered, with muscles that bulged perhaps a bit more than she strictly found attractive. She had to admit it worked for them, and felt slightly intimidated by their glances. Broad-headed long-shafted hammers hung from their belts. Each possessed a pair of colossal, curving horns, protruding from the crown of their head. And of course, she could not help but notice their strong, bull-like legs, ending in broad black hooves.

What stood out to her most, however, was the smell. She wrinkled her nose the first time she caught a whiff, disgust on her features. When she breathed again, she found it was not as offensive as she had expected. The scent of the minotaurs was strong, and somewhat sharp, but it had a curious tendency to grow more enjoyable the longer she smelled it. The aroma was exaggeratedly masculine, but there was a certain sugared hint to it. It reminded her of the shaggy-furred yaks of her childhood, their coats smelling sweet from the oats they ate. She remembered burying her face in one of the beast's flanks, and taking deep breaths as the warm fur tickled her cheek.

The one in the lead had skin the color of milky tea, browned by sun yet handsome. His hair was bleached to a fine blonde, and he was a full foot taller than the others, towering over her. His face was that of a man's, proud, with a strong chin, but cleanshaven. His eyes were a piercing golden color. He broke her out of her memory by holding out his hand. She felt slightly giddy as she returned the gesture. Her palm fit in his like a child's, and he smiled down towards her. "Charmed." His voice was rough, but his speech was elegant, surprisingly so. He must have seen the surprise in her eyes, for he gave her another quick, easy smile. "We are all quite well-spoken. Me and my people are no savages. We have a great appreciation for knowledge, and those who seek it." He bent forward, his lips meeting the back of her hand. She looked down, at the distinctive golden caps on his horns. They were fitted well, and glittered in the low light of the inn, only a few inches away from her chest. She could not suppress a little quiver of fear.

The minotaur smiled. "We will be leading the caravan through the southern mountain passage, towards the oasis town of Bhagdal. It is a week's travel by our route; It is quite dangerous some times of the year, because of the bandit activity. We will ensure that you are not molested by any marauders." The leader of the caravan nodded. A tall, cheerful man, born in the Thousand Empires, he seemed easy to get along with. "And what is your name again, sir?" The minotaur smiled, his golden eyes moving to catch the scholar's. She averted her gaze.

"You may call me Pith." the minotaur bowed his head. "The southern mountain passage leads through an ancient maze. I would recommend that you not wander when we arrive there, however interesting it may be. The tunnels are highly dangerous, and many monsters make it their home, to say nothing of the traps." He smiled pleasantly towards her, and she caught another whiff of that strong musk. She felt her breath catch in her chest as her head whirled slightly.

—

"The scent of the minotaur is quite famous." The red-headed elf woman rode next to her. Dark-skinned, the elf's pointed ears and bright, sky-blue eyes were unusual, but admittedly attractive. "It primarily only affects humans, of course; elves are quite immune to such base things. It tends to increase hormone production in those of the opposite sex. Increases libido. It's a very useful trait for acquiring human mates."

The Scholar wrote down in her notes. The two of them were both riding the large, ill-tempered beasts of burden. The creatures were slow, but didn't seem to drink water. They had set out as the sun was rising, and now, were travelling along the sands south. The rocky mountains to either side were spectacular shades of red, as though burnt umber by the sun. She had been interested to get to know the elf, as the only other scholar on the trip. She was apparently educated in the Empire of Tales, and had come to this land to learn their language and culture. She was nearly as tall as the scholar, and more curvy than the scholar had usually associated with elves. "So, it's not an aphrodisiac?"

"Well, technically speaking, it can only enhance what is already there. Minotaurs tend to be physically impressive specimens. It's easy for less selective individuals to be strongly affected by their scent. Naturally, no elf would be swayed that way." The Scholar nodded, silently doodling a rather crude stick figure of the elf and one of the minotaurs. A dark-haired man who hadn't spoken during the entire trip, but who had often helped the elf with her mounting and dismounting. The elf was very knowledgeable, but it apparently came with excruciating airs of superiority. The scholar, luckily, had experienced it enough in her education that it barely fazed her. All the same, the idea of the elf indulging in something primitive with the minotaur brought a smile to her face.

—

Night fell quickly. The camp set down once the air began to grow chill. The large silk tents were set up on the sands, tent pegs hammered in, as everyone drew lots for the watches over the night. The camels sat quietly in the middle of the camp, clustered around a large fire made with some scant brush. She was drawn for the first watch, along with the leader of the minotaurs. They didn't talk. The tall man simply stared into the darkness, with a slight smile on his face. She didn't realize what was causing his amusement for several minutes. Then, the red-headed elf scampered out of the darkness. The elf's cheeks flushed, and she was carrying her trousers in both hands. Her thighs shone in the firelight, like they had been brushed with some kind of glistening oil. The scholar fancied that she could see large gobs of something white dripped down her legs.

The scholar watched with a certain satisfaction as the elf slipped into one of the tents. A couple of minutes afterwards, the dark-haired minotaur appeared out of the shadows. An expression of extreme satisfaction was on his face as he flicked the loin cloth clean. The scent wafted over towards her, nearly knocking her onto her back, the musk like a mallet. She had thought the smell was strong before, but it appeared that it only grew more potent after the minotaur had sated himself with the elf. The strangest thing for her was how pleasant it felt. The scent, rather than being disgusting or nauseating, made her stomach grow warm, and her legs press together.

The minotaur caught her expression, and gave her an easy grin. "I heard a bit of your conversation with the elf maiden earlier, Glass-eyes." Her hand went self-consciously to her glasses, and he laughed, a rumbling sound. It reminded her of thunder echoing out from the deep desert. "She knows a little about Minotaurs, but not about us. We are the Aurochs. We are special." He smiled.

"Our people were once like the other Minotaur tribes. Long before the Setereh arose, a great civilization rose and fell here. We protect their knowledge. They were humans, clever ones." He smiled. "It was a beautiful land in those days. They could bring forth water from the ground where no aquifer lay, and spread rivers across the land. They turned the desert into a green jungle." He rested a hand on her head, and she felt a surge of embarrassment. It was like being a child again, his strong hand tousling her hair. But something about it was pleasant enough that she didn't want him to stop. She softly sighed, as he continued the story.

"Our tribe lived near them. They bred with us, and gradually, it made our kind more intelligent. Of course, they were not as robust as we were, and over time, their kingdom fell. Now, little remains of them but the old labyrinths." The minotaur gave her a broad grin. "But we still choose attractive, intelligent humans with whom to mate. And continue our vigil over what remains of the knowledge of that time. And I will note that the more intelligent you are, the greater effect the pheremones have." He softly ran his fingers along her cheek, letting her bury her face against his warm palm. "I believe that our shift is finished. We should retire for the night. Trying to cross the desert while sleep deprived is dangerous."

—

She was surrounded by heat. The strong arms wound around her pressed her face against his chest. She could feel his heart pound like a drum, her ear pressing into his skin to hear it. He didn't make love like the Emer. There was no sense of control as he penetrated her, simply a wild animalistic rutting, that made her whole body ache. And yet, she thought to herself, there was no way she should be capable of surviving such a fierce experience. He was bucking into her with all of his strength, but she wasn't feeling any pain.

Instead, bliss spread through her. Her hips clenched, as she felt the warmth between them. The stimulation was overwhelming, as he pumped his hips into hers, making her cry out softly, her muscles tightening around the intrusion. She could feel the pressure building up, growing tighter, till she felt like she might explode. But she couldn't find satisfaction, her body refusing to push over the edge, despite the intensity of his thrusting. She begged, pleaded, tears streaming down her cheeks, as he simply laughed.

Her eyes snapped open. She lay atop the bedroll, the blanket kicked off. The air was cold enough that she felt it nip at her skin, but she felt like someone had lit a fire inside of her. The remnants of the dream washed over her, and she ran her fingers through her hair. She was a mess, her clothing scattered around her. Lying on the other side of the tent was the minotaur, his eyes closed. She hadn't even thought of the smell of his body as she went to sleep, but the scent had hounded her. She took a moment, gathering her clothing where it had been scattered around the bed in her sleep. She dressed herself, and carefully moved, on all fours, till she was sitting next to the minotaur.

She stared. She wasn't entirely certain what she had intended to accomplish. Instead, she simply sat there, inches away from him, and admired him. Each breath filled her head with his scent. It was complex, the sweet odor of a herbivore, a grazer, mixed with the tangy musk of a human man. It was so strong that she couldn't breathe without feeling her thighs press together with excitement. She stared for a moment at the loincloth, and reached her hand out. She could feel the heat without touching him, her hand just an inch or two away. She suddenly felt a twinge between her legs, and cringed away. She had to be insane to be thinking that way. Her body was still recovering from what the Emer's poison had done, pleasant though it had been. Trying to push her body again by getting worked up over this bull would be dangerous.

She crawled back into the bedroll, and moved it further, to the very edge of the tent, right by the entrance. She hoped the cold drafts of air would keep any more wet dreams out of her head. She'd find herself disappointed.

—

"Rough night?"

The scholar gave the elf a baleful look. The elf coughed softly. "Not... in that way. I mean, you look like you didn't sleep a wink." The scholar sighed. The elf's tone was a great deal more pleasant than it had been yesterday. The scholar entertained brief thoughts of stress relief. Perhaps the medicinal application of whatever had been staining the elf's thighs last night had unwound the know-it-all red-head a bit. The elf flushed a bit, and the scholar realized her gaze had dropped down to the other woman's legs. "You... won't tell anyone, will you?" the elf asked, her voice low, her face red. "It was just a momentary lapse in judgement."

"I'm familiar with those." The scholar sighed. "I had some very active dreams." The elf nodded sympathetically. The scholar noticed that she was sitting rather awkwardly on the back of the camel. It seemed she was trying to avoid pressure on certain parts of her anatomy.

"Well, I had a very interesting conversation with Hatep, the black-haired one. He told me a bit about their philosophy; It's quite elaborate. He told me that the nature of the world is that there are fundamental forces. They can be rearranged, but never created or destroyed. Apparently, they believe that includes energy, matter, even things like freedom. It was quite interesting. The idea was that if a slave was freed, or a freeman enslaved, then by necessity, the reverse had to happen somewhere else. If you made an entire nation free, slavery and oppression would spread elsewhere. It all seemed a little bit confused to me, but I was distracted."

The scholar smiled. "I don't think I ever asked you your name."

"My parents called me Desert Crocus. I suspect that they were protesting the overabundance of flowery names among elves of the Empire of Tales." The elf smiled pleasantly. "And yours?"

"Glass-eyes." The elf raised an eyebrow, and shrugged, tossing her bright red hair gently. The scholar felt slightly less frustrated already, until the errant winds blew a whiff of Pith's musk to her. She felt her stomach clench as another wave of desire ran through her.

—

The four minotaurs strained with the door. Heavy slabs of obsidian-black stone slowly swung open, creaking ominously. The doors stood planted in the red mountainside, at the end of a path that had wound up the boulder-strewn landscape. Three days had been spent reaching this place, and the minotaurs said that it would take the better part of a day to pass through the mountains.

The doors finally opened, wide enough to allow the caravan to enter, single-file. A long pathway had been cut through the stone, decorated with ancient characters along the walls. Statues lined the corridor, and two of the minotaurs strode ahead, lightning torches as they moved. Pith and Hatep walked along at the end, watching behind them. The scholar and Crocus rode near them, allowing the others to take the lead.

"The men you are travelling with are slavers by trade, Glass-Eyes. Their intention is to sell you at the oasis town at the far end of this journey. As tarriq, they will be well within their rights to do so. If you do not wish to be their property, then when we reach the circular chamber, let the others proceed first." Her spine stiffened as Pith spoke quickly, and softly, into her ear. She looked to the side, and saw Hatep doing the same with Crocus.

The price of joining the caravan had been surprisingly low. She wasn't sure how much she trusted Pith or his brethren, but she had caught the caravan leader giving her avaricious looks. And beneath all of that... If what Pith had told her was true, this place held a treasure trove of information. She wanted that knowledge. She wanted to find out what was hiding in this place. She nodded her head softly. "I believe you." she whispered, and Pith rested a hand on her shoulder comfortingly.

The journey took them through what must have been miles of the underground tunnel. Eventually, it lead out, across a bridge. She stared over the edge of the narrow stone span, and then into the air. A thin crack of light was visible, high above, and the crevice's bottom was beyond the meager reach of the torches. She let out a soft breath, staring into the depths. She could see a statue had been carved into the walls of the crevice, so colossal that all she saw of it was a pair of hands. Each was a dozen feet long, clasped together in what looked like a prayer, the rest of the statue obscured by distance. The stone was barely illuminated by the torches, the color of pitch, and she watched as it passed out of view.

Occasionally, they travelled through areas that were carefully sectioned off with chalk drawn over the stone. Pith guided them around the marked places, and the Scholar tried without success to tell what had distinguished them. "You would have to be a minotaur to know," Pith answered cheerfully. They passed dozens of branching tunnels, occasionally setting off down one. Pith and Hatep seemed entirely confident of the direction they were taking. Eventually, they entered a large, circular room. The ceiling rose, creating a dome. A dozen corridors radiated out from the hub, and the scholar could see the rest of the caravan, exiting through one of the doors. As the last person ahead of her crossed the threshold, she heard a click. A stone gate slammed shut over the doorway, and sounds of alarm came from beyond the blockade.