Six Rings and a Pendant

"Temptress."

Her breath caught as I pinched her nipple. "If I'd known you were interested in me like this, I might have been nicer to you today."

"Tease."

"Or even the other night. At the Pillars, while I waited helpless for you to rescue me," she went on, breathless. Her hand had left my thigh, disappearing around the front of her body; I assumed she was toying with herself. "I should have let you bend me over and take my helpless, starving body with that fat cock of yours..."

"Slut."

"Like I said," she murmured, "only sometimes." We were churning now, both of us sure where this was going, and I could hear rhythmic gasps from her along with that deeply mysterious wet soupy noise, the intoxicating honey of a woman's sodden cunt. I did arch back, then, greatly daring, running the sensitive head of my thick penis temptingly at the warm dryness of her asshole, and that's when I felt her stiffen in my arms. "By Cuvehr," she whispered, and then I was pushing, my head slipping back up along her crack once more, my shaft nestling deep between her tempting cheeks as, helpless, I let go.

I came gladly, willingly up the bumps of her spine, my spasms long and hard and potent as I painted her naked back. Dimly I realized she was shuddering against me, locked into her own climax; just as dimly I knew my hand was mauling her tit, crushing it while every breath of mine was smoke from her hair.

We lay there on the hard ground under the blankets, my seed splattered between us as we breathed ourselves down from the rushing pleasure. I was keenly aware one of us should say something, so I cleared my throat and went for it. "So. I guess I'll go to sleep now."

"Mmhmm." She shifted her body against mine, not even bothering to wipe my cum off. "Like you say, it'll subside. Eventually." I was still stiff between the cheeks of her ass, though that wouldn't last. She paused. "Ever fucked a girl in the ass before?"

"Just once." I moved my hand back toward her hip, but she caught it and shifted it straight back up to her chest, where she wanted it.. I pulled her back tightly, feeling the slickness up her back.

"Were you trying to fuck me in the ass?"

"Not really," I told her, truthfully. "I guess I was just... you know. Thought you might find it thrilling?"

She lay there, and I felt her whole body relax slowly after she yawned. "It was fucking hot," she admitted sleepily. "Good night, paladin."

"Good night, slave."

* * *

The sky was a swirl of pink streaks when I opened my eyes the next morning, to find Nellie already up and dressed. "It's going to rain," she announced, grumpy.

"Probably." I sat up shivering, my sparse chest hair matted with my own crusty spunk. "I should have wiped myself off last night," I groused. "Now I'm going to be smelling my own cum all day."

"You weren't complaining." She stretched high, kicking her feet out. "I was tired. It was all I could do to keep my eyes open while you took your pleasure, you disgusting sinner."

I blinked up at her. "You were sinning too, wench."

"Of course I was." She shrugged, then knelt in the crunchy grass to rummage through our food. "You weren't doing anything for me, so I had to do it myself. So selfish!" She glared reproachfully at me. "I'll bet you didn't even wait for Wendy the smith's daughter to get herself off before you whelped her."

"Wendy," I pointed out loftily, "was not a foul little tease." I unfolded my stiff limbs and took a few steps off behind the tree so I could piss, the urine steaming in the morning chill. "Wendy put out," I clarified helpfully over my shoulder.

"Uh huh. That's apparent."

I scraped randomly at my chest, the reminder of last night's climax flaking away into the grass. She was right, I realized gloomily as I scanned the fierce clouds to the west: it was going to rain. Probably some wind too. I shivered. "Toss me my shirt?"

"We should get moving." Nellie seemed unnaturally motivated this morning. "Where are we going?"

I shrugged and caught my shirt, my cock swinging flaccid as I strode back to her. She looked at it, and didn't pretend not to. "So there's a big road ahead somewhere, elven like the one we were on before, a highroad. I don't know how far away; I rode it once with Lord Berken when he went to Court at Lord Hally's Castle." I stooped to take my leggings away from the cold fire. "Can't be too far. I reckon we can strike that, then make quick time to Galtin's Port."

"Will we reach it today?" She nestled her pendant between her tits and twisted two rings onto her forefinger. She looked good, like she was supposed to. Like a rich lady. Apparently, spending so much time with Lady Manda had given her the right manners. "I'd think there'd be a chance of shelter, once it rains?"

"No idea. If we keep heading west, though, we'll see it eventually." I laced myself up and frowned ahead, where the land fell. "We'll reach a stream soon enough. We'll need to find a ford, especially if the rain starts soon."

"Yeah, no shit. That's why I wanted to get moving soon."

I smiled. "I'd have been up earlier, only someone wouldn't let me sleep last night."

"Quit whining and saddle the horses, paladin." She smirked as she said it, and it was my turn to roll my eyes then.

"As m'lady Jessa commands," I mocked, stuffing the last of the bread into my mouth. I'd need to pray later, propitiating the gods for my unfortunate lust last night, but I was sure we could find a priest somewhere on the elven highroad. Another half-penny, for Cuvehr Of The Hard Cock this time, and I'd be good as new. I lifted Dickhead's saddle. "Your hips okay?"

"Worry about yours," she snapped, and that's as far as that conversation went.

The sun appeared for a moment as we swung down into the broad valley, winking out over the fields before the gathering clouds snuffed it out. To our left rolled the Whitelinen, now too broad to cross. Everywhere the land lay quiet, almost lazy, with nothing but distant sheep to watch us pass. It was almost eerie, the way we were seeing nobody, but then again most of the harvest was in: November was a make-and-mend month, when people stayed home preparing for the winter, or making cheese, or re-thatching.

Or keeping the fires lit, for we saw smoke rising a little way down the valley as we slowly descended toward the water. "A village," she called.

"On a stream." I nudged Dickhead that way. "Means a ford at least, maybe even a bridge." We hurried down toward the smoke through the late morning, the horses sensing the water that ran through its grey-sheened valley. The far side held a cluster of houses surrounding a modest temple and a pair of mills, one upstream and one down. The little river chuckled off toward the Whitelinen, leaving a wide expanse of calmer water above with beaten droveways on both banks. "There's our ford," I nodded.

"Thank God." Nellie, I'd discovered, had a real dislike of deep water.

"You know," I smiled, twisting around, "that horse can swim. She'd have swum you over the River yesterday if you'd just held her tail."

"Shut up," she said crossly. She'd insisted on trying to ride the horse into the water, with disastrous (if fucking hilarious) results.

I laughed. "Well. Won't be a problem here." The ford looked no deeper than the horses' knees, the far bank well graveled. "Though, if you do fall off, I'll make sure to pull you out."

She was silent for a moment, and when at last she chose to answer her voice cut like a whip. "By lowering a pole or something? Perhaps that cock you can't control?"

"I can control it," I leered back, "when my woman is worth controlling it for."

"I'm merely pointing out," she replied airily, "that you gave the lie to your own words, paladin Osber of Gribble."

"What lie?" I exclaimed, turning to face her mockery.

"'It'll subside eventually,'" she mimicked. "Liar. 'Trust me, it'll go down on its own.'" She stuck her tongue out.

"Well," I pointed out, urging my horse toward the water, "it did. Subside, I mean."

"Eventually," she muttered, "and hardly on its own."

I shook my head, focusing ahead at where a muddy street lined the river. The screech from the nearer mill grated at my soul, but at least there were people abroad in the lanes between the houses. A number of them were watching us with great interest: in a place like this, anybody riding horses was unusual, especially if one glittered with gold and the other carried a sword. "Your pardon!" I called to one of the men, who glanced around to make sure I meant him. "We're looking for the elven road. What place is this?"

He eyed me doubtfully, then spat. "You're at Poron's Wade." He jerked his head behind him. "Road's that way, maybe ten miles? No more than that, over Dunston way. Past Lorpnick, then Morwyn, then the Road." I saw his eyes narrow as he studied Nellie. "M'lady," he nodded, a bit unpleasantly. "Need a guide, do you?"

"Uh, no. Not even slightly," I smiled, just as unpleasantly. "I thank you kindly, though."

"Your name?" His eyes glittered. "It's just that the priest does not like folk riding armed through the town."

Instantly I felt the haughtiness rise in me, the feeling that I'm a Lord's man and not to be trifled with; far, far away was the memory that Pewick was no longer a Lord's man at all, but Osber still was. In my mind this little man down on the ground was no one to question me. I drew myself up in the saddle. "I am Osber of Gribble, paladin of the thane of Smallbridge. I ride as protection for his daughter, Lady Jessa." I watched the words take hold, the locals pulling back a bit. "I thank you again for your directions, and ask that you stand aside." I let him see the hilt at my saddle, though, letting him know that I wasn't actually asking.

Not really.

"Smallbridge." The man frowned. "Gribble. Never heard of them."

"They're in the Upper Stews, near Rannack's Dyke." The clouds gathered above, and I cast a long glance that way. "We're not interested in staying here and getting rained on, friend," I told him. It was a warning, and the man understood. He stepped back, most of the rest of the little crowd having already melted away.

"You're going to get rained on, paladin," he shrugged, "though I don't suppose it's anything to me, so long as you're away from the Wade." His wink at Nellie was much lewder than I was expecting. "Safe travels, your ladyship."

"Thank you." I was proud of her, her manner holding just the right amount of disdain, even contempt. She'd learned a lot from Lady Manda. Her mouth had given thanks, but her tone told him to get the fuck out of her way. "If you'd make way...?"

"Fine." He stood aside at last, the road before us twisting a rutted path up the long slope of a far bank topped by a line of elms. I could feel him looking at us as we rode on, though to be blunt I'm sure it was Nellie he was looking at: her ass was worth it, I reflected, driving Dickhead up the slope through the soggy little town. "And good riddance," I heard him spit behind us, but I hadn't really sensed any threat from these people. I needed to put distance between us and them, yes, but they were not brave people.

"It's going to piss on us, Pewick," Nellie sighed as she pushed her horse up beside mine. She was getting better with the reins, surer in the saddle.

I glanced at her. "Yes, it is."

She blinked. "Well. What's the plan?"

I snorted. "To get wet."

"People like you and I get wet, Pewick," she grumbled, "but people like Lady Jessa seek shelter, surely."

"Lady Jessa is headed for a life of prayer and toil." I shrugged. "She'd better get used to getting rained on."

"Lady Jessa," she sighed after a pause, "is a fool." We topped the rise, tails swishing, seeing nothing ahead but a blanket of fields stretching miles and miles into the hazy grey on the uncertain horizon. A cluster of houses lay in the middle distance, our lane leading straight for it.

"Dunston." I frowned. "And he said Lorpnick after that, then somewhere else. Started with an M." I gnawed at my mustache, sitting tall on my horse, debating with myself whether Nellie might be right. The land around was low and sodden, dotted with sullen trees and crossed by chancy tracks over which a horse could all too easily slip and break a leg. "I want to avoid that village," I decided, "but you might be right about shelter. I don't wish to risk the horses."

"The horses deserve shelter, but I don't?" She laughed in a grim, metallic burst. "You can cum on their backs tonight, then," but she didn't seem all that angry. "You sure you want to stay clear of Dunton? We need food..."

"We need shelter more, and no inquisitive locals." There was no thunder in the air, just the cold heaviness of a drenching rain coming, so I turned for the cluster of trees to the right of the village. "We'll go there. Those trees yonder." It looked from here like a copse, in fact, probably supplying withies for the villagers' walls... but it seemed a bit far, almost three furlongs, and it looked like the village had closer trees than that.

Not that I cared, though, not really. The storm was rolling in from behind us, and when I turned I thought I could even see the grey curtain falling across the paths we'd taken that morning, beating its way down toward the little river with its mills and its surly priest. "Hurry," I grunted, reaching to take her horse. "Hold on tightly. Arms and legs both. We'll run for the trees."

"Run?" She sounded scared, but I did not feel like waiting: I kicked at Dickhead's flanks, my heels back, and we took off over the fields toward the copse. I pulled hard on the other horse's bridle until she got the message, surging along with us to the wavering note of an exhilarated, frightened squeal from Nellie, holding hard with her eyes shut.

The first fat raindrop smacked my shoulder as my squinting eyes caught sight of a small lane ahead, cutting left toward the copse. I made to turn that way, but Dickhead had already seen it: sick of slugging through the fields, the horse charged straight toward where the path disappeared into the trees, with Nellie still shrieking behind me, and that was how we found ourselves when I caught sight of the manor ahead of us.

I jammed my heels down, hauling hard on the reins with one hand while fumbling for Nellie's horse with the other. "What?" she gasped, eyes wide with fright over a reddened face gone wild. "Why are we stopping?"

"Hush." It was too late, I knew: our lane was within plain sight of a few of the houses ahead, all scattered around a big clearing walled with what looked like a nicely-done hedge. I glimpsed a few houses, a byre, a pen or two, and... wonder of wonders... a temple, tiny enough to be just another house if not for the figure of Aersus the Trickster painted on the door. "Well," I drawled, sitting up with more rain now thunking heavily onto my hood, "look at that. A temple. To the Trickster!"

"Oh." She squinted ahead. "Oh! Wait! We can take shelter there!"

"Probably." I couldn't see any people about, but that made sense: they'd have all gone inside, away from the rain. What I did feel was a constant sense of watchfulness, as if we were being studied in every detail even before I urged Dickhead forward toward the manor. I could see the Lord's house off to the left now, stone-built, behind its own little wall and gate. The wind at my back was chilly. "Can you get off?"

Nellie clung to the horse with her whole body. "I'm not really in the mood right now, paladin," she snapped archly.

"Shit," I sneered, reaching my leg out of the stirrup to kick her straight off the back of her horse. She landed squawking in a heap of muddy indignity. "Sorry," I muttered, sliding from Dickhead. "Head for the temple," I told her; needlessly, for she was already scrambling in that direction. My own feet hit the hard ground a moment after, and as I crouched to rip the saddle off my impatient horse I heard the temple door creak shut behind her.

It was several drenched minutes before I was able to follow, leaving both saddles and our piled goods in the chancy shelter where the thatch overhung the low temple wall. There was nothing I could do about my own clothes, though, my cloak and shoes already soaked through and the rest of me craving a fire as I pulled open the temple's simple slatted door and ducked inside.

The place was dark, as of course it would be with a storm outside and such low walls. A far window up by the roof in the eastern wall let in a ray of dusty light and an occasional speckle of rain. A low voice, oddly accented, came out of the shadows behind that ray. "Shut the door. The fucking rain's coming in."

As I nudged it closed with the back of my foot I saw Nellie, hunched in the near corner, working to get one of Lady Manda's brooches sorted out: she'd tried to get her cloak off too fast and it had tangled. She was more used to ties, clearly. I stood there dripping, squinting down. "Hello? I'm Osber of Gribble."

"I doubt that," the voice came back with a hint of amused scorn, and I was just wondering what he meant when I saw a few sparks leap toward a little pile of kindling down there. "Shed your wet clothes, Osber of Gribble," the voice commanded calmly, again with that trace of mockery. "You're dripping on the floor of a house of Aersus, after all."

"Oh." I didn't imagine this was the first time the God Of Wine had had a dirty floor, but I held my peace. The flames grew steadily on the floor, the rain a constant hum on the thatch above us. "Sorry, priest." For so I assumed the voice must be: who else would be lighting a fire in a temple but the priest who lived there? The orange glow soon showed me a face, sharp-chinned, the eyes cast calmly downward as if willing the flames to rise. I shed my cloak and my tunic, leaning quickly out the door to wring them out as the rain poured off the roof. "Uh, thanks for taking us in."

"It is the role of the house of Aersus to offer sanctuary to those in need."

I hesitated. "And, um, wine?"

"Perhaps." Again I thought I caught an ironic cast to the words, almost a sneer. "You're both quite welcome. You and... you said your name was Jessa? A lady of Smallbridge?"

"Yes." Nellie had at last freed herself from her cloak and now stood shivering. "May I..."

"Come to the fire." The man sat quite motionless, his legs splayed out before him. The close air held more than a hint of a heavy, bitter odor as I drew closer. The little temple seemed to have no furnishings at all. "The rain will be here all day, which means you will too. So come."

I was having a lot of difficulty placing the man's accent as I followed Nellie over toward the fire, my feet bare on the dirt floor. The rushes had been there for some time, I noticed. I cleared my throat. "Um, priest, are you wounded? Forgive me, but I think I smell a wound..."

"No," he told me quite calmly, "you smell corruption. Death of the flesh, before death of the spirit." He waved a hand at his foot. "My leg is passing; it will kill me before the week is out. Most likely tomorrow."

I gaped. I'd known that smell from the battlefield. "Why... can't you get it mended?"

"I am on an impoverished manor in one of the most remote parts of the Marches," he pointed out, "meaning medical help is far away." He closed his eyes, and for the first time I noticed he was quite pale, and trembling slightly. "Death will be a welcome release. I've been here too long."

"What happened?" Nellie wavered.

He shrugged. "A pig bit me. While I was trying to bless it."

We glanced at each other. "Uh, occupational hazard?"

"Something like that," the priest sighed, "but we cooked it and ate it that night, so I suppose I got my vengeance." He trembled again, and Nellie glanced up at me before kneeling to him.