Tannah The Warrior Pt. 03

"Good," she sighed as Fanazar laid between her sweat drenched thighs and squeezed her tits, rocking his hips sensually. Tannah entwined her legs with Fanazar's, their pubic hairs tangling together as he pushed his cock all the way into her.

"For your heart I'd raise my axe against the gods themselves," Fanazar gasped, pumping his hips.

"Oh Fanazar," she thought, feeling his length bulge within her, his erection filling her womanhood as if their bodies were carved from the same block. "If only you were as good with your mind as you are with your penis," she wished, caressing his muscular calves with her feet as she lay sprawled on the furs, his hips surging between her legs.

"Well, let's start out with a few soldiers," Tannah sighed, "a few soldiers, and a bandit warlord, a reasonable price, for my heart." Tannah saw the corners of Fanazar's mouth curl up as he squeezed her tits and made love to her.

"If we win here ... ahhh ... and say it was your plan," she gasped, feeling his manhood throb with arousal as she wrapped her legs around his waist, angling her hips and feeling his balls beat against her ass, taking him deep inside herself. "The others will see it, they know we've been fucking for some time, Gavwen looks weak already ... ahh ahh! If you kill him the others will follow you, and there will be no question of who I belong to."

Fanazar's hands moved from her breasts, down her sides and under her back. He laid atop her sweat moistened body enfolding her in his arms. He kissed her passionately, his tongue sliding between her lips, his strong chest squishing her breasts flat as his hips rocked between her thighs.

Tannah's heels dug into Fanazar's back as they grunted atop the furs together, sweating, his breaths hot against her cheek, their tongues intertwining, her fingers running through his hair as she straddled him.

She felt his heart beat faster in his chest as he held her in his arms, his thrusts coming sharper and lingering, soaking his cock in the warmth of her vagina for longer and longer, until finally she felt him gasp and shudder.

"Mnngg," he groaned, his lips pressed against hers, her pussy tight around the base of his manhood. Tannah clawed fondly at his back, her limbs wrapped around his naked body, feeling his cum drip across her butthole as he ejaculated. She grinned, accepting his seed, knowing it wouldn't be the last time.

Some hours later in the barracks at Arvokisk, Edra the chief of the militia was roused from sleep by a call to arms. He dressed himself in his leathers and mail, sword and dagger on his belt, racing to the stables as men shouted from the parapets.

"Archers counted somewhere around fifty raiders," his captain explained as they galloped in formation, heading a train of nearly a hundred men on horse. "They remain just out of bow shot and they've just set fire to the barns."

"The men out at Dalken point will have seen the fires," Edra laughed darkly as they passed beneath the wide portcullis, the orange flames dancing over rooftops becoming visible all around them. "Cowardly dogs!" he cursed, seeing armed men in furs, metal flashing as they cut down villagers in the streets ahead.

"For Lord Tolen sir?" the man beside him asked over the din of shouts.

"Fuck Tolen!" Edra barked. "For the King. For the King!" he shouted, drawing his sword and brandishing it high above his head. The men chorused his battle cry and together they charged.

Houses flew past them, embers whipping in the breeze and columns of smoke rising into the night sky.

"Foolish barbarians," Edra thought to himself, seeing them turn to flee, their weapons wet with innocent blood. "They don't even know they're already dead." From beneath his helm Edra saw a broad chested young man with a sparse blonde beard, raise a horn to his lips as he brought his horse about. He blew, making a long deep call that seemed to signal retreat as the men around him turned and fled.

"They're falling back!" someone yelled. Edra didn't care. He kept his gaze fixed on the man with the horn, and a battleaxe dripping with death, riding away like the coward that he was.

If the barbarians hadn't set the whole town ablaze they might have had a chance. The dark streets would have given them cover. With luck they could have gone unnoticed by the fortress above the valley, which was concealed by the mountainous terrain. The fact that their own cruelty would soon be their undoing made Edra's skin tingle.

They rode onward, chasing the raiders galloping for the forest line at the end of the valley, watching their shadows grow longer until the light of the fires no longer illuminated the hilly path.

"Pursue, kill the cowards!" he cried out, his sword pointed at his quarry as he charged toward the dark shapes ahead. Then, suddenly there was a disturbance among the mounted warriors. Weapons rose above their heads. Edra heard cries of a struggle, metal beating against metal in the darkness.

The invaders spread out, their formation broken. Riders turned and Edra could see their forms more clearly as they flew panic stricken in all directions. Then as they thinned Edra could see the source of their distress. Banners flew in the light breeze that whistled across the plain, men dressed fully in plates of iron rode through the middle of the scattering enemy.

"Baoryd's knights," Edra realized, they'd already arrived, the battle was over.

"Halt!" he shouted as the barbarians fled uselessly up the rocky incline to the left and right, not seeming to realize they were trapped in the valley. He tugged at the reins directing his mare toward their left flank and let out a deep ominous laugh.

Some of the men laughed with him. The enemy was cut in half, spread around them, and they needed only to choose which half to kill first. Then a sudden impact jostled Edra from the saddle. He hit the earth, seeing the vague shapes of hooves as Baoryd's knights from the fortress at Dalken rode past him, cutting through the ranks of Edra's cavalry. He stood up in a daze, retrieving his sword from the ground where it had fallen, armored bodies clashing all around.

He saw his captain laying some feet away, dark liquid draining across his chin, a lance through his torso. In the distance, up the rocky hills he saw the barbarians, this time charging downward from both of their flanks. One of the knights caught sight of Edra stumbling, still confused. The line of defense was a writhing mess of armored bodies that was still pushing several yards from where Edra stood, the knights on his side of the field, his men on the other.

Edra saw the armored man dismount and approach, and that's when he recognized the long braided hair hanging beneath the man's helm.

"Barbarians," he thought, raising his sword to defend himself. He saw another man dressed in plate dismount and move toward him. "How?" he wondered, sure that he had seen Baoryd's imagery on the banners.

That's when he felt cold metal slide into his body from behind. He was unable to breath from the shock, nevertheless he turned to face his attacker, thrusting his blade into the darkness only to scrape against metal. A slash across the back of his thigh sent Edra to his knees howling in agony, and then a sword point pierced his throat silencing him forever.