Terrible Company Ch. 05

"That explains... like... so much," Katsa grumbled.

"Did you guys see that?" Val whispered incredulously. She leaned over, grabbed one of the lowest horizontal bars of their cage, and lifted. The entire fragile network of sticks rose up, like an upside down cup. "It's not even anchored! What is this made out of? Balsa wood?!" A loud argument broke out on the far side of the bandit camp just as Val let go. "I think this is a prop cage."

"How come they haven't taken Katsa yet?" Ivy asked, as she sat down next to Mathilda. Most of the bandits they could see began to wander off in twos and threes toward the source of the yelling.

"Dunno," the Dwarf answered, "but they cer'ainly coulda used that stick up 'er ass to reinforce this sorry excuse fer a cell."

"Bite me."

"Careful what ye wish for, lass."

Katsa froze, and then shared several seconds of direct eye contact with Val.

"Well don't you all look cozy," Ayen laughed, as he leaned up against the outside of their makeshift prison. Putting his weight on it caused the cage to slide across the grass, and Ayen had only the slightest hitch in regaining his balance. An ill-fitting bandit uniform hung from his lean frame.

"Where the fuck have you been," Val growled.

"I met some travelers on a pilgrimage," he explained, "and I gave them some, uh, substantial guidance."

"Penis?"

"Penis."

"And you've been doing what since then?" Val's voice had a tangible edge.

"You'd have been proud," he crowed. "I tracked you guys down, stole this uniform, and was working my way through the camp, right? Getting the lay of the land? I found two disgruntled seamsters who were mad about some of their costume suggestions getting rejected. I'd just started to work on them, when all of a sudden this one," he says, pointing at Ivy, "sets off a bomb. I don't know what you did, kid, but they're over there now ripping themselves apart."

"I was only trying to help," Ivy whined.

"Ye did great, lass." Mathilda slapped Ivy on the thigh reassuringly, and that seemed to appease the Bard.

"Hey," Ayen shouted, toward the few remaining guards. "I'll stay here. Why don't you go see what that's all about." The other guards nodded and jogged off, leaving the group guarded only by the Half-Elf. "We should go," he said. "Apparently they've been out here practicing for months, and they blew almost their entire budget on props and costumes. Once the leadership is gone, it could get ugly."

" 'ow ugly could it ge'? They're just bards," Mathilda scoffed. "No offense."

"None taken," Ivy said brightly.

Val grabbed the door handle and yanked, but the handle broke clean off in her hand. "Why would they even put a handle on the inside of a cage?" She sighed and lifted the cage above her head, and the rest of the group ducked out following Ayen.

"All your stuff is intact," he smiled. "The fact that we had no gold meant that we had nothing they wanted."

"Thank ye, ye miserable bastard, fer small favors."

Katsa rushed ahead of the rest, dropping to her knees and rifling through the pile of her belongings. Mathilda gave her sack one good heft and listened carefully to the clinks of bottles. "Sounds abou' righ'."

"I'm surprised they didn't take you," Ayen said to the stuffed bear with the burned paw, as he poked through his pack.

"Awww!" Ivy cooed as she looked over his shoulder. "He's adorable!"

Ayen spun smoothly, offering up the stuffed toy to the bard with a wry grin. "This little guy has seen some trauma," the Half-Elf lamented, fingering the charred fur. "He needs... tenderness, and a warm heart to help him get back to full strength. I can't think of anyone better suited than you."

Ivy fawned over the little bear as she took it, stroking the back of his head as she wandered away. Ayen's eyes lit up, but before he could grab Ivy's bag in the name of 'being helpful', Mathilda scooped it up and slung it over her shoulder with a smug grin.

"Anybody missing anything?" Val said, looking around. "Are we good?"

"It's all here," Katsa said hurriedly, as she meticulously repackaged her vials and tinctures.

"I gotta know," Mathilda admitted, as they started to move. "Wha' issit with you an' bards?"

"They get people killed. Good people. You're fighting a horde of enemies, everyone is dead, you're bleeding from a half dozen wounds, and your healer is on his last leg, but you know who was doing just fine? Standing behind you and strumming at his fucking lyre?"

"You never have to worry about that with me," Ivy chirped. "I don't own a lyre."

Val twitched, glaring furiously at the bubbly Bard.

"Whoa, hey," Mathilda said, stepping between Ivy and the enraged Orc.

"Stop!" cried a voice, interrupting the escalating situation. Everyone turned to see the bandits walking toward them, en masse, with a few meandering in front. Their leader, the one in the jaunty feathered cap, strode at their head. "Did you really think it would be that easy?"

Katsa quirked her head to the side, baffled. "Why are they shuffling?" There was quite a bit of side-to-side movement among the bandits who, in addition to still being quite a distance away, did not seem to be in any great hurry to get where they were going. She swore a few might have even been capering.

"I think the bigger question," Ayen asked quietly, "is 'how did these buffoons capture you guys in the first place'?"

"They surrounded us," Val growled.

"Ah might'a given 'er a hard time abou' Orcs leapin' to violence as a solution t'all they're problems," Mathilda added with a shrug.

"Yeah," Ayen reasoned, "but what about when violence is the appropriate response?"

The bandits, in the meantime, had taken to collectively snapping with each strut. They had made very little forward progress, choosing instead to snake back and forth like a great chorus line.

"Ah was merely pointin' ou' tha' it set a bad precedent fer our new glorious leader."

Ayen laughed. "Then why didn't you immediately abdicate?"

"I didn't think of that," Val said flatly. She frowned for a moment, and then looked back at Ivy. "I abdicate."

"Oooh," Ivy cooed, as she reached for her pen and pad. "Ab-di-cate... got it."

The big Orc took off, charging the milling mass with a battle cry.

"Alright lads!" shouted the lead bandit. "Let's finish this!" He and four other bandits eagerly charged out to meet Val, although there was a marked difference between the opposing parties gaits; Val was so much lethal muscle, moving like a lion toward the kill, while the bandits... frolicked. Mathilda grumbled and started to run too, but Katsa immediately grabbed her collar and shook her head.

"Oh no," Ivy gasped. She covered her mouth, mumbling "oh no, oh no, oh no," through her fingers.

"Wha' is it, lass?"

"They think—"

Val crashed into the leader, driving her elbow hard into his face with a sickening crunch, and knocking him clear off his feet. This drew an immediate, and horrified, response from the his cohorts and onlookers.

"They thought it was going to be a dance off," Ivy whimpered. "That's how bard's 'finish it'."

The rest of the party shrank back, wincing in shared pain at each new horror they watched Val inflict on their fleeing ex-captors. For all their practicing and choreography, the bandits had not spent any time whatsoever on actual combat training, focusing instead on intimidating jazz hand techniques. Now, faced with an enraged Orc, many of the bards realized the fatal flaw in their plan and ran away screaming. Most did not get far.

"She needed this," Katsa stated, hoping to convince herself as much as anyone else.

"Ah believe it's my turn then at leaderin'?"

Ivy whimpered. "But what about—"

"Look away, lass. Just look away."

***

"Mathilda?"

Ivy's voice, no matter how fair it might be under normal circumstances, was like a hammer, and the sun the anvil. Mathilda groaned and pulled her cloak up over her eyes. "Wha' did Ah say, lass?" she whispered.

"Sorr—"

"Ahhh!" Mathilda cried, reeling even further.

Ivy winced. "Sorry!" she whispered. "Your Highness?"

" 'at's better." The Dwarf slapped her hand down repeatedly into the grass, searching. She knew she'd left... there. She couldn't squint hard enough to block out all of the light as she sat up and took a quick swig, but she also knew the pain would pass soon. "Ugh," she moaned. "No' tha hooch." She tried to open one eye just a teeny, tiny bit, and recoiled in pain. "Lass, can ye see where mah Orcish Souvet went? Green bottle?"

Ivy frowned as she looked at the dozen bottles littering the ground around where Mathilda had slept. "Red label or white?"

"Red."

"Square bottle or round?"

"Round."

"Long or stout?"

"Stout," hissed the Dwarf. Ivy scooped up the bottle, and made a disappointed sound in her throat as she set it gently in the Dwarf's blindly groping hands. "Issat a joke, lass?"

"No. I think you finished it already."

"Ah mos' certainly did no'!"

"The cork wasn't in real tight. Maybe it spilled out?"

"Ah would never waste a fine vintage like tha'! It's damn near sacrilegious!"

"Well, it-it's gone now."

Mathilda's sour expression soured further as she took another swig of her hooch. "Miserable bastard's pro'bly havin' a good laugh at this," she grumbled as she carefully resealed the bottle. "Issit midday yet, lass?"

"Almost," Ivy said cheerily.

"Almos'?"

"Katsa hurt her leg."

Mathilda grunted noncommittally and rolled up onto her feet. "Where is she?"

"Down by the daisy field."

Val had dragged, tossed, beaten, and chased all of the bandits out of their own camp by sundown that first day, leaving behind a sprawling trove for the five of them to pick over. In the week that followed, they were able to amass a sizable bonfire every night from the useless crap they'd found: a pile of curved arrows taller than Ayen, dozens of bolts of cloth for each of a dozen different shades of green, enough glitter glue to drown a pack animal. A fresh hell each time they went into a new quarters, or opened a new crate.

They found two young peacocks in a pen near the back of the camp, kept for no better reason than for their feathers. According to the personal journal of the head bandit, peacock feathers were his method of choice for signifying promotions and showing favoritism, as well as denoting status among the rank and file. They found a waiting list for feathers, nearly four feet long, with intended purposes ranging from 'De-Drabification of headwear' and 'Calligraphy isn't the same without flair' to 'Fan Dance Tuesday' and 'Boondoggle', although Ivy insisted the word meant something very different to bards.

That journal included, among other things, lengthy essays on the dire economic conditions which had lead so many bards to uproot themselves for a life of fabulous crime, as well as a sonnet outlining the head bandit's thought process for the selection this particular location. Ultimately, that decision hinged on an adjacent field of wild daisies the author had found, and later made love in, during an eventful LSD trip; the details of said trip were elsewhere chronicled in an as-yet unperformed one man show entitled 'Getting Incestuous with My Inner Child'. Val promptly burned the extant copy, unread, "For the greater good."

It was that same field of daisies that Mathilda now found herself at the edge of, her bottle of hooch half-empty and her headache half-gone. Katsa was perched atop a rocky outcropping, wincing and holding her leg.

"Wha'd ye do to i', then?"

"I think I twisted it."

"Well o'course ye twisted it," Mathilda grumbled, as she looked around for the best path up onto the rock. "Yer wearin' boots with a three inch heel. What'd ye think was gonna 'appen when ye wandered into a blasted field?" She tossed Katsa the bottle of hooch, and gave the Arcanist the stink eye when she nearly bobbled the catch.

"Actually," Katsa said sarcastically, "my thought process was 'Why don't I get that miserable healer of ours actually heal something for once'."

" 'at's tha spirit," Mathilda smiled. "Now drink." She waited for the blonde to get a few mouthfuls down before she tried to remove the boot, but Katsa still cried out in pain. "Quit yer bellyachin'. An' nex'time, wear more sens'ble shoes."

"They're perfectly comfortable!"

"Less talkin', more drinkin'."

The thin Human winced as she tipped the bottle back. Mathilda bowed her head and flexed her fingers open and shut. The feel of it, Rhogan's power flowing through her, was a blissful rush that made dealing with her overbearing God a bit more tolerable. For a while, anyway. Her brow furrowed as she passed her hands up and down Katsa's leg.

"Lass," she said over her shoulder. "Ah need ye t'go'n fetch a bottle for me."

"Ok," Ivy said brightly.

"Clear bottle, white label, black cork. Fluid inside is green. Got i'?"

"Absolutely," the Bard said confidently.

"Don't come back until you have i'," Mathilda called, as she sat back on her heels.

Katsa gasped as she let the bottle fall from her lips. "Is it serious?"

Mathilda favored the Arcanist with a wry grin. "She's gone now."

"So?"

"So, it's jus' you an' me, an' Ah lost that bottle a while back. Ye can drop tha act."

The Human sat up slowly, warily. "It really hurts," she said, unconvincingly.

"Tha' warm glow a momen' ago, the one Ah put on yer leg. Ye think Ah just blast a buncha healey energy a' ye blindly?"

Katsa shook her head.

"Yer leg's fine. ...You know wha' mah favori' par' o' healin' is, lass?" Mathilda asked.

Katsa shook her head again, slower.

"It's tha checkin'."

"I'll bite," the Arcanist said hesitantly. "Why?"

"Pants off."

"What? Why?"

Mathilda's hand moved like lightning, sliding over and between the Blonde's thighs. "Will ye look't tha'... s'already wet."

Katsa moaned as the Dwarf's thumb pressed in through her leggings.

"Did ye think Ah wouldn't notice all this warmth here, lass?"

"I—" She cut off in a whimper as Mathilda's thumb pushed in further, rubbing the soft fabric over her budding clit. "Oh gods..."

"Pants. Off." Katsa rushed without question this time, hurriedly shedding her boots and rolling onto her back. As she pushed up her leggings Mathilda's hand followed along the back of her thigh, along the tendon. The Arcanist moaned. "Bit 'f a soft spot there, eh?" The Dwarf's small hands worked slowly, and smoothly, up behind her knees. Along her calves. "So sens'tive."

"Mmmhmmm," Katsa murmured, tossing her leggings and undergarments aside. Her legs curled back down toward the rock, with Mathilda fondling and caressing them all the while. Thumbs and fingertips, pressing and probing. Another moan, louder this time, as a bolt of lightning shot along the inside of her thigh and right up her spine.

"Ye have magnificent legs," Mathilda whispered. "Ah'm surprised Val 'adn't insisted ye wear skirts, if fer no better reason than the access." Her hands moved deliberately, applying pressure as she massaged the Arcanist's hot spots. "Top. Off."

Katsa raced to obey this time, shedding her overcoat and deftly plucking at the binding laces of her blouse, but the Dwarf was even faster. Just as she got her top loose enough to discard, Mathilda straddled her stomach with a wide grin. She momentarily lost track of what she was doing as she stared down at the braided pubic hair resting on her pale stomach.

"Have ye ever been with a woman besides Val, lass?"

She nodded vigorously as she finally bared herself, and Mathilda grinned. "In the Guild halls, there was a... a girl," she whispered. She couldn't stop herself from reaching for the Dwarf's full breasts, large compared to her own. "We spent a lot of time not studying together."

"Oh?" Mathilda blinked slowly, happily, leaning into the massaging. "So ye've seen tha inside of a muff'r two then?"

Katsa nodded as she leaned forward, sucking one of the wide, dark nipples between her lips. The Dwarf smiled warmly as she cradled the back of Katsa's head, holding her up like a nursing babe.

"An' did ye find tha' ta yer liking, then?"

She nodded again, slurping loudly as she suckled from the Healer's bosom.

"Well it jus' so 'appens," Mathilda said, "that Ah've had a bit of a dry spell. Can ye help me with tha'?"

Katsa cried out as the hand at the back of her head took a firm grip and pulled back. "Yes," she gasped.

Mathilda sneered as she pushed her down flat against the rock. "Yer job is easy, lass. All ye have to do is lick."

Katsa's eyes widened as the small woman settled over her, and the daylight faded. One last clear breath before the Healer's cunt smothered her. Her nose, driven up between smooth, muscular cheeks.

"If ye can breath easy," Mathilda sang, "yer not doin it right."

The Arcanist's tongue drove up, penetrating Mathilda's cleft. The heavy, heady smell already had her dazed, and the older woman had barely touched her. Yet.

"Dinnae worry, lass. Ah always pay mah debts."

Katsa lit up, as both of her nipples were pinched, twisted, and pulled. Her arms, pinned beneath shins, were useless in trying to fend off the smaller woman. Her muffled scream drove a nearby fox from its hole but Mathilda's legs only tightened around her head, pinning her in place.

"Tha's it. Get deep."

Her body writhed and wiggled, attempting in vain to get away, but there was no escaping Mathilda's hands. Her left nipple, the more sensitive one, remained firmly between strong fingers, but she moaned in relief as she felt Mathilda let go of the right. Seconds later, she felt her own lips parted, and two fingers worked quickly and vigorously over her nub.

She groaned loudly into Mathilda's cunt, feeling more and more suffocated. Her eyes rolled up in her head as she mindlessly tongued the hole in front of her. The hole she could reach. She screamed as Mathilda delivered a hard, open-handed slap over her dripping pussy. Her nipple, twisted viciously. A world of sensation was inflicted upon her body while she could no more defend herself than she could walk on water. And she fucking loved it.

Mathilda's fingers were a blurry haze of sloshing motion over the Arcanist's clit as she finally rose up on her knees. Katsa wheezed raggedly, her body twisting in the throes of expertly-applied pain and mind-numbing pleasure.

" 'at's a lovely shade of red yer turnin," said the Dwarf. Katsa barely heard it. Her tongue ached to chase the hole, but there were certain requirements which her lungs refused to allow her to short cha—

Mathilda sat back down again with a satisfied smile and delivered another ear-splitting slap over the Arcanists cunt. The resulting howl sent fantastic vibrations through her core, and she moaned as she renewed her assault on the prone flesh beneath her. She watched the tremors running through Katsa's legs. Felt the moans. Each touch and movement, a refinement of the one before as she gauged reactions and responses. The shiver in Katsa's middle. The eagerness of her tongue. The quality of her moans. All noted and cross-referenced with where and how Mathilda touched her. Fondled her. Teased her.

The Divinist ran her tongue along the tips of her teeth as she stroked her own clit feverishly. She gave Katsa's left nipple another hard twist, relishing in the spastic jerking beneath her. " 'at's right," she moaned. "A little... to the... yeees..."

Her hips rolled forward and back, driving her puffy lips down over Katsa's mouth. The velvety tongue inside her lapped at her walls while her own fingers worked in beautiful harmony. Struck a resonant chord on her throbbing bud. She lifted lightly, tugging upwards on Katsa's nipple, and moaned gleefully watching the girl strain to follow it. Hot air blasted between her cheeks as Katsa strained to breath.