The Citadel of Hate

Thankfully, the burning sword had winked out as soon as it fell, so there was no danger of it setting the wooden floor ablaze. Stepping over the knight's body, Aranthir ran to the gatehouse winch. With all of them together, they opened the gates in short order.

From the bailey, Rora and the others appeared on horseback, leading a small herd of other horses for him. Aranthir ran down the gatehouse's steps to mount a horse and the others followed. Behind them, the citadel was stirring. A horn sounded somewhere in the bailey, followed by shouts and the baying of hounds. As soon as Aranthir and his companions were all mounted, they bolted out the gate and into the desert.

The sky was still a dull red, providing them with light as their steeds galloped along the edge where the hills met the desert plain. Aranthir called on his sorcerous powers and, using Tamia's presence as a source, he cloaked their company in a sorcerous shroud that he hoped would mask their tracks and shield them from sight. Following Tamia's guidance, they rode northeast along the hills, making for the Lyarus River, which would eventually reach Meatham in the Kingdom of Lenadar where they had mustered to the king's army.

With the djinn's winds at their backs, their little company rode through the night. They quickly put the strange citadel behind them and there were no signs of pursuit. Still, they rode hard without stopping until the rising sun made the day too hot to continue. Around midday, they retreated into the rocky foothills and sheltered in the shade of several large boulders. They made camp at the top of a tall slope to rest and water their horses. Aranthir crawled on top of the boulder to stand sentry.

He lay there for much of the day until the sun swung low in the west and he saw a company of riders approaching along the plain.

"Riders below," he called down. "Light your matchcords and make ready."

"Have they spotted us?" Rora called back.

"Not yet, but they're searching. Make ready."

Lutharis took off his helmet and went to one of the boulders along the slope. Using the helmet as a makeshift shovel, he began to dig out the dirt underneath the rock.

"Everyone start digging. We'll ready these rocks and push them down on them if they come close. Stick to the high and rocky ground, it will slow their horses."

The others did as ordered, while Rora and her sharpshooters prepared themselves for the fight to come. In wetter climes, Aranthir would have ordered sharpened stakes prepared to foul the horses' attack, but there were no trees in sight. In flat ground, he would have ordered postholes, but here the rough slopes would do just as well.

"Look," Aigon called. "Another party of riders to the north."

"They don't know where we've gone, so they've split up to cover more ground," Aranthir observed. "We must be sure to eliminate this group in its entirety, so that it cannot summon more reinforcements to the hunt."

"Keep digging," Lutharis called.

"With luck they'll pass us by," Pairas said to himself as they dug. Aranthir agreed. While their position was strong enough and the company of riders not so large, he had no desire to once again come to blows with those large knights in their strange armor. Slaying one had been a great feat, could they fight any more of them?

"Tamia," he whispered, "what do you know of those men?"

The djinn coalesced into sight just in front of him.

"They are the Cursed, men suspended in a state between life and death."

"They are the Black Lord's men?"

"They must be, for it would take a sorcerer of some power to create such a creature."

"Can you counter their magic? Stop their swords from burning?"

"I will do what I can," she replied, "though I think you will be fine without me. It's been too long since I've experienced such excitement! Win or lose, you have relieved the monotony of my existence."

"I am pleased to have been of service," Aranthir remarked acidly.

"They're coming this way," Aigon hissed. Looking down the slope, Aranthir saw that the young man was right. The riders were ascending the slope toward their position in a loose column.

"Everyone make ready," Aranthir called out. He prepared himself, lighting the matchcord of a musket and checking that all four of his pistols were loaded. He studied the slop before their campsite, checking the approaches that the riders could take. Just in front of their position was a flat patch of ground lying in the path of the boulders.

"Lutharis," he called, "we will need bait."

Lutharis followed Aranthir's gaze to the low ground and grimaced. He shook the dirt from his helmet and put it on again before following Aranthir down with their horses. Resting against a large rock, they made a facsimile of a new camp for just the two of them.

"We could still let them pass," Lutharis said quietly, stroking his beard.

"Better to eliminate them," Aranthir replied with a shake of his head. "We will need to continue on and it will be difficult with them always just over the hill. We're set well here, we can lure them in and destroy them. Then we ride for the river."

Looking up the slope, he saw three of Rora's sharpshooters moving along the slope to flank their position. If any riders fled the ambush to report, the shooters would take them down.

"Now to set the trap," Aranthir said, and he took off his helmet. Holding it up to the sun, he turned it until it reflected the sun's rays toward the near group of riders. Watching from the shadow of a rock, he saw them briefly halt to confer before continuing on. They reoriented themselves to approach in two loose lines of six riders each.

He and Lutharis laid out their pistols before them and steeled themselves for the attack. The riders approached at their usual hard pace and Aranthir could begin to make out their features. The first line of riders was of four knights in the center with two Sardmen on each flank. The knights carried long lances of bone white wood while the riders on the flanks carried bows. The second line was of four Sardmen armed with bows and two more with lances. They spotted Aranthir and Lutharis and spurred their horses to attack.

Aranthir stood his ground as they closed, trusting in Rora to execute the boulder attack at the right moment. The riders increased their pace as they picked out Aranthir and Lutharis, galloping up the hill as fast as they could. The riders with bows nocked their arrows as they closed the range and were about to let loose when a blast of gunfire knocked three of them from their horses. Aranthir raised his double-barreled pistols and fired into the knights' steeds, sending two of them tumbling from the saddle.

Behind him he heard the boulders come crashing down the slope and dodged to the side. Four rocks taller than a man went tumbling past him, plowing into the loosely arrayed ranks of riders. One of the downed knights was struck head on by a rock he could not escape and did not rise. The boulders smashed into the other riders, breaking horses' legs and sending men flying from the saddle.

Aranthir drew another set of pistols from those arrayed before him and fired again, this time at one of the riders, who had circled his horse to stare in dismay at the carnage. One shot took the man in the shoulder while the other killed his horse, sending him tumbling to the dirt.

In the rear, three of the riders turned to flee, only to be gunned down by Rora's sharpshooters. Aranthir took up his last set of pistols and surveyed the scene.

Two knights remained in the saddle, while another was raising himself up from the ground. Both of the Sardic lancers were dead or dying, along with four of the other Sardmen. One was dismounted while the last bolted as soon as he recovered his wits from the ambush. Rora's sharpshooters were all reloading, so the man darted away between the rocks.

But Aranthir had no time to chase him, for he and Lutharis found themselves facing three of the Cursed knights. From their steeds, two of them charged in to attack Lutharis. The third drew himself up to his feet and bellowed a mighty roar that shook Aranthir's bones inside him. Lutharis seized up in the face of both the inhuman roar and the approach of two towering knights on coal-black stallions. Aranthir raised his pistols, aiming at the horses' heads. He had only moments before his friend would be cut down.

He fired both pistols at once and heard a horse cry out. Through the billowing gunsmoke, he could see the nearer of the two horses flail about in pain, a bright spot of red blossoming on its shoulder. Aranthir discarded the pistols and ran forward as he drew his longsword. Passing through the smoke, he saw the other knight as he was thrown from his dead horse to crash against the large rock behind Lutharis. He was slow to rise and Lutharis buried his stolen tabar between the knight's eyes.

"Well done," Aranthir called. The other two knights were on their feet with swords drawn. Lutharis wrenched the axe free and turned back to Aranthir.

"Let's finish this." Together they advanced on the other two knights. Behind them, Rora's sharpshooters were reloading but Aigon, Pairas, and the rest drew their swords and charged down the slope to join the battle. The knights rushed Aranthir and Lutharis before their companions could arrive, using their great height and reach to push them back. They carried their long, burning blades before them, using the weapons to ward their foes back as they advanced. Aranthir found himself pressed against the rock wall as they came on.

With no further room to retreat, he lunged forward, ducking underneath two strikes aimed at decapitating him and appearing on the other side, in between the knights. He struck at the knees of the knight to his left and the longsword's blade rang out against the knight' greaves. The knight was undeterred and turned to face Aranthir as the half-elf danced backwards into more open ground. The black iron monster cleaved the air before him as Aranthir dodged, then launched his riposte.

The sword's point found a gap in the armor below the shoulder and Aranthir drove the blade a hand's length into his foe. The knight continued its advance, only momentarily slowed by the wound.

Lutharis darted in and chopped at the knight's unguarded back, inflicting another wound. The knight slowed again, in time for Cuthas to stab at its flank. This one it was prepared for, and knocked the blade aside, but Aranthir capitalized on the moment and swung his sword's hilt overhead to cave in the knight's helm. The helm rang under the blow like a great bell and the knight stopped all efforts to defend itself. It sank to its knees and teetered for a moment until it fell to the side with a great crash, sending up a plume of dust from the hard, dry earth.

Only one remained, but now Rora's shooters had reloaded and at a command, they all emptied their muskets into its back. Black ichor leaked from a handful of wounds and the knight stood stunned while Lutharis clove its head in twain with a two-handed swing of his tabar. At last, the final knight fell to the ground.

"That's all of them," Lutharis breathed with a sigh of relief.

"Not quite," Aranthir answered, running to his horse. "There's one running to alert the others, and I mean to catch him."

The last survivor had a long lead on him, having reached the plain before Aranthir had even mounted his horse. Aranthir spurred his horse down the slope but he could tell he would have to run the animal into the ground to catch his quarry before he reached the other riders, if he could catch him at all. The thought of battling another group of the knights was unappealing, and the second group looked larger than the first.

He clutched at the horse's neck to keep low as they galloped over the hard, dry earth. The small figures of the fleeing horse and rider before him were mostly obscured by the dust cloud. How long until the other riders spied their trail?

"Tamia," he called as he bounced in the saddle, "djinn, I need you again."

"A chase!" the djinn appeared in cloud form beside him, a blue-white shape of a woman's body in the air. She looking as if she were swimming through the dust cloud around him. "The battle was so much fun to watch! What excitement! And now a chase? You have made this a most wonderful day for me, mortal!"

"I need your aid here," Aranthir called. "I need to catch that man before he reaches his companions."

"Do you want to go faster, or him slower?"

"Either one, but I need to catch him soon. And maybe do something about this dust?"

A sudden wind whipped up over the plain, blowing a great wall of dust before it. The wind whipped at Aranthir's exposed face, but the clouds from the horses were hidden beneath. Through it all, he could barely make out the form of the fleeing rider, whose horse suddenly reared and threw him to the ground. The man curled up on the ground in pain as the horse kicked in anger before calming itself and wandering off.

Aranthir bore down on the man quickly, sword in hand. The wind and dust masked his approach such that his target had only just staggered to his feet when he spotted Aranthir. His face a mask of panic, he clutched uselessly at his scabbard, emptied by the fall. He spied his sword lying in the dust. Looking from the blade to the charging Aranthir, he hesitated and moment. He ran for the lost sword and reached it just as Aranthir reached him.

One quick thrust of the longsword ended the chase and the men fell dead to the earth.

Aranthir pulled his horse up as hard as he could, hooves skidding across the hot ground. He trotted back to the man to make sure he was dead. Blood pooled beneath the corpse, so Aranthir left it alone. He approached the rogue horse and soothed it enough to grab hold of its reins. With Tamia's wind still whipping at his face, he rode back to camp with his prize.

The more distant company of riders passed by none the wiser. Aranthir and the others watched from their camp as the dust cloud marking the second company continued north until it disappeared over the horizon. They watched the horizon for any reappearance until the sun went down and they set off toward the Lyarus again.

Three days after setting out from the citadel, they at last reached the Lyarus's banks. The river wound its way across the desert, a deep blue ribbon cutting through the golden sands. As their company neared the river, they broke from column in jubilation. Spurring their horses the last few hundred paces, they splashed into the reeds and shallows along the bank. Aranthir reveled in the feel of the cold water on his hot skin, a welcome relief from the sun that still beat down on them in the mid-morning. He dismounted, plunging up to his waist in the river's welcoming waters.

"We made it," he said to himself as much as anyone. Lutharis shed his firearms and powder by the riverbank, dismounted, and dove headfirst into the water. He surfaced again, shaking his hairy head like a dog and laughing uproariously. Aigon paused at the bank to remove his boots before wading in up to his ankles.

Pairas and Rora stopped at the river's edge, casting suspicious looks back the way they had come. No dust clouds on the horizon heralded the approach of the Black Lord's knights. The desert was as empty and still as it had always been.

"Tamia," Aranthir called as he lay himself down in the water, floating on his back in the river's lazy current. "You have delivered us."

The familiar white cloud formed on the bank nearby. It hovered for a moment, a soft cloud on a clear day. Then, it began drift forward and plunged into the river. The water churned and from beneath its surface a woman propelled herself to the surface. She was dusky skinned and dark-haired; her wiry hair wreathed her head in loosely wound coils. The water washed away from her face, and she turned to regard Aranthir.

She was pretty. And naked. She smiled.

"It is a wonderful sensation to feel someone else's water for the first time in ages."

"Tamia?" Aranthir asked, as she could be anyone else.

"In the flesh!" she beamed, standing up tall on the riverbed. Her shapely breasts rose from the river, dripping cool droplets of water from her dark and erect nipples. Aranthir felt himself hardening even in the cold water. He planted his feet on the muddy bed and brushed his wet hair from his eyes.

"I should thank you," he said. "We would not have made it without you."

"I should thank you," the djinn replied, "you and your companions have made this all most exciting. An escape, a battle, a horse chase! What more could I ask for?" She slid closer to him in the water.

"What indeed," Aranthir replied, unfastening his armor. He threw it to the riverbank where it landed with a soft clang. Looking upriver towards the others, he saw that they were distracted. Rora and Pairas, along with their men, had given up the watch and plunged into the river to join in the celebration. Aigon splashed Lutharis, who retaliated by dunking the younger man underwater for a laugh.

His companions distracted, Aranthir pulled Tamia closer. Her skin was soft and warm to the touch despite the cold water flowing around them. The djinn smiled at him, her soft brown eyes searching up and down his bared body. Aranthir undid his sword belt and cast it to the riverbank as well. Tamia went to her knees in the water and pulled down his trousers to free his cock. Hard and wet, it flopped out into her hands and she laughed in delight.

Tamia swallowed his cock, her soft lips caressing the base of his shaft as Aranthir wound his fingers through her wiry hair. Furtively, he looked upriver again, but they were still unnoticed. Tamia moaned as his cock slid down her throat and Aranthir settled back onto a flat rock in the shallows, putting a thick stand of reeds between the two of them and their companions playing upstream. The sunbaked rock was hot against the bare skin of his ass, but Tamia's mouth on his cock was enough of a distraction for him to forget the pain.

She looked up at him, her pretty brown face framing his cock. He stared back into her eyes, their whiteness all the more so when set against her dark coloration. Lust overcame him and he pulled her to her feet. She still held his cock in one hand, caressing his chest with the other. Aranthir pulled her close and kissed her dark lips. She pushed her naked body against him, his cock pressed between them as they kissed. Aranthir pulled away and, putting his hands on her shoulders, bent her over the rock.

Tamia giggled as her bare nipples touched the hot surface of the rock, but proffered her smooth brown ass to him without complaint. Aranthir stood behind her, stroking his cock, as he regarded the djinn's nude form. He had not had a woman since leaving the army camp at Meatham three weeks ago, and the djinn was far more comely than any camp follower he had fucked.

Taking her by the hips with one hand, he slowly guided his cock into her with his other. She murmured in delight as he went in.

"I love the feel of mortal cock inside me," she moaned, "fuck me, mortal. Fuck me like I've been alone and unfulfilled for a thousand years!"

Aranthir gripped her hips tightly between his hands and did as he was told. He thrust his hips against her smooth buttocks, the water between their legs surging with each movement. Cold and clear droplets were thrown up by his pounding, landing on her bare back where they made her skin break out in gooseflesh. Aranthir felt her sex embrace his cock as he fucked, while her hands clutched at the hot rock beneath her with long, delicate fingers. The djinn moaned again, her breath catching as he fucked her.

Aranthir adjusted his footing, grabbing Tamia at the elbows and pulling her up off the rock. He pulled her arms back so that she was now held suspended above the rock, giving him greater control. The djinn giggled in delight at this new development and turned her head to look back at him. Her lips pursed as she crooned with pleasure, his hips working faster as he pounded away. He pulled one hand from her elbow to grab at her delightfully round breasts, pinching her dark nipples between two fingers. Tamia bit her lip and slid her free hand between her legs to play with herself.