The Duchess of Lust Ch. 02

She snickered and started to rise but nearly fell. The shaman reached down to steady her, and she smiled gratefully as she regained her footing.

"Considering I was just fucked senseless a few feet from you, I don't think we have to worry about decorum any further," Sarya said drolly.

She wiped sweat from her brow, then did what she could to straighten her gown.

"We've had our fun...but we should still see about finding our way out of here," she said, then stepped further into the forest.

Ketrik followed, after snatching up their makeshift spears.

After a few minutes of aimless wandering through the bright forest, Ketrik suddenly stopped and sniffed the air.

"What is it?" she asked, worried that he'd smelled the stench of some foul demonic beast on the wind.

"Water," he grunted. "Smells like a river, maybe a swamp. First time I've sensed anything like that since we got here."

Ketrik veered to the left and broke into a trot. The duchess grumbled in protest and did her best to run, but her ripped gown made it damn near impossible. She tripped more than once, nearly falling, but she glared at the shaman every time he turned to help.

They ran and stumbled on, and after a minute, she too was able to catch the scent of moisture on the wind. Frowning, Ketrik pointed to a thicker patch of dead trees.

"Coming from there."

They both advanced, gripping their pathetic makeshift spears, and the smell grew stronger, and Sarya heard the rushing of water, then broke into a faster run. Ketrik growled out a warning but took off after her.

She skidded to a halt at the sight of a smoky, misty circle within the forest of dead trees, just like the portal that Brunloc and Ketrik had conjured in the palace gardens. She stared, eyes wide, realizing that the sounds and smells of water were coming through that misty gateway.

"There's no telling where it leads," Ketrik warned.

"Aye, but as long as it leads anywhere but here," she said. She licked her lips. "You said that desperation and a strong will can reshape this place, and force other doors and windows to open. Perhaps that's what this is."

Something howled in the distance. The sharp, grating sound echoed through the dead forest, and they both tensed and gripped their makeshift spears.

"Suppose you're right," Ketrik grumbled. "I'll go first, though."

"No," she said firmly, shaking her head. "We'll go together."

One hand gripped the spear, and the other reached out to clasp his. The shaman looked down, raised an eyebrow, then nodded.

Together, they stepped forward into the smoky, misty portal, as another of those howls echoed behind them.

The mists swallowed them, and her vision was obscured by the bleak, grey portal. The rushing of water grew louder, then she squealed with surprise at as cold, rushing water embraced her legs. A current tugged at her, and the portal vanished.

She blinked, realizing that it was nighttime wherever they had emerged. The stars and moon seemed normal enough, so it seemed that they were at least back in their own world, and not in some strange demonic realm.

But she was too busy trying to stay afloat to gawk or regain her bearings. The swift current carried the pair further down the river, but she had little trouble keeping her head above water. She looked frantically about, worried that they might run into boulders or fallen trees or be swept beneath the waters by a harsher current.

It would be a great shame to survive a siege and a demonic world, only to drown unceremoniously in some icy river.

"To the shore," she panted. Ketrik nodded, sputtering water; despite his life as a shaman of the wilds, he was having a tougher time of it than her. He grunted with effort and swam after her as she veered towards the riverbank. Her feet scraped against mud, then she lurched forward, tripped and sprawled upon the muddy shore.

Ketrik followed, kneeling beside her to catch his breath.

"Yes," he murmured. "This is our world. I can sense it in the air." He looked about, frowning. "But where exactly, I do not know."

Sarya looked down at her muddy, soggy and ruined gown: it wasn't worth salvaging, and she had half a mind to strip out of it entirely. She snorted and rose to get a feel for their surroundings.

The moonlight cast a ghostly glow over the river and the surrounding grasslands. In the distance, she could make a few wheatfields and the outlines of a few farmhouses and barns. The scent of manure was strong on the wind.

She cast her gaze further afield, and spotted a large, blocky tower in the distance. Beyond it, barely visible, was a set of small, icy mountains.

"That tower," she hissed, eyes widening. "Those mountains...I know where we are. Ravenmark."

"Where you wanted to go after all, eh?"

"Yes," she said, beaming a little. "It seems my desire and desperation did indeed tear open a door for us to go through."

Her excitement at that suddenly faded, replaced by dread and despair.

"What's wrong?" Ketrik asked, clearly seeing the sorrow spread across her face.

"My city, my people," she murmured. "For all they know, I am dead, or they might think I have abandoned them. Gods, who knows what will happen when they find out when I'm gone..."

They might panic and try to surrender, or might lose all hope and thus be easy prey to the Iron Blades.

"I only spent a few hours with Brunloc, but that was enough to see how damned clever he was," Ketrik said. "I'm sure he's already enacting some plan to explain away your absence. Your city will be in capable hands, I am sure."

"Even still, it would take weeks for us to get back to Fellhaven."

"Aye. But you wanted to come to Ravenmark to recruit those mercenaries anyway, right? Here we are. So it may take weeks for us to get back, but when you do return, it will be at the head of an army."

She nodded, then cocked her head as she realized how he'd phrased that reassurance.

"'We?'" she repeated. "So you will be returning with me?"

"I owe King Ulrik and some of his champions a good bit of bloody vengeance after what they tried to do with me. And maybe I can get the rest of the Iron Blades to see reason, get them to stop this damned stupid war."

Sarya smiled and rested a hand on his wrist for a moment.

"Thank you. But for now, we should probably both get a change of clothes, then we can see about finding your cousin and the rest of those mercenaries."

He nodded with agreement, then together started to march towards that tower.

"That tower isn't Ravenmark itself," she explained. "Just one of the outlying fortresses that marks the border with another duchy. But once we're there, the local baron or knight in charge will surely offer aid." She licked her lips and thought for a moment. "But we'll have to be careful. Ravenmark is a dangerous, fractured land. The barons are almost always at one another's throats, so there's a chance we could be walking into a rebellion or a civil war."

"I'll take a rebellion over a demon's realm any day," Ketrik said wryl. He then snickered. "Well...I suppose that a rebellion doesn't include the sort of wild sex we experienced back there, though."

"Depends on the rebellion," she joked.

They shared a brief laugh, which faded when she heard something coming from the darkness, between them and the tower. Her eyes narrowed, straining to see.

She could hear the huffing of horses and the clanging of armor out in the darkness. Her eyes widened and she threw down her spear, then hissed at Ketrik to do the same. It wouldn't do to be cut down by some jumpy sentry or guard on patrol.

"We come in peace!" she called out.

The thundering hooves grew closer, then she spotted shadowy riders, moving about in the darkness. The riders ignited torches and raised them, revealing a band of about a dozen men, all clad in red armor and black cloaks. She recognized the armor and weapons as those of the armies of Ravenmark, but she had no clue if they actually served the duke or one of the various rebel factions known to plague that land. Helms masked their faces, and they spread out to surround the soaked and bedraggled duchess and her companion.

"As I said," she said, even louder. "We come in peace. I am Duchess Sarya of Fellhaven, and this is..." She thought for a moment. "Ketrik, my mercenary bodyguard."

"Fellhaven?" one of the soldiers snorted. "Long way from home, lass."

Her eyes narrowed with fury.

"I am no 'lass.' I am the ruler of a great city and duchy, and I-"

"You're a half-naked woman who just stumbled out of the river," one of the other soldiers growled.

He guided his horse forward and lifted his helmet off his head. The man was of medium height with a thick build that rivaled that of King Ulrik and the other savages. He had a finely trimmed blonde goatee, and a head of short, bristly blonde hair. He appeared to be in his early forties, and one eye was covered with a fancy eyepatch. The other eye was a dark blue, tinged with flecks of gold, which looked her up and down.

She swallowed at his intense gaze.

"And who are you?" she demanded.

"I am Duke Lucan, the rightful ruler of Ravenmark."

She frowned at that, for the name was not one she recognized. The last she'd heard, the duke of Ravenmark was a man named Garnoc: a puffy, fat old man who was poorly regarded by the other rulers of the Empire.

"Very well, then, if you are indeed a duke, then you understand who I am, and why I must be treated with-"

"That is the trouble, stranger," he cut her off. His lone eye looked her up and down again, and a brief, wicked grin flashed across his face. "I do not understand who you are. What would the duchess of Fellhaven be doing so far from home, especially with..." His eye disdainfully looked to Ketrik. "This man at your side." His gaze flicked back to her. "If you are indeed the Duchess Sarya of Fellhaven, why are you here? Is your city not under siege?"

"It is indeed under siege, and my presence here is a a long story, my lord," she said, doing her best to be courteous, despite the fact that she was barely clothed and shivering under the duke's hungry gaze.

"It is a long story I must hear, then. But not here." He gestured around them. "There is a war on, after all, and furthermore, it would not be proper for you to address a duke in such attire, and in the company of this savage."

She opened her mouth to protest, wanting to come to the shaman's defense, but thought better of it.

"Come along, then," Duke Lucan said, turning his horse about. "We'll get you cleaned up and presentable, then you can tell me your 'long story,' and we'll see if you are in fact who you claim to be."

A dozen questions raced through her mind. Gods, what if he didn't believe her? Would he cast her out, or toss her into the dungeons? Who, exactly, was this fierce duke whose clutches she had fallen into? And even if he did believe her, why would he deign to help her?

Lucan smirked over his shoulder.

"Come now, my dear. Follow along, and banish that fear from your pretty face. If you are who you say you are, you have nothing to fear."

Thanks to that hungry gaze, Sarya wasn't sure if she believed him. Even if she could prove her identity, she suspected that the strange, one-eyed duke had other plans for her...