The Iron Prince

Vedan came on in a flurry of blows. He was frenzied to be sure, but not devoid of expertise. He matched Aranthir's strikes with parries, but the half-elf's blade was quicker all the while, keeping the knight on the defensive and herding him into position for a final blow.

The glaive man regained his senses and returned to the fight. His glaive stabbed Aranthir in the thigh, piercing his mail and drawing blood. Aranthir heard himself cry out, and he slashed at the man with his burning blade. He felt the jolt in his shoulders as the blade connected with his face, and boiling blood sprayed across his face. The man-at-arms fell dead, but Vedan came on again.

The knight took advantage of the wound in his leg and stabbed Aranthir in the shoulder. The brigandine defeated most of the blow, but again the tip pierced his skin. Aranthir seized the jeweled blade in his hand and yanked it forward. Vedan stumbled and their helms connected with a clang that set them ringing. Aranthir dropped his blazing sword and wrestled Vedan to the earth, his shoulder still searing with pain.

They struggled in the mud together. Vedan was strong, but Aranthir had the edge in experience and positioning. He knelt atop the knight and drove his face into the mud as he readied a poignard for the killing stroke. Vedan cried out, whether in despair or surrender he could not tell, but Aranthir drove the point home all the same. Vedan spasmed, then lay still.

Panting, Aranthir rolled off the dead man and checked it wound. It hurt, but was otherwise of little concern. Grimacing, he retrieved his sword and bow and looked toward the others. All but three of Vedan's men were dead or dying, but Nerum faced them with only one of his guardsmen left in the fight. Vedan's men had gained the far end of the causeway, driving back Vyna's guards toward where the women sheltered in the trees. Vyna had her dagger half drawn, but Alssa was watching Nerum face his doom with an elated smile on her face.

The combatants drew apart for a breather and one of Vedan's men opened his visor to gulp at fresh air unimpeded. Aranthir unshouldered his bow and, wincing with the pain in his shoulder, loosed an arrow into his face. It caught him in the eye, and he collapsed like a puppet whose strings had suddenly been cut.

Nerum seized the opportunity and surged forward, two against two. The remaining pursuers were driven backwards and one man slipped in the treacherous mud. Nerum slammed his pommel onto the back of the man's neck, drawing a cry and driving him face down into the mud. The last man turned to run and leapt into the water. He sank up to his chest in the black waters and struggled to fight his way through the muck. Nerum paid him no mind, instead finishing off the fallen man with a dagger through the throat.

The fleeing man-at-arms sloshed his way through the swamp in fear, until suddenly the water around him roiled and belched forth a great gout of surf. It surged and churned about him and then, over his screaming objections, he was seized by something beneath the surface and hauled down.

Aranthir crossed the narrow causeway with care to stand next to Nerum.

"What in Eldrin's name was that?" the other guardsman gasped.

"Stay on the land," was all that Aranthir could say. "You've two more men down? How bad?"

"I can walk," one of the man replied, but there was no response from the other. He lay facedown in the mud, blood dripping from his visor.

"I can't leave him here," said Nerum, his breath coming heavily as he sheathed his sword. "These man all deserve proper burials, even Vedan and his ilk. I will not do them the sacrilege of leaving their souls to wander the world forever."

"Indeed," replied Aranthir. He had hunted restless dead before and would not choose to force anyone else to undergo the experience. "But we must keep moving. This mud is soft, but digging graves will take all day."

"We don't lack for horses," Nerum gasped with grim amusement. "Come, let us prepare them."

With the help of Aranthir and the other guards, they stripped the bodies and tied them to the horses. Their armor and weapons they left behind for expedience, but Aranthir's mind went to Vedan's jeweled sword and left went back to where the man had fallen.

Aranthir knelt and picked up Vedan's sword. It was well-balanced, though a little short for his liking. Still, it was an exquisite piece, and sure to fetch a high price if it did not turn out to be to his liking. He unlaced the dead knight's scabbard and sheathed the blade. But something else on the man's belt caught it attention. There were tied four strips of torn cloth, just like the strip with which Alssa was always idly playing, and which seemed to be growing shorter every time he saw it. Each of the pieces of Vedan's belt was stained with dirt from the road or water from the swamp.

His face darkening, Aranthir pulled the whole belt loose and stalked back to the women. Vyna was saying a prayer over the fallen, while Alssa's despair had returned. Aranthir pushed past Nerum in a fury and seized Alssa by the collar. He held up Vedan's sword belt before her.

"What's this?!" he demanded. Alssa's face fell, but her expression changed quickly to one of innocent confusion.

"A belt?" she replied.

"A belt, with the signals you have been leaving for our pursuers. Where is that bit of cloth I've seen you playing with these last few days?"

He felt the others crowd around him, eyes curious and faces drawn. Aranthir's hand went for Alssa's belt pouches, and she cried out.

"Unhand me, brigand!" she slapped him across the face, and he heard the others gasp. He stopped and held still, feeling the pain in his face as a welcome to distraction to the wounds in his leg and shoulder.

"Alssa," asked Vyna quietly, "What is he talking about?"

"He is trying to mask his own betrayal!" she cried, "He led these men here to kill us, and now that his gambit has failed, he is accusing me to throw off the blame!"

"I led them here to kill you and then killed half of them myself?" Aranthir challenged. He tightened his grip around Alssa's arm and saw the pain in her face.

"You are a bloodthirsty beast, caught up in the desire for death! My lady, please, listen to me!"

"I have listened, Alssa," Vyna replied coldly. "Your lies are unconvincing. You betrayed us."

"No," she pleaded. Desperation was now creeping into her voice, "No, I didn't! He led them here! Elves are always playing mortals for false, it's how they amuse themselves! This is some sick ploy of his, to bring us where there is no escape and then butcher us for sport!"

"Why? Why did you betray us?" Vyna demanded. She stepped close to her handmaid, looking down into the other woman's eyes from her statuesque height. Alssa sputtered helpless for a moment, then her face darkened in anger.

"Why?! Because you had everything! You had your mother's estates and your father's money! Do you know what I have? Nothing! My father owns a few hundred acres of bottom land and a single horse pasture. My mother gave all her land away to a temple! I have to make my own dresses. But you, you have all the wealth you could ask for and you spit in your father's face. He offered me a marriage to one of his knights."

"Hopefully not that one," Aranthir interjected, jerking his thumb in the direction of Sir Vedan's corpse. Alssa scowled in fury, but continued undeterred.

"I'll live in a manor and have servants make my clothes. Or, I would have, if this half-blood hadn't ruined everything."

"Indeed," Vyna replied. "Nerum, bind her hands and feet and tie her to a horse. We'll find an executioner when we get to Pegia."

"Oh, what's the point?!" Alssa wailed. "You've all got swords, just do it now and be done with it. I can't take another moment of this cursed swamp."

"No, repaying your betrayal will be my first official act as queen. Bind her hands!" Nerum stepped forward to do the deed and Alssa relented. Defeated, she held out her hands and stared hatefully at all those around her as they were tied together.

Aranthir sighed and rubbed his temple. He felt the spice burning through him already. His skin was tingling and he felt his small hairs dancing on end. Disgusted, he threw the knight's sword belt into the bushes.

Suddenly, he detected a strange odor on the breeze. It was foul, like so much of the swamp, but not like anything he had smelled before. His eyes widened and his hand went to his sword. An arrow flew from the brush and struck Nerum in the back. He grunted in pain, then another arrow came. Then another.

A flurry of arrows, stones, and spears flew from the brush, striking and falling all around them. A horse went down with a crude spear in its neck, screaming and flailing its hooves about as it died. Aranthir darted for cover, his blade springing into his hand. From the brush on either side came a keening war cry, and a score or more of small, twisted green creatures came charging down at them.

"Goblins!" Nerum roared as he drew his blade again. One of them reached him, wearing a crude coat of ragged furs and a grass skirt, only to have its head split open by his blade. Aranthir beheaded another with a swing of his sword, but more sprang from the brush to join the attack. He clove a simple spear in twain and knocked over an archer, but soon fond he had stepped into a hornet's nest. Goblins poured from the brush and he was driven back by the onslaught, drawing away from the others and their horses.

The goblins swarmed over them in a wild frenzy. Aranthir killed another with a thrust to the heart, then a third. He threw one down and stomped on its neck, feeling the crack of bone and the spasm of a dying creature beneath his armored boot. He heard Vyna cry out in fear, then another horse scream its last. One of Nerum's guards went down under the furious assault of three goblins, who plunged stone daggers into the gaps in his armor.

More goblins fanned out around him, and Aranthir retreated again before he could be surrounded. The little wretches followed him closely, and he had to fend off spear thrusts and throws to escape the encirclement. He heard the battle in the distance diminish, but could not break through the goblin horde to return to it.

He plunged through the swamp with the goblins in pursuit. Every pool of black water threatened to devour him, every vine threatened to ensnare him, but Aranthir's concern was focused on the pack of goblins on his heels.

At last, there came the call of a horn, and the pursuit abated. Aranthir kept going, losing himself in the brush until he could no longer see or hear his pursuers, then turned around and crept back toward the battle site.

By the time he reached it, it was all over. A handful of goblins remained, butchering the horses for meat. Nerum's guards lay dead, but the captain and the women were nowhere to be seen. Aranthir stole through the brush until he crouched behind the goblin supervising the butchery. His hands darted from the brush and wrapped around the goblin's mouth and neck. Before the little wretch knew what was happening, Aranthir dragged him into the bushes and twisted his neck until he felt it crack.

The others had noticed their leader's disappearance and stopped their work. They crowded together suspiciously, eyes searching the swamp around them until the corpse came flying from the brush and landed at their feet.

The goblins jumped, then screeched and fled into the trees, leaving the horse meat unclaimed. Aranthir moved to the side of his own fallen steed. Its throat was pierced by a spear and it had been partially skinned, though the true butchery had not yet begun. An abandoned cleaver lay beside it.

"Damn," he muttered, "you served me well, old friend."

"Elf?" a voice rasped, "is that you?"

Aranthir searched for the source of the sound and found Nerum lying at the edge of a pool of brackish water. He clutched a bloody wound to his neck, while another in his side bled unabated. One hand was mauled and nearly removed.

"They got me, elf," he gasped as Aranthir moved closer, "all my men too."

"Where are the women?" Aranthir asked. He did not need to check the wounds to know the captain was done for.

"Took them. You know what goblins do with women?" he asked, and Aranthir nodded.

"I'll go after them."

"If you can't save them both," Nerum began, but Aranthir finished the thought for him. "Vyna, of course. Alssa can burn. But I'm afraid I can't bury you."

"Aye, that's what I'm fearing most of all. An eternity of wandering the earth, unable to rest."

"When we reach Pegia, I'll ensure that Vyna pleads your case with the gods. If a hecatomb won't convince Kanaron, I'll led an army back here to find the bodies and do it proper."

Nerum nodded as best he could, but it only made him bleed more. "You're a good man. Elf. Whatever. Lady Vyna is in good hands. Now go. Nothing more you can do for me."

"Rest well, Nerum. You've done your part."

The goblins' tracks were well hidden, but those of their captives were not so hard to find. The goblins had made off with several horses, and of course there were the footprints of the women. Aranthir tracked them through the swamp for perhaps a mile. They must have brought their whole village down on us, Aranthir thought. How long did that take to must and how long have them been watching us without our knowledge? Truly this is a cursed place, and we will well be rid of it soon!

He heard goblins chattering up ahead and crept closer for a look. Before him lay the entrance to the goblins' village. A crude fence of swamp wood and animal bones marked the boundary, with an entrance blocked by a spiked log. Beyond it, he could see a score or more of rude huts of wood and grass clustered around a hill crowned by a great tree. Goblins clustered at the crest of the hill and past them, Aranthir could see smoke rising.

But his attention was drawn to the entrance, where a trio of goblins stood around Vyna, who had fallen to her knees in the mud. She was leashed and collared, her dress torn in places and cut away above the knees. Aranthir could see her long white legs above her lace stockings, though they were both nearly covered with mud.

The goblin holding her leash tugged on it, chattering away with the others as he did. One goblin stepped forward and cracked a whip over her butt. She yelped in pain and jerked her whole body in response. The goblins cackled with glee. The third goblin prodded her in the midsection with a spearpoint and Vyna slowly rose to her feet.

Casting his eyes about for any more goblins, Aranthir nocked an arrow to his bow. Vyna was slowly herded toward the village on unsteady feet. The goblins atop the hill began to chant and Aranthir drew his bow.

The goblins were looking away from him, so he shot the nearest one first. The arrow took it in the throat and it died with a strangled cry. Before its companions could turn to look, Aranthir had another arrow on the way. This one struck its target standing profile, piercing both eyes as the arrowhead burst out the opposite side. The whip fell from its grasp.

The third goblin yelped in surprise and dropped Vyna's leash as it scrambled for the crude dagger at its side. Aranthir did not give it the chance, for his third arrow took it in the heart.

He rushed forward and pulled Vyna to the side. "Wait here while I get the bodies," he ordered and she nodded wordlessly. Aranthir hauled the three dead goblins out of sight before anyone in the village could notice. He feared he would be spotted right away, but the goblins were too entranced with their ritual.

"Can you walk?" Aranthir asked, and though Vyna looked unsure, she nodded again. "Let's go. The river can't be far now."

"What about the others?" she asked. Aranthir shook his head.

"There's just you, me, and the goblins."

"And Alssa," Vyna objected.

"You've already sentenced her to death, just leave her."

"I will have her killed, not these little wretches."

"My lady, you are being characteristically stubborn, but I must object. We should go. Now. Before they miss their three friends and their captive."

"I want to at least see her. I need to know that these goblins will deal with her, not make her their queen."

Aranthir shifted uneasily on his feet. "Very well, though I do not like the idea of going into their village. We will move around the edge and see what we can see."

They crept around the fence of the village, from one swampy thicket to the next until at last they could see through the houses to the crest of the hill where the goblins were gathered. More than fifty of them were crowded around a rude stone altar and atop the altar was Alssa. She was naked, with her hands bound together and her legs held apart. Between them knelt a broad-chested, pot-bellied goblin, his clawed hands digging into her naked thighs as he thrust a thick green cock into her bare sex. His lips were curled back in a smile beneath his long, hooked nose to bare cracked yellow teeth. Another goblin sat on her stomach, thrusting his cock between her big breasts and holding her bound hands steady while a third sat by her face, fucking it as he grasped her head in both hands. Each thrust of the goblins' cocks set Alssa's breasts shaking and, despite the horror of the scene, Aranthir could not did he found it arousing to see her naked and in action.

Behind them, a line of other goblins waited, cocks in hands, eagerly pushing and shoving to get a look at the action. Grubby green hands tipped with yellow claws grabbed at her naked flesh, and Alssa's whimpering could be heard from outside the village fence. The goblin in her mouth pulled her head down to the base of his cock and shuddered as he came. Alssa fought her hands free and tried to shove him off, but to no avail. The one between her breasts reclaimed her hands and pinched her pink nipple between his claws.

Sickly white cum poured from her mouth as the goblin withdrew himself. With a satisfied smirk on his toothy face, he slid off the altar and waddled away, his limp cock swinging between his knees. No sooner had he dismounted the altar than two more goblins attempted to replace him, shoving and clawing at each other in their haste. The creature between her breasts took advantage of their distraction and shoved his cock into Alssa's mouth. She screamed a muffled cry, choking on his cock and the cum, but he seized her head both hands and held her steady.

The big goblin between her legs climaxed, his potbelly shuddering as he thrust his last thrusts into her. He slapped her breasts, setting them shaking and drawing a muffled yelp from Alssa, then withdrew his cock slowly. Alssa's legs slumped down again. From his vantage point and with his elven eyes, Aranthir could see the goblin's cum leaking from her sex. The big goblin raised his arms about his head and cried out in a brassy roar of triumph. The others joined in with glee, beating their chests and stroking their cocks.

A frenzy erupted as their leader stepped down from the altar. Dozens of goblins jostled together, kicking and clawing at each other as they tried to take his place. Alssa vanished between a pile of naked, clawing, screeching goblins and their hard cocks.

"I've seen enough," Vyna shuddered, and Aranthir nodded.

They turned away without another word and plunged into the swamp. For what seemed like hours, they scrambled over fallen logs, through mudpits, and around bubbling pools that hid gods-knew-what. Twice, Aranthir heard distant calls of a horn and feared the goblins had taken up the hunt, but no pursuit materialized. The sun grew low in the sky and the long, grasping shadows of the trees stretched across their path. Aranthir began to despair of spending another night under these forbidding trees.