The Ring of Perliss Ch. 02: Beloved

I was awoken early, by a hard cock. I had fallen asleep with the same hard cock thrusting into me, gently but deep. I had been so exhausted after my spell-casting in the Troll King's subterranean chamber that not even the delicious thrill of Fenizir's urgent need for me was enough to keep me from falling into a deep sleep. To awaken to that same urgency was disorientating, and for a moment I was unsure whether I had slept at all.

But it felt like morning, and the glimpse of dawn light penetrating the seals of the tent confirmed it. "You're awake," he said, and his lips descended on mine, kissing me, kissing my cheek, kissing my neck.

I wrapped my legs about his waist. "Harder," I said. "Fuck me properly."

He was very happy to do so, and for once I really didn't care who heard us.

*

I dream I am Perliss. I am eighteen today. Were I other than what I am, that would by Saruz law make me an adult, free to set out on my own path of life. Of course, to be respectable, that would mean seeking a husband to be the father of my children. Most young women with any wealth and breeding have a man lined up well before this significant day. Many, indeed, have notably rounded bellies as they stand before Veshla and entwine their fates with their beloveds'.

I have no husband lined up for me, and I am a virgin still. My father, Garraliske, is Prince Regent of Saruz, holding the throne for me. My mother, Epraliss, died in battle ten years ago, leaving my younger sister and I in the care of this man. He is handsome, I guess, and some say I resemble him, just as they say Laniss resembles our mother, but I think it is just the way he wears his blond hair long that makes him resemble me.

We are both skilled with the sword. He uses a heavier blade, but he has grown soft through years of too much sitting on my mother's throne, and too much ale and cake too. His only regular exercise has been in the bed, and seldom with the same man or woman twice.

"So, Perliss," he says, studying me from the throne as I play the respectful daughter. "You have come of age, and it is time to set out in the world as an Adventuring Princess."

His eyes are bright with amusement. How convenient it is for him that I must leave the palace to complete a divine quest before I have any claim to the throne. His own claim is weaker, but still he gets to sit there while I must go. "Yes, Father," I say.

"Have the gods spoken to you yet? Have they revealed the quest to you?"

There is murmuring from the assembled courtiers. Such unsolicited revelations from the gods are the stuff of legends, and I have spent years longing to be similarly blessed. "No, Father."

"Who will you go to first?"

"To Lord Oehr." Of course to Lord Oehr. The god of the underworld rarely offers quests, and never if not asked before the other gods. He is a proud god and judgemental by nature. It is for him, for this purpose, that I have kept myself chaste and have schooled my thoughts to be pure.

"A wise choice," Garraliske says. "You go with my blessing, Princess. We all hope to hear the tale of your adventure soon."

I know him too well. He would be happier never to hear it. "Thank you, Father."

*

We were not alone in the pass when the sun rose. A tall, black-cloaked and hooded figure was walking with a sure, swift stride up the same road we had followed. For a horrifying moment, I was sure it was one of the witches, but my own witchy senses suggested otherwise.

Fenizir, sensing my brief alarm, turned to see what had caught my attention - and leapt to his feet. "Arden!" he snapped. "Rouse the others. Quickly."

"She's not a witch," I said, studying the approaching stranger. "Although there's something very strange about her." A lot of somethings.

Still, Fenizir preferred caution, and by the time the stranger drew close enough to talk with, all the guards were dressed with swords at the ready.

"I mean you no ill," she called, and I was sure I could hear laughter in her tone. "I'm on my way to Benatek. If you have food to spare, I have some coin." She pulled her hood back in a gesture of friendship, revealing an attractive face framed by short blonde hair. A patch covered her left eye, or whatever restless magic it was that coiled there like a wyrm in its egg; the other was a clear, startling blue. At a guess, she was older than me by some twenty years or so, but she had a wiry, athletic grace to her movements.

"We have food to spare," Fenizir said, "but keep your money. Trolls guard the pass, and you may need it to pass."

"Indeed," she said, unruffled, and laid her pack and weapons on the ground. The sword was just a sword, unmagical in any way, but the bow was something else, something I felt I should recognise. "I'll sit with you awhile, if I may?"

It wasn't quite a question. Fenizir smiled. "Of course," he said, but ordered Arden and the others to be ready to move on, before joining Lela, myself and the stranger by the fire.

The remains of the previous day's stew were being warmed over the flames. I dished some out for her. "Smells delicious," she said. "I haven't had hot food since Saruz, and that was a hurried affair."

"I've never been to Saruz," I said wistfully, although suddenly I wasn't sure about that. I had an abrupt flash of memory, of standing in Temple Square in the heart of Saruz - but the moment passed swiftly, the memory fading from stark clarity into a blur of confusion.

"It's my home," Lela said, "or it was." A veil of unhappiness passed across her face, but then she looked over at Arden, who was standing nearby and watching everything, and shared a smile with him. "I'm Lela," she added, turning that smile towards our guest.

"I'm Lia," I said, "and our leader here is Fenizir."

"Hanwe," the blonde stranger said. "And I thank you for your hospitality."

"Hanwe," echoed Fenizir. "That's an interesting name." He glared at her suspiciously.

"Isn't it?" she said agreeably, and Fenizir frowned. "It's fifteen years since I was last in Benatek," Hanwe continued. "It's not a place I'm eager to return to."

"I imagine not," he said, his expression icy.

Hanwe laughed gently, and turned to look at me. "You remind me of someone," she said. "But I can't think who. Someone I met on the battlefield..." The way her sharp gaze lingered on my breasts and between my thighs, I could almost feel the imagined touch of her hands and lips. "Or in bed, perhaps?" There was a trace of a smirk about her lips as she looked into my eyes, and I could feel my cheeks burning.

"We must be going," Fenizir said. "We wish you a peaceful journey."

"Likewise," she said. "Thank you again for the food."

I watched her as she picked up her pack and weapons, and when she turned to wink at me suddenly, I reacted with a guilty shock that made her laugh. "Who is she?" I whispered to Fenizir.

"The Black Queen," he growled.

"Ahh," I said, understanding something at last of what the symbols had been saying about her.

The Black Queen's raiders had killed my parents. The one absolute truth I had grown up with was that everyone hated the Black Queen. The Black Queen of Benatek whose silver cock had been adored by an army of men.

I should have hated Hanwe, but I didn't. She excited me in a way that Arden hadn't and Fenizir never would. I had set out from home in search of adventure, and everything about Hanwe screamed magic and destiny. Seeing her march ahead felt painfully like being left behind.

"Forgive me, my love," I said, kissing him tenderly on the cheek. I snatched up my backpack and ran after the black-cloaked figure of Hanwe.

*

I dream I am Perliss, and in the grand, subterranean temple of Lord Oehr, deep in the rock beneath the palace. I can hear only my breathing and the brush of my shoes against the stone; and the burning of the thousand candles that light the arches and the paintings - or, rather, the one painting that wraps all around the temple depicting the River of Tordunh and the feasting halls beyond. Hundreds of notable figures from Saruz's past can be glimpsed amidst the crowd, but the painting is more famous for the faces that can't be found.

My mother is there, laughing as she raises a glass of wine with one hand, a sword hilt grasped with the other. I do not expect my father will ever be there.

"Lord Oehr," I say, kneeling reverently before the altar. "I am Perliss, Adventuring Princess and heir to the throne of Saruz. I seek the honour of being your champion."

Lord Oehr does not appear, but a soft voice startles me: "Perliss. Beloved daughter. What joy it is to see you grown."

It is unquestionably my mother's voice, and seems to come from the depiction of her in the wall painting. "Mother," I whisper. "Forgive me." I was a child when she died in battle. Hearing her voice, I am a child again, the loss of her twisting my insides. "Forgive me," I say again. "I hated you for dying. For so long, I hated you."

"There is nothing to forgive," she says, her voice soothing. "I loved you and love you still. No battlefield enemy could have kept me from you, beloved. The sword that struck me came from behind." The shade sighs. "A bitter death indeed. But we will meet again, beyond the river. Live well, daughter."

"Mother!" I cry, but no reply comes. "What traitor stole you from me?" I demand, but the silence mocks me.

As I begin the long climb back into sunlight, my heart feels heavy and wounded.

*

Hanwe glanced at me curiously as I fell into step with her. "Didn't your boyfriend tell you who I am?"

"I know you're the Black Queen on Benatek," I said, adding quietly, "He's not my boyfriend."

She gave a snort of amusement. "Does he know that?"

Her walking pace was swift and she seemed tireless. I had grown used to the almost sleepy progress of the wagon train, and Hanwe showed no inclination to slow for me. Again I was glad of the strength given to me by Perliss's ring.

Up ahead of us, the trolls' wall grew ever closer. As before, two stood guard. Whether they were the same two as the day before, I had no idea. "You have the look of a trained warrior," Hanwe said, "but you certainly don't move like one, so what exactly are you?"

"Just a healer," I said.

"A healer, perhaps," she said, "but I don't believe that's all. No just-a-healer would abandon safety to walk at my side."

"Halt!" the trolls cried out, interrupting Hanwe's interrogation of me. "No one passes without the Troll Queen's blessing."

"It is the Troll Queen I seek," Hanwe replied calmly. "I bring a gift for her from the Sisters."

"And I seek news of the Troll King," I said. "Does he sleep still?"

"We remember you," one said. "The queen said the wagons may pass for a toll of two horses."

"Three," the other corrected, and the two exchanged a look.

"Three horses," the first confirmed. "But this one is new. We saw her on the road."

"I am not with the wagons," Hanwe agreed pleasantly, "but I do bring a gift for the queen that I'm sure will more than pay any toll."

While the trolls conferred in their deep, rumbling way, Hanwe gave me a piercing look with her one blue eye. "The Troll King?"

"Long story," I said.

"I look forward to hearing it. Hopefully before we're both eaten."

The two troll guards turned to look at us with their glittering crystal eyes. "We will take you to the queen. She will decide your fates."

And so, once again, I was led by flaming torchlight into the dark belly of the mountain. "Did you ever hear," I began, glad to have Hanwe for company this time, "of the three witches?"

"Only in fairytales," she said.

"How I wish I could say the same..."

*

I dream I am Perliss, and standing in Temple Square. I feel them watching me. Waiting. The citizens of Saruz, curious about the Adventuring Princess who might soon be their queen. Wondering whether Lord Oehr gave me a quest, or if not then which temple will I go to next. My father's spies watch too, no doubt, wondering much the same.

Do the gods watch, though? That is what matters.

Four temples to choose from. Veshla's temple is the grandest, its columned front facing south. Veshla is the goddess of trade and it is trade that has made Saruz the mighty city that it is. She is praised as a goddess of war too, and as a princess of Saruz I know her temple well. Her quests are often tests of honour, fit for the ruler of an honourable city.

The Temple of Uxur and Ulaxr, the Divine Twins, faces east; an eagle and an owl stand as guardians at the entrance. Sunrises in that temple are magnificent, the sun's rays blazing through the stained glass windows. The Twins delight in heroism, and by all accounts the lusty rewards of heroism. It was Uxur who gave the great bow Sunflare to my great-grandfather when he sent him to steal the Troll King's crown.

But it was the Divine Smith, of course, who made that bow and a hundred other weapons of wondrous magic. Derushil's temple faces west, and it is much favoured by the craftsmen of the city. I would dearly love to wield a sword forged by Derushil. I fear I will have need of it, and not just for the slaying of monsters.

In front of me, facing north, is Minarwe's temple with its bright fabrics and seductive music. She is the goddess of courtesans, and I dare not enter her temple while I am an Adventuring Princess, but I kneel briefly in the centre of Temple Square and sing praises to her as one of the Six.

*

The royal chamber was lit by torchlight, the Troll King still unconscious, a granite figure with an erect marble cock and an iron crown. Sitting close by, on a giant throne carved from the rock, was the queen.

I tried to focus on the magical symbols that I could half perceive with my witchy senses. The spell I had cast the day before had opened my vision to past events, but in the wake of that casting I continued to catch glimpses of mystical symbols. I saw enough to tell me that Bdagr yet lived, though his spirit was trapped in the depths of the world.

"Majesty," Hanwe said with reverence as she knelt before the throne. "I was sent here by the Sisters to bring you words of prophecy."

"To me, indeed?" the queen asked. "Not to the king?"

"The last I heard, Majesty, the king was lost to the sirens on Arae. The Sisters were clear that their words were for you."

"Very well," the Troll Queen said. "Let us hear these words, though I doubt their worth."

"Yes, Majesty. Here are the words of the Seer: 'Three queens shall stand in Uxur's light at Tordunh's shore. A crown surrendered shall a spirit reclaim.'"

The queen growled, the sound of it like rocks grinding against each other. "Is this some trickery to make me relinquish the throne?"

"No," I said, struck by sudden inspiration. "No, Majesty. The words speak of a trade. Bdagr's iron crown given in return for his spirit."

"Given how?" she demanded. "And what is this nonsense of Uxur's light?"

"Not to mention three queens," Hanwe remarked. "I count only two, unless there's something you'd like to tell us, my just-a-healer friend?"

"Who are you?" the Troll Queen thundered. "What trickery is this?"

I held up my hands for peace. "No trickery, Majesty. Hanwe here was once Queen of Benatek, but commands no army now. And I..." How to explain it? "This ring I wear was forged by Derushil for Perliss, Queen of Saruz, long ago. Something of her spirit lingers still in me."

Hanwe laughed. "More than just her spirit, I think."

I ignored her. "We may be the three queens the prophecy talks of, and the River of Tordunh flows in the depths below us. Bdagr's crown is here, and -" I faltered for a moment, missing still an important piece or two of the puzzle.

I focussed on the symbols around me again, searching for some hint of Uxur or sunlight or gold that might fit with the prophecy. "That bow!" I cried, recognising it abruptly. "Where did you get it?"

"The Sisters gave it to me," Hanwe said, pulling it from the sheath across her back. "It is exquisitely crafted, but more trouble than it's worth."

"Because it burns every arrow it fires?" I asked.

"Sunflare!" the Troll Queen snarled. "We have not forgotten its cruelty."

"Yes," I said, taking it reverently from Hanwe. "This is Sunflare, forged by Derushil for Uxur himself. This is the source of Uxur's light." I frowned. "But no wooden arrow will suffice."

I laughed as true understanding dawned. "Majesty," I said. "Have your blacksmith forge an iron arrow from the king's crown. We will stand with you at Tordunh's shore as you fire that arrow across the river. Its divine light will make a path for Bdagr's spirit to follow - to you, and to himself."

"And I took you for a little mouse," Hanwe murmured. "I'm liking you more and more."

Her words stirred a familiar excitement in me, and had the light in the chamber not been so dim, no doubt she would have seen the flush of heat in my cheeks.

*

I dream I am Perliss, and in the Temple of the Divine Twins. It is midday now and sunlight pours in through the round window in the high roof. The walls and columns are carved and painted with reliefs of heroic deeds. Down by the floor in one corner is my great-grandfather, bow in hand, iron crown in the other, racing through a dark tunnel with trolls in pursuit.

The Twins are shown in a hundred scenes, always naked, always beautiful, Uxur with his huge sungold cock, Ulaxr with her huge moonsilver cock. To see a woman with a cock is never not startling. One relief shows Ulaxr with her daughter Hanica, a tall proud warrior in silver armour, only her face and jutting cock exposed.

I often wonder what it would be like to be the child of a god. Many men claim to be the descendants of Uxur, thereby claiming a prowess in battle and bed that has never been tested.

"Lord Uxur, Lady Ulaxr," I say, kneeling reverently before the altar. "I am Perliss, Adventuring Princess and heir to the throne of Saruz. I seek the honour of being your champion."

Merry laughter fills the temple and I glance up to see the goddess herself, unclothed and truly beautiful to behold. Her silver cock is bewitching. I am a virgin still, and have disciplined my thoughts to avoid sexual fantasies, but the sight of Ulaxr's cock stirs an aching heat within me.

"Aren't you a pretty thing?" she says. "And so full of burning ambition too. You want it all: the throne, a mighty sword, vengeance for your mother. Even that will not be enough."

There is truth in her words, although I might be willing to give all that up just to taste her cock.

Ulaxr laughs again. "Only heros taste my cock, Perliss. Come see me again when you are queen, and I'll teach you the ecstasy of silver."

"Do you have a quest for me, Lady Ulaxr?" I manage to say, my head dizzy with images of the goddess in my bed. My attraction has always and only ever been to men, but Ulaxr transcends this distinction.

"Yes, Perliss, I have a quest worthy of your ambition. There is a fat-bellied creature with three black legs and foul breath. It is as ancient as this world, and many an innocent has met their end in its open gullet. Bring me one of those black legs, Perliss, and you will be queen."

"I have not heard of such a creature," I say. The image in my head is of a black, three-legged dragon belching steam from its huge belly. "Can a monster like that be killed by a mortal weapon?"

Ulaxr's laughter echoes all around the temple. "Very well, Perliss, you may have the sword you long for. I give you the blade Derushil made for me." She places her silver sword on the ground in front of me. "You will find it particularly swift by moonlight."

And with that, she is gone, the only evidence of her visitation being her sword. The blade is flawless and viciously sharp, and has a good weight to it despite its slender design. Well balanced, too.

I am in awe of the blade, but aware too of the responsibility that goes with it. To fail in a quest is bad enough, but to fail after such a divine gift... would be ignominious.