The Shadow's Tower

Then he saw two men dart across the road, crossing to the waystation's rear. Shortly after, three more followed. Aranthir jumped down from the cupola and ran back into the ground floor.

"They're diverting to attack the courtyard!" Pointing out Lutharis and three mercenaries, he ran back into the courtyard. Rora and her shooters manned the walls overlooking the increasingly quiet forest. Callia stood by the gate, her bow drawn.

"Rora, they are massing for an attack on the courtyard," Aranthir warned. "Everyone take a pistol and keep it ready. When the enemy charges, we must fire both the pistols and the muskets in rapid succession to break up the attack."

He drew his pistol and handed it to Rora. Before he could do the same to the next man on the walls, there came a sudden cascade of gunfire. Musket balls struck the palisade, the waystation walls and two of Rora's men. Immediately on its heels, the bandits charged with a mighty war cry.

The man Aranthir had been trying to arm fell from the walls dead and nearly bowled him over with his weight. But the graceful half-elf sidestepped him, and the body hit the dirt instead. He darted to the gate and looked out. The bandits were closing fast, and carrying axes. Rora fired her musket and then pistol over the wall, but her men were shaken. They clutched their weapons tightly and hunkered down behind the palisade. Rora shouted at them, tried to pull them to their feet and cursed their names, but it was of little help.

The gate shuddered under axe blows. Aranthir shoved his musket between the gates and fired at point blank range, killing one man instantly. In retaliation, the bandits fired an array of pistols and muskets back through the gate. Some swung a fallen tree as a battering ram and the gate nearly burst from its hinges. Yvande appeared on the second floor of the waystation and fired into the mob. Lutharis replaced him at the window and did the same. It was no use, the bandits swung their makeshift battering ram again.

The blow was too much for the simple gate and it came swinging open. In poured a mob of bloodthirsty bandits. Aranthir was waiting for them. He fired two pistols in quick succession, then discarded them, drawing his longsword instead. Blue-white runes on the blade flashed to life. The first man to reached him was unceremoniously hacked down. Rora turned from the walls and fired into the mass.

The bandits swarmed over them, one of Rora's panicking shooters fell underneath the ferocious mob as if caught in a stampede. Aranthir slashed another man's face open but was forced to give ground before them.

It was then that he became aware of Callia, pressed into the corner between the palisade and the waystation wall, beset by three bandits. With only her long knife for defense, she was soon to be overwhelmed. She thrust at one, but he caught her hand and pulled her into his clutches. The other men joined in, knocking the knife from her hand. One man grasped her about the throat while his companion pulled open her cloak. She kicked and screamed at them as they clawed at her trousers. One man got a broken nose for his trouble, but their grips were iron, and she could not escape.

Aranthir called upon his sorcerous heritage, spraying sparks into the face of the man in front of him. The ruffian recoiled in shock, and Aranthir used the opening to drive his sword into the man's chest. He surged forward, hacking down another bandit before reaching Callia's attackers. They had focused their attentions upon the pretty girl and were oblivious to their approaching doom. Aranthir struck the first one in the back with a two-handed blow from his sword, cleaving him nearly in twain. The others wised to their peril quickly, but not quickly enough. They threw Callia aside and tried to fight, but the half-elf was too quick for them. The next man died with an expression of shock plain on his face.

Now alerted, the final man raised his hands in surrender. He was a truly ugly one, broad shouldered and lumpy faced, with small, beady eyes.

"Please, master elf, I was only procuring the girl for my master. He wants her for a concubine, you see," his voice trailed off. Aranthir stepped closer, seizing the man by the throat. Wordlessly, he drew the sword across the man's neck and dropped him into the dirt. The sword's runes flashed red, then white again.

Reaching out, he extended a hand to the girl. She took it hesitantly, looking him in the eye as she rose.

"Thank you, master half-elf," she whispered.

"Always glad to lend a helping hand," he replied with a smile.

"We meet again," called a voice from behind Aranthir, cutting through the sounds of battle. He turned to see Sorj, the courteous bandit from the trail.

"I told you before you wouldn't escape our keep alive, but here you are," the bandit said, waving a saber at him ostentatiously.

"Here I am," Aranthir replied, positioning himself between Sorj and Callia, although the former still cast lascivious stares towards the latter. "Now that you are proven wrong, what do you mean to do about it?"

Sorj shrugged. "I mean to kill you of course. Once I'm done, I will take your wench for myself. It will make my victory all the sweeter."

"You and me, then," Aranthir challenged. "Do you fancy yourself a swordsman?"

"I am an expert swordsman," Sorj replied with a wolfish smile. "Killing a half-elf would be a true feather in my cap."

"Come on then, we shall about decorating that head of yours."

Sorj came at him aggressively, but Aranthir batted the blade aside and returned a killing stroke. However, the bandit was no common brigand and he dodged to the side. They circled each other again, eyeing each other for an opening. Aranthir backed away, always staying a step and a half away from Sorj. Again, the bandit came at Aranthir, aiming his strikes low. Aranthir knocked them aside and then stepped into a shoulder strike. He connected solidly with Sorj, shoulder on shoulder, and threw the bandit backwards.

Aranthir came on, knocking aside the bandit's saber with a two-handed swing. The blade sailed away and thudded into the dirt. Sorj backpedaled as fast as he could, desperately trying to draw his dagger. Aranthir gave him no space, backing him against the wall where he drove the tip of his sword into the bandit's chest. The sword's blade glowed deep red. Sorj slumped forward and fell to his knees where he gasped in his last breath. Aranthir raised the longsword over his head with both hands and swung down. Sorj's head fell from his shoulders and came to a rest in the courtyard's dirt.

At the sight of this, the remaining bandits began to slowly back towards the gate again. Rora knelt to retrieve a discarded pistol. When she locked eyes with one of the bandits, he turned tail and ran, soon followed by the rest of his men. They quickly vanished into the darkened forest, leaving only their dead and dying behind.

Aranthir bent down and picked up the severed head. Then he went back into the waystation, opened the front door and threw the grisly trophy into the road.

Atarr stared at Sorj's head in the road. Around him, he could sense his men doing the same. With Sorj dead, he had no more reliable lieutenants to lead the attack. Instead, he stepped up himself. But he could see right away that his men were not in it anymore.

"Let's get to it, men!" he shouted, waving his torch in the direction of the waystation. "There are the men who have killed our friends, invaded our keep and stolen away our prisoner! What are we waiting for? Let's go kill them!"

The men made no move, merely looking back and forth between each other. Atarr tried a different track.

"I have promised that prisoner to my patron. If we deliver him, I will provide us with greater spoils. Gold, land, power, women! It will all be ours once we deliver the sacrifice."

"You were going to ransom him," one man called out from the darkened forest. "We could have had silver for the kid, but your patron wanted blood instead. Now here we are."

"Would you rather have a little silver now or a mountain of gold later?" Atarr demanded of the man, whom he could not recognize in the dark.

"Now we're going to get nothing at all," another man groused. Atarr rounded on him angrily, delivering a sharp backhand blow to the bandit's jaw.

"Insolent fool! You'll get nothing by crying in the bushes like a lost puppy. Now let's get into that station and do us some bloody work! There was a girl in there that Sorj wanted. Now that he's dead, I'll give her to whoever first lays a hand on her."

"I wouldn't go into there to fuck Nystra herself," a third man snapped at him. "They've got that place locked up tighter than the queen's vaults. I'm going back to the keep."

"You will go nowhere." Atarr raised a loaded pistol at the man. "You will follow my orders, or you will die for your cowardice."

Someone snorted. No words were said, but men cast their gazes downward and kicked the dirt.

"This isn't the army anymore," the deserter said. "I won't stand here and take this from a man who turned bandit just like the rest of us. You're no queen's man now. You're just a greedy fool who got in over his head, same as me. Least I've the sense to quit while I still can. Good night, Atarr. I'll see you at the keep if you find your wits."

He melted away into the darkness. The other men began to drift away as well. Atarr stood dumbfounded and the arm holding his pistol fell limp to his side.

"Come back here! There is gold to be gained! Power! We will be kings! We will live in palaces built from the bones of our enemies and drinking the finest wines out of their skulls, served by naked slave girls who were once the daughters of kings! We will sleep in beds of the finest silks! All of this can be ours, but you must follow me! FOLLOW ME!"

By the end, he was sharply aware that he was screaming into an empty forest.

No, not entirely empty. There was still himself, and his patron.

"I told you," The voice whispered in his mind. "I knew you would fail me."

"There is still time," Atarr pleaded. "The Crown does not reach its peak for two more nights, we can come back..."

"You could," the voice mused, "but it would not matter. I was promised blood in a pact. If I cannot have the merchant, I will take someone else."

Aranthir stopped at the waystation door, looking out into the road. From the dark forest emanated a bone-chilling scream. He turned to the men behind him.

"Perhaps we do not need to drive them off."

"Aye, let us remain in here until morning," Lutharis agreed. "There are worse things than bandits in the woods tonight."

They all retreated inside where Lutharis and Yvande barred the door.

"Shutter the windows," Aranthir ordered. "Keep an eye open for them, though I doubt they'll be back."

He went out into the courtyard, where Rora was mending the broken gate as best she could. Callia sat against the interior wall, her cloak pulled tight around her again. Her white legs showed through the rips in her trousers, shining in the moonlight.

"You fared well in your first battle," he said as he sat down next to her.

"With your help," she replied, her head retreating into the cloak's hood. "I hope it will be my last battle in any case."

"I had thought to invite you to join our company, but you seem more at home in these woods than in a battle."

"I have no wish to engage in this sort of fighting regularly," she replied, carefully keeping her eyes on the ground, "though the thought of sharing your company is a comforting one."

Aranthir could tell where her thoughts were leading her, even if her voice would not follow.

"Perhaps we could share each other's company until morning," he suggested quietly. After a short pause, she turned her head to meet his gaze. "There is not likely to be another battle tonight, after all."

She smiled shyly. "I think I would like that. Our one night together must have some good parts to it."

"Come then," Aranthir stood up and offered her a hand. "We can find some privacy in the loft, though I warn you, when I am hosting women for company, I have been known to keep my neighbors awake all night."

He gathered her up in his arms and carried her into the waystation, where Lutharis and Yvande has sat down before the hearth. They passed Aranthir looks of amusement and envy as he carried Callia past them up the stairs in her state of partial undress.

The loft was deserted, though a hot musket lay by the window overlooking the road, its matchcord still burning. Aranthir carried Callia to the far side of the loft and set her down atop a straw mattress surrounded by a jumble of crates and barrels. She looked to him with a mix of excitement and trepidation. Aranthir paused, unsure of whether to continue, but Callia put a hand to his waist and began to remove his belt.

Aranthir undid it for her and dropped his trousers to the floor. His sword belt clanged against the wooden floor. Smiling slightly, Callia took his cock in her hand, stroking it gently as he removed what was left of her clothes. In short order, she sat naked before him, her long brown hair falling over her bare shoulders and covering her breasts. She smiled up at Aranthir and slowly touched her lips to his cock. Shedding his armor, he slowly slid his cock into her mouth.

She worked her tongue around his cock, slowly stroking him with both hands as she did. Aranthir caressed her head, working a hand through her hair. He brushed it behind her to bare her breasts again. They were round and soft, with wide pink nipples that he caressed and pinched with his fingers. She giggled softly as he touched them.

Aranthir gently pushed her shoulder, settling her onto the mattress on her back. He lay himself atop her and slowly pushed his cock through the coarse hair around her sex. She gasped as he entered her, then wrapped her arms around his chest and kissed him. He began thrusting slowly, and she kissed him again, locking her lips to his as he fucked her.

She moaned softly, working her hips in time with his as her legs wrapped themselves around him as well. Aranthir fucked harder, his head nearly banging against the boxes behind the mattress. Seeing this, Callia shoved herself up, rolling over to put herself on top. Aranthir adjusted himself away from the boxes as Callia took control. She rode him with enthusiasm, her long hair falling over her breasts again. She flicked her head back, throwing her tresses over her shoulder once again. She then took Aranthir's hands from her hips and planted them on her breasts. He squeezed them and she smiled at him in delight.

Callia rode harder, her shyness fleeing her quickly. Her hips rose and fell on his cock and Aranthir became engrossed in the undulating motion of her breasts. He pulled her closer and kissed them between his hands, much to her delight. He sat up, wrapped his arms around her waist, and kissed her on the mouth.

There was a noise from the side, and they both stopped and turned in surprise. Through a gap in the piles of crates, they saw a surprised Praden standing on the stairs, his cheeks turning red.

"Apologies, sir, I---" he stammered. He looked to Callia's naked body, then to the floor again. "I did not know where you had gone and I, well..." he trailed off.

"We'll be down when we're done," Aranthir replied. Callia resumed riding, one arm around Aranthir's shoulder as the other brushed her hair back. Her eyes were fixed on Praden, who stole another look at her before retreating down the stairs in embarrassment.

"I'm surprised he didn't ask to join," Aranthir mused as the merchant's footsteps receded. Callia looked at him skeptically. "You're a pretty wench, and every man here would no doubt take you as I have."

Callia looked away in disinterest. "I'm no whore," she muttered softly even as she continued to ride.

"Of course not," Aranthir agreed, squeezing her hips, "but all your time spent alone out here and you might forget that you are very pretty."

Callia blushed, burying her face in his shoulder as his pace of thrusting picked up. She clung to him, keeping her face hidden and fucking in silence. Aranthir smiled to himself. So modest, so shy, even as she is naked and with a cock in her, he mused. A rare find. He kissed her naked shoulder tenderly.

Her bashfulness excited him, and he was soon close to climax. Gathering her up in his arms, he lifted her up and turned around to set her down on the bed. He withdrew his cock and gripped in one hand, aiming for her luscious breasts. Climax came quickly, shooting out from him and decorating her breasts with long lines of sticky white cum. Callia curled up on the mattress, admiring her chest with a shy smile. Pleased with himself, Aranthir lay down next to her and kissed her neck.

They dozed for a time in silence, until Aranthir spoke.

"Once you have your reward, where will you go?"

Callia said nothing for long enough that Aranthir looked to see if she was awake.

"Would you like me to join your company?" she asked at last.

"We would be delighted to have you. We cannot offer the luxuries, but we can offer adventure, camaraderie and semi-regular payment."

"I have traveled alone for all my life," she replied slowly. "How would I even leave the solitary life?"

"Think on it," he said. "I hear activity below, and it's nearly dawn. I will see to them and return for you."

Aranthir dressed and armed himself, leaving Callia naked in the bed when he went downstairs. The merchant Praden would not meet his gaze, and only stared, red-cheeked, into the fire as Aranthir passed. Lutharis and Yvande each gave him wide, knowing smiles of congratulations as he approached.

"Are we ready to ride?" Aranthir asked.

"I hear you've been riding," Lutharis replied. He clapped Aranthir on the back, but the half-elf only rolled his eyes.

"I want to make the town as soon as possible, make sure the horses are ready to go."

Lutharis sobered up and nodded. "We'll be ready."

Aranthir went into the courtyard, where Rora's sharpshooters were resting while she took watch. He checked their wounds and ammunition before convincing himself that all was well. He saddled his horse and prepared his weapons before going back inside. Lutharis was preparing a quick meal while Yvande had roused his men for departure. The master of the waystation stopped Aranthir at the stairs.

"Before you go, I would ask that your men help bury the fallen. I've no wish to see my waystation become the haunt of the restless dead."

Aranthir nodded. "Kanaron will have his due before we are gone, fear not."

He climbed the stairs back to Callia in the loft.

"Get dressed and have something to eat before we go," Aranthir called as he summitted the stairs, but there was no response. He looked to where he had left her, deciding that she had fallen asleep in his absence.

The mattress was empty, Callia and her clothes were gone. Aranthir looked around the loft and found a door to the outside. Opening it, he saw that it led to a stair that ran down alongside the of the waystation to the road. Beyond the road, in the deepness of the trees, he spied Callia's green cloak retreating into the forest.