The Sword and the Soul Ch. 04

The path wound past a copse of elm trees to the left. As his mare picked its easy way up the road, a whistle from the trees cut through his trance. Instinct took over and he pulled his horse up short, hand going to the pommel of his sword. He scanned the treeline and picked out a furtive figure lurking in the shade.

"Who's there?" he called. "Show yourself if you don't want to get hurt."

A short person dressed in a soft grey robe crept out from the trees. A heavy hood was draped over the figure's head, and the robe was belted at the waist. The person looked almost like one of those monks that lived only to copy letters into books and sing depressing songs about the twelve gods. But Mag didn't know of any monastaries in the area, and the robe looked too comfortable to belong to a monk.

He didn't have to wonder long. The figure through back the hood, revealing milk-white skin, wide crimson lips, and flowing locks of golden hair. Her rich brown eyes seemed to flash golden in the sunlight. It was Norn.

"Ahhh," said Mag. "Should've fucking known."

"Yes, you should have," replied the witch. "I thought you might be able to sense my presence by now. I can certainly sense yours."

"Well, I sense you now well enough," said Mag.

He swung down off the mare and crossed from the road down into the shade of the elm trees. Norn melted back beneath the canopy, so that her flawless, elfin face was painted by the uneven patches of light beaming through the leaves. She had a wanton look in her eyes as Mag pursued her into the trees, and he felt all the blood rushing to his cock. Why does this woman have such an effect on me? It was a fleeting thought, and one he didn't much dwell on.

"How'd you get here before me?" called Mag. "Witch stuff?"

A peal of musical laughter bubbled up from Norn's throat. She did not turn around, but continued with her back turned to him, sashaying her hips seductively from side to side. "Not everything is supernatural, Mag. I left Seleca last night."

"Oh," said Mag. "Yeah, that makes sense. Why are you here, then?"

"You mean, besides the fact that my wanton body desperately craves your touch? Well, as it happens, this copse is a place of power as well. The alvar of Celenor kept a shrine here in times past."

"Celenor?" asked Mag. "Thought this place was called 'Seleca'."

"It is now. But that is a corruption of the old alvar name. The alvar lived here for many generations, but they had long abandoned this place by the time the humans settled in Seleca."

Sure enough, Mag could see bits of grey and white hewn stone scattering the underbrush as Norn picked their way along an overgrown path. The crumbled masonry must once have been archways, and ruined pillars lined their path, though the cross pieces above had long since fallen away. Mag was getting a funny feeling, a tingling on the back of his neck that made all the tiny hairs stand on end. He could feel the magic in this place.

"Why did the alvar leave?" he wondered out loud.

"Because they rightly understood the danger of the eolith, that which sleeps in the earth beneath Abin's Lode. The alvar are a restful and circumspect people, but their Souls are in tune with the earth and the elements. The artifact called to them, bidding them to wake Mal-Morgoth from his endless slumber. Lu'Caella corrupted their most powerful greensage, a great alvar lord named Tolurian, and turned his heart to darkness. He overthrew the King of Celenor and slaughtered the king's daughters in their beds. The king himself was cut into five pieces and offered as a sacrifice on five pyres before the gates of the city. The fell magic Tolurian summoned perverted the pure forest's heart and turned many other alvar to his cause. The true greensages found allies and banded together. At terrible cost, they defeated Tolurian and drove Lu'Caella's influence from this place, but Celenor had fallen. The alvar quit their forest home forever, and without their Soul to sustain them, their great edifices fell to ruin."

Mag detected great melancholy in Norn's voice as she related this tale, as if the tragedy of Celenor had affected her personally.

"How do you know all this?" he asked.

"I was there," she said.

"How long ago was that?"

"Five hundred years, give or take."

"How can you be that old?" asked Mag, incredulous.

Norn stopped and turned to face him, the dappled sunlight playing across her smooth features. She smiled sadly.

"I am far older than that," she said. "A Soul Witch is cursed with longevity. I am shielded from the ravages of time, but in exchange, I can create no life of my own." Norn placed a hand on her stomach for emphasis. "My womb can serve as a vessel for many puissant Soul Arts, but conception is not one of them."

"Oh," said Mag with a nonchalant shrug. "Well, at least we don't have to worry about that. Who needs kids? Not me, that's for damn sure."

Norn laughed, her dour mood shattered by his irreverent comment, and he grinned, satisfied with himself. She spun on her heel and continued onward.

"So Celenor fell, and the alvar left the vale," said Mag, summing the story up for himself. "But what about the lizards? Were they around back then?"

"Oh yes," said Norn. "Their hollow was smaller then, but they thrived all the same. Lizards are a stubborn and stoic people. Their Souls were not as susceptible to Lu'Caella's influence, and they stood against Tolurian's black campaign. When the alvar left, the lizardfolk remained to guard the vale. Centuries later, when King Topaz started his foolish war with the duergar, the alvar returned here from the other great forests to join their army with the lizardfolk. Together they crossed Hardpass and took Topaz' forces in the rear, crushing them utterly. But for the alvar, travelling across the vale took a great cost. The psychic scars of Tolurian's betrayal still lay heavily upon their ancient home. It is only with absolute necessity that any alvar would return to this place."

The path ahead of them opened up slightly and dipped low into a shallow dell. The ground was clearer there, and a cluster of low stone walls lay about the place, overgrown with emerald moss. In the center of the fallen shrine was a small pond, its surface placid and clear as crystal. White and purple blossoms grew around its bank, content in the partial shade of the secluded space.

Norn descended the slope and stopped before the pond. Turning, she unbelted her robe and shrugged her shoulders, allowing it to hang loose and open. Her milky breasts slipped into view, the robe catching on her erect pink nipples. The golden tuft of hair between her legs glimmered with dew.

"Oh, Mag," she said, her voice going breathy. "You have impressed me greatly. Two Soulkin you have slain, an incredible feat for a human. Your Soul begins to glow, like coals in a warming brazier. Greater trials await you, however. I cannot say what we may meet at Abin's Lode, but we must be prepared for the worst. Tell me, then: will you give yourself to me and become my champion, my Soul Warrior?"

Mag grimaced, at war with himself. His cock said, Yes, whatever you want, just let me take you now. But his brain said, No, she's a witch, you can't trust her, she'll lead you to ruin.

"I'm no thrall," growled Mag. "Let's get that straight."

"No," said Norn. "I don't think you are. But nevertheless, in this relationship, the witch is the dominant party, and the warrior's place is to serve. You were an aimless vagabond before you met me, Mag. Now look at the fateful path life has set you on: you have bedded the Lady of Seleca and challenged an Elder of Fal'Angrael. Your martial prowess is already impressive, but if you join your Soul with mine, I can guide your able blade and make you unstoppable. And there are other benefits."

She dragged one slender, pale finger from her neck, across the valley of her breasts, past her navel, and stopped just above her sex, where she flattened her hand against her belly and spread her fingers.

"What is your answer?" asked Norn.

Mag's brain had lost the battle. He was desperate to claim the sultry witch as his own once more, and he had to admit that the abilities she'd granted him already were intoxicating. And it was true that he'd had no direction in life before. Chances were good he'd have ended up with his throat cut in an alley someplace if he'd stayed on that path. With Norn, his life had purpose. It was a nice feeling.

"Fuck it," he said with a shrug. "I'm yours."

Norn smiled wickedly, her crimson lips stretching unnaturally wide, mouth nearly splitting her face.

"Stupendous," she said.

The witch through her arms back, letting the robe fall from her slim frame completely. Naked, her porcelain skin shimmered in the fingers of sunlight that splashed across her. She stepped backwards into the pond, letting the water come up to her knees, and then crooked a finger at Mag, beckoning him to follow.

Mag unbuckled his swordbelt and let the heavy scabbard fall to the ground. He unstrapped his bandolier of throwing knives and discarded it as well. Boots came next, followed by his breastplate, shirt, and trousers, one by one. The air felt cool on his skin, and he absently touched the long white scar across his chest. Norn was staring at him with a hungry grin, and it made him feel a bit self-conscious in spite of himself. Mag wasn't much for modesty, but the witch made him feel vulnerable. Still, any apprehension he felt was far outstripped by his arousal, and his cock was hardening rapidly now that it was free from the confines of his breeches.

Wading into the pond, the water felt crisp and cool on Mag's feet. He moved closer to Norn, until the water was nearly up to his knees. The witch leaned into his embrace, running her hands through the thick, dark hair on his chest and pressing her face into his neck.

"Mmm," she breathed. "You smell like Marilla. Did you fuck her before you left?"

"Yeah," said Mag, and he sensed that the witch wanted greater detail by the way she squirmed in his powerful arms. "We did it in her solar, with her up against the window sill, so that anyone that happened to look up would've seen us."

"Ahh," hissed Norn. "That was risky. What would you have done if her father caught you?"

Mag shrugged. "Kill him, I guess."

"Let us be glad he did not catch you. And where did you spill your seed?"

"Inside her."

A shiver went through Norn at his words. "Even riskier. What if the lady conceives?"

"Huh," said Mag. "Didn't think about it at the time, if I'm being honest."

"Well, we needn't worry, the chances of that are very slim. The amount of Soul magic you have absorbed from me makes it unlikely that your seed might quicken inside her. Did the lady reach her peak?"

"Oh yeah," said Mag. "She came hard while I was inside her. At the same time as me, even. Gods above, I love it when that happens."

The witch's heart was thudding in her chest, and Mag could feel it given the way their skin pressed together. She pulled back from him and took his thicker hands in her slender digits, pulling him further into the pond. It was surprisingly deep in the center, coming up to Norn's breasts and just above Mag's waistline. His cock, already mostly erect, seemed to bob and float beneath the surface. Norn reached down into the water between them and took hold of his shaft, stroking it lovingly. She applied exquisite pressure, her palm gliding along the underside of his manhood.

Mag could not suppress a satisfied groan escaping his lips as the witch stroked him to his full hardness. He grabbed her face in both hands, tilting her head back so that he could bend down and kiss her forcefully, jabbing his tongue between her lips and making her moan into his open mouth. She squealed and pretended to struggle against him as he captured her bottom lip between his teeth.

"You're an animal," she gasped breathlessly.

"I'm what you want me to be," Mag returned.

"I want you to be a Soul Warrior," she said in a husky voice. "Indefatigable, unchallengeable. You have begun to feel the Soultrance, the first of many powers I can bestow on you. Now I shall anoint your blade, and help you master it."

"Left my blade on the bank," said Mag.

"Not that blade," answered Norn, a golden twinkle in her eyes. She tightened her grip on his cock for emphasis.

"Ahh," said Mag with a chuckle. "Should we move back to the shallows, then?"

"No need," said Norn.

The witch released him and sank into the pool smoothly as though the mud beneath her feet gave way. As her flawless face passed the surface, the Norn's waves of golden hair fanned out across the surface, hanging suspended like sea foam. Mag, unsure of what was happening, peered beneath the clear surface of the pond at the witch's hazy and distorted figure. She was on her knees at the bottom of the pond, seeming perfectly comfortable there. Then she took hold of his buttocks, and her lips kissed the head of his cock.

"Is that a good idea?" asked Mag out loud, and then he felt stupid, realizing she probably couldn't hear him. It didn't make a difference. Norn's wanton mouth opened beneath the water and accepted his manhood, now swollen to tremendous proportions with lust and Soul magic. He gasped at the contrast between the warmth of her mouth and the coolness of the water, and soon enough forgot all about the impossibility of what the witch was doing to him. She swallowed him slowly, laving her tongue on each new inch, and only paused briefly as the head of his cock touched the entrance to her throat. She adjusted the angle of her face and sank forward to impale her mouth and throat fully upon his rampant shaft, her soft lips kissing his base.

Mag was in heaven, in disbelief at the pleasure she was giving him. Her cozy throat felt divine, coaxing him steadily towards an underwater release. He shut his eyes, throwing his head back and gasping as Norn began to bob her head back and forth, pulling her lips to the crown of his manhood before accepting him fully into her throat once more. When he opened his eyes again, the surface of the lake had begun to ripple from their movements.

The world around him seemed to slow, just as it had when he'd battled the Soulseeker in the catacombs beneath Marilla's garden. He could feel the bumps on Norn's tongue and the vessels that pulsed with hot blood as she bathed his cock. He could hear bubbles fizzing to the surface as air escaped the witch's lungs. He felt the movements of her golden hair swirling in tiny eddies around him as their movements, his thrusts and her bobs, churned the water to foam. The Soultrance heightened his awareness, and the sensations in manhood, to a point that was almost painful, and Mag gasped, tasting as he did the tinge of flora, soil, and grass in the air.

His reverie spread outward to the shrine and the copse around them. Soft footsteps padded carefully through the underbrush on four feet: a fox, probably. Birds chirped lackadaisical in the trees above, and Mag parsed out their songs, each distinct in pitch and tone. A pair of squirrels chased each other up a tree trunk, their tiny claws scratching the bark in a sharp pattern.

Norn seemed to sense his attention wandering and throated him again, holding him firmly in place. Then she flexed the muscles in her neck in sensuous rhythm, massaging him. The sensations, heightened by his fully engaged Soulsense, were almost unbearable. The heat in her throat was scorching, the undulations of her muscles exquisite. Mag thrust two hands below the surface of the water, instinctively taking hold of her head and shoulders as if holding on for balance. His balls drew up and then pulsed as the first spurt of his seed rocketed into Norn's belly. Mag's legs shook with the intensity of his release, extended and elevated with his Soultrance. The next few pulses were just as forceful, and Mag could feel vibrations in Norn's body as she accepted more of his essence. A powerful heat radiated from her abdomen, and then Mag realized it was not heat, but magic, as Norn bound them further together and awakened more of his Soul.

When he had nearly spent himself, Norn suddenly unsheathed him from her mouth and throat, smoothly grasping him with both hands to milk out the rest of his seed. His final spurts jetted directly into the pool. The water glowed with a silvery tinge, and its temperature changed from cool to warm. This place really is enchanted.

Norn's head broke the surface with a splash and he caught but a glimpse of her golden eyes behind a cascade of silvery water before her lips crashed into his, kissing him desperately, the tang Soul on her tongue.

She jumped into his arms and he caught her easily, supporting her pert bottom with his hands. She wrapped her arms around his neck and coiled her slender, pale legs behind his back. Mag was still hard, still desperate for her, his passions enflamed by the magic brewing in the pool around them.

"Take me," pleaded Norn, her eyes blazing with golden light. "I'm desperate for your cock, my darling."

As Mag hiked her slender body up a bit higher, Norn reached down and took hold of his weapon. She angled it upward, towards her sex, and Mag throbbed powerfully in response. He lowered her legs and hips beneath the surface of the pool, and her swollen sex met the crown of his cock. Mag's Soultrance took hold once again as he speared the witch with agonizing slowness, and he could feel each pulse of blood in her burning sex. The heat was exquisite, and she rippled enticingly around him, coaxing him deeper, until his engorged cockhead met the rough mouth of her womb.

Norn shrieked and came violently, shuddering in his arms. He held her tight to keep them both from toppling into the pool, which fizzed and bubbled like boiling quicksilver, hot and lustrous around them. Her cunt clutched at him wildly, every sensation heightened by his Soultrance. Her climax seemed to go on for an age, like a storm that Mag was bound to ride out.

The witch went limp in his arms, her chin falling forward to rest on his shoulder. Her pale hands gripped his neck and the back of his head for support, and she turned her breathless lips to his ear.

"Become one with me," she panted. "By this ritual let our Souls be bound forever."

The gate of her womb opened, giving way to his insistent manhood, and his crown slipped through the narrow breach. In disbelief, Mag thrust upward, driving his cock into the witch's most sacred precinct. Her womb's mouth closed tightly around him, holding him in place.

"How?" gasped Mag, but from the quivering witch there came no answer. He took her by the hair and lifted her head up to look at her face, but glassy golden orbs stared insensate back at him. She was far gone, awash in a torrent of lust magic.

The heat in her core intensified until it became as a kiln around him, and he could feel in his Soultrance the current of magic flowing inside Norn's body. Suddenly he glimpsed a formless essence beyond her physical body, that which he clutched in his arms and thrust himself inside of. Her Soul was revealed to him, a luminous presence that howled with power. And his own Soul was there as well, a pathetic swirl of energy compare to hers, but growing each second. They were twisted together at the base, knotting and joining irreversibly.

Mag's awareness snapped back to the physical as the heat within and around him ratcheted up another level. The silvery water boiled with magic now, and the burning in Norn's core was almost unbearable. A shout of pained pleasure passed his lips when molten magic poured into the tip of his cock, sliding down to where his own essence roiled, waiting to be released. It was her Soul joining with him, he realized.