“Yes, master, take me…. Take me however you… however you...ah! Ahhh! Ahhhhhh!”
Her cries came as I felt her inner muscles tightening like they were a mouth thirsty for my seed, sucking at me to spill it. My hips took languid strokes as I enjoyed every inch of her. I felt her juice flowing so much it soaked the hair around my cock.
“You came,” I muttered as I slowed my thrusting.
“Uhuhh,” she cried out.
“But I’m not finished with you yet.”
Her mouth parted in a kind of anguished excitement. “Never finish with me, my master! Ohhh!” She made a kind of begging whimper. “Never finish with me. Take me all day! Take me all night!”
I took hold of her, one hand on her hips the other on her back. I swept her up as I stood up from the bed. Standing on two feet and holding her off the floor with ease, I brought her smooth bronze hips down onto me, sliding my cock inside her again.
“By the gods, Rothan…” She quivered, as I squeezed her hips and ran them up and down on my cock. As my desire grew white hot, I carried her a few paces until her back pressed against the wall.
I felt her legs clasp harder around my waist, and I adjusted my grip on her. I rocked up and down, putting my hands on the back of her ass to make sure I could thrust into her and not break her against the wall. I went on running her hips up and down my manhood, her legs clamped around me. As my thrusting quickened, she gripped her arms tight around my neck and let her hips bounce up and down on my cock. Her hair danced. Our hips clapped together again and again. My knees were like springs. I cranked them up and down as fast as small birds beat their wings.
“Ohh…mmm,” she moaned out, “ahhh!”
She was so dripping wet that I felt her hot juice trickling down the inside of my thighs.
“You…. are… mine…” I grunted as my own body was becoming overwhelmed by pleasure.
“Yyy…” she tried forming words, but I could barely hear her over the sound of wet clapping our bodies were making. “Y…. yes, gods yes!” she finally managed to say.
I went on rocking up and down, and we became lost in each other. Even the smell of our juices began wafting into the air, for I had felt seed begin seeping out of me like a leak in a dam. Waves of pleasure began pulsing through me as I went on thrusting. Her body was nearly aflame as I pressed her torso to mine, felt as if she had just stepped out of a scalding bath. She looked into my eyes then, and I saw her desire truly become fire, as living flames began dancing upon her amber eyes. Her sex became so hot it sent a pulsing fever into the rest of my body and I felt shivers go up my spine.
“Bell…” I tried forming her name.
“Rothan…” she whispered her hot breath into my ear.
My eyes closed of their own accord, and my mouth gaped open in a shout of wild release. “Gaaaagh! Nnnngh!”
“Ah! Ahhhh!”
Our bodies became an explosion of convulsions. Glowing embers sparked from her in place of sweat. The sparks of heat somehow made it all the more intense, summoning an even higher sensation from my nerves. I felt my hot seed shoot out of me like a fountain as she went on writhing all around me, throwing her head back, her hair tossing all about her shoulders as she rode me as if I were a bucking horse and she an expert horseman. Our hips squeezed against one another in a few lingering, slowing strokes as the last of my seed shot into her.
I took two steps back, still holding onto her, and let myself slump into bed.
We unclasped and lay together.
The rise and fall of our breathing slowed as we lay on the bed furs, exhausted. She ran her fingers over my body, their tips barely grazing my flesh, giving me a tingling sensation, like cat whiskers on skin.
It felt like we had churned the air itself with our frantic lust. I floated for a time in an exhausted peace. I felt slight burns on my shoulders, mild, like those from touching a hot kettle.
“I have to be careful. You almost became a torch.”
“Well, that was your doing,” she laughed and snugged herself closer to me. “Last night we hardly looked at each other, yet today you pounce on me like the beast that you are. What changed so quickly?”
“I…” The answer began forming for a moment, but then I realized I could not answer truly. “I… I just needed a night’s rest.”
She leaned to me again and kissed me. “Whatever it was, I hope you keep doing it.”
9
A day later, the Moot was being arranged and my mind was heavy with what I must do.
A great fire was built. The whole city seemed to gather at the Circle of God Stones, the gargantuan stone clearing marked by the maze-like symbols of the gods. It was here that many a holy celebration that needed the open sky were held. The fire reached high into the starry night, nearly as high as the tops of the ancient pines that grew in a great ring all around the stone circle. It was good to see the whole city congregating like this, and it felt as if hope were entering their hearts once more.
“Skaldeans!” my father called out as he stood on a felled tree trunk that was said to be some 500 years old. He was surrounded by ten seers, the holy men of Skald who were easily spotted by their usually shaved heads and runes tattooed upon that same flesh, or those others who wore animal heads upon their own--wolf, elk, bear, ram, sometimes it was their skulls, other times it was the animal’s preserved hide. They wore simple robes or furs, though a handful wore nothing but small cloths over their crotches, braving the cold of the north naked as a sign of their faith in their chosen god. These kinds of austerities were common in the seers of Skald, especially those of Wolf Rein and Jarkandur. These Seers were not part of the Jarl’s court, so they did not involve themselves in the Jarl’s politics but on truly rare days. They saw my father as only a great Skaldean warrior. So having intoned prayers in the ancient tongue, they had motioned for my father to address the crowd gathered since the Jarl was sick in his bed, as he was most days.
My father stood on the ancient tree trunk and spoke. “I speak in the name of Jarl Bardawulf, who fights on courageously with his infirmity, a test of the gods that he will surely overcome.” The crowd murmured. “Like him, his people have also struggled. We barely recover from the war with the Imperials, only to be invaded by those we had made peace with, the treacherous greenskin tribes!” The crowd shouted its disdain. “But they do not know what is coming to them, the cold swords of Skald. Already we have battled the Orc hordes to a standstill. The last prisoner of war, my own son Rothan, has returned now and we can put the war against the Empire behind us. And now we must prepare for another war. So we must give thanks to the gods, and ask that they be with us that we win glory once more! The North rises! Skald rises! Wolf Rein rises!”
The crowd cheered and clinked mugs of mead together. Those more pious only held burning incense sticks in their hands and shouted prayers.
“And to give thanks to Fenris and all our gods, we come together to feast and sacrifice. To test and honor brave men for brave deeds!”
One of the Seers, a tall thin man with a shaved head and filthy beard, wearing shaggy pelts all over his body came forward and released a doe into the woods, a bell tied with red string to her neck. Together with another two of his fellow Seers, they spoke in the ancient tongue and burned some herbs sacred to the gods.
When the rituals were finished, the crowd went from reverent to festive as my father stood before them once more. “We honor the Moot contests now!”
I stepped forward, barechested, along with a dozen other men I had bested earlier in the day. Me being a Fenrir had made the contest less than fair. The real challenge had been not breaking their bones as we wrestled. Thank Fenris there were no weapons in the contests as in the coliseum.
I felt no cold, even though my breath was misting in the air.
“As winner of the contest, Rothan will now enter the great hall,” my father went on. “He will have the right to take the Oath of a feat he will accomplish, and in turn ask a Boon of the Jarl
should he do so. This is Wolf Rein’s ancient custom. The Jarl shall—”
“Orcs!” One Eye shouted as he came barreling toward us, riding his scouting horse. “Orcs! To arms! To arms!”
“How many?” my father asked.
“Two hundred at least!”
The crowd flew into a panic, bodies dispersing in every direction. Shouts, cries, falling torches.
“Father!” I yelled as body rushed past me, falling as it ran into me, “we must rally the men!”
“Go back to the manor, fetch some weapons and meet me at the gates to Stone Mantle—herd any townsfolk you can into the castle!”
“Aye,” I sprinted, houses and foliage blurring around me. I outpaced everyone fleeing by a country mile. I swung on branches, leapt over boulders and fences. Soon my legs were churning, racing me up to our manor on Red Hill. I burst in through the doors.
“What is it?” Eliette said, nearly dropping a pie she held in her hands.
“Orcs. You must get to safety. Fetch Bellabel.” I rushed past her. I stepped into my father’s quarters, slung a greatsword over my back and clenched a two handed great ax in one hand, and a warhammer in another.
I swept back into the main hall and saw Eliette was with Bellabel now.
“Rothan?” Bellabel asked, “what is happening?
“It’s alright. You will get to safety with Eliette. I will see to it.”
I shoved the door open with my shoulder, and saw people scurrying all over town in a panic, shutting themselves in their homes, some smartly fleeing down the main road to Stone Mantle, where they would be much safer in the Jarl’s keep.
I was scanning the surroundings when I spotted some figures scurrying up the hill toward us. They were greenskins, their muscles rippling, their jagged black armor adorned with human and animal skulls. I could not tell if they wore red war paint, or if this were the blood they had already spilled on this raid. There were some dozen of them scurrying around buildings. I saw a woman fleeing, only to be dragged down by a massive green hand and have an ax blade come down on her skull, making a crunching sound that I heard all the way where I stood.
“Rothan!” I heard my name and saw my younger brother Yorbrand was climbing up the hill toward our manor with two of my father’s sworn shield bearers. “Rothan! We have to protect the manor!”
“No,” I said, “it’s empty now. We must get everyone to safety in the castle, and meet father at the gates to Stone Mantle. We’ll fight while everyone is ushered inside the castle walls.”
“But Rothan, the manor—”
“Yorbrand! You wear a soldier’s clothes! Act like a soldier and follow orders!”
“Y-y-yes, Rothan!”
“Now, come,” we ran downhill until we made it onto the main cobbled road. Black armored green bodies suddenly emerged onto our path. Some were fully helmed, their helmets bearing the forms of demons, with great tusks or horns, while some left their massive-jawed green faces show, just as fierce as the shaped helmets.
“Behind me,” I said to Yorbrand and the two sworn shields, “make sure the women are unharmed. Gather any townsfolk you can as we go. I’ll cut through the Orc bastards.”
“But Rothan,” Yorbrand said, his voice shaky, “there’s a horde of them, and... it’s just you.”
“No, brother... there’s two of me.” As I said this I felt the thirst for blood that had been building for days suddenly push fangs out from my mouth. “Don’t be afraid,” I managed to growl to my brother as my skull shook. It contorted into a wolf’s head and the gray fur of Fenris spread all over my flesh.
“By Fenris!” I heard Eliette cry behind me, nearly as afraid of me as she was of the Orcs.
“Rothan, y-you’re—you’re—” my younger brother said.
“Don’t be rrr… afraid,” I barked out, speech becoming easier than the first time I transformed, but not perfect, “just keep them safe behind me.”
I barreled forward, and the greenskins did the same. We met with a clash of steel, my ax blurring in front of me, my arm vibrating as my blade cleaved into an Orc’s side, sliced through armor and spilled the dark violet blood that pulsed in its thick veins. My hammer made a hollow whistling noise as it circled above me and came crashing into another Orc’s head, cratering its helmet with a spray of blood.
Two more came at me, one with double serrated swords, the other with a wicked ax that looked like it could be used to mine iron. The miner Orc swung at me with enough strength to pierce heavy plate, but my ax head caught the blow, while my warhammer whipped around and crushed his arm. I had enough strength that even these normally two handed weapons could be handled with little more effort than single handed ones. The Orc with serrated swords managed to slice into my shoulder. I responded with a backhanded swing of my ax, which sounded like a hurricane’s gale as it swung and crashed into his head, slicing his skull in two, helm and all.
Black armor, green flesh and weapons forged in hell surrounded me everywhere I looked. It became a dance of death as blades slashed at me, maces swung, skulls shattered, armor was broken and crumpled, violet blood ran, my own blood did too. It was a gnashing of wolf teeth and a howling out of rage and pain. It was the thing of nightmares, green lips curling in snarls, fangs jutting out from twisted mouths, maces heavy as boulders being swung, ax blows returning in a relentless storm.
When it was done some two dozen Orc bodies lay behind me. Yorbrand and the sworn shields had done their job—had even fought off an Orc or two—and we had pressed on through the main road all the way to the castle gates which were open with a clamor of weapons, shields and chaos as men of Wolf Rein tried to hold back a tide of Orcs. The greenksins had spotted the crowds of people trying to head into the castle gates, and had pounced.
“Monster!” a Wolf Rein soldier with a blue shield cried out as he saw me.
I charged into a crowd of Orcs, too enthralled in battle to care what a soldier thought of me. My ax and hammer began raining down on the Orcs, who were still too mindlessly lusting for battle to care that a furred monster was hacking them down.
“No, it’s a Fenrir! A Fenrir of legend! Fenris sends us a champion!” I heard a voice call out in response to the first. Other voices cried out, but they were drowned out by the sound of steel clashing, green skin slicing open. I nearly stumbled over two corpses, both human. A curved steel blade flashed toward me, and I turned it away with a swing of my ax. I buried the ax blade in the Orc’s shoulder armor, sending it reeling back in pain. A sword thrust from a Wolf Rein soldier pierced through its back to ensure its death.
As he looked into my eyes, the soldier froze for a moment. “You’re… you’re with us.”
I had no time to answer as more Orc bodies rushed upon us. I quickly handed him the great sword I carried on my back as well as the hammer. “Grrrt...get these to unarmed men!”
Orcs were just paces away. My eyes widened with anticipation of murder. My ax blade arched above me and came crashing down, slicing off an Orc arm, then curving again like a bird swooping up from a dive. It found another Orc’s beating heart. Another flashing swing and an Orc’s guts showered out from his body.
“Get the people inside the gates!” I heard my brother’s shout over the chaos. For a moment I glanced back and saw that the castle gate choked with towns folk panicking to make their way inside.
A loud scraping sound. The castle gate’s portcullis came down. Screams. An ashy-kneed child was impaled, a woman’s thick calf was skewered, a man’s neck was snapped like a twig. The heavy metal gate had come down with no regard for the people trying to get inside.
“Mercy!” voices from the townsfolk rang out. Fists pounded against the gate, men tried in vain to climb through its grate somehow.
Suddenly a great pain exploded through me as I felt a sword blade take me at the side. “Graagh!” I wretched and stumbled away from the Orc that was steps away from burying the blade in my gut. Suddenly I saw a flash of steel, thundering hooves, and a familiar face. My fath
er. His long beard swirled around him as he twisted his mount and brought a great warhammer down on the Orc that had just attacked me.
“They…rrr..closed the gate!” I growled to my father.
“We’ll have to make due. Men of Wolf Rein! To me!”
I held the open wound at my waist, pain cutting into me.
“Get behind me! Behind me!” my father yelled to the crowds of people still caught between the castle gates and the Orc horde.
A line of blue shielded cavalry began forming around my father, as well as men at arms protecting the town’s folk. I was an island out in a green sea, swinging my ax with increasing fury. Cut after cut opened up on my body. My fur began tangling with blood, my own, Orc’s, it was all the same. Even I was becoming overwhelmed by the sheer numbers I faced, the relentless drive of creatures stronger than men.
Hooves crashed around me—my father had ridden out to my side. He swung his hammer from horseback, and an Orc skull shattered to pieces. A violent neigh pierced the air. A barbed Orc spear took his horse. My father fell with his mount.
Two Orcs pounced on my father. He managed to prop himself up just enough that he swung the legs out from under one of them, but his hammer head entangled under the Orc’s body. As the other was about to strike my father, I leapt in front, tackling the Orc to the ground, then with nothing more than claws I raked into it. My hands were like great talons as I raked until the Orc’s chest and throat lay open like a pomegranate split in two.
Wolf Blade: A Sword and Sorcery Fantasy Harem Page 12
