by Conny Conway
The rushing of Lann’s fiery wings informed her he had left to get the human.
“So, you are Brontes. I heard of you.” Lann yelled out while he crossed the fiery stream. He didn’t even land to scoop up the woman he loved.
“Brontes?” Shiloh whispered.
“Son of Poseidon, a Cyclops, blinded by Odysseus after he ate a few of the Itakians. He held them locked up in his cave, together with his sheep. The Elysian blinded him with a burning tree, ramming it in his eye. When Brontes let his sheep out of the cave, the men bound themselves to their bellies and were carried out of the prison.” He whispered.
They arrived safely next to Derwa.
“Then you know I don’t joke around.” Brontes rumbled.
“So I do.” The warrior answered. “But we are no sailors nor do we want to harm you or your realm.”
He helped Derwa skipping again from one solid rock to another. Shiloh followed, her arms stretched out for balance.
“The blasted Greek said so too, and then he poked my eye out.” The mountain spew more ashes.
“What do expect if you try to eat them?”
“That was not my intention ….they just smelled so good, all fresh and sweet, so juicy.”
Shiloh shuddered.
“I do beg you to let us pass. Our quest can’t wait.” Lann requested.
Again he had to leave Shiloh behind to fly Derwa over the next stretch of fire and brimstone. Through the smoke he returned to Shiloh.
“No.” The ground shook so intense that Shiloh lost her footing, Lann caught her right before her sneaker touched the lava, though the intense heat molt her rubbery sole and burned her sole. Quickly he took to the air with her in his arms.
The ashes and smoke fell so thick Lann couldn’t see the tip of his own nose. He lost his direction and flew blindly. Darn where was the huge stone with Derwa? He should have reached it by now.
He cursed the Cyclops and his wretched mountain.
The scream reached to the two of them and pointed Lann in the right direction again. As his eyes penetrated the smoke, horror welt up in his inners. He increased his speed, threw Shiloh almost on the stones, folded his wings and flung his bulk onto Derwa.
Her green dress and robe were ablaze, the druid was a walking torch. Lann rolled her, covered the flames with himself and fought the inferno, smothering it with his own body.
Derwa had long been unconscious when the fire finally died of. Her hair singed, her clothes incinerated to rags, exposing her frail body covered in blisters. Shiloh, knelt next to her friend, held her in her arms, rocked her, begged her to open her eyes. But Derwa laid there lifeless.
Fury rose in Lann, a rage so wild it tore him apart.
“You cursed idiot.” He yelled. “She had not hurt you, we are on our way out of here. Why? Why a helpless blind woman? Does this make you feel stronger? Odysseus made a mistake, he shouldn’t have stuck your eye with the blasted branch, he should have poked your heart. You’re not worth the air you breathe. Does your father approve of your behavior? If I remember correct you lied to him before, so Poseidon would revenge your frigging eye. Ach, you….” He was so mad now that he forgot his words, but his body spoke enough.
Shiloh’s soft whimper didn’t penetrate his rage.
“How dare you speak to Poseidon’s son like that, you maggot.”
The quake which followed threw Lann of his feet, into the streaming lava. Shiloh fell over Derwa, when her vision cleared and she realized Lann was gone, she shrieked out all her pain.
The Lava parted just like any river and Lann flew out of it, hovering only inches above the fiery stone, he cursed in a language Shiloh didn’t understand. Her face was wet from tears, tears of fear for Lann, for the pain Derwa had to endure, worry she would lose her friend, troubled how the flying creatures had fared. Desperation had a solid grip on her. One lonely tear fell on Derwa’s cheek. Shiloh peered at it with empty eyes.
“Poseidon!” She screeched into the tear. “Where are you bastard?”
Thunder clapped way above; louder than the rumble of the volcano.
The invisible sky opened up and rain poured onto Shiloh, Lann and the fire. Steam encircled them fast. Finally Lann woke out of his wrath and returned to Shiloh. Protectively he unfolded his right wing and covered her from the downpour as he knelt next to her.
The wind, which had not existed before swept over the terrain and blew the vapors around. Puddles formed on their rock in the middle of the ember stream.
The human had encircled the druid again and murmured soothing nothings.
Poseidon body shot out of the puddle next to Lann, it startled the winged man and he flinched in surprise.
“Brontes, my son, listen to your father’s words.” The God thundered.
“Father?” The ashes ebbed, the quakes and the spewing lava also slowed.
“Yes, Brontes.” Poseidon hollered up the mountain.” Stop this madness this instance.” He ordered.
“I don’t understand, Father. They came with evil intentions.”
“They certainly did not, Son. I know these humans and their pets. I know their hearts are good.” Poseidon boomed.
“But, Father, the blasted warrior wanted to spear my heart.”
“I certainly did not.” Lann exclaimed.
Poseidon lifted his brow as his gaze graced the warrior.
“You said, Odysseus should have done so.” Brontes roared.
“That I did, after you did hurt my friend. She is family to me.”
Lann directed Poseidon’s gaze to Derwa, laying still and hurt, half burned.
Poseidon drew an audible breath.
” Excuse me.” He boomed. The place he had just stood so formidable was vacant now.
Lightning, thunder, crashes and more lightning encircled the tip of the volcano.
Finally the noise came to a still stand. A cyclone rushed over the terrain, disbursing the air of ashes and smoke.
Then Poseidon reappeared. He rushed over to Derwa, took her out of Shiloh’s arms.
“Your quest shouldn’t be disturbed in this realm any longer.” He exclaimed.
“I will take the druid to my nephew Asclepius, Apollo’s son, God of healing. You shall meet her again soon. Fare well, Lann and Shiloh.”
A bright bolt blinded the two, wincing they opened their eyes. Gone was the charcoaled terrain, replaced by a wall made from field stones. Whiplash and Willie sat on the top about eight feet up. Xylophia stood nearby and chewed on the juicy grass at the roadside.
Chapter17
An ogre did duty as the gate keeper. Grumpily he welcomed the new comers, even mumbled about the Inn being down this road, second alley left and first lane right. It was called the King’s Inn, he informed, also to avoid their whiskey because it was watered down, but to try their strawberry wine, a specialty of the Inn Keeper. Further the ogre informed between gritted teeth, to not order the Hasenpfeffer, it might be made of rats.
“He was quiet talkative for an ogre.” Xylophia concluded with a smile in her twinkling eyes.
“So he was.” Lann retorted.” Most likely he was ordered to give the information to all new comers.”
“Do you think they really serve rats?” Shiloh asked with a shudder.
“Aye, of cause. Rat meat tastes like chicken, cheaper than chicken, a little more grizzled than chicken and all the stuff it ate deposits partly in its muscles, so she would eat her veggies without knowing. He had some rat quiet often and he does believe it’s a bit crunchier, or maybe it might have been its fleas. He doesn’t know for sure, was it a musk rat, or just a simple…”
“Stop it! You are grossing me out.” Shiloh demanded. “Disgusting, Willie.”
The wisp looked innocently, while Lann laughed heartily. He felt the goodness of this laughter, felt the love for the bickering of the two so different creatures and then he felt very alive.
He held the door open for his three friends, Xylophia had chosen to stay outside near a water trou
gh. The unicorn felt satisfied and happy and the suns on her furry back. This life was good.
The inside of the Inn was sun filled, warm, cozy and homey.
Several Benches and Tables were taken by all sorts of mystical beings. They were served by two young female fae with long wavy hair, pointed ears peeking through it, their faces were as beautiful as Michelangelo’s Madonna. They had the same build and figure no doubt they were sisters.
Behind the bar a tall male elf, older than the girls, busied himself with drafting ale, cleaning chalices and beer mugs.
Behind him on the wall was a chalk board with numbers from one through nine on it, under some of them was written occupied; others had an empty space underneath.
Purposefully Lann walked to the elf.
“Dea-maidin, máistir. An bhfuil aon seomraí ar fáilgt?” He said in Celtic.
Deep blue eyes bore down on Shiloh, the human female. Then the elf said,
“You’re in luck, my Lord. I do have one room available.”
He winked at her, smiled and even though it was an honest smile it didn’t hide the sadness in his eyes. His white even long hair was bound in the nape of his neck with a leather strip, his pointy ears fully exposed to all.
“My name is Ealhdun and those are my daughters, Zanna and Zuzanna.” He said with a nod to the pretty waitresses.
“I’m Lann and this is …. My... Wife Shiloh.” Lann introduced while he tucked Shiloh’s hand softly to shut her up.
“My pleasure, my Lady.” Ealhdun bowed his head.
Shiloh smiled in retort and also bowed ever so slightly. She didn’t know if it was custom to shake hands, or hug or whatever, therefore the bow seemed adequate.
The Inn keeper called for several pixies to lead the new customers to room seven, help them get comfortable and fill the tub with hot water, so the lady might wipe of the…dust of the road.
Chirping the pixies did as ordered, led them up the stairs, showed them their chamber and hurried off to fetch the wooden tub.
Shiloh sank on the chest at the end of a rustic king size bed. She groaned, pulled her knees up on the chest and fiddled with her shoe laces.
Lann sat down next to her, pushed her hands aside gently and opened the knot of her snicker, then the other.
In the meantime the pixies arrived with several buckets of hot water, towels and a rose scented bar of soap. Once the tub was filled they asked if she needed help with getting out of those weird breeches, which certainly a witch had cursed on her to torture her with the tightness, robbing her of breathing. Indignant Shiloh looked at them, but then said she could manage.
When the pixies left, she turned her attention to the golden warrior.
“Did you hear what they said about my Lewis?”
“Your what?”
“My jeans.”
“Oh, your pants? Yes I heard.” He answered with a smirk.
“They were expensive.” She pouted.
“Yes, but they do look like they were painted on you.”
“They are not that tight.”
“But they are. Seeing you in them, I want see all of you that is hidden by color.”
She made a grimace.
Lann kissed her softly. “Now, in the tub with you.”
“But, you are here.” She blushed.
“And?”
“You …you shouldn’t be or at least….turn around.”
“Shiloh, sweetling. I kissed every inch of you, there is not one secret hidden from me. Get in the tub, now.”
She still was not certain.
He slung his arms around her, gave her a bear hug, gripped the edge of her T Shirt, soiled by dust, ashes, salt, brimstone and more and slipped it quickly over her head. Her first instinct was to cross her arms in front of her bra, but then she thought different, kissed him back, invaded his mouth with her tongue, which danced with his, all the while she opened the knot on his loin cloth.
“Join me.” She whispered in his ear, Goosebumps spread over him and she was happy to see she had that power over him.
After their bath together, some love making , cuddling and sharing secrets about themselves, which involved a lot of Shiloh’s giggling and Lann’s “Really?” their tummies growled.
The pixies had replaced their clothing with more suitable garments.
They had brought for the woman a bright green, long velvety dress, the bodice was in a bright scarlet and laced in the back, the skirt fell in luscious folds, the hem of it was also embellished by the same red as the top, which enforced the edges. The little beings had also organized a green headband for Shiloh’s auburn mane.
Once she was dressed and her hair was somewhat tamed by the colorful cloth, she took Lann’s breath away. He could see her Scottish ancestry clearly now.
He himself wore leather pants, buttoned in the front with simple horn buttons. His chest was bare, even though the pixies had brought him a white shirt, his wings would have burned the cotton in a few seconds. Knowing this he had chosen to not even try the shirt.
The fire kissed hair was held back in a ponytail by a leather thong, exposing his strong jaw line.
For now he had decided not to strap his bow on his back, but his sword was in its sheath, held in place by an ornate black and silver belt, unknowing to himself how much this drew eyes to his muscled chest, shoulders and arms.
Shiloh’s mouth watered at his sight and a heat formed in her core, liquid and white hot.
This realm had been blessed with only one orange sun, which was approaching the horizon as the two left their chamber to go have their evening meal.
Outside the streets had been busy and buzzing with life all day long.
Xylophia had laid down under a flamboyant tree, enjoyed herself watching the life around her, her heavy heart lifted at the sound of the children’s laughter and shouts as they played a game of nut chase. The loss of her own child had laid heavy on her, but now this grief was replaced by pride of the fiery stallion.
Close by was a market, the citizens of the town selling, buying and trading. Yes, Xylophia was happy and the pure emotion filled her from head to toe as time just flew by.
Now the streets were deserted, just a few more people hurrying home, they barely had eyes for the unicorn under the ornate tree. The hastened steps of the creatures turned to a sprint. Xylophia wondered. She got to her hooves, decidedly barring the way of an elder dwarf.
“Forgive me, sir. Why is everybody in a rush?”
The gnome cursed. “Get out of my way, I’m late. I got to get inside.”
He tried to side step the massive beast.
“But why?” She asked as she stopped his stride again.
“Blasted. Because the Harpies. Now, get lost.”
“What Harpies?”
But as she spoke, she heard the sound of wings, immense wings, swooshing the air, stirring up the street dust, obscuring the sight of the monster. Darkness was prominent in the streets, it seemed it had swallowed any moons or stars. Xylophia turned to the whirling winds, ignoring the whimpering dwarf mumbling something about dying and it being her fault.
As the air calmed, she heard a heavy body landing with a thump.
She strained to see through the shadows of the night. Finally her vision cleared and what she saw made her heart pulsate faster.
The monster in front of her had wings as big as a windmill, they were attached to the body of a bull, strong and rippled with muscles, the hind legs ended in split hooves while the front legs were those of an eagle. A huge tail of a scorpion towered of the brute’s back, the head was the one of a vulture, the naked neck poking out of the feathered, square chest, which looked like it was molting. Warts and pustules covered the throat and head. The stench this monster admitted took the unicorn’s breath.
“Ah, a unicorn.” The grey beak rasped in an earthy tune.
Xylophia didn’t answer, but went up on her posterior in a threatening gesture. The dwarf coward deep into the shadow of the tree.
&nbs
p; “I have no feud with you.” The harpies exclaimed. “We are sisters, you and I. Granted, sisters of the opposites, but sisters after all. I do not have a fight with you. And please, white sister, don’t pick one with me. Just leave my town.”
Xylophia shook her mane and whinnied.
The harpies changed her footings as the unicorn lowered her single horn. At the point of it a small glimmer grew brighter and brighter. It was the monsters turn to shake her ugly head as the light blinded her slightly.
The tension in the air grew and was palpable, only interrupted by the gnome’s lament.
A horrible shriek pierced the night as Xylophia charged the bestial creature of the night.
The screech of the harpies broke windows as the earth trembled from the nigh note. A gasp of terror traveled through the entire settlement.
Lann had not expected a scream like this, blasting his ear drums and as he jumped up his sword was in his hand as he turned to the door to exit.
Shiloh, still shivering from the startle right at his heels. Before Eldhoun could stop the two, they were on the curb, taking in the view of the unicorn attacking a monster as big as a house with her single horn. Lann charged toward the harpies with a battle cry which curdled Shiloh’s blood in her veins, only to have worry for the winged warrior replace the shock.
Xylophia’s horn penetrated the monster’s thigh as they clashed.
The predator howled as the unicorn ripped into its flesh, swiping at the white beast with its huge wing, Xylophia landed on her side, hard, rolled quickly onto the other to use the momentum to get back upright. Again she bowed her head and attacked the monster. Before she could pierce her dark sister, the harpies jumped to the side with a flutter of her wings. Her head shot forward and missed Xylophia that close that the hook of the beak pulled out handfuls of the silver white mane. The unicorn stopped on a dime, turned and parried the attack of the giant beak. She had been lucky or she had targeted well, her aim was solid and her horn sank into a pitch black eye, tore it apart as the unicorn shook her head and withdraw, awkwardly backing away from the howling monster, in retaliation it grabbed the unicorn with its front legs, the sharp talons inflicted deep wounds in unicorns sides; wine red blotches staining the snow white fur of her.
