Maiden

by Aishling Morgan

  It was Ayapan who first realised the danger and called out a warning. Elethrine was already bringing the crossbow up, and as she did so her father’s voice came clear into her mind with a lesson instilled since childhood - when in a melee where magic might be used, always kill the warlock first, and shoot for the head, not the heart.

  Even as the thought finished she released the catch. An iron bolt seemed to spring from D’jannith’s forehead and he fell lifeless to the ground. The other guard was coming round, but the squat body of Ayapan blocked his aim. Elethrine threw herself to the side even as Aisla cannoned into the merchant to send him crashing back onto guard. There was the twang of a crossbow string and a yell of pain. Ayapan rolled to the side, the misspent bolt embedded in one plump arm. Aisla scrambled back, away from the clutching fingers of the guard as Talithea hurled herself out of the cage.

  To a chorus of yells and the excited chittering of the nymphs, Elethrine jumped up, planted a vicious kick into Bormontal’s midriff and sprang away. Aisla was squared off against the guard, her teeth bared in a snarl, he reluctant to come against her height and wild demeanour. Talithea grabbed up the needle and tube device and plunged it into Bormontal’s fat backside as he staggered away from Elethrine’s kick, drawing a yell of pain and fury. Three lay on the ground, Ayapan groaning, the first guard unconscious, D’jannith dead.

  ‘Run! To the dock!’ Elethrine screamed as she saw that Talithea intended to continued her assault on Bormontal.

  Aisla obeyed immediately, leaping away from her adversary and speeding for the fringe of trees that hid the river. Talithea took no notice, but as Elethrine grabbed her arm and wrenched, she followed, throwing curses back at Bormontal as they went. The guard alone followed, Bormontal sinking to the ground with a loud groan. Long legged and unencumbered by clothing, the three girls sped across the lawn.

  As they neared the wood Elethrine risked a backward glance to find, to her horror, the vast bulk of Simooth rushing headlong towards them. The guard was ahead of the troll and bringing his crossbow up. At that instant Talithea tripped and sprawled headlong on the ground. The guard altered his aim, pointing the wicked quarrel at the helpless Princess. Elethrine screamed and leapt to shield her friend, only to see Simooth sweep the guard aside with a single blow of his massive arm. Talithea scrambled to her feet, taking Elethrine’s hand and once more dashing for the trees.

  Gloom enveloped them as they entered the narrow wood, then they came once more into the evening light, with the sun throwing a red trail across the mighty Ephraxis. The dock stood to one side, several boats secured to its pillars. One alone had its sweeps in place, a long black vessel with a sharp prow and a blunt stern.

  Elethrine leapt aboard without breaking pace, thrusting the oars into the water as Aisla and Talithea struggled with the painter. It came quickly loose and they pulled away. Simooth’s roars sounded from beyond the trees, mingled with screams and angry cries. As they pulled clear another guard burst from the trees. Elethrine pulled on the ludicrously short oars with all her strength, sending the slender boat cutting through the water. The guard levelled his weapon, fired, and the bolt thudded home into the side of the boat, a spare hand’s breadth from Aisla fingers. Again he fired, but the bolt flew wide, his aim perhaps disturbed by the light of the setting sun. Once more he loaded, but then seemed to think better of the action and instead ran back into the trees.

  Elethrine pulled for the centre of the placid Ephraxis, leaving Gorangrove rapidly astern. Even when the trees were no more than a jagged line coloured red by the setting sun they could still hear the infuriated roars of the troll. Finally the domain was hidden from view behind a long scrub covered island and Elethrine at last allowed herself to pause for breath.

  ‘They will follow along the bank on horses,’ Aisla said glumly, ‘and perhaps also in sailing vessels.’

  ‘It will be dark in moments,’ Elethrine replied, ‘besides, we have but little option save to keep rowing and pray to our ancestors for a turn of fate.’

  ‘When we tell our saga,’ Talithea joked, attempting to sound optimistic, ‘Simooth had better become a great warrior who helped us from motives of pure honour.’

  ‘Rather than a giant troll who helped us for the memory of a portion of willing tuppenny,’ Elethrine answered with a weak grin.

  Dusk quickly faded to night, forcing them to ground the boat on one of the numerous low islands that broke the great Ephraxis into dozens of interlocking channels. After rowing against the current for so long, Elethrine was exhausted and quickly fell asleep, allowing Aisla to take the first watch.

  She awoke to the first pale illumination of dawn and Aisla’s excited announcement that they had discovered the boat’s true method of propulsion. The truncated oars were clearly only for manoeuvring, while a curious device of black metal at the stern caused a jet of water to gush out beneath the surface. A lever allowed the strength and direction of the jet to be controlled, while a twist device could start it and shut it off. It was clearly a magical device and they declined to investigate more than its basic function. Instead they accepted its boon and once more set off upstream, travelling at a pace not greatly less than that of a cantering horse.

  All day they fared north, maintaining as much speed as possible between the sand banks and islands of the Ephraxis. Lone domains and then villages became increasingly frequent and three times boats put out from the shore to intercept them. Each time their speed was sufficient to elude the pursuers, and by the third occasion their confidence had risen so far that they merely laughed at the Ythanites as they swept past. Once clear, Elethrine left Aisla to steer the boat and spread the map out on the rowing bench.

  ‘Many problems still face us,’ she stated, as Talithea moved into a squat beside her and put an arm around her waist. ‘From here sense suggests making for the north coast of Apraya, from where, with luck, we may take ship for Kora. See, the map shows the Ephraxis and its tributaries running from within a hundred leagues or so of the coast and other rivers lead north once we have crossed the watershed. Yet the best route would seem to take us past Ap-Ythan, which seems to be the capital of Ythan. Until north of there we will not be safe.’

  ‘Especially with anklets marking us as the property of Bormontal,’ Talithea added with disgust.

  ‘We could pass Ap-Ythan at night,’ Aisla suggested, ‘and perhaps the pure dwarven kingdoms further north might prove more friendly.’

  ‘Very likely,’ Elethrine agreed, ‘and until then we must forage as best we can and trust to the speed of this boat to keep us from harm.’

  For days they continued north, feeding on river crustaceans and molluscs and stealing grapes, olives and other fruit from the lands they passed. Each night they would beach the boat on a lonely island and post watches. Their intimacy grew, until each was as familiar with the contours and responses of the other’s bodies as she was with her own. They also indulged their love of erotic pain and humiliation without restrain, frequently spanking one another and taking turns to serve stripped and red bottomed in order to enjoy the sensation.

  No longer did the Princess hold herself aloof from the maid, but would frequently serve her. This extended even to Talithea licking Aisla’s anus while the maid squatted on the Princess’s face and masturbated as Elethrine kissed her neck, face and breasts. Yet Talithea was far from alone in exploring the pleasures of submission. Frequently all three girls would go to sleep with warm red bottoms and the taste of each other’s juices in their mouths, and Elethrine’s vagina alone remained unpenetrated, her anus and the others’ holes all frequently knowing the feeling of entry by fingers, tongues and even the handles of the boat’s small oars. The oars also proved excellent spanking implements, capable of bringing a girl’s bottom to blazing heat with a few well aimed smacks.

  Increasingly uninhibited and increasingly detached from the strictures of their upbringing, they admitted to deeper and darker fantasies. Typically Mundic, Talithea’s favourite fantasy was to be cap
tured and caged naked in a public square. After being pelted with refuse and humiliated in a hundred ingenious ways, she would be taken out, thrown in a pond to clean the worst of the muck from her body and then comprehensively ravished by the population. Cocks would be put in her vagina, mouth, anus and between her breasts, while in-between sessions with groups of men she would be spanked and made to lick the tuppennies of the women-folk. Finally she would be given to the town dung gatherer, and used again and again on the floor of his filthy hovel.

  In response Elethrine admitted that she became excited over the thought of being ravished by goblins and that she sometimes came over the idea. The others listened with giggles of disgust and delight as she described her dream of being caught in the cherry orchard at Korismund, stripped and penetrated in every orifice. The confession also put all three of them thoroughly on heat and afterwards Elethrine was spanked in the nude and made to bring the others off under her tongue. Talithea then repeated the goblin fantasy back to Elethrine while all three of them masturbated.

  Aisla, while less imaginative, had many true tales to tell, of secret and dirty liaisons with men-at-arms, dwarven mercenaries and other girls. To Elethrine’s amazement the maid admitted that sex between the girls of Korismund keep was not only commonplace but frequently took place in groups of three, four or more. Not only that, but Elethrine herself was often the object of their lust and several whippings that the Demoiselle had fondly imagined to be disciplinary had in fact been carefully engineered by their victims. The revelations earned Aisla a long and painful whipping with willow twigs, yet it was unashamedly erotic and led to another bout of intimate and passionate sex.

  They left the Ephraxis a few leagues short of the city of Piran, moving onto a tributary almost as large but which the map failed to name. Ap-Ythan was passed in the night, yet once more they had to outrun pursuing vessels. At noon of the next day they reached another confluence, immediately before which an octagonal tower stood on either bank and a great iron chain stretched across the river, supported on stout pillars. Suspecting that they had reached the northern border of Ythan, then stopped in the shadow of an island and consulted the map.

  Having reached a decision, they waited for hours under the overhang of a willow, then, when the chain was opened to allow a legitimate trading barge to pass, they shot out from concealment and drove hard for the gap. The ruse succeeded with laughable ease and they turned and waved merrily to the astonished guards as they spilled out of their towers to stare. Aisla even went so far as to stand and lift the back of her kirtle, displaying her bare bottom in taunting defiance of the guards and of Ythan in general.

  The following day they reached the city of Ar-Kian, a place black with the smoke of foundries and overhung with plumes of grey smoke. After careful reconnoitre it proved to be dwarven and not hostile. A smith removed their anklets, cheerfully accepting the weight of the iron and the use of Talithea’s vagina in payment. Very different from the last occasion on which they had bought they services of a smith, the Princess gave herself joyfully and without reserve, stripping off her kirtle and kneeling over the anvil to be taken from the rear.

  Unfortunately the smith’s wife appeared at the exact moment that he was coming deep inside Talithea. All three girls were forced to submit to ignominious over the knee spankings and left with sore red bottoms but unable to restrain their giggles. As she scampered back to the boat with her kirtle held up to rub at a smarting cheek, Elethrine found herself wondering at the depth of the change within herself. Before their journey the very idea of a bare bottom spanking over the knee of a dwarven woman would have been enough to send her into a spitting, blushing rage. Now it made her laugh for the humour of suffering it herself and the sight of seeing her friends get their bottoms warmed as well. Similar service gained food and drink, with Aisla giving a slow and expert suck to a dwarven shopkeeper while the others bent with their kirtles turned up at the back and their reddened bottoms on show.

  Beyond Ar-Kian the countryside became rapidly bleaker. The valley narrowed, with grim hills closing in on either side, their slopes clad in coarse vegetation of a dull grey-green. Smoke darkened dwarven towns gave way to villages and isolated communities centred on mines, then to farmsteads and lone houses set by quarries. The river also became shallower and faster, making navigation tricky. Twice they were forced to carry the boat past stretches of rapids, and finally to abandon it at the foot of a waterfall which marked the head of the valley.

  Ahead of them the horizon was a flat line of moorland, with no discernible features. High mountains stood to east and west, and the girls judged that they had at last reached the watershed of the vast Ephraxis basin. Wary of wild beasts and goblins, they climbed onto the moor, keeping to gullies and avoiding the skyline. Despite their worry, the place seemed entirely devoid of life and dusk found them unmolested in a dank hollow well into the moor.

  They spent a miserable night huddled together in the lee of a rock and set off cold and wet in the morning. Abandoned buildings began to appear, squat grey structures each consisting of a tall chimney and a square room which they judged to be either abandoned mines or a peculiar type of stronghold. At noon they reached a scarp high above a lush, green countryside so similar to the coastal regions of Mund that Elethrine found tears in her eyes. A brook flowed out of the moor to the north, which they followed, scrambling down through stretches of grass and heather, then hawthorn and rowan and finally massive chestnuts. Presently the brook reached flatter ground and joined another to become a placid stream running between banks lined with willow, coffinwood and poplar. As the light was fading from the sky they came across a solitary cabin, by which a flat bottomed skiff was moored. Appropriating it with no more than a minor flush of guilt, they loaded what remained of their rations aboard and set off to the north.

  Chapter Eleven - Strumpet

  After two days of subsisting on a diet of stale bread and raw crawfish the girls found the sparse farmland and woods beginning to give way to more heavily cultivated areas. Late one afternoon they reached a city of huddled houses built of some near-black wood with the massive block shaped dwarven foundries set behind them on a low hill, each with its tall chimney belching smoke. Consulting the map, they confirmed the place as the city of Utan.

  ‘I know Utan,’ Elethrine declared, ‘or rather I know of Utan. It is the port from which dwarven mercenaries embark for Kora.’

  ‘Precious few, these days,’ Talithea remarked. ‘Still, we may be lucky.’

  ‘We can only try,’ Elethrine agreed, ‘and perchance the river leads to the docks, where we must hope to find a shipmaster who will give us passage.’

  ‘A dwarf provide free passage?’ Talithea answered dubiously.

  ‘An Aeg perhaps?’ Elethrine put in.

  ‘You would be ravished before we were out of sight of land,’ Talithea put in. ‘I mean, the heiress to the Barony of Korismund? What Aeg could resist you?’

  ‘None,’ Elethrine admitted, ‘but still, if he were highborn…’

  ‘A shipmaster?’ Talithea retorted. ‘Reeve at best, more like artisan or merchant peasant.’

  Elethrine gave a sniff of distaste but made no reply. For all her acceptance of her sexual feelings, she was still a highborn lady of Mund, and while she might indulge her dirtiest fantasies and basest desires to the full if there was no chance of her actions becoming known to her people, the thought marrying beneath herself was nevertheless repugnant.

  ‘Perhaps if we were to sell the skiff we might buy passage from a dwarf?’ Aisla suggested. ‘And see, beyond those low buildings, the masts of ships.’

  ‘Possibly,’ Elethrine agreed, ‘anyway, let us be cautious. Accept no liaisons that might put us in the power of an unscrupulous merchant. Take neither wine nor food that is offered as a gift and remain alert at all times.’

  The buildings proved to be warehouses, beyond which the river turned abruptly and spilled out into a bay. The water immediately became choppy and the girl
s were forced to put into a slipway. Numerous dwarves were near and quickly had the skiff clear of the water. For the first time since their escape from Bormontal Elethrine became conscious of the brevity of her clothing and found herself blushing under the undisguised interest of the largely male crowd. The thought flashed briefly across her mind that none of the dwarves in the crowd might hold sufficient rank for her to speak to, only to be dismissed as both ridiculous and impractical. Wondering again at the amount she had changed while in Apraya, she decided that it was also unwise to broadcast her own rank in a city that might well contain Aeg warriors.

  ‘Good folk,’ she began, ‘we are travellers seeking passage to Kora. Pray be so good as to direct us to a ship bound to the north.’

  Several dwarves responded, each citing the merits of a particular vessel and Elethrine realised that many were in fact crew members of the various ships moored along the dock. Suggesting the exchange of the skiff for passage, she was disappointed to find an immediate lapse of interest.

  ‘What then would be the cost of passage?’ she demanded. ‘And what will you offer for the skiff?’

  ‘It is a dwarven skiff and probably stolen upriver,’ a stout, grey-bearded dwarf answered. ‘I offer ten weights of iron. As to passage, I crew on the Moran’s Ghost and you might have a hammock each for but twenty weights.’

  ‘What of service?’ Elethrine sighed, facing the prospect of another round of cock sucking and the use of her breasts and bottom with a mixture of resignation and relish. ‘And where is the Moran’s Ghost bound?’

  ‘To Aegerion itself,’ the dwarf replied, ‘bearing ironware and silk, for which we have guaranteed safe passage.’

  ‘Aegerion would leave us needing to cross the full width of Aegmund,’ Elethrine answered. ‘Are none bound for Ateron?’