“Such a beautiful round ass. Aye…” He twisted her hair hard in his fingers, shoving her mouth down on him, “Oh Aye…Like that…Oh…Ahhh…”
Smack - Another sharp slap, then more rubbing and fondling of her sex. Sorsha became even more impassioned, kissing and sucking his stiff arousal with wild abandon.
Oh - Ahhh… He groaned, reaching that moment of extreme pleasure, when all else was lost -only feeling. His body shuddered, consumed by blind, ecstatic spasms. It had been too long. Thick white cream erupted from his cock. For precious moments the nomad floated in a calm sea of surrender.
“Someday you will sire strong beautiful children for me, my Adoni,” Sorsha breathed into his ear as he showered her face and lips with warm wanton kisses…
Chapter 30 – Land of the Neuri
The Neuri are sorcerers,
If one is to believe the Skythians and Greeks.
Each year the Neurian
Changes himself into a wolf
And continues in that form for several days
After which he resumes his former shape –
Herodotus, The Histories
Sava and Brata halted on the banks of the massive Boryesthenes river. They were escorted by Yagya on his silver mare and Sorsha on a flaming red chestnut along with a contingent of Tauri warriors.
“Ford the river here and follow it until you reach the Gerrhus where it feeds into the Boryesthenes. Then head northwest between the sunset and the north star. Don’t follow the Gerrhus north – it will take you into cannibal territory.” Yagya’s lips creased in a wry smile.
““You will see the mountains ahead. Once you cross over the border the Neuri will find you, their scouts are vigilant.” Yagya said. “Their appearance will be strange to your eyes. When you see them remain calm. Make no sudden moves. The Neuri are wary. Like wolves. Any sudden move can set them off. Tell them you want to see their king, Toxaris.”
“On behalf of my people, I thank you King Yagya. Thank you for everything.” Sava touched palm to breast in heartfelt salute. “I look forward to returning your generosity when you come to Royal Skythia.” He glanced at Sorsha the hint of a suggestive smile crossing his features.
“May the gods keep you and Brata safe. Always.” Sorsha responded as her eyes spoke the silent message of her heart. Without you Sava, I am only breathing.
After several days travel northwest towards Neuria, Sava and Brata came upon a circle of stone menhirs. In the middle was a tall thick post carved at the top into four impassive faces, each face staring in the four directions.
“If we are on the right track, this must be a boundary marker for Neuria.” Sava studied the faces on the post. So this is their Jivan, the All-Seeing, Living God.”
Wrapped in his usual silence, Brata took it all in with his far-seeing gaze. Before crossing over into Neuria they did obeisance to the All-Seeing god, bowing in all four directions.
Following a narrow trail the land became progressively steeper and more thickly wooded until mountain and forest abruptly swallowed them up in its dark embrace.
The nomads’ awareness was immersed in the chilling caw-caw of ravens. In multitudes of mysterious black wings fluttering overhead. In countless multitudes of dark leaves, waving, falling, covering…
For this was a mountainous land of ancient forests. Primeval. Mysterious.
Twisting roots erupted from leaf cover, emerging like thick pythons, then disappearing into Mother Earth again. Fallen logs like giant petrified reptiles lay curved on the forest floor, poised to come to writhing life again. Gazing into the deep green forest, Sava had the eerie sensation that It was staring back at him.
Night fell quickly in the dark mountains of Neuria. The nomads sat around their small campfire listening, sensing, sniffing the air for danger. Every sound amplified. Tree branches rubbing, squeaking, scratching.
The hoot-hoot of owls. The crack of a stick by an unknown foot. The mens’ eyes darted around, scanning the darkness, studying shadows that could signify everything or nothing.
“Sorsha was right.” Sava spoke to Brata’s glinting eyes in the flickering dark light. “These hills are haunted. Up here haijduks lie in wait to rob and murder. They say if a haijduk dies in these mountains, after forty days he becomes a vampir.”
Somewhere closeby a wolf howled its lonesome song. Long and ululating. The sound hovered in the air. It was followed by another howl and another. Sava was grateful for his silent friend’s company on this foreboding night in the deep forests and steep mountains of Neuria.
“Strigoi roam these mountains. Evil spirits who suck out your life force at night as you sleep.” Sava’s eyes glistened in the snapping firelight.
Sleep came in fits that night. One of the men kept watch while the other dozed. A wolf howled. Louder. Closer now. More howls chiming in.
The horses were nervous, stomping and snorting, jerking on their tethers. The men rose repeatedly to calm them. In this tension it would not take much to send the horses crashing off in a panicked stampede. Above all else they could not afford to lose their horses.
The break of dawn was a most welcome sight. The nomads were relieved to saddle up and ride on. The narrow dirt trail kept leading higher, through mountain passes and deeper woods. Brata met Sava’s eyes, silently communicating the same unease –
We are nomads, riders of the open plains, used to bright sun and wide open spaces where everything can be seen from afar. This land of darkness and shadows, this is not our abode.
They were uneasy in this jagged terrain of steep mountains and precipitous drop-offs, haunted by storm-bringing Alas, Haijduks, Strigoi, Vampirs and Vukodlaki. Powerful predators lurked here, invisible until they pounced from an overhanging rock or tree.
To Sava’s eyes these rocky gorges, cliffs, mountains and forests were not solid, not static, but moved in sinuous waves, constantly changing. He could not shake off the ominous sense of being watched by invisible entities.
So far they had come across precious little forage for the horses and they carried only minimal grain in their saddle bags. If they did not find the Neuri soon, their horses would be starving. Sava seriously considered just turning around and riding out of there. He had only to glance at Brata’s face to see the Black Cloak felt the same. But his sense of duty drove him on.
Around noon they dismounted by the grassy shore of a shining blue mountain lake to rest the horses and let them graze on the lush green grass. A wolf howled. Too close.
“I feel eyes upon us.” Sava flicked a sidelong glance at Brata.
The Black Cloak nodded, lips pressed in a grim line. Then, over his friend’s shoulder, Sava glimpsed strange, golden-green eyes staring at him from the tree line. At first glance he thought it was a wolf. He took a shocked breath - It was a man wearing a wolf headdress.
“Vukari. Don’t move.”
Chapter 31 – Wolf People
The Neuri inhabit the inland districts,
Being near the highest mountain chains
Which are both precipitous and covered
With the everlasting frost of the north -
Ammanius Marcellinus, Roman Officer, Res Getae
Six silver gray and black wolf heads detached from the woods. They strode forward with the wary caution and rippling fluidity of apex predators.
The long bushy tails of wolf headdresses hung down their backs, swaying as they walked. The wolf men were huge, ranging between six and a half to seven feet tall.
The Wolf People approached warily, arrows nocked to their bows, tensed for battle. Broad shouldered and bare-chested, they wore Skythian style decorated buckskin leggings, soft boots and fur-lined cloaks.
Their golden-green eyes gleamed with an eerie luminescence, like the eyes of a wolf. The sharp unwavering focus of those eyes bespoke the cold dispassionate nature of killers without hate. Of predators without mercy.
Raising his right palm in greeting, Sava cleared his throat. “Ahh, we come bearing an important message
for King Toxaris from King Raymaxos of Sauromatia.”
“King Toxaris?” One of them asked in heavily accented Skythian, his expression skeptical.
Long black eyelashes flickered over golden-green eyes in brief flashes – acting as wordless signals between the wolf men. But what these subtle, silent messages signified Sava could not tell.
“Aye, King Toxaris.” Sava nodded.
With a wry shake of his head the Neuri leader gestured at them to follow. Mounting their horses Sava and Brata rode while the Neuri trotted on foot in front and behind. With their long tireless stride, the Wolf People set the pace.
As they trotted around a bend in the mountain trail, something white flashed by Sava’s eye. What was that?
Transfixed, he sat back in the saddle and Zlatna halted. Partially hidden behind trees to his right stood two massive statues. The statues flanked broad stone steps winding up the mountainside until they disappeared in the sky.
Both statues had the head of a woman, the body of a lion, wings of an eagle and a long tail ending in a snake’s head. At the base of each statue was an inscription. Not for the first time Sava cursed his illiteracy. Still he lingered, studying the site.
Those steps must lead up to the sacred temple of the Sons of Man that Sorsha told me about.
“Where do those steps go? What is up there?” He pointed up the mountainside.
“Holy Mountain.” The Neuri leader said. “All Seeing Spirit up there. Sons of Man built sacred temple long ago. We Neuri - guardians.”
The Sons of Man. So many places haunted by their mysterious ruins and symbols. The long stone steps spiraling up the mountainside beckoned to Sava like a stairway to the stars. A passage to the Great Mystery.
At that moment he was struck by an overwhelming urge to set his foot on those steps. To forget his mission, just for a little while. To simply let go and walk up those steps to find – What?
A long lost piece of the Great Mystery? The answer to the forgotten history of the Sons of Man?
He knew not what, but something compelled him to climb those steps up Holy Mountain.
As if reading his mind, the Neuri warrior gave a slight negative shake of his head and motioned him to move on. The allure of the steps was so powerful, Sava felt it a great loss when he had to turn and ride away.
The statues’ sightless eyes had plunged to his very soul, pulling him toward the Great Mystery. In his heart he vowed – Someday I will come back. I will climb the steps up Holy Mountain .
By late afternoon they arrived at a wide mountain valley lush with grass on which flocks of sheep, cattle and horses grazed. A sparkling clear, blue-green river ran through the valley. Round stone houses with thatched roofs gathered at a bend in the river.
Tall trees shaded dirt paths that ran between the houses. Barking dogs, round-eyed children and curious adults left their tasks and flooded out to see the strangers.
The Neuri scouts led them to the largest stone house. It was flanked by four tall pikes, each capped with a human skull. Motioning them to wait, the patrol leader went in.
Moments later he reappeared with an older man wearing an extravagant stag horn headdress. Tiny golden bells dangled from the horns. The bells jingled softly every time he turned his head. Ching - ching. Ching – ching.
The sorcerer’s golden-green eyes glittered intensely fixed them on the strangers. He tilted his head. Ching - ching…
Beware the Neuri evil eye. Yagya’s words rang in Sava’s ears. His eyes met Brata’s in a meaningful glance. They both avoided the Neuri ennarei’s calculating stare.
“Toxaris soon comes.” The Vukari sorcerer pointed to the hills, then motioned for them to dismount and wait.
Ching-ching…Ching-ching…The tiny golden bells on his headdress set off a heightened sense of awareness in Sava’s mind. He was hyper alert to every sound, movement, color.
He would have preferred to remain mounted until the king arrived in hopes of keeping their stay as brief as possible. But they were surrounded by massive Neuri warriors, all armed. Sensing the tension, the golden stallion pawed the earth, eyes wide.
Sava and Brata dismounted, careful to appear calm and relaxed. Silent predators, all the Neuri gathered around and stared, sizing them up with cunning wolf eyes. For the first time in his adult life, Sava knew what it was to feel small.
Before long the rhythmic beat of hooves could be heard. The hooves echoing louder, more resonant, until the ground vibrated under their feet. A group of riders appeared led by two powerfully built Neuri warriors. Their horses were the biggest Sava had ever seen.
The Neuri horses were bigger-boned than Zlatna with large boxy feet and long arching necks. Their silky hides were jet black with wavy extravagant black manes and tails.
The warriors rode straight up to the crowd on their fiery black steeds, then pulled aside. From the middle of the pack emerged a black-haired woman riding a magnificent prancing black charger. Like the men, she wore fitted, tooled leather leggings and soft boots. Her torso was covered with an embroidered kurta encased by a fitted tunic of scale armor made from tiny interwoven gold medallions.
Belted at her waist was a Skythian akinake and a long dagger. A gorytus with bow and arrows hung from her saddle.
The physical impact of her presence, the set of her broad shoulders, the aura of command about her was extraordinary. When she focused bewitching golden-green eyes upon Sava, her impact was stunning. He bowed his head, hands out, palms up in supplication.
“I am Sava of Sauromatia, son of Voivode Skopasis. I bear an important message for King Toxaris.”
“I am Toxaris. Queen Toxaris.”
“You are Toxaris?’
“Why so surprised? Skythians have queens as well as kings.”
“Ah, forgive me My Queen.” Sava groped for words. “I was told that Toxaris was a king. Not much is known about the Neuri my lady.”
“Who told you I was a man?”
“King Yagya of the Tauri my lady.”
“Yagya that old he-goat? Just another of his sly jokes. Yagya knows who I am. He has met me before.”
Sava thought he heard a smile in her voice. Her speech was less heavily accented than the others, easier to understand. He guessed she must have been sent out of Neuria at some point to develop contacts among other nobility.
As the Neuri unloaded two freshly shot deer from pack horses, Toxaris vaulted from her horse and handed off the reins. She was tall, as tall as Sava and he was over six feet. She paused, giving he and Brata a piercing, appraising stare, then strode past saying:
“Come inside, we will hear your message.”
Although Sava had been instructed to give his message and ride out of there post haste, he did not have much choice. He and Brata followed meekly in Toxaris’ royal wake. Despite the tension, they could not help but notice the queen’s shapely rear end.
Such long shapely legs outlined by fitted leggings. How her hips swayed, emphasized by her long black hair, gathered in a thick ponytail that almost writhed across her lush ass.
The Neuri queen’s charismatic allure struck their male awareness in the space of a moment. Sava shot a glance at Brata who responded with the glint of a meaningful smile.
Chapter 32 – Queen Toxaris
The Neuri were driven away
From their original homeland
By an invasion of serpents -
Herodotus, The Histories
The interior of Queen Toxaris’ house was composed of a single huge, dark, chilly circular room. Sleeping areas were walled off with colorful woven tapestries. There were no windows. The only light was from the door and holes in the roof for fires.
Toxaris arranged herself on a low platform lined with luxurious furs and fluffy sheepskins. With a regal motion of her hand she bid them come forward. Sava and Brata both went down on one knee before her, head bowed, palm over heart.
“What is this vital message you bear from far away Sauromatia?”
“Noble Qu
een, the Persians have invaded Thrakia. Soon King Darius will cross the Ister into Skythia. In two full moons there will be a council of war in Tanais. We invite the Neuri to attend. In a gesture of my king’s sincerity, I offer you this –“
From his wrist, Sava removed a wide golden bracelet of exquisitely crafted gryphons battling horses. He passed it to the Neuri ennerei who showed it to the queen. She nodded.
“Surely you are aware, O Sava of Sauromatia, that we Neuri rarely leave our mountains. Why should we be sucked into this Persian Ala, this whirlwind of destruction which is now hurtling down on Royal Skythia?” Her voice smooth, resonant, melodic.
“My Queen, I understand your concern. By the same token, why allow the Persians to pick us off one by one? If we stand together, back to back, we will not be broken, even if the whole world should come down on us.”
Sava’s heroic rationale elicited only a lifted eyebrow and a sardonic smile from the Neuri queen. She turned to confer with her councilors.
Watching closely, it seemed to Sava the Neuri conveyed more with their golden-green eyes, emphasized by slow, meaningful blinks, a shake of the head or the imperceptible curve of a smile or frown than all the long-winded impassioned speeches he was accustomed to hearing.
Judging from how much they resembled each other, he guessed Toxaris’ court were all family members. Not unusual. Especially isolated up here in these mountains, the Neuri were probably all related.
As if they had reached a preliminary consensus with barely a word said, the Neuri turned as a group and fixed multiple sets of glowing golden-green eyes on Sava and Brata. Sava sensed the communal Mind behind their strange wolf-colored eyes. They were testing him, sending tentacles into his mind, searching for trickery, lies, weakness.
“You words are well taken, Sava.” Toxaris’ gaze was calculating. “We will speak more of this. But first we will eat. You can stay the night here under my protection. Even longer if you wish.”
River God: The Horse Lords Page 15
