by Eric Vall
Annalise took off, and her boots pounded across the frozen ground as her long braid whipped out behind her like the tail of a galloping stallion. Her voice was a raspy screech as she shouted his name, and the hulking man turned with furrowed brows. He raised a meaty arm and shielded his eyes from the hazy sun as he squinted towards the screaming female racing toward him.
Ansel’s expression broke with surprised joy as he realized who was sprinting toward him. He slapped the soldier beside him on the back good-naturedly and then ran forward to meet his little sister. When they came together, Ansel grabbed Annalise up in his arms and swung her around like she was a child. We followed after and came to stand behind them to watch the ecstatic reunion between siblings.
Ansel set his little sister down on the ground, and they regarded each other for a few passing moments. Then Annalise reached up and grabbed his scruffy chin and turned his face to examine his features, and when she spoke, it seemed as if her Tamarischian accent was thicker by just being in the presence of her oldest brother.
“Oy, your complexion has worsened, you’ve been drinking that toadstool ale again, haven’t ya?” Annalise scolded cheerfully. “You know what mom would say.”
“Aye, aye,” Ansel admitted bashfully, his cheeks tinted pink with embarrassment. “Don’t forget to scrub your feet, don’t drink toadstool ale if you want to find a good wife, and always--”
“Dip your face in fresh goat’s milk before bed,” Ansel and Annalise said in unison, then laughed heartily at their inside joke.
From beside me, Rana’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What’re they saying? Are they even speaking the same language right now?” She blew her bangs out her eyes and scrutinized the massive man.
“Goat’s milk,” Carmedy groaned in disgust as she stuck out her tongue. “Blech.”
I chuckled softly as I glanced over at Carmedy. I had yet to try goat’s milk and trusted her judgment. After all, if the cat who liked to eat and drink anything disliked it, I probably would, too.
Annalise and her oldest brother turned to us then, still smiling and patting each other down after their long time apart. Ansel looked down at his little sister and petted the top of her head with a huge, callused hand.
“Are you going to introduce me to your friends,” Ansel boomed as he gave her a teasing smile and waggled his eyebrows. “And husband?”
The high queen shook her head and gave him a playful punch on the shoulder as she brought him over to us. “Ansel, this is Morrigan, she’s a very powerful High Elf, so be respectful. This is Rana, she’s pretty scrappy and good in a fight if you need her. That’s Carmedy. Keep all foods and snacks away from her, or she’ll engorge herself.” My warrior queen’s voice was proud as she introduced her sisters, and that pride only grew as she brought Ansel over and gestured towards me. “And this … this is my husband and master.”
Ansel stepped forward, and his whole demeanor changed as he took in my appearance, the heavy cloak, and the beautiful armor beneath it. He examined my face with narrowed brown eyes that matched my Annalise’s. His nose was large and rounded at the tip, and his jaw strong and chiseled. I could admit he was a handsome man, even with the scruffy beard sprouting from his face, and like Annalise, his dark brown eyes were kind but wise, with the very same fire burning behind them with determination.
“Ansel Decathmor,” he said in his deep rumbling voice as he offered me one of his large hands. I took it and gave it a hearty shake.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I replied as we let go of each other’s hands. “I’ve heard wonderful things about you from Annalise.”
“Not all bad, I hope,” he thundered with laughter as he ruffled his sister’s hair affectionately,
“No, all the bad stories I have are about Amos and Adam.” Annalise giggled as she swatted off her brother’s hand, but he grabbed it in his and held it tightly as he raised his head to the rest of us.
“Come, I’ll have a meal prepared!” Ansel announced loudly. “There will be food and drink for all!” He gestured towards the camp and the brightly burning fires that cast shadows over the white sides of the tents.
As Ansel brought us through the encampment and showed us around, two tall and lanky men burst from a tent at our far right. I could tell just by their faces that they were twins, but the smiles on their lips matched the one my warrior queen often wore. Adam was taller than Amos by a few inches, but their features matched perfectly. If it wasn’t for their differing hairstyles, I wouldn’t have been able to tell them apart.
Annalise squealed with delight and broke away from our group with outstretched arms. The twins tackled their younger sister and nearly brought her to the ground as they hooted and yelled in happiness. They held her together and didn’t part from each other for a long time, and when they did, there were tears in the corners of Annalise’s eyes.
After my high queen introduced us all again, Amos, Adam and Ansel guided us towards where the feast was being prepared. We settled ourselves around the blazing fire and the massive cast iron skillets and crocks that steamed and sizzled with the food being prepared for our arrival.
I enjoyed watching my high queen being reunited with her brothers, especially the twins who were just as wily and intelligent as the other Decathmor siblings. Sitting across the fire from them, the family resemblance was astounding. Amos and Adam were four years older than Annalise, but their faces were still bathed in the smooth glow of youth. With my queen sitting between them, they looked to be triplets instead of twins, all of their features mirrored.
“Amos, what happened to your hair?” Annalise asked sadly as she brushed at the shaved head of the twin.
“Oh,” Amos said as he bit into a steaming potato dripping with butter, “I just thought I’d like a change.”
“Really?” The swordswoman looked taken aback as she stared at the short growth with her mouth agape, but it snapped closed as Adam reached out and slapped the back of Amos’s head.
“Nay, he’s lying,” the other twin scoffed. “Last battle against those Tintagal bastards, a flaming arrow got caught in his hair and nearly burned his whole head off.”
“It did not!” Amos protested as his face swung back and forth between his comrades for support, but he found none in their snickering faces.
Adam chortled as he elbowed Annalise in the ribs. “It did too, singed off the whole right side. Would have been fine if he had merely trimmed it, but this big baby was bawling his eyes out and just shaved the whole lot off in a fit of despair.”
“It didn’t happen that way!” Amos assured frantically as he scowled at his brother. “I made the manly decision it would be better to shave my hair off then walk around looking like an old bitty who stuck her head into a lit oven for too long.”
“Yeah, yeah, a very manly decision, but we all saw the gleam in your eye as the first few locks fell to the ground, you can’t deny that!” Adam said through a mouthful of food.
“Aye, it’s only natural for a man to become emotional when the hair he’s grown since he was a wee babe is sheared off. You know our traditions, Adam, you too, Annalise.” Amos nodded passionately to his brother and sister, then the others sitting around the campfire, too. “Our hair is sacred because it’s the closest part of our bodies to the gods.”
“Traditions, my ass. Your arms are the closest to the gods if you raise them high enough.” Adam roared with laughter through a mouthful, and Carmedy laughed from beside me, already on her third plate of food and fourth goblet of wine.
“Alright, ya bastard, then why don’t you cut your hair off?” Amos shouted with a smile as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small knife. He offered it to Adam, and the oldest twin eyed it warily. “Come then, cut off your hair if you don’t believe the same things as me.”
“I won’t,” Adam muttered through tight lips as he pushed his twin’s arm away. “A warrior should have long flowing hair to strike fear into the hearts of his enemies. How else will I scare them? R
eflect the sun off my shiny bald head and blind them?”
“Come off it,” Amos coaxed through a mischievous smirk. “Just give us a snip to prove it.”
“I said I won’t. The Tintagal men might mistake me for a monk and escort me off the battlefield,” Adam said in a serious tone, and then his voice changed to what I assumed was a mock Tintagal accent. “They’d see me and say, ‘Oy, you there, you better get back to the temple right quick, a fearsome man with a long flowing mane might come along and lob off ya head. Get out of here, you goddamn marble-head!’ Do you know how embarrassing that would be? Being escorted off the battlefield and forced into monkhood? I won’t do it, I’m not fit for a life of prayer and solitude.”
“Amos,” Carmedy slurred as she licked her lips free of wine, her eyes hazy with drunkenness, “you don’t have to worry about being close to the gods, you’re sitting across the fire from one.”
All the men surrounding us stopped and whipped their head to me as Carmedy happily tapped my knee and leaned against my shoulder, purring loudly for all to hear. I reached up and stroked behind the cat-woman’s ear as she rubbed against me lovingly. Fifty pairs of eyes watched my every movement carefully, and I gauged their reactions. Some of them were fearful, some wary, and others, utterly astounded.
“You?” Ansel asked in his deep voice as he pointed one large finger at me. “You’re a god?”
“A fallen god, but yes, I am a god,” I admitted as I nodded to Ansel.
The massive man sat back on his haunches and slapped his fists down on his thighs, his dark brown eyes wide as he stared at me across the crackling flames. Meanwhile, the soldier seated beside me on the crude wooden bench scooted away a few feet, and his mouth hung open in horror.
“What is your name?” Ansel asked as his brows furrowed, and his eyes hardened on my face.
“I have had many names throughout my lifetime, but all of them have vanished and died like the dragons who once wandered these lands. I have only one name now, and that is Master,” I told them, but Ansel still stared at me, not backing down.
“No, what is your god’s name?” he asked more forcefully. “Each god has a name they use to refer to each other with. I know all the gods of this land’s names. Annalise told me you just conquered a dungeon hidden away in the mountains. That god’s name was Òir. You aim to go to Machstein after this, and the god and goddess who reside there are the Liebe and the Tichádáma. I know all of their names. What is yours?”
I tilted my head at him and examined his face with more interest. Ansel’s heart rate was elevated though I couldn’t tell if it was because of the alcohol he had consumed or something else. Either way, there was an ominous cloud hanging in the air around us. My minions had asked me the very same question, but they accepted my answer when I simply told them to call me Master, so why couldn’t Ansel? I couldn’t speak my true name because it was a cursed name. Once a god had fallen from heaven, the title they are given from birth falls with them.
“I cannot tell you my true name because it is a name I do not remember,” I lied easily through my teeth, and Ansel blinked at me, still not placated. “I can tell you I was once called ‘The Dark One,’ but that is all I can say.”
Ansel’s face revealed he didn’t recognize the name, and relief spread through my entire body as he nodded, somewhat satisfied with my answer. I knew I would have to reveal my true self to my minions eventually, but my past was too dark and horrible for their innocence to shoulder, especially right now. I knew they trusted and loved me now, but still, the truth of my name was a heavy burden to bear, and they were not strong enough to carry my secrets yet.
“Dark One makes you sound all scary and stuff, but Master isn’t scary at all! He’s such a wonderful and handsome Master,” Carmedy hummed into my ear. Her breath smelled of wine, and her tail curled up and stroked the back of my neck sensually.
I glanced over at her, and her sparkling emerald eyes were heavy with lust, her eyelids hooded and her lips parted as she stared into my face with longing.
“Anna,” Adam whispered tentatively, his brown eyes too glossy with drunkeness as he reached out for one of his little sister’s hands, “can I ask you something?”
“Sure, shoot.” My swordswoman shrugged as she gulped from her cup.
“Father … I want to hear about our father … did he die peacefully?” Adam asked in a hushed tone. His hands shook and trembled around hers with unbridled emotion, and the cup Annalise held slipped from her grip and fell to the ground with a clatter. Red wine dampened the cold earth.
“Adam, I-I … I don’t know how to answer that,” she uttered in a tight voice as she stared at her brother, her usually lively eyes darkened with sadness.
“Let it be, Adam,” Ansel warned as he cleared the rest of his plate without ever raising his eyes to his younger siblings.
“No, please, tell me,” Adam begged with wide, glittering eyes as he held on desperately to his younger sister who had taken their father’s life.
“Adam!” Ansel yelled, and everyone snapped to attention at the harshness in his voice. “The man we called Father was dead long before Annalise killed him. You knew I knew that, we all did, but we ignored it. He was no longer our flesh and blood but a stranger who wore the same face. Our Father died a coward, and if we’re going to remember him, we should remember him for who he was before, and not the man who died.”
Adam tightly clamped his mouth shut, his face growing red with frustration, but then my high queen leaned over and patted his folded hands gently as she whispered to him words I couldn’t hear. Adam’s face smoothed, his bleary eyes filled with tears, and without a sound, he wrapped his arms around his younger sister in a tight embrace.
I knew coming here would be a joyous and painful occasion in many ways, but I was proud as I watched Annalise handle everything with grace.
With most of the excitement of the evening past, Morrigan and Rana headed off to bed while Annalise remained around the fire with her siblings. I left them there as I steered Carmedy off to bed, and from the way she pawed at me, I assumed she wanted more than sleep. We walked together with the light of the campfire creating long shadows in front of us that stretched and shook with the flames. The cat-woman snuggled in close to me, and it was clear what she wanted.
I was intimate with all of my minions every chance we got, it kept our bond strong and alive, but Carmedy, who usually was boisterous and confident, was the most hesitant to come to me with her more personal needs. Tonight, though, it seemed the alcohol had made her bold as she grabbed my hand, pulled me into the space between two tents, and pushed me against the tarp wall.
“Master,” she whimpered into my ear as she laid soft, wet kisses to my exposed neck, “can I do something for you? Do you need anything?”
“No, my love,” I answered with a chuckle as she rubbed herself against me. “Is there something I can do for you, Carmedy?”
Her hands moved over the hard shell of my armor, then moved down the breastplate, and one small paw crept inside of the leather undergarments I wore and took my manhood in her hand. I growled through closed lips, and she panted softly in pleasure as she moved her paw over my length, stroking and bringing it to its fully erect size.
“Let me do something for you,” she breathed into my ear, and as I watched, her brilliant green eyes flashed. She then dropped to her knees in front of me and placed her paws out in front of her as if she was begging me for something.
I raised my eyebrows in surprise. Out of all my minions, she was the last I would expect this from, but I would willingly oblige if she wished to do this for me.
I untied the chainmail around my waist, unbuckled the metal covers to the sides of my crotch, and loosened the leather undergarments I wore as I extracted my throbbing penis. She eyed it lustfully, and her chest rose and fell quickly as she moved forward and gripped my shaft with one of her paws and tentatively licked at the tip.
A soft groan escaped my lips as she licked on
ce more, her luminescent emerald eyes heavy on mine as she took me entirely into her mouth. I pushed in deeper, and she allowed me as her wet tongue wrapped around me, stroked my length as I pulled back, then thrust back in. She took my hands and placed them on her shoulders as she moved faster, pumping me in and out of her mouth as quickly as she could. I grunted then groaned open mouthed, and my eyes rolled back in my head as I let the sensations of her sweet mouth and tongue overtake me. Her mouth was hot, and soon my penis was coated in her dripping saliva, but I wanted more than just her mouth as I grabbed her up, reached under her dress, and yanked down the frilly white panties she was wearing.
I bent her over, and she clutched onto one of the posts holding the tent in place for support as I prepared to enter her. She was dripping wet as I pressed the head against her lips, and she squealed in delight when she felt my tip brush against her. She drunkenly looked over her shoulder at me, and her green eyes sparkled in the dim light,
“I may like candy, but there’s nothing sweeter than my Master’s body,” the cat-woman whimpered over her shoulder.
“Then you shall have it.” I pushed inside, and Carmedy’s mouth dropped open as her sweet moans reached my ears. I pulled out and thrust back in harder as her small paws held on tighter to the post for support.
I kept a steady pace, and soon my breath came in and out in clipped gasps. Carmedy mewled softly and moved her hips in time with me as I sped up my pace until our bodies slammed together in unison. Being inside of the black-haired beauty was like being massaged by a hand dipped in warm and exquisite oil, and her moans of pleasure only urged me on harder.
I gripped her shoulder in my leather gloved hand and bounced her on top of my length, and one of Carmedy’s paws let go of the pole and covered her mouth as she screamed, her emerald eyes hazy with ecstacy.
Then I bent my knees and her ass pressed into me, and as I moved faster, our flesh smacked together loudly in the tight space between the tents. I reached around her small form, removed the hand from her supple lips, and pressed my hot tongue to the space between her shoulder and neck.