My adversary dropped to the ground with the other man, flailing and grasping at his windpipe, trying uselessly to undo the damage I had done. I hopped back to avoid his mad kicking, almost tripping over the other man I had felled. I considered for a brief second to expedite his departure from the mortal world but worried that I would not have enough time before another of his allies took an interest in me.
There was a sudden clang of metal behind me, and I swung around to witness Teucer blocking the blade of a man who intended to stab me from behind. I kicked the guy back and laid into him with my own implement. He was on the ground and suffering from five or six deep gashes along his torso before I pulled myself away and began looking for another man to bury. Teucer was several yards away, cheering me on.
Something glinted up at me from below, and I instinctively jumped away to avoid whatever it was. In the next second, I was able to process what I was looking at: a man on the ground, wildly swinging his blade in a puddle of what I assumed was his own blood. Crimson oozed from his mouth, caking the edges of his teeth as he manically smiled up at me. He swiped several times more, but no one was within his limited circle of range. I thought to jump on his arm when it came back around and chop his head until he quit moving, but in the next instant, Scander had come up from behind and skewered him with his spear. The man dropped his sword, and his limbs reached out in pure agony as far as his body would allow. He grunted and fell flat, looking at me one final time before dropping his face into the puddle of blood that was waterfalling from his parted lips. Scander winked at me before hurrying on to find another victim. Thirians were at their best in the heat of combat, and that particular one had a penchant for taking my kills.
Someone tackled me from behind. I toppled forward, and both of us were on the ground within arm’s reach of the man my Thirian friend had just slain. I swirled around where I lay and slammed the hilt of my sword into the assailant’s cranium. He grunted and set to work thrashing my ribs. I howled and we exchanged several more blows until I managed to knee him in the stomach. Air fled his lungs, leaving him gasping to replace the void left behind. I gave him no time to recover before I dropped my weapon and firmly grabbed his head between both of my metal palms and brought it into the knee that I had just thrashed him with. The resulting sound was similar to the snapping of a thick tree limb, and in the few seconds that followed, he moved no more.
I was on my feet in the next breath, looking all around me, not sure where to expect the next attack but certain it was coming. I was hyperventilating; my chest felt like it would rather explode than be subjected to further stress; sparks swam in my periphery and my head teetered from side to side, on the brink of joining the man on the ground.
There he was. The next guy was probably the largest of his entire crew. He towered an entire head above me and, thankfully, was without a weapon. I thought it unfair that I should have one while he did not, but there was a lot more at stake in this fight than my sense of honor, so I decided to hang onto my advantage over him.
I ran to meet him head-on, and he reached out with both arms to grab me. He succeeded, lifting me high over his head. I do not know what he planned to do with me at that point aside from showing off his giant’s strength, but I did not allow him to show me. My foot lodged its way into his stomach, which felt like kicking a rock, by the way. I brought my blade down to where his neck met his clavicle, and his eyes almost bulged from his head when he realized what had happened. He dropped me and stood there for a moment as blood squirted from the gash. He reached up slowly to feel, clearly in shock, and then brought his other hand over the cut in a sudden hasty effort to stop the bleeding. But there was nothing he could do. The wound was too great. For good measure, I lunged forward and stuck my stinging reply straight through his abdomen. The beast man fell forward as I pulled out and stepped away, giving him a wide berth. That was easier than I expected, and I even felt a pang of guilt over capitalizing on my advantage.
I finally felt as if there was enough of a lull in the fighting to check my surroundings. To my amazement, it seemed as if most of my men were still alive, save for two of the three Thirians I had not officially met. Zinni appeared to not have moved from her spot at the tail end of the scene. Shock and worry lined her face from her hunched position as she cradled her brass sphere like an infant.
Not far away, one of the enemy men was crawling along the ground. I doubted that he would survive the night even if we did let him go, but I at least wanted to ask the poor fool some questions first. Linos was casually walking up behind the man with his massive spiked club. When he caught up, he raised it overhead and made ready to clobber the guy beyond recognition before I called out.
“Linos!” I held up an arm. “Hold on. We need to get some answers from him.”
I quickened my pace, and the man looked up at me, eyes wide.
“All right,” I said. “Who are you? Who sent you? What are you doing here?”
The man shook his head, so I kicked him in the balls.
He yelped and said, “I was hired by the Trio, and there is nothing you could do to me that scares me more than their dark magic!”
With renewed vigor, he hopped to his feet and darted off to the sea beyond. I would have worried that he was heading for my boat if it was not further down shore, and if I thought he could turn the engine on and take off with it.
“What the fuck is he doing?” I asked, looking around at the others who were as equally perplexed as me. The man was up to his ankles in saltwater at this point. “Is he—is he trying to drown himself?”
I did not know if such a thing was possible by sheer force of will, but I did not intend to find out right then. I bolted after him and caught up in the next minute. He had managed to swim out to a decent depth and submerge himself fully, but I could still see where he was because of all the air bubbles trailing to the surface. I sank until my hands felt him and were able to pull him closer, kicking and screaming as our heads simultaneously broke the surface. The others, including Teucer’s wife and some of his older children, we watching us from the edge of the water. Caria was up to her knees as if she expected to have to jump in and save me, but she stayed in place upon seeing that I had the situation handled.
“Hey, Babe,” I said as I carried the gasping man past her, his arms locked in mine and heels dragging through the sand.
I dropped him a few yards from the tide and gave him a moment to cough up the remaining water in his lungs before resuming questioning.
“So,” I continued as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened, “I’m going to need some more details. I’ve never heard of ‘the Trio.’ That’s what you called them, right?”
He looked up at me for a long silent moment, after which, I assume, he saw how futile it was to fight. “The Trio? You do not know of them in this land? They—they serve the god Ares! No one has—”
He was interrupted by my laughter, or perhaps it was simply because I rolled my eyes. It always caught me off guard how some of these nations were so scientifically advanced and at the same time coexisted with other civilized communities that still worshipped legends. The pharaohs of Egypt, who embraced both science and their plethora of deities, would likely always remain somewhat of an enigma to me.
“No, no,” the man insisted, “it is true! The Trio—gah! Ugh . . .”
I heard a clicking sound, and he fell limp, a small stream of blood trickling from his mouth down the side of his face. Several onlookers gasped. Red spots began to soak through his shirt, so I lifted it up and found three circles cut out of his chest over his heart, as if someone had taken a hole-puncher to him. A quick double-check assured me that whatever had caused the damage had not torn through his shirt in the process, leading me to believe that whatever it was came from inside him. I turned to see everyone looking at me stunned.
Zinni offered to take his body back home to her lab, but I waved the notion away. It might have been some kind of magic, but I doubted it would h
elp us find the culprit. The man had given us our biggest lead so far: The Trio. We needed to ask around the kingdom and see if anyone knew of them first thing.
Teucer reasserted his offer for us to stay the night, and, oddly enough, I felt a bit safer taking him up on it now. Since all of those attackers had been vanquished, threat levels appeared to be fairly low. I knew the Thirians wanted to consume their fallen brothers as quickly as possible, so I opted to camp out with them near the stables and provide a little moral support. As always, they were happy to have my company.
I suggested that Caria take one of the spare rooms since it was so rare for her to have such luxurious accommodations. Zinni followed suit, eager to have a secluded place to crack open one of the books she had brought for the journey. That left Linos, Scander, the remaining Thirian whose name was Ogma, and I. The three offered for me to take part in their death ritual as usual, but I refused this time, as often was the case.
Teucer had checked on his sons in the barn and found that the leader of our attackers was not lying. They had only been knocked unconscious and were now quietly resting in a pile of soft, if not dirty, hay among the remaining sheep—all eight of which were still present. He called his boys from the gate, told them the situation, and that they would all be sleeping the rest of the night in the manor. I do not know for sure if both of those boys were his children, but he led them both inside and said nothing of returning either of them to their actual home, so I was only left to assume as much.
When all was said and done, my Thirian friends and I were left to tend to the dead and contemplate the events of the evening. I hauled the non-Thirian deceased over to a pile off away from any structures, counting sixteen men in all. Once I had a nice fire burning, I returned to my tent to have one of my pondering sessions, as I was prone to do.
“Hello?” called a soft effeminate voice from outside, pulling me from my ocean of thoughts. “Troy?”
I sat up, not recognizing this voice. A pretty face was looking back at me, peeking through the flap of my tent. A short, olive-skinned girl crawled in and sat at my side. Her countenance was playful, yet at the same time thoughtful. She looked to be in her younger 20’s and without a blemish on her smooth skin. I recognized her purple silk tunic from the interrogation on the shore—she was one of Teucer’s children who had come to spectate with her mother.
“Hello, Troy. I am Karsi, daughter of Teucer.” She extended a hand, and I took her dainty fingers in mine. I resisted the urge to kiss it, thinking that such a gesture might be inappropriate for women of the time period.
She let her hand linger, watching me with big hazel eyes. A ponytail of auburn hair wrapped around from the back of her head and draped over one shoulder. I could see that it was pulled together in a bronze ring made of arrowheads peeking out just over the edge of her head.
“It is nice to meet you, Karsi. Your father . . . he is a great man. Your home—your land—is beautiful.”
She blushed. “Thank you, dear Troy. That means a great deal to hear. I am often involved in managing it—from a financial standpoint. I am my father’s eldest, you see, so he has been grooming me in the ways of business for as long as I can remember.”
“That’s amazing. I know that such a skill would apply to many professions.”
“This is true.” She grinned. “But I did not come here to speak of business.”
I did not have the chance to ask her actual reason for coming before she disrobed right in front of me. Her eyes held me rapt, but her perky petite breasts drew me in. She crawled over and made to remove my clothes.
Her eyes half-closed in that alluring, mischievous way a lot of women do, she said, “I have come to thank you for everything you have done—and will continue to do—for my family and me.”
My shirt was on the floor. My pants soon followed. My body was ready.
“Oh my . . .” she breathed. “You truly have the body of a hero, Troy.” She was blushing harder now, and I am fairly certain that I was as well.
She placed a tiny hand on my member and began to stroke, her eyes climbing my chest back up to meet mine, rendering me stiff in more ways than one. Miming using my rod for leverage, she pulled herself close, pressing her nipples firmly against me. A faint smile curled at the sides of her lips.
Her other hand was on my chest, pushing me back. I followed its gentle suggestion and was soon on my back. She climbed on top and began rubbing me against her inner lips, bending herself forward so that her breasts dangled over me, caressing my torso as she rocked back and forth.
She moaned and whispered, “Just relax while I grant you your reward.”
I felt her little pea tickle my tiny head as she continued to rub it against her most sensitive part. The heat intensified with the friction of the motion and I soon felt myself covered in her wetness. After a moment more, she slid me in.
Her eyes bulged as she worked her way down my shaft. I reached out and rested my hands on her hips. She took notice of my prosthetics as they dimpled her thighs and buttocks but paid them little mind. My arms followed her up and down as she bounced on me. I began to thrust my hip on each ascent, and her chest flopped in response to my added force.
She slurped me with each ecstatic oscillation. I closed my eyes and tightened up to prevent myself from releasing too soon. She felt like heaven. A coolness washed over my body as we went, and I opened my eyes to see her breathing deeply onto me. Her hands were resting limply on the hairs of my chest. I thrust her harder, and she lurched forward, falling all the way onto me.
I reached around to more fully grasp her plump ass and held it firm as I took up the slack, forcing myself in and then retreating for a second only to ram her once more. She yelped each time, her chest sliding up and down mine now in harmony with the motion. Karsi grabbed my arms, trying to brace herself against the rocking of our ship, but it was no use. With each thrust, she was forced to let go with the sudden surprise of it all, her yelps sometimes substituted with whimpers.
At times, I allowed my arms to do all the work, moving her body backward and forward like a ragdoll, or more like a sock puppet in our case. Her eyes once again swam up to meet mine. Little droplets were forming in them this time, pleading me to go on but fearful of how far I might push. I reached an arm up and held her close. My hand climbed up to the back of her slender neck and guided her in for a wet kiss.
Her tongue snaked into my mouth, and the two of us danced the dirtiest of tangos for a time. Without warning, I followed the action up by rolling both of us around so that I was on top. My arms were on either side of her shoulders, and she was looking up at me with a mischievous grin, not unlike the ones I was used to receiving from Helen when we were up to something naughty.
I continued thrusting and she resumed yelping, her mouth taking the distinctive shape of an “O.” I knew I was close and thankful for it because I doubted that I could hold myself much longer. More juices poured out of her as I plunged in searching for her treasure.
The yelping grew so loud that I was sure my men were tempted to come and check on us, even if it was just an excuse to get a peek at the action. This was not the first time a band of Thirians were left sitting outside a tent while I went to town on a mysterious woman who showed up in the dead of night.
Faster . . . faster . . . I was beginning to huff, sweat rolling down my face, when she reached up and pressed both hands into my chest, grabbing fistfuls of my flesh. I felt her nails begin to break my skin, but I did not care. Her leg began to bounce up and down beneath, her heel slamming into the floor of the tent. I leaned in and stole a kiss, placing a hand around her neck in a playful sign of dominance. The droplets in her eyes became full-fledged tears and ran down the sides of her face. I kept thrusting until neither of us could take it any longer.
It all happened in a single moment. I grunted. She screamed. We both fell flaccid, both having climaxed in unison. I suspected—or at least, I hoped—that this signified the beginning of what was to be a beauti
ful relationship.
6
Karsi was gone when I awoke the next morning, but her scent lingered. I lay awake looking at the furs that were stitched to form the roof of my tent. Birds were chirping outside. The morning sun was shining through the tent flap blowing in the gentle breeze. I felt as if I had been born anew.
“Troy, dear?” It was Caria calling me from outside. “Teucer and his wife are waking the younger children, and they will be ready to leave soon.”
“Good,” I called out. “The sooner we can get a move on, the better.”
I climbed out of my nest of furs and saw my beautiful fiery-haired queen standing over me, her outline glowing like an angelic aura in the daylight. I squinted and raised a hand to shield my face as my eyes did their best to adjust.
“How did you rest?” I asked.
“It was marvelous. That was probably the best sleep I have ever had.”
She stretched her arms out and yawned in a way that sounded like something halfway between a moan and a yell. This was an early-morning habit of hers that had grown on me during our time together. I could not say the same for Helen. It was not often that the three of us shared a bed—overnight, at least—but when we did, Caria’s morning ritual was Helen’s biggest reservation. She did not understand why the woman had to announce her awakening to the entire world.
“Maybe we can ask Teucer what those beds are made of later,” I suggested.
My eyes were finally working reasonably well, and I made my way to the manor. The Thirians were already clearing the debris from the previous night and packing up their tents. Zinni was sitting on the front steps of the house, leaning against one of the towering columns. Her little brass instrument was in her hands, and she was idly looking it over. She did not appear to notice me approaching her.
“How did you sleep, Zinni?”
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