Battle Cry and The Berserker

by C. L. Scholey

  “Obey me, follow us and you will not be harmed,” the smaller young man informed him with an air of patient superiority, and indicated another path Rory was now to take.

  Intrigued, Rory turned, guiding Adamas to follow the two younger much smaller males through the woods into a dense area. Still he remained atop his mount. For some reason he highly doubted the lads were leading him to any others. They appeared to be acting on their own. They seemed too agitated and almost frightened by their deed, as they glanced about often.

  Rory, being a seasoned hunter, could see no signs on the ground indicating any great number had traversed this path recently. His own mount showed no heightened peculiarities to alert him to any danger in the distance, no flickering of fine ears, no tossing of his magnificent head. No, most definitely they were acting alone, and they would give him no trouble.

  The forest thickened, and the horses’ way was made much harder, but they plowed ahead, steadfast. Their determination to reach their goal was apparent. Rory’s curiosity intensified. Soon enough a small clearing came into view. The young lads pulled up their mounts, and they ordered Rory to dismount as well. Both were quiet, one casting furtive glances to the other, older sibling, perhaps?

  The youngsters quickly unsaddled their mounts, then moved toward the thatched building while beckoning to Rory. To Rory’s great surprise they had left their swords with their little mares by the saddles as though forgotten. Did they really think their prowess so great they could defeat him or force some kind of victory without any aid? Ludicrous. Giving his head a shake Rory realized ’twas not their prowess that was so great but their stupidity. Their poor sire, if they had one, did he realize how daft his children were?

  “Come inside,” the elder of the youngsters demanded. Rory detected an almost tired tone to the voice. They were at a small sod structure Rory had seen years before. He and his younger brother had played here a few times as children. No one inhabited the dilapidated hut, he was certain. Unless the boys were orphaned and hoped to ransom him.

  Chuckling, filled with curiosity, wanting to make certain the daft youngsters were not up to no good on his lands, Rory complied after telling his own mount sternly to wait. A seasoned warhorse, the powerful stallion stood quietly enough but eyed the two female palfreys with some unveiled interest.

  “I know that look old man, try and behave yourself,” Rory threw over his shoulder with a laugh.

  Distracted by Adamas, who obviously sensed no danger, Rory never saw the wooden beam aimed at his head as he stepped through the small darkened, open doorway. His eyes had yet to adjust to the dimness. He was hit soundly and dropped to the dirt floor like a hard stone.

  “Now look at what you have done. You have killed him. Oh, now it will never pop,” Constantine cried out dismayed. Her hand rose to her mouth in worry as she stood over the large man’s inert body.

  “He is not dead; he breathes still. See how his chest rises and falls? Now help me before he wakes,” Juliette said and groaned as she tried to lift the man.

  Constantine added her own struggles to her sisters. Both girls tried lifting with all their might. They yanked and pulled to no avail tugging on his clothing.

  “Drat. He weighs as much as his horse,” Constantine grunted, his one leg was up off the ground clutched in both arms. She dropped it suddenly and went sprawling backward landing in a hard heap onto her bottom.

  Juliette dropped the hold she had on his other leg and stood thinking thoughtfully. “You will just have to do it here,” she declared shrugging.

  “I will not have my first bedding be on a filthy dirt floor,” Constantine snapped arrogantly.

  “Then you best think of something quickly,” Juliette replied.

  Constantine stood up scowling; she never realized coupling would be so difficult. Juliette should have hit him closer to the bed, they couldn’t possibly hope to lift him. He was huge. Suddenly she snapped her fingers.

  “Juliette, do you remember Puddles?”

  Juliette did remember Puddles. Laziest dog the girls had ever encountered. He had belonged to their Uncle Emit. A great bear of a dog with the patience of a doddering old nanny. Constantine and she used to roll him over to a table in the kitchen that held the jam-filled pasties and sweetmeats; both girls had an insatiable sweet tooth. They would then climb on the dog, belly or back it made no difference; the dog was too lazy to protest. Constantine would then lift her smaller sister up those few extra inches, enabling her to grab two handfuls of the delicacies.

  Smiling at the ingenuity, Juliette joined her sister on one side of the motionless man. They each grabbed a handful of clothing and rolled him onto his belly, then his back and so on until they reached the bed. Again another dilemma presented itself; how to get him onto the bed? Thankfully, it was exceptionally close to the ground, a small enough entity in the otherwise empty hut, though surprisingly well made for its age. It would just barely accommodate the man.

  Constantine grabbed at a leg and bid Juliette grab the same leg. Soon both legs lay on the bed, the man’s bottom and torso still languishing upon the ground. With a tremendous effort

  Constantine grabbed hold of his arms and pulled firmly, with Juliette pushing from behind.

  Unfortunately Juliette’s slight body slipped under the weight and pressure and she fell beneath the unconscious man.

  Juliette groaned painfully. “My goodness. You were right; he does weigh as much as his horse. Get him off. Get him off. Oh, he is killing me, Constantine,” Juliette howled in distress.

  Seeing her beloved sister’s face contort in pain had Constantine in quick motion. She pulled with all her might and with a furious heave, they both managed to propel him off Juliette and onto the bed.

  “Well, the old hag was certainly right. I have never grunted or groaned so much in my entire life,” Constantine declared, a hand to her breast, her breath coming in quick gasps.

  “Well neither have I, and this is supposed to be your coupling, not mine,” Juliette replied, her expression was decidedly annoyed.

  “I am sorry to be such a bother dearest, but I do appreciate your help,” Constantine said soothingly.

  Appeased, Juliette grabbed up a rope and began binding one of the man’s hands up behind his head to a sturdy post at the top of the bed. Constantine stopped her.

  “Does he not need to be undressed?” she inquired.

  “I think perhaps you are right,” Juliette said, and then frowned. “All of him?”

  “I am unsure. It is not like I have done this before,” Constantine declared annoyed. Just because she was older did not necessarily mean she knew everything.

  “Well what did the old crone say?”

  “She did mention he would remove my clothing.”

  “Why? Is he too poor to afford servants?” Juliette gave her a curious glance. She was beginning to wonder at her father’s logic and could see the evil hand of Uncle Emit rearing its ugly head.

  “I highly doubt our dearest father would wed his eldest child to a lowly pauper,” Constantine snapped a little ruffled. She always suspected Juliette was his favorite; she needn’t throw it in her face.

  “It was not my intention to be cruel,” Juliette snapped back. She had always suspected

  Constantine was her father’s favorite; she needn’t throw it in her face.

  “Oh, never mind. Just help me.”

  The girls went to work removing the man’s clothing. Once done he was trussed securely to the head of the bed. The girls then stood back to catch their breath and admire their handiwork.

  “Um, Constantine? What is that?” Juliette stood staring intently at the man’s member.

  Constantine gaped as well. “Perhaps a growth of some kind,” Constantine mumbled, just as transfixed. It was truly a remarkable growth. It was quite large and long and somewhat fascinating. It lay off to one side as if in slumber. Their staring was interrupted however by a furious howl of outrage.

  “What the bloody hell do you thi
nk you are doing?” Rory had awoken to find himself bound like a pig and completely nude. He was no longer amused or intrigued and his head ached as though he had been drinking ale all night.

  “You needn’t yell; we are not deaf and you have frightened Juliette,” Constantine declared angrily. The fact she had also been frightened by his outburst added petulance to her voice.

  “Juliette?” Rory questioned and blinked hard. It was indeed an odd name for a lad. Rory looked closer. One of the lads had a long tendril of hair that had escaped from his cap trailing down a slight back and rounded hips. Realization dawned, he was astounded. “Why you are not lads at all, you are but girls.”

  “I am not a girl, I am a woman,” Constantine rebuffed with annoyance.

  “Woman or no, you let me loose or you will find yourself over my knee,” Rory demanded in his loudest gruff commanding voice, giving a sound tug to his bindings for emphasis and gnashing his teeth.

  Neither Constantine nor Juliette had ever been struck in their lives. Their eyes widened in fear, both of them took an involuntary step backward.

  Seeing their distress, their anxious faces paling from his threat, Rory thought quickly. Regardless of the fact he was tied, he was a great deal larger than the both of them. If he frightened them away, and they left him here, who knew how long it would be before he was found. He would also rather not be found like this, he would never hear the end of it from his brother. Damnation. This never would have happened if he hadn’t been feeling so smug. He certainly wasn’t feeling cocky now. Still, he needed another approach.

  “Now, now, do not be afraid, ’twas just my anger talking. Let me loose and we will forget the entire episode,” he promised in a much lighter tone, although his insides seethed, and he was itching to get his hands on the both of them.

  “I am afraid I cannot as yet,” Constantine replied. She looked at the man her tone sad.

  “But why? What is it you want? Coin?” Rory inquired. Indeed he had brought none, this they must have discovered whilst he lay unconscious. They couldn’t hope to keep him prisoner on his own lands for some type of ransom. The very thought was insane.

  Constantine lifted her slender hand pulling down her cap. Her thick chestnut hair cascaded around her beautifully, falling softly to curl against her slim hips like a caress. Rory sucked in his breath thinking she was the most beautiful creature he had ever set eyes on, and she was right, she was no girl, she was all woman. He must have been daft for not noticing she was female.

  “Do not be afraid, sir. I will try not to hurt you,” Constantine told him her tone grave.

  For a moment Rory felt true concern. Just what did they plan on doing with him? “What are you about?” he asked quietly.

  “I intend to initiate coupling with you.” Then quietly under her breath muttered, “I hope.”

  Rory almost laughed aloud feeling a great sense of relief, thinking this must be a joke from his brother to lighten his mood. But seeing the girl’s heartfelt look he decided she was serious.

  “What on earth for?” He would happily oblige if she would but cut him free, he could feel himself stirring just at the thought of bedding this whimsical beauty, he could envision her length of hair wrapping around his body. Her beautiful full sensuous mouth would feel heavenly pressed to his. It had been some time since he’d had a woman and though the situation wasn’t a way he’d been interested in she was appealing enough to know his body would be happy to accommodate her.

  “Enough talk, Pepper. The hour grows late, just make it pop and be done with it,” Juliette demanded.

  Constantine realized her sister was right, she was stalling, yet she was afraid. She was concerned the frightened man might beg her for mercy and she must do this deed. With resolve

  Constantine wadded up some cloth and stuck it in the man’s mouth stopping all communication.

  “I am not quite certain where to begin.” Constantine sent her sister a mournful look.

  “Well try getting closer,” Juliette suggested, giving her a nudge.

  Constantine sat on the bed beside the man, her bottom perched near the edge. Tentatively she reached a slender hand to stroke his furrowed forehead. His thick dark wavy hair reached his broad shoulders and felt silky smooth to her touch. His angered dark-brown eyes bore deeply into hers, her breath caught, best not to look at them, she thought. He was hairy everywhere. Constantine wondered if the hair on the rest of his body was as soft as that on his head. Her hand slid caressingly down the side of his just-barely-beginning-to-stubble face, along his throat that rose and fell as he swallowed hard.

  She rubbed in a circular motion on his powerful chest and noted the shorter hair was coarse but not at all unpleasant, curling pleasingly around her fingers. He was rather beautiful in a strong way; his body appeared sculpted by an expert craftsman. Constantine’s hand swept lower and reached his muscled waist that quivered with her soft exploration on his warm body, becoming ever closer to his growth. Her gaze settled onto his affliction, she wondered if it pained him and she found she grew concerned for his wellbeing while fondling him with such intimacy. With trepidation she reached out to touch it, her hand felt its warmth and she ran a hesitant palm down its length.

  Constantine leaped off the bed suddenly in horror. Juliette, so surprised at her sister, jumped out of her way lest Constantine end up in her arms.

  “What ails you?” Juliette demanded.

  “It lives,” Constantine shrieked.

  “What lives?” Juliette asked mystified.

  “The growth, ’tis possessed,” she howled.

  “Nonsense,” Juliette muttered, certain her sister was stalling once again.

  Juliette reached out a tentative hand and stroked the growth. Shortly she joined her sister in a far corner shaking in disbelief.

  “It moved.” She breathed out shakily.

  “I know,” Constantine concurred.

  “Do you think it will move again?” Juliette asked with fear.

  “Perhaps,” Constantine replied. Both girls, clutching one another tightly, moved forward at a slow pace, starring at the man’s member fascinated, eyes wide.

  “Look. There it goes again,” Constantine yelled.

  They both stood over Rory who was three shades of red, staring intently.

  “Touch it again,” Juliette whispered.

  “Why?” Constantine asked in utter disbelief.

  “Perhaps this is what needs to pop,” Juliette said in a reasonable tone.

  “Really?” Constantine replied full of dread. She had an uneasy feeling Juliette was right.

  With apprehension Constantine lowered herself to the bed. She reached out a hand but stopped before it reached its goal.

  “What now?” Juliette asked exasperated.

  “What if it bites? The old hag said I would bleed.”

  “Then you will just make it pop after and be done with it,” Juliette reasoned.

  Ruefully, Constantine realized her sister was right, either way she must bleed for the deed to be done. Taking a deep breath she seized the growth in firm hands and hung on. Rory groaned.

  “That’s it, Pepper, you must be doing it right, there is the groaning,” Juliette declared triumphantly.

  Constantine looked up at the man. His eyes were squeezed shut and moisture was forming at their sides.

  “Oh, look, he is frightened, he is crying,” Constantine said distressed. “I am hurting him.”

  Feeling ashamed, Constantine loosened her grip and rubbed at him gently instead. “There, there. Do not be afraid. I am trying not to hurt you. I will try to be tender.” Constantine fretted that this might be the man’s first time as well. She must double her efforts to be more careful with him.

  She stroked him in a soothing fashion, yet his groaning seemed to increase. Concerned, she used both hands and put forth a better effort. His member seemed to leap at her touch; she was a bit fearful it was trying to get at her. But with it safely tucked into two softly stroking fists, s
he sensed it was trapped.

  “Beware sister,” Juliette exclaimed suddenly.

  Surprised, Constantine looked up at her. Juliette’s look was clear amazement.

  “What?” Constantine asked.

  “It grows,” Juliette cautioned.

  Removing her hands, Constantine noted with interest her sister was right. The growth was increasing in size.

  “’Tis huuuuge,” Constantine declared on an expelled awed breath.

  Rory clamped his jaws hard around the cloth in his mouth and ground out foul muffled oaths and obscenities he was somewhat grateful the girls could not make out; else they would have run screaming from the hut in terror, their hands upon their ears. He swore he would seek his revenge. He would have them he vowed if it was the last thing he ever did. She was killing him with her innocence.

  Constantine clutched at the monstrosity. “I do not understand how something so hard can feel so soft and smooth,” she marveled.

  Her curiosity was getting the better of her and Juliette reached out to feel for herself. She too marveled at the warm smoothness, the amazing unimagined strength. The round globes the size of swan’s eggs beneath were too compelling to resist and she moved her hand to explore in innocent wonder.

  “Juliette, do you mind. This is my coupling,” Constantine complained.

  Embarrassed, Juliette removed her hands and stepped back. She noted the man was now not only moaning but thrashing as wildly as the bonds would allow. Perhaps he was in pain. Poor man, hopefully he would pop soon and they could leave him be.

  A disgusted cry from Constantine jarred Juliette’s thoughts back. Constantine was sitting on the bed with a mess all over her hands.

  “What on earth happened?” Juliette cried.

  “It popped,” Constantine said with disgust.

  “Wonderful!” Juliette exclaimed.

  “Wonderful for whom?” Constantine bit out sarcastically, looking with loathing at her filthy sticky hands.