“What do you mean?”
“I’m an escaped convict. I’m an elf. What’s going to happen to me when we reach your city?”
Safira looked long at the young woman, fairly trembling with anger and uncertainty. How much courage, Safira mused, had it taken Camilla to reveal all this. Safira shook her head. “Arsenus is not a god of justice. He is a god of war. Of defending the weak against the strong. You have been wronged, Camilla. Anyone with eyes can see that. My order is one of battle. I have no interest in bringing you to whatever Istanov considers its… justice,” she said, sneering.
Camilla let out a slow breath. “That’s… good to hear. Safira.”
The priestess nodded and turned back towards the window. She hear the bedding rustle and the soft steps of the elf pad across the floor. Still, she started as she felt a soft body press against her back, arms wrap around her chest. “C-Camilla! What-“
“Please. Can I just… just stay like this for a moment,” Camilla whispered, her face buried against Safira’s back. “It’s been so long since I’ve felt safe. I just… I just need a moment.”
Safira took a deep breath, let it out. “As long as you like,” she said gently. “Don’t worry,” she said, watching the darkness gather beyond the window. “So long as I live, I will keep you safe.”
The priestess felt the young elf nod against her back. Silence filled the room, yet, it was a comfortable one. Even for Safira. She found herself relaxing despite the tightness of the elf’s arms around her chest. Even found a strange comfort in it. And with it, something more. She felt herself become more aware of the room around them. Of the silence and the confines of it. Of the feeling of Camilla’s warm breath ghosting against the back of her neck. Of the shorter woman’s naked curves pressed against her. The hairs on Safira’s neck rose, tingling with an acute sensitivity. She was suddenly aware of how tight her robes were. How the cool air brushed her bared skin and how warm her flesh beneath the cloth was growing.
“Safira,” Camilla murmured, her hands shyly moving. “There is… one other confession I have.”
“O-oh,” the war priestess gasped.
“It wasn’t just that you’ve treated me… well, better than anyone in a long time. It’s… you’re so strong and beautiful. When you smashed through the orcs and saved us… it was like I was looking at an angel come to rescue me.”
Safira squirmed, her cheeks warming. “A-Arsenus grants us strength to… to wage his battles.”
“There was more than that,” Camilla murmured. Safira sucked in a breath as the slimmer young woman pressed herself more against her back. As one of Camilla’s hands shyly moved over a curvy breast, the other teasing down Safira’s toned stomach, touching the band of her belt. “I thought… she was the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
Safira swallowed. “You ah… hid it well.”
“I did. I guess I didn’t know what to do with that feeling.”
“And… and now?”
“Now?” Safira heard the younger woman shift. Her head lift. “Now I think so. But… but not unless you want to.”
Safira stared out into the night. Confused. Hot. But… but not afraid. Not against it. The feeling that was coursing through her was a thrill the likes of which she had only known in battle. But different. Somehow. Her heart pounded in her chest and her head spun. Her breath was low and heavy. Her lashes fluttering.
“I think… I’d like to see that.”
She felt the elf’s lips form a shy smile. “Thank you,” Camilla murmured, and her lips brushed the back of Safira’s neck.
Safira sucked in a breath. In the same moment the hand near her breast engulfed that plush orb, squeezing it through her shirt. Her own moan startled Safira, but she didn’t worry about it long, for the next moment she felt Camilla’s other hand slip along the front of her garment and press against the groove of her cunt. “Nnn!” Safira gasped, arching a little.
“Safira,” Camilla murmured, her breath hot. Needy. Her lips plump with desire. “You’re so beautiful,” the elf said, her lips returning to the busty woman’s neck, kissing and sucking at the pale flesh revealed with adoration.
Safira was burning. Every inch of her felt alive. Felt sensitive and tingling with the elf wrapped around her. She felt strangely vulnerable. Needy. Lust burned in her veins with all the fire of adrenaline. With an intensity so alien yet so familiar. She rocked against the elf’s finger, pressing her cunt against that sliding digit. Her nipple tented the fabric of her habit, easy prey to Camilla’s wandering hand, trapped between a thumb and forefinger. Toyed with. Teased. Used.
“Mnnn,” Safira moaned. “C-Camilla. Oh Arsenus, that’s good.”
Camilla giggled, a sound so strangely pure coming from the normally bitter soldier Safira was startled. “I’ve barely started, Safira. Don’t tell me you’re a virgin.”
Safira flushed. “A-Arsenus does not forbid his daughters from… from parting in pleasures of flesh. But it has been a while…”
“Well,” Camilla breathed. “Then I should feel lucky.”
Safira gasped as the pressure of that teasing finger on her cunt increased, rubbing the increasingly damp spot more eagerly. She moaned as Camilla’s hand mauled her heaving breast. “C-Camilla. I… I…”
“Let’s go to the bed,” Camilla whispered into her ear. “Then I can really show you something…”
Safira nodded shakily. She rose and turned about to face the elf, who flushed under the taller woman’s eyes. She took Safira’s hand and drew her to the lone bed. The old mattress puffed as Safira sat down, then lay down beneath the elf as Camilla crawled atop her, straddling the war priestess. Her short dark hair framed Camilla’s face as she looked down at Safira for a moment, soaking in the sight of the other woman beneath her. Then her face was descending. Drawing nearer.
And they were kissing, and things were suddenly different.
Safira moaned, tasting the other woman’s lips. Her mouth. Her tongue. The kiss deepened. The pair clasped each other in a tight embrace, as if afraid of letting the other go. Their breasts mashed together. Camilla moaned, grinding against Safira, losing herself in the taste. In the experience. In the unfamiliar sensation of affection and shared desire.
Safira accommodated. Shyness was slowly burning away. Her pussy ached against her damp panties. She stroked and fondled the other woman with growing confidence. With growing hunger. In their kiss she swallowed every gasp and mewl from Camilla. Delighting in the tender sounds of the other woman.
Camilla broke the kiss, hovering above Safira, panting, flushed, but her eyes were alive and shining. “Let me… let me show you something.”
Safira nodded. The elf smiled happily and rose, suddenly turning about atop Safira. The priestess suddenly found herself looking up at Camilla’s pink slit, slightly parted to reveal the flush inner walls. She was captivated by the sight, so much so she barely felt the elf’s hands tugging down her panties until they were half off.
“Ah!” Safira gasped as the fabric peeled off her damp slit, revealing the flushing lower lips to the warm air. “C-Camilla. What are you…”
“Let me show you,” the elf said, her breath brushing Safira’s quim, making those tender lower lips quiver with need. Then she dipped down, and licked.
“Mmmm!” Safira moaned as that dexterous tongue coaxed her honeypot. Tasted the sweetness of her desire. Camilla purred with answering delight, relishing the sharp, almost musky taste of the other woman’s quim. Something so primal and fierce that she knew in an instant it could only have belonged to the fierce warrior woman who had saved her. She buried her face into Safira’s cunt, her hair fanning over the other woman’s thighs.
Safira groaned, bucking, hot pleasure surging through her veins. “A-Arsenus. That’s… oh… oh g-gods!” Safira groaned, her hips bucking, rubbing herself against the lapping tongue of the other woman. She needed something. Something to do. Her hands shook, her eyes went up, and locked on that damp slit hovering above
her, dewy with desire.
Without thinking, instinct compelling her, Safira reached up, her hands grasping the firm cheeks of Camilla’s ass and tugging the other woman’s pelvis down. Her lips locked with those hot lower lips, her tongue dove inside.
“Ahn!” Camilla gasped at the unexpected surge of pleasure. “S-Safira! You… oooooh,” she moaned.
Safira paid no heed. Lost in the sensation of licking out the other woman. Of tasting her. Her tongue sliding up, inside, gathering up the dewy arousal. It was wonderful! Delicious. A delight. Her tongue probed the other woman’s flexing quim, wandering higher, higher, and finding a familiar bead.
“Ah!” Camilla gasped as Safira tongued her clit. “Ohhh f-fuck!” Refusing to be outdone, Camilla dove into Safira’s cunt, gripping the other woman’s hips for leverage, even as she undulated.
Gasps and panting filled the room as the two women rode against each other, joined in their eager pleasure, their peaks approaching with every moan. Every grasp. Every sharp buck of hips. Safira came first, her peak signalled by a great cry of pleasure, her orgasm sweeping through her in a sudden surge, her thighs and grip tightening, trapping Camilla against her. The sensation of the war priestess’s peak drove the elf to her own. She cried out, thighs twitching as her juices soaked Safira’s face. Eagerly the priestess lapped at those sweet juices, devouring the evidence of Camilla’s pleasure.
Camilla squeaked as she was suddenly rolled over. Safira rose onto her knees, pressing the elf’s head into the bed beneath her large derrière. Camilla merely giggled, and before Safira could rise the elf had grasped Safira’s ass and tugged it back down onto her face.
“Ah!” Safira gasped, a jolt of the unexpected sensation coursing up her spine. “C-Camilla! You… ohhh… wh-what are… nnn…”
Safira moaned as the strange yet, undeniably, arousing sensation of the other woman’s tongue on her tender asshole speared through her. Never had she considered… it was so… “Mnnn,” Safira moaned, biting her lower lip, clutching her legs as she pressed her ass down on Camilla’s face, feeling that skillful tongue dive into her clenching asshole. “Oh f-fuck,” the war priestess panted, her hand slipping between her thighs and to her slickened cunt, shyly stroking herself as that alien sensation radiated through her ass. “Fuuuuck! What… ah… how does that f-feel so g… nnn… gooooood?”
Her finger strummed her hot box, her hips bucking as she drew closer. Closer. Closer to that peak. She was nearly there. She was almost… almost…
“C-cummiiiiing!” Safira cried out, her curvy body shaking with the ecstasy of her orgasm.
Her legs went limp, dropping her on top of Camilla beneath her. She couldn’t suppress a breathless laugh as she heard the muffled protest from the elf. Climbing off her, Safira rolled onto her back on the bed. A moment later Camilla crawled up beside her, snuggling against the powerful frame of the war priestess. Safira smiled at the smaller woman, her arm encircling her and drawing her closer. The warmth of their bodies banished the chill of the night, the scent of sex and pleasure intermingling in the air with a potent perfume of satisfaction.
“So this is what happiness feels like,” Camilla murmured.
Safira nodded, kissing the other woman’s brow. Camilla smiled up at her and nuzzled closer, tugging up Safira’s shirt and freeing the priestess’s large, firm breasts.
“Oh, what are- ah!” Safira gasped as the other woman kissed her breasts tenderly. “Mmm. You are… ah… good at this…”
“Thanks,” Camilla said, her tongue swirling around a peaking nipple. “It’s nice to want to, for a change.”
Safira sighed, feeling the soberness of the elf’s situation settle on her again. Her arms tightened protectively around the elf, drawing her against Safira’s generous curves. She felt the elf stiffen, but only for a moment. Then she relaxed, melting into the priestess’s warm embrace.
“So long as I live, no one shall take advantage of you like that again,” the priestess murmured into her ear. “You did not deserve what happened to you, Camilla. And it is not your fault it did.”
Camilla was silent, absorbing those words. “Thank you,” the elf finally said. Her grip tightened on Safira. “Thank you...”
The war priestess looked down on the young elf fondly, stroking her short dark hair. Resting in the gentle ease of each other’s arms.
Until she heard the clip clop of hooves on stone.
Safira rose. Camilla joined her, looking with surprise at the war priestess. “What is it?”
“Sh,” Safira whispered. She pushed herself out of the bed and slipped towards the window, glancing out the misty glass. What she saw chilled her to the very soul.
Riders moved out of the night. Huge, hulking shapes astride horses bearing the colours of the empire, now sullied, the imperial crest daubed with the crude shape of a staring eye. Orcs were in the saddles, their hulking frames unmistakeable as they gathered near the inn.
One shadow, however, was far different from the rest. A massive hairy creature like a mossy ape followed, led by a curvy pale woman that Safira immediately recognized. The war priestess grit her teeth furiously at the sight of Marianne, naked, muddied like some savage’s slut, fawning over the yegrilla.
“Get dressed. Hurry,” she hissed.
Camilla rose. All the calm and comfort of their pleasures was banished. Frantically she dressed, Safira doing likewise. The wrath of her god burned through her, glowing in the hammer. But she tamped it down, cultivated that flame of wrath in her soul, knowing now was not the time. That she was outnumbered by many, and that should she try and fight, she would surely die. And Camilla would be lucky if she shared that fate.
Safira shook her head furiously. No. Not that. The elf would not suffer another form of servitude like that. She grabbed her panties and tugged them on. Delicately, careful to not make a sound, she eased open the window.
“Come here,” she urged Camilla. The elf nodded, joining Safira as the priestess carefully squeezed out of the window. The orcs were dismounting, only one remaining on his stolen mount. Their low mutterings could just be heard as they gathered at the door. Safira helped Camilla out, edging down the slope of the roof.
With a sudden roar the orcs broke down the door, the splintering of wood and howl of guttural battle cries overpowering the ring of the seals Safira had placed on the door. Her hammer flashed as the orcs surged inside, up towards the stairs, certain of where their prey lay.
And the moment she heard them rush inside, Safira rushed to the edge of the roof and jumped off.
She landed with an oof in the saddle of one of the startled horses. The beast whinnied in surprise, dancing about. The orc left on guard whirled in surprise, and a swing of her blazing hammer caved in the monster’s skull. “Come!” Safira called to Camilla. The elf jumped down, landing behind the priestess. Safira kneed her horse, driving the beast forward, scattering the other startled horses as she surged out of the mass.
Shouts and howls of rage erupted from the tavern behind them. Spears and throwing axes clanged about them as Safira drove forward their mount. Their horse whinnied in pain, but Safira dared not dwell on it. It would not take long for the orcs to retrieve their mounts. To be back on the trail. To be after them.
Safira snapped the reins, kneed her horse. Hooves clattered over the old road as they raced away into the night.
Final Stand
Their mount’s flanks worked like bellows. The horse wheezed, clattering on down the road in their desperate flight. Trees flashed by, the forest flickering, a smear of green at their sides as Safira pushed the horse on. On! She could hear pursuit. Saw when she glanced back on long straights the dark shapes of the orcish riders. Gaining. Gaining. Coming closer with every stride.
And more she saw. The gleam of blood spattering in their wake from their mount, wounded during the escape from the inn.
As they rounded a bend a shape rose down the distant path. Rising between the sharp cliffs of a mountain pass, a gatehouse barr
ed the way further, its towered bulwark carved out by moonlight against the darkness. Hope throbbed painfully in Safira’s chest, knowing that gate. The first wall of Tatarod.
At the foot of the gate their horse stumbled. It went to its knees, foam flecking its mouth, flanks heaving as it lay down, a last shuddering breath escaping it before it lay still.
Camilla jumped off the horse. She rushed to the gate and shook the bars of a portcullis like they were those of a prison cell. “Open up!” she screamed.
Safira left their horse, advancing more slowly. She eyed the dark parapets, silent to their pleas, the windows empty despite Camilla’s cries. The war priestess shook her head. “They are gone.”
“Gone? No. No! They can’t be gone! They can’t!” Camilla screamed in helpless fury. She threw her shoulder against the metal bars as if to force the doors through sheer strength, only to rebound uselessly. Sobbing.
A horse’s whinny had them both turn sharply, the flash of steel and mounted shapes of their pursuers forming in the distance. Safira looked back at the gate, frowned. “Move,” she commanded.
Camilla stepped aside as Safira walked up to the bars. She put aside her hammer and flexed her hands. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes. “Arsenus,” she murmured. “Arsenus. My god. My master. Grant me this strength in my time of need. Grant me the power to do your will.”
The gold of her hammer glowed. Strength filled her like a light. She took a deep breath and advanced on the gate. She bent down, grasping the lower bars, and lifted.
Her arms ached, felt like they would be pulled from their sockets. The strength of her god surged through her. She groaned, struggling, heaving. Blood pounded behind her eyes as she grit her teeth, and lifted!
Old metal groaned. Slowly, inch by inch, the teeth of the portcullis began to rise. The jagged points lifted slowly from the earth. Slowly. Safira quivered, the portcullis barely a few inches over the ground, but she couldn’t do more.
“Quickly,” she bit out between clenched teeth.
Last Stand of the War Priestess Page 5