The Elfmaid's Curse (The Elfmaid Trilogy Book 1)

by Warren Thomas

  A dim cattle chip fire was lit in the middle of the encampment and everyone gathered to hear the warriors' sad story. She could barely hear the monotone narrative of the man she recognized as the Clan Shaman, Red Bull. The tale was met with stony silence.

  Then Raf's voice called out, "We caught a golden-haired elfmaid warrior this afternoon. She was afoot and coming from the southwest."

  Bandu, give me strength!

  She couldn't tell what was said after that, what with everyone suddenly shouting, but within moments two grim-faced warriors stormed into the tent. Even in the dark, she could see their jaws working and fists clenching. They eyed her laying there on the ground completely nude.

  The braided leather cord around her neck was untied. Each took an arm, and she was dragged out of the tent in silence. She was soon dumped before the War Chief and Shaman, the Clan Elders sitting around them. The clan stared at her in sullen silence.

  Danica struggled to her knees. It was humiliating enough to kneel before her enemies, but it was worse to be unable to do even that. Either way, she didn't like the way the men were looking her over. A couple of them licked their lips, looking very hungry. She swallowed hard, trying to loosen her throat as she returned the steely stare of the War Chief and Shaman.

  The whole of Clan Jordani was gathered around the fire of the sun-dried droppings of wild steppe bison and cattle, surrounded by the billowing black tents. From the eldest woman to the youngest toddler, they regarded her with unnervingly grim faces in the ruddy light. The only sounds for several moments were the ceaseless wind through the flapping tents and the snapping fire and the incessant buzz of night insects. Danica fought to keep the fear from her face. Nomads only respected strength.

  A young woman jumped up, "I remember seeing a golden-haired warrior woman with the traders."

  "As do I," one of the warriors said.

  Danica groaned, staring incredulously up at the unforgiving heavens. It just went from bad to worse.

  Then before anyone else could speak, Red Bull said, "Woman, you have the stench of Sorcery about you. Are you a mage?"

  Danica hesitated. The residue of magic wasn't hers, it was left over from Taara. But, as a child, she was taught both Sorcery and weapons. At an early age her magic training ended, not because she had no talent, but because the Court and Court Mages feared just how much talent she possessed. Her family had some very powerful, and very evil, mages in their past. So she knew quite a bit of Sorcery, but it was suppressed by powerful spells. Though, after Taara stole her real body, she wasn't sure if there was any knowledge of Sorcery left in her mind.

  "I know no magic," she said. Then more bitterly to herself, I wish, but nothing I can remember and use.

  He glowered at her a second, then closed his eyes and began chanting. Everyone fell silent. Danica watched with wide eyes as he slowly shuffled around her chanting. Would he be able to discern her true nature, and know her terrible secret?

  Finally, "Sorcery and powerful...gone?" He studied her a moment in brooding silence. "It's subtle woman's magic. Hard to place, but no power to feed it."

  Yuma spoke up, "She is an elfmaid, Red Bull. Look at her. Her hair and eye color alone declare her Druigh Caste."

  Danica looked at them, feigning confusion. The Forest Elves were a mystery to human world. Mostly, humans dealt with High Elves, and it was rarely a pleasant experience. Obviously, the Jordani, who lived much closer to the Forest Elves, knew more about them than they did about the city dwelling High Elves. More than was healthy for Danica.

  "I've lived all my life in the Jarlands, and have only met High Elves, and few of them," Danica said.

  "Silence!" Red Bull said.

  Red Bull studied her for a long time, then snorted in contempt and returned to his place among the Clan Elders.

  "She is harmless," he declared.

  "Slave!" the War Chief, Dett, said, capturing her startled attention. "You rode with the honorless dogs that cheated us and murdered our brothers?"

  She had to be careful. If she lied they would look upon her as being without honor and beneath their contempt. It could really get nasty for her then.

  Danica knew Dett and Red Bull of old. As Danic, she had dealt with them only months earlier. Both were of average height, with thick barrel chests, thick tangled beards, and brooding tempers.

  The auburn-haired Red Bull was known for his stubborn ruthlessness. As a fighter, he was as bullheaded and tenacious as a bull. He was quite distinctive among his clansmen in the red-dyed steppe bison headdress and cape. Various amulets and power fetishes hung about his body, rattling against each other when he moved. His only other clothing was a red-dyed loincloth and soft-soled boots.

  The younger Dett was known for his cunning and ferocious fighting skills. The tawny warrior truly looked every bit the barbarian warrior Chief, with battered armor and armed to the teeth with a broadsword and a saber, five knives sheathed on his belt, and throwing daggers in his boot tops.

  "I was a caravan guard," she said cautiously. "But I had nothing to do with cheating you. I murdered no one. I'm a simple warrior, that's all."

  He glanced warily at the Clan Shaman, who seemed deep in thought. "I wonder."

  "It was Ramus who cheated you," she said. "All of his wagons were destroyed in the rush across the prairie last night." Perhaps that information would mollify them a bit. Then in an afterthought, "I think he might have been badly wounded in the last attack, too."

  Though untrue, Ramus remained unscathed personally, despite his loses, it seemed to bring them a measure of pleasure. Tiny satisfied smiles touched the faces of several warriors. Dett and Red Bull remained unreadable.

  "She's an elf! Evil," a young woman cried, jumping to her feet and stalking over to stand before Danica. She was tall and lithe, with long, dark braided hair and a deep tan. It was Hara, the young Jordani woman Carl had promised Danic would marry. At the moment, hatred seethed behind her dark eyes. "Elves worship the Old Ones! They can't be trusted."

  The Elves did support the Old Ones during the War of the Gods, but the Old Ones were vanquished and gone. So there were no Old Ones to worship anymore.

  Speaking cautiously slow, "I'm sure the lady has good reason to believe that, but I have not lied to any of you. My honor has never been questioned."

  "Elven pig!" Hara cried and slapped Danica across the face. If she hadn't already been on her knees, Danica would have been knocked to the ground by the force of the blow. "I say stake her out and let the prairie dragons have at her."

  "No," Yuma said sharply, causing Hara to jump slightly. "The slave is valuable to the clan. We gain nothing by killing her."

  "Mother Yuma is right," Red Bull said, bitterness spreading across his face. "We have suffered greatly. We will need her services."

  Oh, my Gods, she thought. I'm going to be forced to have their babies, just like the mirror said.

  "If need be, she can bear many sons — " Yuma started.

  Danica groaned.

  "No! Not an elf," Hara cried, aghast. Many heads nodded in agreement. "We will be dishonored in the eyes of the Gods."

  Frowning at his daughter, Dett said, "Our loss has left us weak. All the women will have to do their part in bringing the clan back to strength. Even this Elven slave."

  "It is only fitting she help replace what she helped take away," Mother Yuma said. "Many honored clans have had half-elf children in the past, who grew very old and wise. A boon to their clan."

  Gods, a brood mare for the Jordani, Danica thought. Visions of herself being dragged to bed by some lusty nomad raced through her mind. It wouldn't be just one, either. As a slave she'd be available to any man who wanted to lay with her, whenever he wanted her. Nonstop chills ran up her back as she tried to reconcile herself to that fate. The Gods hate me.

  Yuma's last statement brought about a great deal of muttering debate among the Jordani. Slaves weren't generally allowed to bear children within the steppe culture. The Shaman would place s
pells upon them that retarded conception. But in times of disasters, like this, the slaves still of childbearing age were frequently used to bear children and as some were saying, Elven blood would greatly increase their children's life expectancy. How long could a half-elf expect to live? Two or three hundred years, at least.

  She recalled the mirror showing her first being stripped by nomads, then with several children and one on the way, and finally as a dancer — and presumably a prostitute — in some desert city brothel. If the first two come to pass, then was she destined for the brothel? Would that necessarily be worse? In that sequence of prophesies she never escaped to exact vengeance. Or did she? And if she was taken into the clan and married off, would bedding only one man over a period of years, or decades, be any better or worse than prostituting herself to a score of men daily?

  She glanced around the fire at the hard faces of the warriors. The thought of marriage to one of the Jordani men made her sick. She would rather be a slave than be forced to bear their brats. She would rather be a whore in the seediest brothel back in Elfhaven than one of their "honored" wives.

  "I'd rather eat horse dung than bear your stinking goat-licking children," Danica said quietly, but forcefully.

  There was a collective gasp, then Dett's backhand sent her sprawling in the dirt. While she struggled to gain her knees, he began repeatedly kicking her in the ribs. Even after she collapsed he didn't stop. When he finally finished, she lay there sobbing and cursing herself for it. The beating was bad enough, but the uncontrollable tears and sobs were even more humiliating to her rigid mind-set.

  "Shaman," the War Chief growled, returning to his spot among the Elders.

  Red Bull came forward with something in his hands. Blinking away the tears, Danica recognized the two halves of the polished silver slave bracelet. It was about as wide as a man's hand. The Jordani symbol, a lion running, was etched on it designating the clan that owned her.

  Several warriors held her down, while another held her left leg up and steady. It was wasted effort on their part; she didn't have the strength of will or body left to struggle. Relaxing in their grasp, she took a deep steadying breath. Strangely, the swirling mist lights she remembered from her visit to the witch returned. They seemed to envelope Red Bull, with many of the brighter mist lights seeming to spring from his forehead and converge on the two halves of the slave bracelet he held. Their intensity seemed to fluctuate with his chanting of the spell. Turning her full attention to study these mist lights only caused them to vanish.

  Chanting softly, the Clan Shaman brought the two halves together over her ankle. Instantly, it glowed white, then faded. It was then one seamless piece of polished silver just above her left ankle. She found it a snug fit and cool against her skin.

  Danica was now a marked slave. In their minds, indeed, even in her own, she was now chattel. Nothing. Worthless. Beneath contempt.

  "Take her away," Red Bull said, and the warriors released her.

  Danica lay motionless at their feet. It was the most helpless, most vulnerable she had ever felt in her life. Even being turned into a woman by Talar hadn't affected her like this. The feeling that she was somehow now less important, that she was nothing, screamed at her.

  The thought terrified her. Never in her years of adventuring had she reacted to adversity so profoundly. Was it because she was a woman now? Because of the things they could, and surely would, do to her? With her? The visions of the nomads stripping her in the mirror, then herself heavy with child kept flashing in her mind.

  She noticed Raf watching her. He looked ready to pounce. Raf was panting lightly, and she remembered when he was panting in her face earlier in the day.

  He caught her eyes, holding her a long moment. That smug smile returned and he grabbed his crotch, wagging his brows at her.

  He's going to finish what he started. Her head spun, butterflies erupting in her belly. To her surprise, her body filled with heat and she felt her juices start to flow. I'm going to kill Talar and Fulgar when I find them!

  "I caught her," Raf said. "I got first rights to her."

  Red Bull and Dett looked surprised, but both nodded.

  Danica groaned, her insides turning tingly hot. She felt warm wetness spreading between her legs. As visions of Raf taking her flashed before her mind's eyes, she bit her lip and cursed her weakness. Cursed her arousal.

  Raf ran forward and swept her up with a grunt of effort. She heard herself whimper, but was more concerned now with how her body was so hot and tingly. Preparing itself for the inevitable?

  She looked up into his face, his eyes. Never had she seen such a look of triumph. Such eagerness. Then grinning at her evilly, he strode out of the circle of Jordani and into the surrounding darkness. She heard several of the men call out suggestions. Many of them sent her head spinning again as what little strength she had left seeped away.

  Danica's breathing started becoming short and ragged, and her heart raced, the blood pounding in her ears. Her whole world was spinning out of control. This man wanted her badly, that she knew.

  She was dropped unceremoniously back in the slave tent. In the dirt. Not even a stinking blanket to cushion her humiliation. It was all she could do to keep from sobbing, or begging for mercy. She found her fear and reactions shameful.

  I’m a knight! A warrior! I will not be unmanned…I mean, she thought, and took a deep breath.

  Raf retied the leather cord around her neck and began stroking her inner thigh. She again looked up into eyes full of triumph, looking for even the faintest hint of compassion. All she saw was a frightening hunger.

  The thought of fighting back occurred to her, but was rejected as useless and a waste of energy. He was too big and strong, and he was already angry with her from earlier. It would be better to just let him have his way. So she gritted her teeth and waited, trying in vain to ignore the sensations he was eliciting as his brazen hands explored her trembling body.

  "You are very beautiful, elf," Raf said. He pulled his knife, and laid it flat on her left cheek. "If you fight me, I'll make you a lot less beautiful."

  Danica licked her dry lips and gave a short nod. "I'll not fight you."

  "Wise decision," he said, and cut the cords binding her legs.

  Raf sheathed the knife, stood up, and stripped. Danica watched him, panting and trying to not squirm. Her throat tightened up painfully when he pulled off his trousers, revealing a long, hard cock standing erect.

  Dropping down beside her, he spent a long moment running bold hands all over her body. Touching, squeezing, pinching, and kneading her breasts, buttocks, and thighs mostly. Raf ran his fingers through her hair, he kissed and nuzzled her breasts, neck, and pointed ears. He seemed quite fascinated by her ears, kissing and licking them, tracing them with his tongue for quite some time.

  "Yes, so beautiful," Raf whispered, forcing a knee between her thighs. He pried her legs apart effortlessly. Danica didn't make it easy, but didn't really fight him either. He pushed her knees up and wide, her feet pointing at the heavens. There was nothing gentle or refined in his touch. Raf pushed three fingers into her, spreading her tingling folds. "I wanted to get a son off you, but you ruined that with that outburst."

  Danica gasped, belly quivering as she lifted her butt off the ground.

  "Good," she said through clenched teeth. She could not believe the sensations surging through her body. It made it so hard to be defiant. "You are too butt-ugly to breed with."

  Raf palmed her face, looking deeply into her eyes. "Good," he said. "Women should be beautiful and men should be ugly." His hand slide into her hair, around to the back of her head. He grinned with wicked delight, guided his cock to her quivering, aching folds, and then pulled her up into a fierce kiss. Danica groaned into his mouth as their lips glided across each other. "You will learn to love me, adore me, and treasure the time I spend with you in the blankets."

  Danica rubbed her lips together, then licked them. That felt way too good.


  "Over my dead…Uuuggghhh," she cried, as Raf shifted and thrust into her. He pushed deeper, stretching her out. It was such a profound sensation, and her body rang with the ripples his penetration caused. "Bandu! Give me strength!"

  Danica tugged at the bindings securing her wrists behind her back. Their combined weight was painful on her arms, especially after Raf braced himself by laying a forearm across her upper chest so he could fondle her breasts while pumping into her body. She fought the urge to wrap her legs around him.

  "Ask Lyss to bless you, to smile upon you, my pretty slave," Raf said.

  Danica didn't know what he meant by that. Did you want her to ask for the Goddess's blessing of love? Sex? Besides being the Goddess of Love and Sex, she was Goddess of Slaves.

  "I am…a warrior," she gasped out to his thrusts. "I will...not pray…to Lyss."

  "Oh, you will," he said with way too much confidence. "You will pray for the ability and passion to please me. Please me in every way."

  "You're…as crazy as you…ugh…are ugly," she gasped out. He smiled, leaning down to her face again. "No! Please don't kiss me again…Mmggh."

  Raf opened her mouth with his, thrusting in his tongue. Mind spinning, she let him have his way. Not that she could stop him. In some ways the kiss was worse than the actual intercourse. His penis felt so big, so…damned…good inside her. Her body was raging, pushed to the brink. Danica struggled to contain herself. If she climaxed, he would believe she liked him. That she enjoyed sex with him. She wasn't sure what she believed anymore.

  "Pray to Lyss to help you please me," he whispered in her ear.

  "I can't," she said, voice so breathless she could barely hear herself over her thundering heart.

  "If you do, it will please me so much I might come," he said. "When I come, I'll leave you alone. For a while, anyway."

  She knew he was manipulating her. If she caved in, it would be the first step toward total submission. Before long, Raf would own her heart as well as her body, and then she'd be truly lost.

  "No!" she shouted. "I will not submit!"

  "As you wish, my beautiful slave," Raf said, and really started humping her.