“This isn’t some damn game played in the woods for children, Phillick!” Prestings tied the last knot in the bandage and bristled again, facing Phillick with stormy eyes. “You shouldn’t be alive. You should be bleeding out in a bush as bandits fight over your armor. It’s a miracle you’re here. How can you stand like that, smiling at me, saying you want to go back after I risked my life to save you?”
The canopy above let the sunlight hit them with many tiny beams, but they were suddenly no longer so warming. Night was donning her boots, heralding a long and cold night.
Phillick said, “There’s no way we’ll make it back to the road before nightfall. We’ll have to camp out for the night. You know it as well as I, Prestings. Why pout around in darkness sad after defeat when we could dance around a bonfire, drunk after victory? Taking out those bandits will mean more than some stupid troll’s treasure. Picture it, Prestings. Days from now, we’ll ride into Wellimgale with a glorious story to share. We’ll regale about how we followed the menhirs to a bandit camp and slew them all for their wickedness. I bet King Kilwinning will reward us!”
Phillick paused to raise a brow. He was surprised Prestings was letting him speak for this long without interrupting. “Those bandits deserve to die, Prestings,” the weasel went on. “If they were brave enough to fly arrows at two mounted knights, I bet they’d fly arrows at anyone, including women and children, Prestings. Are you just going to let them get away with their crimes? Those carvings could be leading curious children to them as we speak, and we both know their mothers will be looking for them.” Phillick had a feeling his tactic wasn’t working, so he tried something else. “Damn you, man. During times like this, it doesn’t matter which king we serve. Our duty as law-holding knights comes before everything. We need to slay those bandits, Prestings. We are the hands of the law! What would the gallant knights of history say if they saw you walk away? I think they’d say you were unchivalrous.”
“That word means nothing during times of war,” Prestings snapped back, “and knights are worse than bandits! Our swords are needed elsewhere, Phillick. Now shut up and put that waterskin back in my saddlebag. The horse has had enough. It’s time for us to continue on our way.”
“You ignore my plea like I’m some child.” Phillick did as Prestings said, but ruefully. “Let me remind you, Prestings, we are of equal rank. I don’t have to take orders from you. In fact, I have more achievements than you. My arms carry the cannyn as a crest, just like King Kilwinning! He himself gave me that pleasure, an achievement for my bravery and skill with the cannyn. Some would say that that alone gives me precedence to order you around. So don’t just brush away my …”
Prestings walked over and slammed a closed gauntlet across Phillick’s helm. Watching his companion stagger back from the blow, Prestings hollered, “We’re in the fucking woods, leagues away from any authority, Phillick! Your stupid achievements mean nothing here. It’s my strength that gives me precedence. So tuck your fucking wishes away and hop on the horse. You can have the first turn. I could use the walk. There’s no need to tire her anymore today. We’ll make a camp at sundown. But no fire. Not tonight.” When Prestings turned away to begin his walk, he wasn’t so angry anymore. Maybe Phillick really was just a child to him.
Regaining his balance, Phillick watched Prestings trundle away. He donned his gauntlets before he snatched the horse’s reins and led her to follow. He jogged a bit to catch up, and said, “Alright, Prestings, let me tell you the truth, pal. The truth is I don’t give a shit about duty, achievements or glory, although I thought you would. All I give a shit about is what’s inside that cave. The fascination feels so fucking good. Something inside of there is calling for me. I know it. I want to know if there’s really a troll in there. The bandits didn’t even know about the carvings, Prestings. The bandits are there because of a different reason, and I need to know what that reason is. Don’t tell me you’re not at least a little interested. Aren’t you?”
Prestings chortled. “Of course I’m a little interested. I was foolish enough to follow the arrows in the first place. Wasn’t I?”
“So don’t you want to know why the arrows were carved?” Phillick nearly tripped over a root in his childish haste to express his curiosity. “I saw the arrow on the bandits’ menhir, Prestings. It was pointing at the cave! When I asked them about the arrow, they didn’t believe it was there. They looked at it for the first time and laughed. Do you know what that means?”
Prestings just spat at a fern, keeping his eyes ahead. The shrug of his shoulders said, “What?”
“It means the arrows were carved no longer than a few days ago, at the most. Maybe three days; those bandits are fairly stupid.” Phillick’s voice was that of a boy who had climbed a tree for the first time in his life. “There’s something very mysterious going on. I need to know what it is. Come on, it’ll be fun. We can kill some bandits in their sleep and the rest will be easy. I’d say there’s only a score or so left back there. We can take them, easily. We can. They don’t know our strategies. You saw it; they fight like villagers. Our armor will see us through it.”
A silence followed. Phillick could tell his companion’s curiosity had returned. They were out of the copse now, crossing a narrow glade towards a thick forest. Prestings gazed at the sky. There was less daylight left than he had thought. “Did the arrow really point at the cave?” Prestings finally asked.
“Yes!” Phillick was excited to expound. “The bandits were just as shocked about it as I was. They wondered if the troll carved it.”
“So the bandits didn’t carve the arrows to lure in innocents?”
“I guess not, Prestings. It’s still a mystery why they’re there.”
“A mystery, indeed.” Prestings stopped in his tracks and turned to face Phillick. “Did they say anything about what the troll looked like? Maybe they were just teasing you.”
Phillick had to shake his head, but his words were still positive. “They didn’t say, but I don’t think they were teasing, unless they had the whole skit choreographed. It would’ve been a well-organized tease because they all knew about the troll. I think that’s why they’re there. They must be trying to starve it out or something.”
“You’re telling me they have the cave under siege?”
“I think so. Why else would they be there in the open like that? We both know bandits hate being out in the open.”
“Hmmm?” Prestings rubbed the horse's snout as he mused, then he kicked a shrub as hard as he could. “Damn you, Phillick! You got me all giddy and curious again!”
A shrill cackle announced Phillick’s glee. “I knew you’d be! We’ve already gone this far. We’ve reached the climax of our adventure and now the mystery is at its peak. It would be a shame to let this story go forever untold. We need to solve the mystery, Prestings. We need to!”
The shrub was kicked again, but this time Prestings did it with a smile. “I should’ve blocked my ears. Your tongue’s dangerous, Phillick.” He yanked the reins out of Phillick’s hand and started leading the horse back to where they had come from.
“What are you doing?” Phillick asked.
An answer came back over Prestings’ pauldron. “I’m going to hobble the horse in the lee of the copse for cover. Let’s hope it won’t get stolen or eaten while we’re gone. Will you remember how to get back here?”
Skipping to follow, Phillick yipped, “Of course!” One of his skips was a full-fledged leap and he spun in the air. As if the sky was his dance partner, he released his arms to her. “Oh yes. Of course! Of course! Of course! Yes … I’m so glad we’re doing this.”
Prestings sneered. His heart was thumping. “Those bandits don’t know what’s coming.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN: THE MOLE
IN THE PRIMROSE light of a flickering flame, a fly sat on a wooden spoon, slurping up a good sons’ warm belly, though it wasn’t so warm anymore. Two giant empty bowls towered behind it. They were on the surface of a trestle table, in
the large room Dorathy had been kind enough to lend.
To the left of the table, before the blazing flames of fireplace, Lady Lossex was pouring steaming water into a tub. She smiled as the steam blanketed her face and dampened her hair. Turning with ewer in hand, she scooped more boiling water from the cauldron in the fireplace, then turned back to pour it in the tub. More steam blanketed her face. Each time she poured, her smile grew.
Eventually, the tub was full, and with a smile more grandiloquent than anything in the world, she looked over to the bed where Bob Redmand was resting his head and said, “The bath is ready. Are you going to join me?” She brought her hands around to her back and started unbuttoning her dress from the bottom up.
Bob said nothing, staring at the ceiling with pensive eyes.
Lossex giggled. “You’ve been quiet all afternoon. But that’s okay. You don’t need to say anything. I talk enough for the both of us.” She tilted her head to admire Bob’s determination. He hadn’t said a word since he had thanked her for taking off his boots. They made eye contact, but he blushed and looked away. That made her giggle again. He had removed the suspenders of his hosen before getting onto the bed, but still, that was no state to be in for a bath. “Come on, Bob. Take those dirty clothes off. The water won’t be this warm forever. Hop in with me. We’ll share.”
Bob bit his upper lip. His left foot twitched. He had the back of his head in his hands. Still, he said nothing, red rising in his cheeks.
“It’s okay if you’re nervous.” She took a step closer. Her fingers were having trouble with a button. “I’m nervous, too. Here, can you help me with my dress?” She sat on the bed, facing her back to him. “There’re two buttons I can’t get near the middle. I’m afraid I’ll rip them off if I try.”
Slowly, sluggishly, Bob sat up to help her. His thick fingers worked a button out of its loop. He gave a gentle grunt as he had trouble with the second one. His fingers were too fat to work it free.
Lossex moaned. “That tickles.” She could feel his fingers poking her spine. “It feels good, though. I could really use a backrub.”
Those words must’ve crossed a line. Bob accidently ripped the button off in his haste to finish. He thumped his head back onto the pillow, once again staring at the ceiling, biting his lip.
“Thank you, Bob,” Lossex said as she stood and stepped into the shadows. Bob could hear her taking off the rest of her clothing, but he didn’t dare look. Her long brown hair was now flowing against her naked back. Her derriere was firm and tender, glowing like a moon as she stooped to put down her folded undergarments. The candlelight flickered across her curves as she spun to face Bob again. Her nipples were hidden behind her forearm, her vagina covered by a bush of hair. She stood beside the tub and put her free hand through the steaming water. “Come on, Bob. You can’t bathe with all your clothes on. Let me help you undress.”
Bob forced himself to look at her. He suddenly found himself unable to look away. The sight of her made his eyes widen. Finally, he stopped biting his lip. The way the candlelight flickered around the bend of her hips was enough to make his tongue loll. The candle’s primrose glow purfled her soft skin. When she dropped her forearm to show him her steadfast breasts, he found himself rising out of bed, rising like the energy inside him.
His mind stopped working and his hands reached out to touch them, to touch those perfect, pointy dugs that suddenly felt so warm in his hands. She giggled and brushed his hands away. “Oh, you silly man. Save it. Let me undress you.”
His guilty hands came down to his sides. He refused to look at her eyes but he couldn’t look away from her. She urged him to stand. He gave way to her will and stood. “I hate these gambesons,” she said as her fingers found the lacing. “My brother always made me do up his laces whenever his squire was ill. The task takes forever.”
His eyes moved from her breasts to her shoulder, then down her arm to where her hands were undoing the laces of his gambeson at his chest. His lips started to twitch and for a moment his mouth opened. He wanted to tell her something but he was still too nervous to say it. This all felt like a fantasy to him. He started biting his lip again.
Lossex began humming, rolling her head side to side very slowly to the tune of her song. Her fingers worked fast and steady, yet effortlessly. No strained thought was needed. Her fingertips moved, pinched, slid and moved again. Soon she was halfway up, smiling into Bob’s eyes. “You’re a handsome man, Bob. Don’t let anyone tell you you’re not. Some say the down makes a man ugly, but I think it makes you more human if anything. Your thick eyebrows tell me you can face any storm. Your small lips say you know how to get by without words. And your big cheeks tell me you know how to smile. You’re more human than any man I know.”
Somehow, her voice gave Bob the strength to look into her eyes. He touched his own face as he did so, as if to compare faces. Her face was everything he thought a woman’s face ought to be. “You’re so beautiful.” He said those words without a single stammer as if they were lyrics to his favorite song, words he had said a thousand times before.
The laces were smoothly undoing again, and Lossex blushed. She looked away at the window. The shutters were only halfway drawn. She could feel a slight breeze. It was the chilly breeze of midnight. “I have done a lot of thinking about what you said to Lord Highcross at the gate today. I didn’t realize it at the time, but what you said was manlier than all those men put together. Those men aren’t even men compared to you; they’re soulless vessels, minions of death. I know what it feels like to want to leave your world behind. Sometimes you look at the people around you, the situation you’re in and you just want to walk away and leave it behind forever.”
The quick fingers at Bob’s neck finally finished unlacing. They pushed open the gambeson, revealing Bob’s hairy chest, the scars running down his formidable abs. Lossex found herself staring wide-eyed at his impressive muscles. Her hand fidgeted towards his abs like a snake, but she turned around to face the tub instead and put her fingers in the water. It was still nice and hot. She sighed. The water was dim, slightly sparkling under the meager candlelight. Her reflection was there, happily staring back at her, dancing in the ripples.
She could hear Bob undressing behind her. It sounded like he was doffing his hosen. She put a leg into the tub. It was a large, oval tub made of wood, polished by its many years of use. She could feel the heat in the water unkinking the knots in her leg. Her muscles twitched as she sighed again, bringing her other foot into the water. She let her legs go out from under her. Her weight was taken by the warmth. With her back against the rim, she closed her eyes and relaxed her head. She could hear Bob was still slowly undressing, breathing beside her.
“When I was a little girl,” she told him, “I used to dream about leaving my world behind. I dreamed of flying out of my window to soar across the sky, to soar over the ocean and live with the people of Anaysia. Sometimes I still dream of going there. Have you heard of Anaysia?”
Bob placed his folded hosen on the bed and turned to look at her. Her eyes were only open long enough to see him shake his head.
“I’m not surprised,” she said. “Most people haven’t. My father used to tell my brother and me about Anaysia before bed. It’s a large island way out in the Panorma Ocean. It’s the only place on Meliva where kings and queens don’t exist. There are no wars, no taxes, and best of all there are no violent, rude men to glower at you or say nasty things. Violence is odd to the people of Anaysia. They simply don’t understand it. My father said we mainlanders are just as mysterious to them as they are to us. Would you ever go there, if you had the chance?”
Bob said nothing as his foot came into the water. He wanted to tell her Anaysia sounded like the best place in the world, but he knew that wasn’t true. The best place in the world was in that tub. Lossex’ eyelids freed just enough to see Bob’s long penis meet the steamy water. Bob shuddered with a slight smile as he leaned his back against the rim. Their legs connected like a pr
etzel, sharing the bottom of the tub. He splashed water over his head. It took the itch out of his hair.
Lossex’ derriere suddenly squeaked against the wood as she adjusted herself a little. The sound was amplified by the water and made Bob laugh. The sound would’ve brushed by Lossex as nothing to waste a thought over; it was Bob’s laugh that made her giggle in return. Letting her head relax again, she closed her eyes once more. “If someone asked me to go to Anaysia, I don’t think I could say no,” she continued. “Imagine if we went there together. We could leave this war behind.”
A bat in the attic was woken by Bob’s deep voice. “Anaysia sounds perfect!” Beaming, he leaned forward in the tub to snatch Lossex’ hand. He held it ever so gently. It looked like a flower floating in the jaws of a boar. “I will take you there!”
“What?” Lossex put a hand on her breast, mouth gaping in shock. “You’d seriously do that?”
After nodding fervently, Bob pecked her hand softly with pursed lips. “I will take you there and build you a palace of stone. I will raise a farm and give you children. We will never see death again!”
Lossex couldn’t stop her giggling. She had to hold her mouth. “Bob!” She managed to squeak his name. “Are you sure? There're so many things you don’t know about me still. You don’t even know where I’m from or how I ended up here.”
“If I know you well enough to get in a tub with you,” he stammered with a huge smile, wrinkles forming beside his eyes, “then I know you enough to marry you.”
A small hand slapped the water. Lossex laughed as the water splashed across Bob’s face. “Stop it!” she teased him. “That isn’t true.”
“I love you, Lady Lossex.” His tongue came out to lick the water dripping down his cheek. “I want to marry you! I will carry you to Anaysia with my arms. We will live happy forever! We will never see death again.”
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