‘I fear there is little chance of that,’ Elethrine replied. ‘We are not in Korismund, nor yet Mund, nor yet even the on continent Kora. We appear to be somewhere in the centre of the continent Apraya.’
‘Apraya!’ Talithea snorted. ‘Nonsense, look at the sun, we have been gone no more than three or four hours.’
‘With respect Princess,’ Aisla replied, ‘it is the afternoon of the third day following our bewitchment.’
Talithea stopped, to stare blankly around her as if becoming aware of her surroundings for the first time. As the Princess looked around, Elethrine also took stock. The trees, while superficially similar to the pines and spruces of Mund, grew less straight and had foliage shaded a tone more towards blue. The sky was also an impossible rich blue and absolutely cloudless, a condition almost unknown in Mund. Finally there was the lip of the cliff and the great chasm of shimmering air beyond it, a sight quite out of character with the clear, cool vistas of Mund.
Slowly Talithea’s expression of bewilderment faded, to be replaced by a commanding and determined look.
‘Very well,’ she announced, ‘so we have been flung to the wilds of Apraya. In that case we shall demand an honour guard, return to Thieron and impose justice on the brat Ea. Come.’
She set off through the trees, Elethrine and Aisla following with considerably less confidence. Beyond the trees a thin stream ran across their course with the plateau beyond it. They paused to drink and wash before continuing, each girl stripping nervously, Elethrine and Talithea to their purity girdles, Aisla nude. Talithea made the greatest fuss, insisting that the others kept careful watch with their backs turned while she went through the laborious process of undressing without help and washed herself.
Proceeding, it became possible to see white shapes on the horizon, possibly human. These were in ones, twos and occasionally small groups and distributed along the top of the cliff. The girls approached cautiously, aiming for a lone figure and finding it to be a thin, sinewy man with skin the colour of a hazelnut shell and a great beak of a nose. He wore only a loose white robe and was staring fixedly out over the cliff.
‘Aisla,’ Elethrine said as they came close, ‘from his clothes this is clearly some local peasant. Speak to him and establish in what land we are and in what direction lies the nearest keep or town.’
‘Very well Mistress,’ Aisla replied and walked on, coughing gently when she was directly behind the man.
He turned, his expression first one of mild curiosity and then of astonishment.
‘Good peasant,’ Aisla said, ignoring his apparent surprise. ‘I am Aisla, an artisan of Korismund, and I desire information.’
When she spoke the man’s eyebrows rose high onto his wrinkled forehead, showing even greater surprise. There was a long silence before he replied.
‘You are not snow-dryads then, come to ensorcle me?’ he said, his accent strange yet by no means incomprehensible. ‘Nor the daughters of frost titans?’
‘Neither,’ Aisla replied.
‘Nor yet some exotic breed of nymph, escaped from your owners?’ he queried.
‘Certainly not!’ Talithea snapped, forgetting propriety.
‘We are from Mund, far to the north,’ Aisla explained. ‘Perhaps you saw the great demon that carried us?’
‘Indeed!’ the man replied. ‘an eighth arc of the sun or more ago. It flew directly over my head, causing great alarm both to myself and to those on the plain. They take it for an omen and have disengaged from battle. But who, or what, are you, to be transported by demon, and with such strange clothing?’
‘We fell foul of a witch,’ Aisla explained, ‘and find ourselves banished to this strange land. Perhaps you can tell us where we are and advise us on how to obtain a guard for the journey back.’
‘Remarkable,’ the man said, ‘and a fine tale. Give me the details, that I may amuse and astonish my fellow villagers, and in return I shall give my best advise as an elder. But who are your companions?’
‘Very well,’ Aisla replied, ‘we thank you. My companions are my Mistress, the Demoiselle Elethrine Korismund, daughter of Dakarmoth, Baron Korismund. Also the Princess Talithea Mund, third daughter of King Utharion V.’
‘Remarkable,’ he repeated. ‘I am simply Ghutanisip.’
‘That is a fine name,’ Elethrine said, surprised by the implication of the long name. ‘I apologise if we have been discourteous by not speaking, but from your dress we thought you merely a peasant. From the length of your name I understand you to be a noble of high degree.’
‘Your remarks puzzle me,’ he answered, ‘and I suspect that our customs differ somewhat. My clothing is simple and practical for the heat of the plain. As to my status, I am a village elder, no more.’
‘Your rank is perhaps similar to that of a squire,’ Elethrine continued uncertainly. ‘Whom I might speak to. Princess?’
‘I feel it best to remain aloof,’ Talithea replied.
‘As you wish,’ the man replied. ‘Yet if you have a long journey ahead of you it would seem ill advised not to converse with those you meet. Personally I will speak to any who will lend an ear.’
‘Then I would be happy for your advice,’ Elethrine replied.
‘Come close to the edge then,’ he suggested, ‘that you may observe the battle while we talk.’
‘What battle is this?’ Aisla queried.
Elethrine walked forward until she could see down onto the plain below. On it, two armies faced each other, the individual men appearing the size of ants.
‘Observe,’ the old man said, ‘to the left are the men of the great city Oretes, to the right those of Imperial Vendjome. In the distance, where the smoke rises, is the city Reites, which has changed ownership twelve times in my lifetime. At present it is held by Vendjome, and the Oreteans seek to take it. The Vendjomois have, however, sprung a cunning trap, striking here to the south in an effort to encircle the Oretean forces. Unfortunately for them they have come up against a small Oretean force intent, so I suspect, on a similar manoeuvre. This is much to my annoyance as it has meant evacuating the village until they finish their dispute.’
‘And to which realm do you owe allegiance?’ Elethrine queried.
‘Neither,’ Ghutanisip replied. ‘Both realms claim the Glissade Mountains as theirs, and both send tax gatherers. When they do we simply retreat to the mountains and throw rocks down at them. If they burn the village then it is little loss and indeed reduces the spread of pestilence.’
‘These mountains are the Glissades then?’ Elethrine asked. ‘I have never heard the name.’
‘Then you are from far indeed,’ he continued. ‘But see, when your demon appeared they were engaged in a fine disagreement, and now they prepare to restart. Presumably both have taken new auguries. Observe those in the purple cloaks, they are a detachment of the Imperial Guard of Vendjome. Unless I am mistaken, they intend to attempt to break through to the tent of the Oretean general, which is guarded by squares of dwarven mercenaries.’
‘They will not succeed,’ Aisla said, her voice showing more than a little excitement.
‘How so?’ Ghutanisip demanded.
‘Each square is a double line of pikemen with a squad of archers in the interior,’ Aisla explained. ‘They can hold against the heaviest cavalry.’
‘Remarkable knowledge for a young girl,’ Ghutanisip replied.
‘Her father is armourer and master-at-arms,’ Elethrine explained. ‘But, putting the battle aside, how would you advise us to travel north in safety?’
‘Your friend with the extraordinary hair has hinted at it,’ Ghutanisip went on. ‘Note that the Vendjomois also employ dwarven mercenaries, who, as you say, are notoriously tough. When the battle has finished, simply follow the stream down to the plain, engage a hand of mercenaries at a price higher than that the Vendjomois are paying and give them your instructions.’
‘By what route would you advise?’ Aisla asked. ‘And why is my hair extraordinary?’
> ‘What price should we offer the dwarves?’ Elethrine added.
‘Only one route is possible,’ Ghutanisip explained, ‘as I thought the whole world knew. Travel east and north to the Ephraxis River, then up it as it flows through the Eigora Khum. Beyond that I have no knowledge save that dwarves come from that direction and so should not be adverse to returning. As to your hair, once I travelled to Vendjome itself, and in the market I saw two girls with golden hair who were the marvel of all and sold for six hundred gold Imperials the pair.’
‘Sold!?’ Elethrine asked in shock.
‘Sold,’ Ghutanisip repeated. ‘They were slaves. Other tales of golden haired maidens exist in plenty, and as you may know, elves have white hair rather like that of your quiet friend. Hair the colour of the metal copper I have never heard of, and doubtless all three of you would fetch high prices in Vendjome. Should you wish to avoid slavery I strongly advise covering your heads until you have secured the protection of a dwarven guard. Once you have, then you will be safe enough. As to price, I understand that they ask one Imperial a week of the Vendjomois, which is roughly the worth of a goat. It is a high price, but should you be unable to match it, an offer of pleasure should sway the balance.’
‘Pleasure?’ Elethrine demanded.
‘Pleasure,’ Ghutanisip said. ‘If you, Aisla, have knowledge of dwarven warfare, then you will also know that they are partial to the use of the mouths of human girls, their own woman being somewhat short in the throat and sharp toothed to boot. The opportunity of mouth service from three girls of your height and appearance should weigh heavy in the scale.’
‘What! Kiss a dwarf! There!’ Talithea exclaimed. ‘Never!’
‘What of you?’ Ghutanisip asked the others with a shrug.
‘Indeed not!’ Elethrine responded. ‘Even Aisla is of too high a status for such a thing.’
‘Then why are her cheeks the colour of the setting sun?’ he asked with a smile.
‘I…,’ Aisla stammered as all three of them turned to look at her.
‘Out with it girl,’ Elethrine demanded.
‘I… I…,’ Aisla managed, blushing crimson. ‘When that troop passed through last year and they stayed in the shippen. They tricked me into coming to them by asking for more bread and then offered me some pretty stones - serpentine, jade and tiger’s eye. I er… took them.’
‘And?’ Elethrine demanded.
‘Sucked each one’s cock,’ Aisla admitted, speaking in a whisper and looking shamefaced at the ground.
‘Each one’s? There were thirty of them!’
‘Sulia the Milkmaid was there too,’ Aisla said defensively.
‘So you sucked the cocks of fifteen dwarves!’ Elethrine exclaimed. ‘Had I known you would have been in the blockyard for a week, you slut! Sulia also. Well, I hope you enjoyed the taste, because it seems likely that there will have been a further five dwarven men to satisfy before we see Korismund again! Slut!’
‘Yes Mistress,’ Aisla said quietly.
Elethrine turned away, pretending to study the battle below but thinking how Aisla must have felt as one dwarf after another presented his cock for her attention. It was a disgusting thought and must have left her looking as if she had been used by goblins, with come all over her face, in her hair, on her hands and down her front. Elethrine shivered, half-disgusted, half wondering what a dwarf’s cock looked like, or any cock for that matter.
On the plain the Vendjomois Imperial guard were moving out from between the wings of their army at a trot. Their pace increased to a canter and then a full gallop as they closed on the massed squares of dwarves. The charge looked magnificent, with their lances and armour gleaming in the sun and their purple cloaks streaming out behind them.
As Aisla had predicted, they might as well have charged the cliff and Elethrine estimated that only around half rode back the way they had come, leaving the stubborn dwarven formations hardly disturbed.
‘Gallant, but foolish,’ Talithea commented.
‘True,’ Ghutanisip agreed, ‘but if you wish to reach their camp by sundown I would advise starting off. Should some disaster occur you can always turn back, but if the Vendjomois retreated in good order you might find it hard to keep up.’
‘Indeed,’ Elethrine agreed, ‘and I thank you on behalf of all of us and of Mund, wishing only that we could reward you in some way. Perhaps you would accept this ring?’
‘Keep your trinket,’ Ghutanisip replied, ‘but remember your half of the bargain. You must tell me how you came to fall foul of the witch, and while you are about it - as you are so ready to order Aisla to provide intimate service to dwarves -perhaps she, or yourself, would care to oblige me?’
‘I…,’ Elethrine began, horrified by the suggestion and the casual way he had proposed it but filled with the urge to see what his cock looked like. She was, after all, a long way from home and nobody need know, while it could be argued that honour demanded acceding to his request by way of payment.
‘Very well,’ she said instead. ‘Aisla, perform your duty as you have already disgraced yourself by far worse actions.’
Aisla grimaced but made no protest and a glance at Talithea showed that she seemed to rather like the idea of making Aisla suck the man’s cock. He was grinning and was already pulling up his robe, revealing skinny legs and then his penis and a round, wrinkled scrotum. Elethrine swallowed at the sight, feeling a little scared even though it was no threat to her. Dark brown and smaller than the goblin’s, Ghutanisip’s cock had already began to swell, moving sluggishly as Aisla got to her knees in front of him.
Elethrine watched in mingled disgust and fascination as her maid reached out and touched the old man’s penis, then took it between fingers and thumb and began to pull at it. She leant forward, seemed to hesitate, then opened her mouth wide and quickly gulped it in. As she began to suck his expression changed from lechery to pleasure, and his weather-beaten old face was fixed on the sight of his cock going in and out of the beautiful girl’s mouth. His cock was soon rock hard, protruding from her mouth as she tickled the underside of his balls. Her position left her bottom high, filling Elethrine with the urge to beat her while she sucked as a punishment for her wantonness.
Occasionally she would pull back to lick at the tip of his erection, showing what Elethrine considered suspicious expertise. When she did this Elethrine got her first look at an erect penis, finding it both irresistible and terrifying. A long brown shaft supported a bulbous head of glossy, red-brown flesh with a ring of almost black meat below it. It looked both powerful and obscene, a very suitable thing for poking into girls’ secret places. The very knowledge that it was designed to go inside her tuppenny made her shiver, yet she knew that it was what she badly needed.
As his excitement increased he took Aisla by the hair and circled the base of his erection with his fingers. She made no move to stop him as he began to masturbate into her mouth, but put a hand to her bodice and began to stroke at her breasts through the material. Aisla’s eyes were shut, either in shame or pleasure as she kneaded her breasts and Elethrine found herself feeling increasingly uncomfortable. There was a strong urge to get down beside Aisla and share the stiff little cock, but it was an urge she knew she had to resist, especially in front of Talithea.
Nevertheless it was hard, and she was almost at the point of forgetting herself when his cock suddenly jerked and Aisla gasped and sucked her cheeks in. Then something white was dribbling from around the sides of the maid’s mouth and Elethrine knew that he had come inside it. A strong shiver passed right through her as her maid pulled back and then obligingly licked the remaining come from the old man’s cock, sat back and gulped, quite clearly swallowing her mouthful.
‘Disgusting slut!’ Talithea remarked but Elethrine caught the catch in her voice.
Ghutanisip listened to a somewhat abridged version of their story from Elethrine, occasionally raising his eyebrows or making an appropriate remark. In the end he thanked them, suggested that
witches were better left alone and added the comment that nobody would believe him.
They thanked him and left, Elethrine feeling more than a little disturbed as they followed the stream. As Ghutanisip had said it would, it followed a long gully that came out at the cliff bottom a good league to the east of the Vendjomois camp. From the top of the gully the descent looked dangerous, a jagged path among crumbling pinnacles and great boulders that appeared to be in defiance of gravity. With little choice in the matter they started down, Elethrine finding that the path, while difficult, was no worse than the mountain tracks along the Spine.
‘How much wealth do we command?’ she asked as they came out onto a broad ledge above the stream.
‘I carry no coin whatever,’ Talithea replied, ‘as it suitable to my rank. Still I have seven rings, four of them with fine stones. Moreover, we can give bond of payment on reaching Thieron.’
‘In my experience dwarves prefer hard coin,’ Elethrine answered. ‘Yet I also have rings and perhaps together we will have enough. A gold Imperial must be small if one buys only a single goat. Aisla, what is the price of a goat at home?’
‘Perhaps a one twelfth Thalar piece,’ Aisla replied uncertainly.
‘My dark-emerald ring alone cost eighty Thalars,’ Talithea put in.
‘Which,’ Elethrine replied, calculating quickly, ‘would be nine-hundred and sixty goats, and thus sufficient to pay a hand of dwarves for one hundred and ninety-two weeks, or three years, thirty-eight weeks and four days, surely enough to travel a distance far greater than three days by demon. We need perhaps twelve weeks, so my band of red-gold should suffice for their payment. Excellent, we need not fear for our virtue; not even yours Aisla, though you may be sure that I intend to punish you severely for your disgusting behaviour.’
‘Yes Mistress,’ Aisla replied nervously.
‘Perhaps you should do it now?’ Talithea suggested.
‘You are right,’ Elethrine agreed, realising that nothing would soothe her inner feelings of nervousness and anger more than taking it out on the unfortunate maid’s bottom. ‘Aisla, get over that rock and stick your bottom out. I shall spank you with my slipper.’
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