by Pam Uphoff
She smiled demurely. "Certainly." She set down her wine glass, and held out a hand to allow him to assist her from the bench around the "square," otherwise known as the field in front of the grange barn. The butcher had his pipes, and one of the farmers had drums. Several of the soldiers had produced musical instruments of one sort or another, and the village didn't lack for voices. They produced something fairly close to a dance tune.
Byson slipped an arm around her as they swooped into the first measure of the dance, and then held her quite inappropriately tightly as they turned. She could feel his manhood against her, even through the stiff fabric of her best overgown. He stepped back to a proper distance and twirled her; stopping with her back in front of him, he rubbed against her buttocks, then stepped away again for the next movement. As she turned toward the wall of the barn, a hand squeezed her breast out of sight of the small crowd, and slipped away. And so the dance continued, touching and leaving. He was nearly glowing with the need to touch her, and touch he did, at every opportunity.
When the music ended, she smiled brightly. "Thank you, my Lord," and slipped away to collect her courage. She could feel the glow of his wanting, even as she walked away. What should she do now, how to proceed? She thought about the hot springs, but they were so far . . . Harry and Curious were talking about something with one of the farmers on the front porch of the tavern and she stayed back out of hearing range. She could feel the man coming, and waited until he'd seen her before she slipped around the corner, and headed down the alley toward the meadow.
He caught up with her as she passed the stable.
"Leaving so early?" His voice was a hungry purr.
"Just taking a bit of air." She shrugged and started to turn away.
He caught her shoulder and pushed her up against the wall. Pushing his manhood against her and rubbing. Her breath caught in a gasp. "You know you want me. Come to bed with me."
As soon as his weight was off her, she ran.
He hadn't anticipated her fast reaction, nor did he realize how well she could see by the fat crescent of moon in the sky. He tripped and gave her a head-start up the path. That was all she needed. She kept track of him by his cursing, and occasionally stamped on brittle grass or called back a taunt when she was afraid he might be losing the trail. For a moment she worried that he'd fallen afoul of the goats. She slowed, at the mouth of the ravine. "I'll lose you in the forest! You might as well give up now."
He cursed and followed her in.
She ran up the winding trail and out onto the stone of the hot springs clearing. She kicked off her shoes and felt the earth power swelling up through the warm rock. Yes! This was the best place for this.
"Ah, the hot springs." His voice sounded a bit hoarse.
She couldn't see him in the dark, then he stepped out into the moonlight, naked. He stared at his hands, turning them over as if they were strange to him, then looked back at her.
She turned and backed away from him, stepping over the rill between the two hottest pools. He followed, backing her up against the cliff, between two of the springs.
"You won't get away, this time."
Umm, all this and clichés, too.
He clamped both hands around her waist and leaned in to kiss her. He took his time about it, and she leaned on the rock absorbing energy from the earth and feeling the essence of male power rising in the man. He was taller than she'd thought, and broader, all hard muscle and strong bone. This should be fun. The only question was, start on dry ground or in the hot springs?
An hour later, he was dead.
Shocked, she dragged him out of the steaming water and sent a jolt of power into him, her hands on his chest, willing him to breathe. He gasped, and then coughed, a wet choking sound. She rolled him over, half on his face and he coughed and gaped, spewing water. He flopped limply onto his back, wheezing.
Shivering in the realization of what she'd done, almost done, she whispered, “I guess the hot springs were a bad idea." She listened to him breathing for long enough to be sure he was going to continue to do so, then backed away and left him there. She staggered off, clothes clutched in her hands, to meditate in solitude.
She knew now why a witch should never take a husband. Sooner or later, she would kill him. Just. . . playing.
***
Bail was nursing a mild hangover with a lunch of hot tea and dry biscuits on the front porch of the tavern when Byson staggered in. His clothing looked barely rumpled, but his eyes were glassy and he felt for the ground as if his balance was off.
"Still drunk, Lieutenant?"
The lieutenant stared at him, like he was having trouble understanding what he'd heard.
"What on earth were you drinking? And why didn't you save some for me?" He'd seen the Lieutenant in the first dance with that blonde, and couldn't remember seeing him again.
"Umn, I'm umm." He stood there, swaying. "Umm, couldn't catch . . ." He blinked uncertainly at a bottle of white wine in his hand. "There was a goat, and then these two other witches . . . "
Bail shook his head and jerked a thumb at the door. "Go to bed, Lieutenant. We can talk tomorrow."
Byson leaned to the right, then shifted his feet enough to not fall over, and staggered through the door.
Lefty oozed out a few moments later, squinting painfully. "Does he think he got the witch, last night? I figure it was the other way around." His brows pinched together a bit.
"'spec' so." Sergeant Gruff followed him out. "What a night!"
Bail swallowed the rest of his tea. "I doubt we'll see him again today. Why don't you find us a nice camp halfway from here to there, and we'll move the men out after a good solid noon meal. I'll stay with the officers and we'll catch up with you tomorrow."
The sergeant saluted and jerked his head at Lefty.
The Veronian sloped off.
"That's cruel to a man with a hangover. I didn't think he ever got drunk." Bail rubbed his own temples, but the headache was subsiding fast.
Gruff shook his head. “I 'spect he came close last night. All those women! He grabbed a bottle of wine and disappeared. Sorry sod. King Haro should of killed every single Auralian that ever lived."
"I think Haro thought himself lucky to have kicked them out of Farofo province. At least now they raid in the east, and avoid the west."
Gruff spat, then opined that he should check the state of the men. “The farmers and their wives came into the village last night, and the butcher and miller and their wives came and it turned into quite a party. Things got a bit wild," and stomped off toward the tithe barn.
"Before or after you left?" Bail called after him.
Snort. "Before. The men wouldn't dare have an orgy without me."
"What? With the husbands all there? Old gods, I hope you're exaggerating."
Gruff rubbed at a small cut on his wrist. "Almost wish I'd been a bit less drunk and could remember a bit more. I remember coming up here lookin' for you." Gruff wasn't meeting his eyes. "Just as well we get everyone out of town."
Bail waved dismissal, wondering how badly relations with the village were going to be, once everyone sobered up. Maybe he should have sent Lefty the other direction, to warn the engineering troops that they might not be welcome. Well, he could send him tomorrow. Plenty of time.
He smiled appreciatively as one of the women came out with a fresh hot pot of tea, and took the empty away. He glanced after her quickly. Wait. What had he done last night? With whom? That woman was so elegant and detached, surely he hadn't? And then he'd done it again, hadn't he? How much had he drunk?
He had poorly sorted memories of the general's staff staggering off with various . . . And the general himself with the one named Idea? He poured a cup with shaky hands and wondered what would happen if the missing husbands ever showed up.
***
Answer frowned down at Lady Gisele. Or tried to. The old herb wife seemed to be having trouble keeping her appearance steady. At times she looked like a mature but be
autiful woman, strong and powerful, and then there was the maiden, who was sexually devastating. Even an old witch could feel a tinge of lust rising at the sight of her.
"What did you put in that wine, Gisele?"
"Oh, deary me." The old woman snickered. "I knew you lot would wake up to your reproductive duties sooner or later, but it was getting a bit late, so I thought a touch of the sweet potato would be in order." The wrinkled countenance and hunched back of her usual appearance firmed up, and she leaned closer to wink. "Aids fertility, you see."
"Lady Gisele! There was a great deal more than a sweet-potato spell in that wine! We were all running about like wantons!" Delight leaned forward, blushing. "I'm forty-eight years old, I'm skipping moon times. I suspect the change will come within the year. I can't get pregnant."
The old lady cackled; the image slipped a bit and something that might have been a fertility goddess a few centuries ago flickered and then compressed back into an old crone. "Never know till you try, eh?"
"I don't think the aphrodisiac was a wise idea." Blissful made the understatement of the century.
The old lady cackled again. "Don't blame me, blame that special wine of the Auld Wulf's. You know how those men are, always wanting it. They'll do practically anything for a bit of sex, and gods are even worse, even if he really isn't one, any more."
"The Auld Wulf?" The witches looked horrified.
Delight clapped her hands to her face in wide-eyed horror. "Was that who we dragged into the house? I thought maybe the Sheep Man, but he didn't smell bad enough." Several other witches shifted guiltily.
Justice, who had been sitting in the back, sighed loudly.
"Oh, you didn't! Not again! You know witches and wizards shouldn't mate, you know that."
"Yes, Mother."
"And I didn't see you for days! Surely you weren't . . . "
"Yes, Mother."
The old crone cackled again. “Guess I should have put a bit more forget-me in the ageing barrel."
"Don't you mean forget-me-not?"
She snorted. "Certainly not!" and stumped her way out.
"Well, Sisters," Answer firmed up her voice. "It seems that we are going to have a very interesting year. We'd better think about laying in extra supplies this summer. We'll assume for now that we'll have, umm, six babies next winter."
"Answer," Happy wailed. "That was Gisele's fertility potion."
"Hmm, yes, well, perhaps nine babies." She frowned forbiddingly. "The Sisters of the New Moon didn't get any of that wine, did they?"
"No, with all those soldiers in town I sent them off south to scout for the rest of the engineering brigade. Good practice for them, and a little distance never hurt anything. Harry sent his boys as well, and some of the mage children went." Glorious nodded decisively. “And I'll tell Harry that when the soldiers come, to serve only wine he's had safe and sound in his cellar for at least a year." She hesitated, eyeing the Sisters. "Did anyone, umm, Harry?"
Curious waved her hand. "Really. I'm sure I'm too old for even Gisele to aid."
Blissful snorted. "I'm definitely too old." Everyone stared. The old woman pulled herself up straight. "I may be a hundred and seven, but I still know what a man is good for."
Furious leaned over to Glorious and whispered. “I had three of the officers."
Glorious smirked. "I had four and most of their curbs as well."
"Old gods." Answer grimaced as she realized what she had been about to say. "Don't help us. Please."
Chapter Five
Spring 1352
Village of Ash
Oscar hid a grin. “So they sent you off when it started getting interesting?"
Fava nodded. "A little cut, a sip of water, and they told us to go home. 'Maybe next time' they said. We're sixteen! It was time!" She reached into the bag she'd brought, and pulled out a bottle of wine. "So I nabbed this. I figured we could have our own party."
"And I brought food." Juli held up her bag. "So we can stay out all night."
Oscar's grin burst through. “Hey, I'll grab some blankets or something to sit on, be right back." Calm down, fellow. Fava isn't actually going to go all the way, or anything, but I'll bet she kisses me and maybe I can grab a tit or maybe even some ass. He trotted up the stairs and took two blankets out of the cedar chest, and on his way through the kitchen paused guiltily at the slate board, and quickly scribbled "star watching with Bran—O" before slipping back out.
Bran was just getting back too. He had a small bag. “Herbs to keep the mosquitoes away."
"Good idea!"
Fava grabbed his arm and practically dragged him down the alley. “If we can get up to the double lump we can salute the sunset with some wine."
Since a proper salute also involved a kiss, Oscar hurried.
The sheep herd was moving off, not too far away, but to Oscar's relief, they hadn't been all the way up the hill. No fresh, umm, fertilizer to worry about. The black goats that protected the sheep gathered together and looked them over as if planning something diabolical.
Nasty smelly creatures, he hoped they stayed away; shooing them seemed an iffy prospect. The biggest one must weigh in at five hundred pounds.
"We made it!" Fava spread her arms out to the sun, halfway behind the horizon. "Quick, open the wine!"
Fortunately she had brought a corkscrew, so Oscar had it open quickly and easily, being, after all, the foster son of a tavern owner.
Juli produced glasses and they saluted the Sun and drank. Fava turned and rose up on her tiptoes and kissed him.
When he got his breath back the first thing he said was. “Let's do that again."
"Properly!" Juli called. She hugged Bran, and started untying laces, dancing in circles
Oscar gulped. "Naked?" His voice squeaked a bit.
"That's how it's supposed to be done, silly." Fava was stripping too, wiggling her hips as the dress slid off. She wasn't wearing anything underneath. "Hurry! The sun's almost down!"
Oscar and Bran swapped half-panicked looks, and they both drained their glasses. Bran ripped his shirt off and started pushing his pants down.
Oscar sat down and tugged at his boot. Tossed it aside. The other one was really and truly stuck, and Fava laughed and bent over to tug at it. Her breasts hung down and swayed and jiggled as she pulled. He was sitting there mesmerized when the black shape in the deepening twilight turned into the biggest blackest goat he'd ever seen.
With the biggest, reddest pizzle he'd ever seen.
Oscar had a thumping bad headache when the dawn light woke him. He had . . . last night? Old gods! Those horrible goats, it had to have been a nightmare. It couldn't have . . . And then they'd . . . He'd . . . Old gods! Had he really . . . with Fava and Juli? He blinked and looked around. He and Fava and Juli and Bran were all together and intertwined in the blankets, smelling rather strongly of herbs. Bran stirred too, and they stared at each other in disbelief.
"It didn't happen," Oscar said firmly.
"And there were no goats." Bran nodded sharply.
"Absolutely not." Fava sat up and paled, grabbing at the blanket to cover herself.
"If we hear a single, solitary rumor about us and those obscene goats, you two will die." Juli glared through tears and started looking for her clothes.
***
Dydit was halfway over the Great Divide before it slowly registered somewhere deep in his goaty brain that while he'd broken the master control spell, as long as he was trapped inside the "goat" spell he wasn't exactly free. Once he'd recovered from his insane dalliance at the hot springs, he'd headed straight into the mountains, with no thought but that he could finally escape his master.
Some years ago—goat brains weren't good at keeping track of time—he'd been an up-and-coming young wizard. He'd been ten when he'd started his apprenticeship under Maleth, one of the strongest wizards in the World. Also, he'd come to realize, much too late, one of the vilest people in the World.
He'd been twenty-two when his ma
ster led the rebellion against the Tyrant King. As an apprentice, assisting his master—generally being a mobile power repository—he'd been sucked deep into the secrets of the cabal, and paid for it by living under these spells for however long it had been.
But the blast of power from deflowering a virgin had snapped the control spell. He was free and Maleth was still trapped and controlled, so he should run away, as fast and as far as he could. It made sense to a goat, and so he got up and started climbing the next mountain. After awhile he got an uneasy sense that he'd forgotten something. Lost something, needed to go over . . . wait. How long had he been going the wrong direction? He was going back to the valley. He didn't want to do that. Never would kill him permanently. Maleth was there. He had absolutely no desire to return to the Valley.
"Oh, yes, you do."
Dydit looked up and cowered under the glare of his master. Maleth had regained his human form and freed himself. Where'd he found two virgins to deflower? Dydit suddenly lowered his head and charged. He passed completely through Maleth without the slightest resistance. Deep in his goaty brain he realized that he'd just made a serious mistake.
Maleth made a squeezing movement and pain cramped Dydit's chest. His heartbeat faltered, quivered under the tight grasp.
"You will go back and be my eyes and ears." Dydit shuddered and cringed and crawled to lick his Master's insubstantial feet. Maleth released his grip and Dydit sucked in a deep breath. "Go."
Dydit got as fast as a goat could, which in this terrain was faster than nearly any other beast.
***
"Well, it looks like you have the upper pass well in hand."
"Thank you, sir. It's going to be a damned high pass, though. The shearing along that fault line opened up a hell of a big canyon between Mount Frost and Mount Kintuk. I'd really like to see more than a single thaw, to judge how long the road will be closed through the canyon in winter, and how high the rivers are going to run in the spring." Bail was glad the general had been inspecting the situation to the east for the last two days. He felt much better now. In fact, he felt great.