To Claim the Elvin Princess: Apprentice

by Jack Bessie

  If we are so worthless, why have the Elvin not put an end to us? Do they fear to, for some reason we can’t see, or...” she paused, a new thought terrible and chilling coming to her suddenly. Are we kept alive, just so they might have someone to practice with, to keep their skills honed and sharp?! This seemed more reasonable, but did nothing to sooth her heart. The idea that something more profound might be at work, was unthinkable to Shocara, who saw the world in simpler terms; a tapestry of passions, hates and desires.

  The Elvin have never killed our women and children, usually don’t even burn our villages! Is this the reason...they want to keep us alive, raising more warriors which they might test themselves against, and thus be better able to fight others? The traveling ones told stories of the Elvin going off to fight on other worlds, opposing those they deemed evil. Always the Eridians had considered such tales self serving lies, spawned by the Elvin to make themselves look heroic. What if such were true?! The idea that the Elvin might be far beyond anything their people had ever imagined suddenly made her insides feel weak.

  We are ignorant and uninformed! Perhaps the Elvin treat us as fools because we act like such?! Shocara stood, and began pacing. I would know the truth! We can never hope to win against an enemy we don’t understand and poorly know. We must discover the truth, and improve our understanding!

  She stopped, looking out over the valley, and at the high mountains ringing it.

  Our ignorance keeps us imprisoned, like the mountains ringing our home. We understand little of the larger world, where the Elvin rule. Somehow we must learn more, be less unwise...if we have no hope of ever defeating the Elvin, we would be fools to keep fighting, year after year. Perhaps the Elvin would not be so terrible, if they were friends instead of enemies? Humans are said to live among them, free and prosperous as are ones called the half-Elvin. Might we be so?

  Shocara stood, overwhelmed by this thought, the weight of leading her people suddenly seeming overly burdensome. My people would rend me into pieces, should I suggest such a thing! she thought bitterly, suddenly shivering from a the chill breeze. I am perhaps condemned to lead them only where they wish to go...and that may well be to our utter doom! she thought, wiping at her eyes.

  Such foolish thoughts! she chastised herself. I will send spies to the Elvin lands, and send our flyers aloft, to spy on the Elvin, since they seem so eager to spy on us! I have no desire to be remembered by the storytellers as the one who surrendered to the accursed Elvin!

  21

  Rasten was mostly unprepared for his introduction to riding upon an alowon. Having seen them from afar had not prepared him in the least, both as to their size, and perhaps worse, for their smell.

  “Dear God, what’s that stench?!” he grumbled, as he got close. Amein found this quite funny, being used to the strong smell since childhood.

  “Don’t be mean, you’ll hurt its feelings!” she teased. Rasten looked at her, astounded. “They have feelings? Really?!” He was less than pleased when Amein and several of the other close riders exploded into peels of laughter.

  This was just the beginning of his annoyance. He found climbing the short, flexible ladder that hung down, to be awkward and difficult. It could be pulled up and secured, to prevent someone on the ground from using it to their advantage. Amein demonstrated it, climbing it effortlessly, having done so since childhood. Rasten displayed no such ease, finally reaching the top, and almost falling over the other side. When he managed to get settled, he had trouble with the lap belt, which was a vital part of the riding equipment; the alowons ran with a brutal gate, but at speed, they basically bounded enormous distances. An unsecured rider was in for a brief flight and a brutal landing on hard ground, likely to be trampled by his fellows. The saddle was set on flexible dampers, to make the ride less bone jarring, but the riders all wore wide and tight belts to keep their insides from being pounded miserably.

  Rasten soon discovered that handling such a beast was much unlike riding a horse. For one thing, an alowon at rest preferred to stay immobile; moving a body that weighed more than three elephants on earth did was no small task. They required being prodded, but not too excessively, as he quickly discovered, when he pulled on the reigns, and kicked at the creature’s side. His first tentative kick did nothing, and the next, a bit harder from his frustration, caused the animal to leap straight up, before landing and taking off, bounding madly! Rasten was spared hearing the other’s laughter, as his snorting charge was making too much noise. That coupled with Rasten’s near scream, blocked out all sound.

  They were in a large open area, wherein maneuvers were conducted. This gave him much room to navigate, and he managed to get the animal to turn, making a long, slow u-turn. When he had it going straight again, he looked up to find himself heading straight at the watching riders. Seeing their frantic gestures, he tried to stop or turn, but his mount apparently wasn’t in the mood to obey him. The assembled riders hastily fled, desperate to get clear of his path, and before he could do anything else, his alowon plunged into the large pond that was directly ahead.

  Terrified that his mount would sink beneath the water, and take him with it, he struggled to release the lap belt, but was unable to. His frantic animal kept bounding, the water actually being barely Rasten’s height in depth. They quickly traversed the pond, emerging back onto dry land, in time for him to try turning again.

  Stay calm, and be gentle and slow...they respond to your panic” he remembered Amein’s words, and resisting the urge to jerk hard on the reins, he cautiously moved his hands slowly, in the manner he had been told would stop the creature. His alowon slowly lost speed, and as he gently moved the reins, it circled around, and allowed him to reach the reassembled group and stop. He was a mess of splattered mud, but was intact. He was also angry, embarrassed and ready to quit. Amein recognized his state, and deftly maneuvered her hulking mount as close as possible.

  “If you didn’t pee yourself, you did better than most do the first time!” she assured him. She was thankful that he couldn’t get his hands on her. “You can spank me later!” she teased, knowing he was thinking of such. “Come on, move slow, and follow us!” she called, easing her alowon into motion. Rasten merely shook his head, when even trying to be gentle caused a jerking start, as his beast lurched into a slow jog.

  Three hours or so on the alowon did much to make his butt ache, but only slightly improved his skill. He did manage to keep it from running off wildly, as it had at first, and he was reasonably pleased by that alone. He found matching his speed to others to be maddeningly difficult, either creeping ahead, or falling behind, only to spurt ahead when he tried to correct. That the others, including a half dozen Elvin females, could stay perfectly aligned, side by side, made him feel worse than a beginner.

  When he climbed down, he discovered the true extent of what a pain in the ass riding such a beast was; he could scarcely stand.

  “Makes your rear hurt, doesn’t it?” one of the Elvin females asked, while making eyes at him.

  “Sure does...want to come rub it, and make it feel better?” he said a bit snidely.

  “Of course...I would be thrilled to do so!” she gushed, before Amein stepped close.

  “He’ll be too busy with me,” she suggested, trying not to sound snotty or mean, but barely succeeding. “I’m likely to get spanked, for teasing him!”

  “Oh, I’d let him spank me too!” the other one suggested, before giving a small guilty wave, and hastily leaving.

  “Did you give her the death stare?” Rasten wondered.

  “She’s quite sensitive, and I didn’t need to go that far!” Amein snipped, before grinning at Rasten. She stepped close for a kiss, and grinned. “Don’t be angry...you have to learn! I told you it would be hard! I also told you how many times I wet myself learning to do this! At least you have dry pants!”

  “Sweaty...God, that leather seems so soft, but not after this long!”

  “Wait until you have to ride all day and all ni
ght! You’ll want to sleep standing up!”

  “You’ve done that?”

  “Of course, and then fought several hours with no rest or sleep. Come, let’s get our creatures put away! Then we can go have a bath...you stink!” she insisted.

  “You smell like alowon too!” he grumbled.

  “But I don’t smell like stinky armpits!” she insisted, sticking her nose in the air. Rasten simply shook his head, and tugged on the huge creature’s reins.

  “Tell me again why someone thought those mobile mountains would be good to ride! You’ve got horses...they’d be a lot more agile!” Rasten declared soaking in the bathing pool. He was trying to ignore Amein’s hand, which was fondling his organ.

  “But they’re better to use against foot soldiers! A swordsman would be lucky to hit your foot, even if he managed to avoid being trampled. Riding a mass of the alowons into an attacking group is a most effective weapon! Especially when followed close by warriors on horse back and afoot. The humans like the Eridians understand that too, and use them the same. Once you learn how to ride well, you can master using a bow from the back of one. That’s most effective!”

  “I’m surprised you don’t use long pikes or lances!” he complained.

  “Occasionally we do, but that is hard and dangerous; Hard to hit a passing rider, and if you spear a foot soldier, you can either hurt yourself...when it gets stuck...or chance losing it. The biggest danger you’ll face is a footman with a long lance, or a bowman...neither feels good, when you’re shot or impaled!” Seeing his expression, she grinned. “Try not to pee in the pool,” she sighed.

  Amein, watching his expression, as he lounged in the countoured, smooth stone, with his eyes closed, letting the warm water flow over him, noted the furrowing of his brows.

  “What disturbs you?” she quietly asked.

  “How is it that you have fantastic things like the gates, and your lighting, all manner of devices...whether machine or what you call sorcery, yet you fight with swords and bows. Has no one invented more modern weapons?” He opened his eyes to peek, and saw Amein sitting, seemingly frozen. “Yes?” he prodded. She stopped fiddling with his maleness, and looked at him, sternly.

  “We have at times created fearsome devices, which could visit death or destruction on others. They are locked away, never to be used,” she declared. “Remember what I told you about the Narisinia? We have many such weapons, which are astoundingly evil and powerful!”

  “Really?!”

  “Yes, really! Millions of years ago, the Elvin considered deeply such things. The decision was made to resist the temptation to take the easy path, and they chose to continue on using weapons that required great skill. When one of us falls on the field of battle, it is because they were bested by a better, more skilled opponent. No one dies by accident either!” Rasten found this amazing, in light of the history of earth.

  “My old world would have been greatly improved by such. Now, they have weapons that would allow a coward to exterminate whole cities from the other side of the planet!”

  Amein frowned at this. “So there is no honor or skill in war there? What fools!” she declared. Seeing Rasten’s expression, she shrugged.

  “I’m sorry...I don’t wish to condemn your whole birth world, but indiscriminate killing is stupid!”

  “So no one has ever died accidently in war here?” This made Amein look frustrated.

  “The barbarians...the Eridians, have sometimes sacked and burned each others towns. Usually they just carry off the women and children, to keep them...fertile females are valuable, and children may be well trained, to serve too! The men who don’t die in the fighting, or flee, end up being prisoners, and become part of the victorious tribe. Even with their casual regard for life, they tend to conserve it more. That’s part of why we respect them, and put up with them!”

  “Have the Elvin ever killed any of their prisoners?” Rasten demanded. Amein looked unhappy.

  “We have had our own moments of failure...when we took the easy path, or gave in to our anger and pain...yes. We have always come to regret such rashness, and those moments of weakness temper our more recent decisions. We reject the idea, that vengeance is a worthy reason for killing people.”

  “How exactly did our father die?”

  “He fell while fighting against Karturic, the leader of the Eridians. It was a new and evil sorcery, that made him unable to defend himself fully, giving the advantage to Karturic’s blade. Why?”

  “I can’t help but think you’d wish to put the steel to him!”

  “Hardly...he is old and crippled, having been broken in a fall from a terranak. He hangs on, seeking to devise ever more wicked potions and spells. Shocara is his daughter,” she sighed.

  “Really? And you’d declare no hate for her either? You’re either a saint or crazy!”

  “I prefer to think I’m striving to be wise and moral! I’d want more than anything to have her be a friend...I’m serious!” she squealed, when Rasten goosed her without warning.

  “Stop that!” she squawked, laughing.

  “Have you ever seen her?”

  “Actually a couple of times, on the battle field. She has little fear, and is very skilled. We hear that none of her warriors can stand against her blade. She is also an adept at sorcery, and uses spells in battle. You’d better hope you don’t meet up with her for a long time!”

  “Is she attractive?”

  “Stunningly so. You’d like her...if you wouldn’t mind being with a girl that smells much like an alowon, and would likely hack your guts out, just for play...” she suggested, and giggled at Rasten’s harsh frown.

  22

  Rasten regretted having watched so many movies in his youth, all the ones depicting sword fighters especially having made the art seem easier and less demanding than it was. He quickly discovered that fending off the attack of even a moderately skilled elf was difficult, leaving him drenched in sweat by the end of his lesson. The first two weeks had been complete torture, his wrist so sore that he had trouble unfastening his trousers to pee. He learned quickly that complaining was not going to be rewarded; in fact it was regarded as justification to hammer him even harder.

  He had been disarmed a dozen times by Elvin youth, a cute thirteen year old elf girl handily beating him a dozen times in a single afternoon. Worse, her naughty smirk and smug delight had made him feel even more helpless. When they had finished. he had collapsed onto a bench, to catch his breath, and was shocked to have this one plop her bottom onto his lap.

  Her expression was one of utter delight, charmingly cute and clearly awed to be so close. Rasten noted that her nipples were hard, under her snug top, she like most of the Elvin females aroused by hard exercise and swordplay in particular.

  “I am so pleased to be able to work with you! Perhaps next year when I am old enough to be with someone, you might instruct me in the arts of sexual play? I promise I will be a devoted student!” she insisted, before giving him a small kiss, and hopping up to run off. Master Roein, who had witnessed this, slipped close and sat, amused by Rasten’s shocked expression.

  “Apparently even the ones too young are captivated by you? She made a plea for your attention later, when she is of age, didn’t she?”

  Rasten merely nodded. “How does anyone keep track of which ones are proper to have and which are too young?” he wondered, knowing he could not tell a thirteen year old from a fourteen year old one.

  “All you need do is ask! None will lie and claim to be older than they are. Most wait properly, as their family will hold a special celebration for them, when they turn fourteen, and pronounce them free to begin learning. You would not be punished for having one such as Cleinia early, but with so many of proper age and utterly willing, no one does! You, being regarded as very special, will be invited to be the first to have a hundred or more eager young virgins each year. They will beg and plead, driving you crazy with their urges, and wanting to be able to brag that Lord Rasten was the first
to have them!”

  “Great...that’s all I need!” Rasten sighed.

  “You need more practice with a sword of steel, not your other one!” the Master teased, before pronouncing him far enough instructed to practice in the evenings against the warriors in the clan home, there being a superb practice facility therein. “Being beaten well and frequently will be good for you!” she added, which only made him sigh mournfully.

  It was a week later that Rasten again fell pray to the Master’s deep and convoluted training. He had been working against her, the practice floor filled with portable obstacles, that might be used both for offense or defense, depending on the skill and ingenuity of the fighter. He had to watch now behind himself, so as not to trip or have his sword caught by an inanimate object, leaving him open to a precise counterstrike. He had suffered this a few times before the Master got more dogged in her attack, and when he almost failed to avoid it again, Roein grinned wickedly.

  Rasten thought she might give him a break, as she turned slightly away. Instead, she spun back, her black leather boot a blur, as she connected with his unprotected head hard enough to knock him to his knees. Rasten shook his head, slashing at Roein’s sword, which seemed intended to take his head off, and realizing that she intended to continue punishing him, he staggered to his feet all his concentration fixed on meeting her blade.

  Rasten didn’t see that behind himself several of the older students were busy, pouring some sort of clear liquid on a few of the practice devices. He got his first hint that he was no where near done, when one barely two feet from his side burst into flame, as he had been being forced closer to it by the Master’s attack. Without conscious thought, Rasten lunged at the Master, and dropped to the ground, rolling under her sword strike. He leaped to his feet and turned to keep from being skewered by her redirected return stroke, and the fight moved on again.