Friya slowed down and stopped riding me for a few moments, doing her best to catch her breath while losing herself in the ecstasy of the orgasm. When it had passed, she started again, riding me with even more furious ferocity, bouncing so hard up and down on my cock that I was scared she might hurt herself.
Another gushing orgasm tore through her, and when she threw her head back and screamed, another surge of power flowed into me.
This happened two more times, but by then, I couldn’t hold back any longer.
My whole body started to tremble as the pressure of my orgasm built to a crescendo.
“The seed of a god!” she cried.
I was about to hop off her, but she clamped her hands over my ass and forced me even deeper. My vision peppered, and my whole body spasmed as my cock exploded. At the same time, her sex pulsed and trembled as my seed filled her.
With delicate hands, she removed my cock and licked it clean.
“Thank you,” she gasped, flushed all over, glistening with sweat and breathing hard. “Thank you Vance, God of Death, thank you. I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long. Now, finally, I have tasted the seed of a living god.”
“I hope you northerners have silphium or some other plant. We can’t have little death gods running around.”
She smiled at me knowingly. “We do.”
“I don’t know what you gave me every time you came,” I said, “but damn, I sure as hell wouldn’t mind doing this ceremony again.”
She laughed and lay down next to me, inviting me to drape my arm over her body. Finally, I was allowed to touch her. She kissed my chest, then my neck, before we kissed deeply.
“We don’t have to do the ceremony again,” she whispered into my ear. “Next time, we can just fuck. Any way you want to…”
The way she talked, the way she tasted, and the way she felt had me ready for another round within seconds of her suggestion.
“Well then,” I said, reaching down and sliding two fingers into her wetness, “what are we waiting for?”
Chapter Twelve
After Friya and I finished our third ceremony, I figured I’d best get back to the others. We got dressed, and Friya took the froststone with her when we left her cabin so that she and the blacksmith could imbue my armor with Cold magic. She said that for maximum effectiveness, the imbuing would need to be done under the light of a full moon, at the stroke of midnight. Fortunately for me, tonight happened to be a full moon.
As Friya and I headed to the longhouse, Hothgrum’s Great Hall, she told me of her people’s various customs and a bit of their history. The Northern Barbarians, particularly of her tribe, were a lot more complex and interesting of a people than I’d previously imagined.
While they had worshiped many gods in the past, the primary god of the people of Hothgrum had always been the God of Ice. However, with the coming of the Lord of Light and the purge that resulted in the deaths or disappearances of so many of the Old Gods, the God of Ice had been one of the many who had simply disappeared. A few of his relics—such as this froststone—still existed, and still held power, but Friya, and a good few generations of Wise Women before her, had long since given up any hopes that the God of Ice might one day return.
In addition to the general sense that some evil had been growing with alarming speed in this part of the world, Friya had a rather specific theory about this evil, but she wanted to ask Isu about it before she said more.
I’d warned her about how thorny Isu could be, given Friya’s beauty and Isu’s jealousy, but the Wise Woman insisted. After all, weren’t we all fighting for the same cause? she reasoned. Surely we wouldn’t let petty jealousy and individual rivalries get in the way of the greater good?
In response to this, I had simply chuckled and shook my head.
“You don’t know very much about the former Goddess of Death, do you?” I had said.
The feast was well underway in the Great Hall. It was an impressive structure built entirely of wood and featuring stylized carvings of various animals of this part of the world. Shields, spears, and battle-axes were mounted on the walls, all broken, dented, or at least displaying a long battle history. Friya told me they were displayed here to commemorate the valor of Hothgrum’s fallen heroes. There were also the heads and furs of many wild beasts native to the region. Hegmun and his warriors, my party, and some upper-echelon Hothgrumians were seated.
“Welcome, Raiser of the Dead!” Hegmun bellowed when Friya and I walked in. He raised his tankard, after which the entire hall got to their feet and followed suit.
“Thank you, thank you,” I said, “but you can all sit down; we have business to discuss.”
Friya translated this, and it prompted a bout of hearty guffaws from the Hothgrumians as they sat down again. Friya took me to the end of the table opposite. This place at the table, she explained, was reserved for guests of the highest honor.
She took the seat on my left, between me and Isu. Anna and Elyse sat on my right, and Rollar, Drok, and his wife sat next to them. Before I could introduce Friya to everyone in my party, she took the initiative.
“Greetings to our honored guests,” she said. “I am Friya, Wise Woman of Hothgrum and devotee of Vance Chauzec, God of Death.”
Interesting. This was the first I’d
