'I have been Arlaghaun's thrall,' she replied, waving one hand to indicate her bared self, and flick the nearest length of chain. 'But if we hurry, now, and you free me…'
'Fuck
Mistgates was a strong castle, soaring up like a great lone fang from a hard cliff of purple-gray rock that had stared into winter storms for centuries upon centuries, as defiantly as the face of any grim dwarf. High were its walls, so lofty that it had not one set of battlements, but two: a third of the way up its flanks, a crenelated balcony had been carved out, like the lower jaw of a gigantic dragon, for the use of bowmen seeking to feather targets on the narrow overland road that snaked up through rising rocks to skirt the front gates of the castle.
These days, with the master of Mistgates heeding not the Mad King in Galathgard, and so being shunned by most nobles of the realm and by fearful traders alike, few folk came along that road.
Yet there were travelers on it now, many of them. They wore the best of gleaming armor, mounted knight after mounted knight, their lances like a forest, but a forest bare of leaves for they bore no banners.
At first sight of them from the high battlements of Mistgates, galloping hard along the road that would bring them into the very lap of Velduke Mardrammur Mistryn, horns were winded over the castle, to sound an alarm.
Mistryn was one of the veldukes who did not ride to Galathgard upon the whim and pleasure of King Devaer, and most of Galath had heard by now, with Bowrock under siege, just how much the King of Galath loved veldukes who did not bend their knees to him often.
Wherefore the great doors of the castle were firmly closed and barred, after the best-armed and armored Mistryn knights and armsmen-enough to match the approaching knights, and to spare-had issued forth in full battle array, prepared with pikes and caltrops. On the walls above, a long line of archers stood ready.
The knights slowed their mounts as they came up to Mistgates, and drew no swords, but held up empty hands to wave 'peace' and then 'parley.'
A tall man in armor whose painted breast-blazon proclaimed him the personal champion of Mardrammur stood forth to meet them, and called, 'You ride in Mistryn lands, and are come to the gates of the House of Mard, and you are many and well armed. Yield unto me your names and purpose!'
The foremost rider doffed his helm, patted the neck of his snorting mount to calm it, and replied, 'You know me, Roeglar. I am Samryn, loyal knight of Velduke Bloodhunt, and we before your gates are all now also knights of the King of Galath, His Majesty Melander Brorsavar, who rides with us!'
Roeglar gave him a hard look. 'Brorsavar is king, now?'
'Brorsavar is king. Things change in Falconfar, sword-brother.'
'That they do. And all too swiftly, these days. That they do.'
'Well, have we leave to pass within?' Samryn clapped his hand meaningfully to his sword-hilt.
'I'm thinking, sword-brother. I'm thinking.'
'This way,' Taeauna gasped, and was gone down behind some rocks with a rattle of chain. 'Hurry!'
'Hurrying is all I seem to do, these days,' Rod chuckled to himself, following her just as fast as he could.
Rod found himself plunging face-first down into a cleft among the rocks, where Taeauna waited to catch him.
His weight bore her over on her back, of course, his face cushioned against the softness of her breasts.
'Oh, Lord Rod,' she murmured, chains rattling around him as they bounced together, and he tried to mutter apologies. 'I have worried about you so!'
'I… I love you!' she added, as he wallowed his way hastily up off her body. He'd been on the verge of daring to kiss her, but those words made Rod blink, hesitate, and then smile.
Which is when she leaned forward and kissed him.
Her lips were warm and sweet and hungry, her tongue thrusting deep into his mouth, rolling and thrusting something that tasted spicy-sweet… Had some Holdoncorp idiot put chewing gum into Falconfar when he wasn't looking?
It tasted pleasant, though…
And it was even nicer to have Taeauna thrusting herself against him, her bare body like silk against him, her mouth making little moaning noises of want and need…
Jeez, this was like a bad sex scene in a film, some sort of porn feature with the woman in chains and… and…
…And why was everything getting so dark?
Dark around the edges… He stared through the dwindling, deepening hole that was left, at Taeauna's eyes… So sad as he stared into them, her mouth still so soft and sweet… Were those tears?
Can't see… Everything going as gloomy as nightfall… That spicy-sweet taste rising again in his mouth…
Fade to black.
The hand that came down on his wrist was slender and shapely and as strong as unyielding iron.
The stout onetime pirate struggled to free his hand, grunting and sweating and suddenly throwing all his weight behind a shove, followed by a titanic pull.
The delicate-looking hand remained right where it was, but its strikingly beautiful owner put her face very close to his.
Which meant her bosom thrust against him, somewhere just under his chin, soft and yet shockingly firm.
'Garfist Gulkoon,' Dauntra of the Aumrarr said pleasantly, 'or to use the name you were born with: Norbryn, if you try to steal from me, or any of my sisters, ever again, we shall remove a surplus part of your anatomy. Your right thumb, I think. If you try again, the left one. Then your male member, which I doubt you've been able to properly see for years, without the aid of a mirror, and then your nose. A man looks somewhat strange without a nose. Then we'll start on your fingers. This may perhaps have a detrimental effect upon your future endeavors, but frankly I care not. Now, do we understand each other?'
'Y-yes,' Garfist managed to squeak, letting go of the little dagger he'd tried to draw out of her elbow- sheath'. Without seeming to hurry in the slightest, she caught it in midair, her large and impish brown eyes never leaving his.
'Sorry,' he muttered. 'Uh… ah… how is it you know my… cradle name?'
'Old Ox, we know all about you,' Dauntra said, and kissed him.
A moment later she drew back her warm lips from his, smiled again into his incredulous face, and added sweetly, 'That's why I'm being so gentle with you. I could have just bitten off your nose and some fingers, and started chewing.'
The stone floor was cold and hard and uneven; Rod came awake shivering in the dark.
He was naked, and in some sort of room underground, probably a dungeon cell. He wasn't chained, and there didn't seem to be anyone else sharing the room with him. Or at least, he couldn't hear anyone else breathing but himself.
No Taeauna, no enchanted items, not even the little whispering voice.
'Lorontar?' Rod asked.
Silence.
'Lorontar?' he asked again, raising his voice. It echoed back to him, and from a great distance away there came a faint, short grating sound.
