Louie The Rune Soldier Fan Fiction ❯ Valiant Champion Or Something Like It ❯ Chapter 7

Valiant Champion or Something Like It

 

By: AZ Mark II

 

Disclaimer: ADV Films and/or J.C. Staff own this one, not me.

 

-

 

“Finally,” sighed Isabelle, relieved to see the lights of the border town ahead. The party had pushed hard, and all of them were feeling the effects. A horse had gone lame and they had abandoned it. A few hours later, another horse had stepped in a gopher hole and broken its leg. The rider - one of the younger priestesses - had managed a more or less safe bail out, but the horse had to be put down. The next day, a third horse had shown signs of colic, and had also been left behind. Lily had switched mounts with Anna, riding double with Jackinson.

 

Finally, though, they were in Ohfun territory, and the border town was before them. The sun had set an hour before, but they had chosen to push on, knowing that they were close. As they approached the town, Littler saw that the gate was closed, and a full four men were in the guard post over the gate. “They close the gates early out here, I guess,” he muttered to himself.

 

“Even if it is past nightfall, they should still have the gate open, as many merchants and farmers wait until the last possible moment to take down their stalls and head home,” disagreed Isabelle. “And four men on watch? Has war been declared?” she wondered. The party neared the gate.

 

“Halt! Stand where you are!” yelled one of the guards. Littler raised his hand, signaling a halt. “Who passes this night?” yelled one of the guards.

 

“I am Prince Littler,” said the leader of their party, “and I - along with my companions - would seek a good meal and warm beds in your town this evening, neighbor,” he said.

 

“You? The Crown Prince?” scoffed the man. “Then, I'm the king himself!” he mocked Littler. Jackinson's face darkened with rage.

 

“Insolent cur,” he snarled, reaching for his sword.

 

“No, Jackinson,” said Littler. “He is right to be suspicious,” he said. “I have my royal signet, if you would care to examine it,” he offered.

 

“Precious good that would do,” another of the men on the wall joined in, “since none of us have ever seen the real signet of the prince,” he pointed out. Littler frowned.

 

“Hmm. They do have a point,” he considered.

 

“I can open the gate myself, if you like,” offered Lily, wiggling her staff suggestively. She was sore and in no mood for this. Littler smiled.

 

“I am temped, Lily,” he replied, “but I am sure that father would object to us destroying the defenses of his border town just because we are tired from our travel,” he pointed out.

 

“Please, your highness,” said Isabelle, “allow me to handle this,” she said, moving her horse forward.

 

“You stand fast, stranger!” warned the guard, raising a bow. Isabelle stopped halfway between the party and the gate.

 

“I am Isabelle, ordained priestess of the Mylee temple,” she said coldly, removing her cloak to reveal her battle dress. “I trust that you know a priestess of Mylee when you see one,” she added ominously, her forefinger tapping on her pole hammer. “With me are six other priestesses of my order,” she said. “I will enter this town, or the order will burn it to the ground. Is that clear?” she asked ominously. In the guard post, there was some hurried, urgent whispering.

 

“We're going to take a closer look at you, so stand fast,” yelled a guard. A moment later, the gate opened and ten guardsmen rushed through, swords in hand. One of them approached Isabelle with a torch. Seeing the clothing, bearing and icy expression of the lead priestess, the guardsman gulped.

 

“Welcome to our town, Priestess,” he said, motioning to the others, who stood aside after opening the gate.

 

“Thank you for your welcome,” replied Isabelle, her tone frosty. “Is it the habit of your town to greet your Prince and his party in such a rude fashion?” she asked.

 

“Of course not!” denied the man. “It's just, there's some trouble about here that has us edgy,” he said. “In fact, I would ask that you accompany me to see the garrison commander, Priestess Isabelle,” he said.

 

“Trouble?” wondered Littler.

 

“My prince,” Isabelle greeted him. The guard saluted him.

 

“This way, sir, if you will,” he said, motioning. Littler nodded and he and Isabelle followed the man into the city, the gates closing and barring behind them. The rest of their party followed, and in short order, they were in front of the garrison in the border town.

 

“Well?” came a gruff voice from inside. “Who were they?”

 

“Sir, Crown Prince Littler and Isabelle of the Mylee order, sir,” reported the soldier.

 

“The crown prince?!” sputtered the voice, and a moment later, a lieutenant stumbled through the door, hastily straightening his uniform. “Your highness! Had I know, I would have…!” he began.

 

“Yes, I am sure,” Little dismissed the apology. “What is this trouble I was told of?” he got straight to the point. The lieutenant sighed.

 

“Just before sundown, a Captain of Lance was dragged here by his horse. He is gravely wounded, and unconscious, but it seems someone has been shooting arrows at the lancers near here, so I sealed the city and dispatched a messenger bird to the regional garrison for support,” he said.

 

“A Captain of Lance, you say?” asked Isabelle, exchanging a look with Littler. He nodded. “I would see him immediately,” said the priestess.

 

“This way,” said the lieutenant, leading them into the barracks area of the garrison. In the back, there was a cot with a bandaged form on it. Isabelle swiftly checked him over before beginning to cast healing spells on him.

 

“What happened to him?” wondered Littler aloud.

 

“Arrows, my lord,” said Jackinson, studying the armor by the cot. “You can see here, and here, and two more over here,” he said, tapping the holes in the armor. “Longbow, most likely,” he deduced. “Five, maybe six arches, to fire this many shots before he could escape,” said the old soldier.

 

“His mount took two arrows as well, though it will recover,” added the lieutenant. Jackinson blinked.

 

“Perhaps more like seven archers, then,” he corrected his guess.

 

“I don't think so,” said Lily quietly. “Headmaster Carwes said a column of lancers would be meeting us, so where are the rest of them?” she asked the party. Isabelle blinked, breaking off her spell.

 

“An excellent question, Lily,” said Littler. He glanced at the lieutenant. “Well?” he asked.

 

“The captain was alone, your highness,” said the man. Lily turned on her heel and marched toward the door.

 

“Jackinson,” said Littler softly, the man hurrying after the impulsive girl. Looking back to the lieutenant, he gave his next order. “Double the watches on all walls, lieutenant,” he said. “And tell your men to be careful about giving an archer a target,” he added. The lieutenant saluted.

 

“Trouble, sir?” he asked. Littler sighed.

 

“It would appear so,” he said.

 

-

 

“Most excellent, my dear Ila!” the head of her captors congratulated her, thrusting a wine glass into her hand. Ila accepted, sipping the wine. She was in the carriage with the leader, which was leading the wagon with the artifact on the back, followed by half the man's men as they made their way back to their base. “Your theory seems correct,” he said.

 

“I'm overjoyed,” deadpanned Ila. Her captive patted her bare thigh, left uncovered by her body suit. Satin slippers adorned her feet, her boots having been taken from her with her skirt and shoulder wrap.

 

“I'm sure you are,” he chuckled. “This does call for a celebration, though,” he went on, leaving his hand on her smooth, soft thigh. “Now that we know it works, we can organize for our campaign against Rijarl,” he said. Ila sipped some more wine. “When we get back, we will have a feast, drink till dawn, and celebrate properly,” he said, pouring more wine for himself. “But, in the meantime,” he said, leaning toward her, “we can celebrate a little ourselves,” he suggested.

 

Ila pushed his face back with her hand. “No thanks,” she said curtly. “Don't act like I am one of your followers,” she added. He leaned back a little.

 

“Fair enough,” he conceded. “But you should know that you stand to gain a lot from joining me,” he said. “You can be a Queen of this entire world, you know,” he said casually. Ila scowled.

 

“A queen? How many others would there be?” she asked coldly. The man chuckled.

 

“I don't know yet,” he said conversationally. “Maybe three or four, or it could be hundreds,” he smiled. Ila bit back her first response.

 

“How special,” she said instead. Her captor frowned at her tone. She yelped as he grabbed a handful of her hair, using it to twist her head so she was face to face with him.

 

“Would you prefer to be in my harem? Or maybe a plaything for my soldiers?” he hissed at her. Tears in her eyes, she didn't answer. The man kissed her roughly before releasing her with a shove. Ila rubbed her head, trying to ease the pain a little. “Don't push me, Ila,” he said coldly, gulping more wine. Ila didn't answer. Please, Louie, she thought, hurry!

 

-

 

Lily slumped slightly as she ended the spell. Her very first move had been to cast the spell that put her in touch with the Guild. Next, she had cast a search spell for the missing lancers. On the heels of that spell, she had returned to the communication spell, filling in Headmaster Carwes on the newest developments. No sooner had she finished updating the head of the Guild than she had pulled out her charm and activated it, on the off chance that something that Ila had made might be within range. It was the strange behavior of the charm that tipped her off to try a spell that she had read in the Guild library that was designed to determine if there had been a strong spell cast recently.

 

“Are you ok, Lily?” asked Jackinson, steadying the small girl.

 

“Yes,” said the girl. “We need to talk to Littler,” she said. Jackinson nodded, the two moving toward the garrison. They found Littler and Isabelle still with the captain. “Littler,” said Lily, “I have some news,” she said. Seeing him focus his attention on her, she told him what she knew of the situation.

 

“The other lancers are dead. They were ambushed about six miles from here, and the road is littered with the lancers and their horses,” said the girl. “I contacted Carwes and he will tell the King what has happened. High Priestess Jenny has also been informed, Isabelle. I tried the charm, but when it failed to initialize properly, I tried a spell that would detect if any large spells had been cast in the area recently,” she went on. “Someone or something cast a powerful spell very recently. I would bet that the spell accounts for the destruction of the lancers,” she finished.

 

“Any idea who or how many?” asked Isabelle. Lily shook her head.

 

“No. The spell is not set up to work like that,” she said. “If we want to know, we will have to have a look at the site of the ambush,” she said.

 

“I don't know that that is a good idea, my liege,” Jackinson said dubiously. “While it is prudent to withdraw after you spring a surprise attack, there is nothing to indicate that they have done so, and if there is a skilled magician in the group, they might not need to run after the ambush,” he said.

 

“We can't stay here forever, and while it is risky, we will have to know more if we are to address this issue,” said Isabelle, sitting back a little. “I have done what I can, my prince, and with some small luck, he will live,” said the priestess. Littler was pondering the choices.

 

“How long does it take for the regional garrison to send a column of infantry here?” the prince asked the Lieutenant.

 

“Three days is their average,” he said. “It takes about one day for the bird to get there and for them to get organized,” he noted.

 

“And your compliment of soldiers here at the garrison?” wondered the prince.

 

“I command sixty troops, sire,” said the man, “and the town maintains another one hundred provisional troops - townsmen that have training, but are not professional soldiers,” he clarified.

 

“I am familiar with the concept,” Littler replied absently. Jackinson was a step ahead of the prince.

 

“They can't spare enough men to make a meaningful contribution, my lord,” he said. “Too much wall to defend,” he noted. “We should await the arrival of the relief force,” he recommended.

 

“Sixty dead men and horses on the main road is not something we can let sit, though,” said Isabelle. “Disease from the rotting carcasses could easily carry to the town. We have to do something about the situation; not to mention that the royal soldiers deserve a proper burial,” she said.

 

“Is there a temple of Mylee nearby?” asked Lily. Isabelle blinked.

 

“There is a small branch temple about a day's ride northeast,” she said. Lily hummed.

 

“How many priestesses who can fight are there?” asked the small magician. Isabelle frowned.

 

“Each branch temple is supposed to keep a force of acolyte priestesses numbering no less than twenty,” said the blonde.

 

“You are proposing that we ride to the temple rather than take the road, pull the acolyte priestesses for additional fighting power, and make our way to the royal city by back roads?” Littler guessed her line of reasoning. Lily nodded.

 

“You, Isabelle and the six other priestesses do, anyway,” she said. “Jackinson and I will check the scene of the ambush and deal with the bodies, then ride the main road for the capital,” she said.

 

“I don't know, Lily,” began Littler, resisting the idea of her operating without the rest of the party.

 

“I can defend myself and one or two others from magical attack if necessary, but not the whole party,” Lily laid out her reasoning. “Also, we can use some soldiers from the garrison to pile the bodies together, and I can burn them to ash with a spell, rather than taking days to bury them all. And if whoever ambushed the Lancers is looking for our party, Jackinson and I can draw their attention away from the others.”

 

“But what of you and Jackinson?” asked Isabelle. “Won't you risk being ambushed the same way?” she pressed. Lily's lips tightened.

 

“None of the lancers was a mage, Isabelle,” she said softly. “And when it comes right down to it, Jackinson and I are expendable,” she said firmly. “You and Littler must reach the capital.”

 

“But neither Isabelle nor myself know what to tell Headmaster Carwes about the spells used,” argued Littler. Lily shook her head.

 

“I have already told him what we know, and I will tell him any important discoveries we make, so all you need to do is reach the capital and King Rijarl alive and safe,” she said. Seeing the look on her prince's face, she managed a smile. “Don't give me that look, Littler,” she admonished him. “I am the last candidate for martyr you will ever find,” she assured him.

 

“Lily, we can't let you do this,” said Isabelle firmly.

 

“She is right, though,” Littler cut off the priestess. “I hate to even think about it, but her argument is sound,” he said quietly. Part of being a prince is making unpleasant choices, he thought, recalling something his father had said to him. “Before dawn tomorrow, we will slip out the north gate. Later that morning, Jackinson, you and Lily will take a contingent of soldiers out and check the site. Once you have learned what you can and have dealt with the bodies, push on to the capital. Understood?” he directed.

 

“As my liege orders,” said Jackinson. He didn't approve of the plan, but with nothing better to suggest, he bowed to his prince's will. “We should arrive at about the same time,” said the old soldier, since you will be traveling a longer route than us, while we will be starting a day behind you but taking the road,” he noted.

 

-

 

Louie yawned as he rubbed his eyes. It was still dark, but something had awoken him from his rest. Carefully sitting up, he looked around, seeing that the moon and stars were faint, a sign that morning was about to break. After a moment of adjusting, his eyes could pick out the shorelines on each side of their run-away raft. Against his chest, he felt Merrill stir. Absently, he wrapped an arm around her bare form, the girl settling down. Is it me, or are the shores getting closer together? he wondered.

 

Beneath him, he felt the raft shift. Strange, he thought, it hasn't done that before, he recalled, feeling the raft begin to ride strangely. What could be making it…? Across the spine of their supplies, he saw the dark from of Genie and Melissa rise. “What's going on?” wondered Melissa, rubbing her eyes. “What's shaking the raft?” she wondered.

 

“I don't know,” said Louie, feeling Merrill stir again. Genie sniffed the cool air, her head cocked to the side.

 

“We're in a fast current,” she said urgently. “And I think we are about to hit some rapids, too!” added the woman, carefully standing and freeing the two steering poles. Louie followed her example, though he was careful not to knock Merrill over as he stood. “See if we can reach bottom,” Genie said, tossing him one of the poles. The two of them began to feel for the bottom.

 

“What's going on?” came Merrill's sleepy voice. Melissa moved to the tail of the raft, steering drag in hand.

 

“We seem to be near the outlet to the Loch,” said the priestess, setting the drag in place. She couldn't feel bottom, but she wanted to be ready in any event. “Any luck?” she asked her companions.

 

“Some rocks now and again,” grunted Genie. “Not enough to get a good push on, though,” she said. Ahead of the raft, the party began to hear the distinct sounds of white water.

 

“Better think of something fast,” Louie observed.

 

“This could have come at a better time,” muttered Genie, disliking the near-total darkness just before dawn. “Any idea which bank is closer?” she asked Louie.

 

“Got me, Genie,” he admitted candidly. “It looks about the same distance to me.”

 

“Can you magic us some wind? Or pull us toward a bank?” asked Merrill, her tone peeved as usual.

 

“For that kind of thing, you need an elementalist,” said the lout. “Celecia could do it, and my old man could probably do it, but I don't know the spells; besides,” he chuckled, “I'm not so good negotiating with elementals.”

 

“Imagine our surprise,” sighed Merrill.

 

“Genie! Louie! A light!” Melissa sang out. Peering toward the bank, the two spotted the light. It looked like a lantern on the bank. A few moments later, the party heard a moo.

 

“Farm, most likely,” said Genie. “Louie, let's try for it,” she said, laying flat on the deck of the raft and pushing the pole as deep as she could, seeking something to push against. Louie did likewise. “Melissa, Merrill, you better get dressed,” she added, feeling intermitted contact with a rocks-and-mud bottom. Merrill swiftly grabbed her stuff before handing Melissa her dress. In moments, the two were dressed.

 

“Genie,” said Merrill, crouching next to the barbarian, “can you lift up for a sec?” she asked. Genie did so, feeling the nimble fingers of the small thief swiftly work her chamois top onto her before securing her loincloth.

 

“Thanks, Merrill,” said Genie, feeling steadier contact with the bottom. “I think we are making progress,” she noted. Merrill moved over to Louie. It took a bit more work, but soon, she was working on buttoning his pants. In the process, she felt his semi-erect member brush her forearm. Trying not to think about it, she managed to get his pants secured.

 

“Thanks, Merrill,” Louie said, distracted, as he worked on forcing their raft toward the shore where they had seen the light. Like Genie, he was getting more contact with the bottom, and that meant more control. In short order, he was kneeling, then standing, the raft out of the fast-moving current that had trapped them for days. As the sky brightened, they could make out the shore of the loch, a strip of gravel and mud that abutted grass and small shrubs before giving way to forest.

 

With a grinding jar, the bottom of their raft met the shore. The entire party sighed. Lightly, Merrill leapt to the grass, swiftly scouting. “Path. Pretty well-worn,” she called back softly. “I smell a farm,” she added a moment later. From farther ahead, the party heard another moo and a clank of chain. Louie and Melissa exchanged looks. Without a word, the party swiftly broke up the spine of supplies into their packs, and set off, leaving the raft beached on the shore.

 

In short order, they found themselves looking at the source of the white water sounds they had heard: the outlet for the loch was a rocky lip, preceded by whitewater, and going over a small waterfall. It was hardly a waterfall, being no more than eight or nine feet tall, but it would have been a complete disaster for them on their raft; especially since there were boulders below the waterfall. “Glad we didn't run over that,” Merrill said.

 

“Yeah, I think we all are,” seconded Genie. Looking ahead, they saw that the path widened as it reached the first of several small farms. Beyond it, they could see a small wooden wall around a modest town. In the golden light of dawn, the quartet surveyed the road before them.

 

“We might as well get going,” said Melissa a few moments later.

 

“Yeah! I'm hungry for some hot food!” Merrill said, staring forward. The rest fell in behind her. At the tail of the procession, Melissa walked beside Louie, who had most of the supplies on his back.

 

“So, Louie, it shouldn't bee too long before we are back in Ohfun,” she said quietly.

 

“Yeah,” he said. “I'm actually looking forward to seeing Ila, my old man and aunt Jenny,” he added. “I'll feel a lot better when these are off our hands,” he added somberly, meaningfully jiggling the pack, which contained the scrolls they had raided from the ruins in the Black Tree Reach.

 

“I suppose I am eager to speak with High Priestess Jenny myself,” admitted Melissa. Louie grinned.

 

“Man, Ila'll flip when she sees what we have!” enthused the man. Melissa softly bit her lip.

 

“I'm sure she'll be…surprised,” said the blonde a moment later. The question is how flipped out she will be when she finds out what has happened, the priestess thought to herself.

 

-

 

“Your majesty,” bowed Jackinson, Lily beside him. The sorceress looked paler than usual, but she stoically insisted that she report to Rijarl and Carwes immediately upon their return to the capital. In fact, the two had ridden straight to the entrance to the royal hall in the royal castle, dismounted, and walked straight into the audience chamber. Rijarl had been in a meeting with a court dandy from the neighboring kingdom, but when he saw Jackinson and Lily - travel-worn and dirty from their dash back - he had informed the noble that they would have to continue the meeting at another time, dismissed the court, and led the two into his council room.

 

Shortly, the door had opened, admitting Isabelle, Littler, headmaster Carwes and High Priestess Jenny into the room. “My god, Lily,” said Isabelle, seeing the sorceress, “are you ok?” wondered the blonde priestess. Lily shot her the same cool, distant look she always favored.

 

“I'm fine,” she said softly. “Let's get this done with,” she added, glancing at Jackinson. The grizzled old knight nodded. Swiftly, he described the carnage at the ambush site, as well as reporting all that Lily and he had managed to learn. Ten minutes later, he wrapped it up.

 

“So, we had the guardsmen and town workers stack the soldiers with the horses on the side of the road, and Lily cast her spell. We made sure that they had caught, then rode straight here at best speed,” he finished. “We apologize for our tardy arrival,” he added.

 

“You were only a half-hour behind my son and Isabelle,” said Rijarl, flipping a hand in a dismissive manner. “Truly, you have both set records for the speed with which you rode here,” he mused. Jenny smiled.

 

“I have twenty six acolyte priestesses who can barely walk at the moment to attest to the speed they carried,” she shared, a hint of amusement leaking through her words.

 

“Speaking of that,” recalled Rijarl, “have the horses quartered at the royal cavalier stable, if you would; it will be better suited to caring for them than the temple,” he explained. Jenny nodded.

 

“Yes, my king,” she said. Rijarl dismissed the journey from his mind, focusing on the report.

 

“You say you found no signs of any more bowmen but the one on the road?” he asked. Jackinson nodded.

 

“And the location and pattern of the fallen soldiers and horses confirm it, sire. There was but one bowman firing, and he stood in the center of the road,” Jackinson said firmly.

 

“Impossible,” Rijarl muttered. “All those lancers, taken by one bowman who stood in the middle of the road? It is nonsense,” he shook his head.

 

“No, your majesty,” disagreed Lily. “I found signs of a magical device used from the trees. It was with the second group of tracks that Jackinson found,” the mage reported. She looked over at Carwes. “I have never seen the like of it before, sir,” she said, “but I am convinced that it is from the ancient kingdom,” she said. Carwes considered that.

 

“The implications of that are troubling, Lily,” Carwes said. Lily nodded.

 

“I know,” she said softly. “But I tried every spell I could think of to try and determine exactly what it was, but had no luck,” she added.

 

“Indeed,” Jackinson seconded immediately. “I have never seen a magician work so hard, so fast,” he said to Rijarl. It was, to Rijarl's ear, a ringing recommendation from the old man.

 

“What did you learn from the signs?” wondered Rijarl. Jackinson organized his thoughts for a moment.

 

“There were between ten and twelve men in the second party, sire,” he said. “They had six or eight horses, though they didn't seem to be for riding. Also, I found signs of two wagons - one a cargo wagon, with a heavy load, the second a light and small wagon or carriage - and a spot where they had fallen a few pines to make room for something; though,” he frowned, “there was no indication that it was for a tent or a campsite.”

 

“What does that mean?” wondered Littler. Rijarl grunted.

 

“It means that they knew the time and place to be, my son,” he said, troubled. “They arrived just before the ambush, set up, attacked, and were likely gone within minutes of the last soldier falling,” he explained. “No signs of camp or shelter means they were not there for long.”

 

“A spy?” wondered Isabelle. Rijarl shrugged.

 

“It is far from unlikely, priestess Isabelle,” he replied. “After all, there are those delegations, and their staff; to say nothing of personal enemies in the court,” he snorted. “First the situation with miss Auriza, and now this,” he said distastefully. Littler blinked.

 

“What?” wondered the crown prince, “What has happened? And when you say miss Auriza, do you mean someone related to master Auriza of the Auriza Trading Company?” he asked. Rijarl glanced at Carwes and Jenny.

 

“It is the reason I called you all back so suddenly,” he said. “Someone has kidnapped Ila Auriza, sole heiress of the Auriza family business. That in itself would not have been enough to make me recall you, but there were…irregularities in the situation that prompted me to bring you back within the kingdom.”

 

“So, that is what it was,” muttered Lily, absently rubbing her face with one hand. “I thought I felt something…” she trailed off, sliding toward the floor. Jackinson caught her before she could reach the floor, her staff landing there instead with a wooden clatter.

 

“Lily!” he gasped, gently shaking her. An instant later, he felt himself pushed aside, Jenny gathering the small girl up in her arms. Carwes was beside her, murmuring under his breath. After a moment, he sighed.

 

“She is fine,” he told the group. “She just pushed too hard, too fast,” he said. “She will need several days' rest to recover her energy, but is in no real danger,” he said. “Casting so many spells of such a high level so close together is dangerous; even more so for one so young to the arts,” he said to no on in particular.

 

“I will give her a room,” said Rijarl.

 

“If it pleases you, your majesty,” Jenny said, moving toward the door, “I feel she would get more rest in the temple,” said the High Priestess. Isabelle blinked, opening her mouth to ask a question, only to see Jenny's eyes resting on her. She shut her mouth, her questions dismissed.

 

Outside the door, two of the senior acolyte priestesses stood. Jenny handed one of them Lily's small form, murmured some instructions, and shut the door. Carwes picked up Lily's staff and the meeting resumed. Littler glanced at his father. “Priestesses at the door? What became of the guardsmen?” he asked his father quietly.

 

“Knowing who to trust is vitally important in life, but more so when you are a king,” said the man. Littler could understand that; after all, while his father had many enemies in the court and in neighboring kingdoms, none of them could subvert a priestess of the Mylee order. “I don't suppose,” Rijarl returned to the topic at hand, “that you have any idea what she was about to say, Carwes?” he hoped.

 

“No, my king, I do not,” he said. “However, the fact that she said she felt something would indicate that it might have been a signature to the spell employed,” he mused. Thoughtfully, he tapped her staff against his palm. “Perhaps, she felt a familiar signature to the one who cast the spell,” he suggested. Rijarl grunted.

 

“I have no head for magic, Carwes,” he reminded the head of the guild. “That is your area, old friend,” he smiled briefly. “But if she felt a familiar signature, wouldn't it be likely that it would mean that the deposed nobles were behind this?”

 

“I do not know enough of her magical schooling to say for certain, but yes,” Carwes replied, “the odds of it being someone from that group is good,” he said. Isabelle recalled the scars on Lily's body.

 

“Then, they are seeking funds to further their attempts at overthrowing you?” wondered Littler. Rijarl frowned. “By kidnapping the Auriza woman, I mean,” he clarified. Rijarl blinked, then burst out laughing.

 

“Oh, that is rich!” he chucked. “The `Auriza woman', as you call her,” he chuckled, “is commonly known as `Ila',” he said. Littler blinked.

 

“Didn't I hear that name before?” wondered the prince. Jackinson and Isabelle were likewise trying to place the name that sounded so familiar. The king seemed to be talking some sort of perverse pleasure in their lost expressions.

 

“Ila is a member of the Guild,” he prompted the three before him.

 

“Red hair?” asked Jackinson. Rijarl nodded. Jackinson turned to Littler.

 

“The friend of Louie's who we never met by name,” he said. Both Isabelle and Littler's faces lit up.

 

“Oh! That is who they took?” Littler breathed. Rijarl nodded.

 

“Why?” asked Isabelle. She had met the girl - though, like Littler, had not caught her name - even spoken with her during the Mylee festival the year before. Rijarl glanced at Carwes.

 

“That, priestess Isabelle,” he said, “is the key piece that doesn't fit.”

 

-

 

“Ah!” sighed Merrill, slapping her empty beer mug down on the table. “That's more like it!” she proclaimed her contentment with the current situation. The group was in a tavern in the small town they had found, enjoying their first significant meal in a while. To a person, the party had ordered beer - something that they had been without since the Black Tree. Already, Merrill was three tankards in, while Louie was working on his second and Genie and Melissa were still draining their first rounds.

 

The four were waiting for the food they had ordered to finish cooking. Steaks of assorted animal meat sizzled in the small kitchen area, while potatoes and vegetables bubbled in the pot over the small fire. The tavern keeper had been surprised when four customers had come in so early and ordered enough food to feed ten people, but he had been in business long enough to know when to seize an opportunity. It had puzzled him when the four didn't bother to ask what it would cost, so he had tactfully asked that they prove that they could cover the bill. He had barely been fast enough to catch the half-dozen gold coins the man tossed him.

 

“Keep it coming until we say `enough', innkeeper,” the long-haired man had said.

 

“And bring us some beer while we wait!” added the smallest of the party.

 

“Certainly, my lord and ladies,” he said, inclining his head. Customers who were so free with gold were certainly either noble or adventurers who had hit a good cache in their travels. Either way, they are my top customers until the gold runs out, he thought, grinning greedily. A tavern, he had learned from his father, lived or died by how efficiently it could take money from people.

 

As he and his wife tended to the preparation of the meal, he periodically checked on the four, his oldest daughter pressed into service as their personal, exclusive waitress, while his oldest son was sent out to procure more greens, meat and ingredients from the local farmer's market. At the moment, they were the only four in the tavern, though he suspected that the early afternoon rush would start in a couple of hours. From the look of their clothing and gear, they seem to be adventurers, though they do have a priestess of Mylee with them, he mused. He noted the wear on the group's weapons, and made a note to keep some of the local hotheads clear of them if they came in while the quartet was still in the commons room.

 

At the table, the group was relaxing and planning their next move. “I don't see what difference it would make to stay here today, get a room tonight, and start back out first thing tomorrow,” said Merrill, waving her empty tankard at the girl who had been tending their table. “Another!” she called out. The girl immediately approached to collect her mug and refill it.

 

“We could stand a chance to do some laundry, get a proper bath, tend to our gear and rest,” Melissa said, looking at Louie.

 

“And I doubt that a day lost will amount to much, given how many we lost in the Black Tree,” Genie put in her vote. Louie sighed.

 

“Yeah, I guess you're right,” he agreed. I can't shake this feeling that I need to get back as soon as I can, though, he tried to ignore the thought. It's almost like a premonition, he amended the earlier thought. Like something is going wrong or something. He was jostled from his thoughts by a kick to his shin from Merrill. Blinking, he looked across the small, more-or-less round table at the smallest of the party. “Ow! What was that for, Merrill?” he asked her.

 

“Stop zoning out, Louie,” said the thief petulantly. “You want your rare, medium or well-done?” repeated the thief.

 

“Medium, I guess,” he shrugged. “To be honest, I'm so hungry right now, I would probably eat it raw!” he laughed.

 

“Idiot,” sighed Merrill. Turning to the girl who had been serving them, she told her to make the beef medium, the pork well-done, the venison rare and the chicken well-done. “And bring me another,” she added, swiftly draining her mug in one pull and handing it to the girl.

 

“Do you have some rolls or nuts we could eat while the foods cooking?” asked Melissa of the girl. She nodded, returning to the kitchen to pass along the preferences and get the requested items. When she handed Merrill her fourth mug, she also set down a basket with some small, irregular-shaped bread buns in it.

 

The party emptied the basket in the time it took her to take five steps. The buns were mixed-grain, rough skinned and probably a form of sour bread; not that the four cared. After so long living on fish, rabbit and other small game supplementing all-but-spoiled trail rations, it was heaven to them.

 

“We need to re-supply in any event,” Genie noted, washing down a bun with a pull for her mug. Finding it empty, she waved it, the girl serving them deciding to shorten the number of trips she would obviously be making, and bringing out four full tankards, collecting the empties and moving back to refill them in preparation for the next trip.

 

“I saw a small market,” noted Melissa. “It shouldn't be hard to find cured meat, salt, coffee and trail bread; or at least something that will keep under travel conditions,” she corrected herself.

 

“If I might intrude,” came the voice of the tavern keeper, “I couldn't help but hear you discussing the need of travel foods, and if you are willing to wait until the day after tomorrow, I can promise you that you will have a far greater selection of cured meats, since we are just now starting our preparation for winter stores. There are several farms that are smoking pork and beef, and a few more are making jerky out of beef and chicken. Salted mutton and pork are also being prepared, but most of that won't be cured until the day after tomorrow. And if you like, I can request that the local baker make you some trail bread and crackers. It would take him about a day to prepare the materials, bake it and cool it, of course, but I can promise you, he knows how to bake!” the man assured them. The three women looked at Louie, who was clearly wrestling with the suggestion.

 

“I don't know,” he said, his hand absently touching the pack with the scrolls in them.

 

“Oh, for gods sake, Louie!” snapped Merrill, “it's one day! Ohfun will still be there, you know!”

 

“I'm sure it will, Merrill,” Louie replied evenly. He was used to her outbursts, and they just rolled off his back like rain off a duck.

 

“Then what's the problem?” she asked peevishly. Louie sighed.

 

“I guess we can wait another day,” he said reluctantly. Melissa eyed him.

 

“Any reason we shouldn't?” she asked him, curious. Louie shrugged.

 

“Not really, I guess,” he replied, “it's just I really want to get this stuff to my old man and Aunt Jenny, I suppose,” he replied. Melissa's lavender eyes rested on him for a moment before she hummed softly.

 

“As are we all, I am sure,” she said. “But, we could use those supplies,” she reminded him. He sighed.

 

“Yes, I know, Melissa,” he admitted. “Might as well stay,” he said. It's just a feeling, after all, he thought. I've been wrong before, he told himself.

 

“Now that that is settled,” Genie joined in, “let's eat!” she said, seeing the food begin to arrive from the kitchen. The group fell on the hot meal like starving wolves on a heard of lame sheep.

 

By the time that they couldn't eat another bite, the tavern was getting noisy as the evening rush started. Waving over the girl who had been keeping their table full, Melissa asked about the possibility of a room for the next two nights as well as the availability of bathing and laundry. The girl informed them that there was a somewhat nice room available behind the summer kitchen, set back from the inn a short distance, and that there was a wood and tin tub that could be used to bathe in.

 

The party took the room, more gold exchanging hands. Merrill, who had the largest hoard of gold, insisted that Louie pay, since her supply belonged to her Darling Jar. Knowing better than to waste time arguing with her, he dipped into his share of the gold, paying for the room. Following the girl, they were shown a simple room, apparently used to store winter provisions, that was attached to the summer kitchen. Noting fancy, it was nevertheless clean and suitable for their needs.

 

The girl had barely shown them where the tub was hung on the far wall than Melissa and Genie had it down and were building a fire in the central hearth. Genie handed Louie a large bucket and pointed to the wide well. Sighing, Louie knew what his job was for the next bit. Hauling water for the girls' bath was a common task to him by this time; and honestly, he didn't really mind of late. As the water was heating in a large metal pot over the fire, the tavern keeper's daughter returned with a small cake of soap and a washboard for Melissa.

 

Bidding her a good night, the party began to cycle through the bath. Without being asked, Louie stood in the doorway while the girls bathed. After a fast wash for himself, he and Genie muscled the tub outside and emptied it, Louie getting some more water from the well so Melissa and Genie could wash their clothes. It was late when they hung the last of their once-more-clean clothing up to dry. Merrill had prepared a place for them to sleep in the small room, as well as stacking the party's packs along the wall. Well-fed and comfortable, the four drifted off to sleep.

 

Morning found them dividing up to begin the re-supply. Melissa and Genie went to see what was available in town as far as food went, while Louie and Merrill drew the `plum' assignment of sorting out, inspecting, servicing and evaluating their beaten up and depleted non-edible supplies. The fact that Melissa and Genie trusted Louie to go through their packs showed just how radically the relationships inside the band had changed. Right now, Merrill and Louie were going through the packs one by one just outside the summer kitchen.

 

“Ew! Mold and mildew city!” carped Merrill, shaking out a spare shirt. Thanks to the rain in the Black Tree, and the river journey, water had seeped into some of their packs, and without the means to dry them out, they were now seeing the results. “I think this one is done for,” muttered the girl, tossing the shirt to the steadily-growing discard pile. Louie was inspecting the leather of the pack itself, which he had unceremoniously dumped on the grass for Merrill to pick through.

 

“Yeah, some here, as well,” he said, having turned the pack inside out. “I think we can scrub it with saddle soap, dry it a little, then re-oil it and be fine, though,” he mused. Merrill grunted, working on the clothing and assorted personal items from the pack.

 

“Excuse me,” came a voice from behind them. Louie and Merrill turned to see the daughter of the tavern keeper approaching them, a tray with two large tankards of beer and a small pile of cubed cheese on it. “I thought you might be hungry and thirsty,” she explained, extending the tray. Merrill grabbed one of the tankards, taking a long pull.

 

“Ah! That's just what I needed,” she said happily. Louie took the other tankard and followed Merrill's lead. After hastily wiping her hand on her shorts to remove any traces of mold or mildew, Merrill began to scarf down the cheese. Experienced in the way Merrill worked, Louie managed to get the next to last cheese chunk. “Hey, girl,” Merrill said, waving a gold coin, “keep the drink coming, ok?” she said, tossing the coins to the tavern keeper's offspring. The coin was caught dexterously by the girl, who nodded before turning back to the inn.

 

“Wow, Merrill,” said Louie, “that's the first time I have seen you spend any of your money,” marveled the man. Merrill gave him a `are you stupid?' look.

 

“That wasn't my money, dumb-ass,” she scoffed. “I stole that from you when you were reaching for the beer,” she dismissed it. Like I would spend my own money when you are handy, she thought derisively. Louie blinked.

 

“That wasn't very nice,” he sulked. Merrill waved it off.

 

“It was good for you,” she said airily. The two fell back to sorting and inspecting, interspersed with beer breaks. By lunch, the pair had gone through everything in all the packs, and the results were not encouraging. Other than the clothes on their backs and a few assorted items here and there, most of it was ruined or in need of severe repair. The camp axe, cooking pot/pan and flatware were about all that survived of their general supplies. When Melissa and Genie arrived for lunch, they compared notes.

 

On the food side, the situation looked good. There was indeed going to be a lot of choices for them come the next day as the meats finished curing. The baker was already working on the trail bread and crackers, they had found a suitable source for coffee, but not salt, and the pair had even discovered that the blacksmith was an excellent silver worker as well. Comparing notes, the party had revised their plans. Since money wasn't a big deal to them at the moment, they decided to see about replacing the lost items of clothing in the day or so they had, as well as having any damaged leather goods repaired at the local tannery.

 

After lunch, the group split up again, this time with the girls out and about, and Louie working on cleaning the leather gear that didn't need repair and watching over the scrolls. He had resisted the idea of leaving them unguarded and likewise didn't want to lug them around town, so he had stayed, tended to the leather, and watched over the scrolls. Genie had taken the camp axe and some of their weaponry to the blacksmith for some maintenance while Melissa looked into the salt problem and began to plan their re-supply of rations. Merrill, who had lost the most clothes along with Louie, was out searching for workable clothes.

 

The rest of the afternoon passed quickly for Louie, and just as he was surveying the completed work, he felt someone nudge his side. Looking over, he found Merrill standing there, offering him a mug of beer. Taking it, he took a pull. “Looks good, Louie,” said the small thief.

 

“How about on your end?” he asked her in turn. Merrill hummed.

 

“Well, they won't be fitted as well as our last ones, but we will have spare clothes by tomorrow midmorning,” she said. “Genie said that she was going to stay at the blacksmiths until he finished the work, which should be about supper time, and Melissa is negotiating with the farmers. I think they want her to conduct a service for the town, since she's a priestess and all,” noted the thief.

 

“Do they know she is a priestess of Mylee?” he asked. It was not common for a town to ask for a priestess devoted to a war god to conduct services for them, but Melissa was a priestess… “Think she'll do it?” he wondered. Merrill nodded.

 

“Yeah. Part of the order's vows, I think,” said the thief.

 

“How long do you think it will take her to do the service?” Louie asked. Merrill shrugged.

 

“She'll probably do the shortest one she can, so maybe an hour or two tonight at sun-down,” the smallest of the party responded. “So, it looks like you and me for dinner tonight, Louie,” she said.

 

“Looks like,” he agreed. After a quick wash-up, he grabbed the pack with the scrolls and escorted Merrill into the tavern for some food. No longer ravenously hungry, the two took a leisurely meal. By the end, Merrill was feeling nicely buzzed. Making their way back to their room, the two waited for Genie and Melissa to return. With the scrolls tucked safely in with their gear in the room, Louie and Merrill sat down on the bed, letting their meals digest.

 

Gradually, Merrill shifted until she was practically in Louie's lap. “Hey, Louie?” she said softly, her head just below his chin.

 

“Yeah, Merrill?”

 

“Do…do you like me?” asked the small girl. Louie frowned.

 

“Do I like you? Of course I like you, Merrill,” he replied. The girl straightened, turned and settled on his lap, facing him.

 

“I mean, do you like me like you like Melissa and Genie?” the brunette clarified. Louie blinked.

 

“Like I like Melissa and Genie? What are you talking about, Merrill?” he asked, confused.

 

“I know I'm shorter than them, and have smaller tits,” Merrill said softly, averting her gaze, “and I treat you pretty badly, too, but can you…do you…I mean, do you want to do stuff with me like you do with them?” asked the girl in a hurry.

 

“Well, yeah, I guess I do,” blinked Louie. Merrill studied his face carefully.

 

“They why haven't you?!” she demanded, her cheeks hot.

 

“I guess because you never seemed to want me to,” he managed lamely. It was Merrill's turn to blink.

 

“Because I…?” she trailed off. Suddenly, she leaned into him, her lips meeting his as her arms wrapped around his neck. While neither of them were experienced overly much, it was clear to Louie that he had the advantage over Merrill, thanks to Genie and Melissa. Still, what she lacked in experience, she made up for in enthusiasm. In short order, the two were laying down on the bed, still kissing.

 

Eventually, Louie pulled back from the kiss, surveying Merrill, who was panting softly. Unlike her usual self, she was motionless, expectantly waiting. Guess I should lead this time, Louie decided. Slowly, he reached out and caressed her cheek. Merrill moaned softly. Swallowing, Louie gradually brushed his hand down her neck, to her shirt, then lower to gingerly cup her small breasts. Feeling Merrill flinch as his hand cupped the small, firm cone, Louie froze. “Merrill?” he breathed.

 

Instead of answering verbally, Merrill brought her small hand up to cup his, pressing her breast into his palm. Reassured that she was ok, he began to slowly knead her breast, feeling her nipple harden as he did so. Another soft moan escaped her as he brought his other hand to her free breast, mimicking the actions of the first. “Louie,” breathed the girl, writhing beneath him. Hearing her tone, Louie slid his hands down to the hem of her shirt, catching her eyes before slowly sliding up her torso.

 

Louie had seen her naked before, but this time, it was different. Her breasts were small and conical, though with a pleasant curve to them. Usually, her nipples were a pale rose, but now, they were flushed a near cherry red with her arousal, both peaks standing hard and tall. Gently, Louie cupped the bare flesh with his hands, feeling the resilient mounds firm in his grip. Massaging them, he carefully tweaked her nipples like he did with the other two. Merrill reacted the same way as Melissa and Genie did, shivering and moaning with excitement.

 

Merrill's jacket and shirt were in the way, Louie decided, preventing him from really appreciating her breasts. Tucking a hand behind her back, he raised her up, using his other hand to strip off her jacket. Beneath the jacket, he found her knife harness, and removed that as well. Finally, he tugged her shirt over her head, leaving her naked to the waist. Surveying her bare chest, Louie found himself drooling. Bending over, he tasted her breast for the first time, sucking, licking and massaging the hard tip with his tonge.

 

A wordless shriek of pure ecstasy escaped her lips as her arms held his head to her breasts. It didn't take long for her breast to become covered in his drool; not that Merrill cared. Gods! What is this feeling?! she wondered, dazed. Her entire body seemed to be flooded with hot sparks, and the feeling was growing. It's never been like this before, she thought, hazily struggling to recall what it had felt like when she masturbated. Somehow, she couldn't quite recall how it had felt; especially when those sparks ignited her lower belly.

 

To her disappointment, Louie pulled his head free of her possessive grip, leaning back on his heels as he did so. Before him, Merrill was flat on her back, topless and flushed with lust. Obviously, the problem was that she was still confined by her shorts, panties and leggings, Louie determined. In his pants, his dick throbbed, desperately seeking freedom to claim the girl before him. Grinning at the girl lustfully, Louie swiftly set to work on her remaining garments, Merrill giving him what help she could, but more or less passively waiting.

 

As her shorts, panties and leggings landed in a heap by their packs, Louie surveyed his dessert. Merrill had a small, thin patch of hair just above her pubic bone, leaving her sex bare. It didn't look like she tended it in anyway, so he assumed that she was just naturally like that. The slick, shiny wetness on her sex told him that she liked things so far. Remembering how Genie and Melissa tasted, he nearly dove between her legs, his hands on her thighs as his tongue wiggled between her swollen lower lips to taste her honey.

 

“Mphf!” gasped Merrill, biting her finger to keep from screaming as Louie's tongue brushed her clit, triggering her first orgasm she hadn't given herself. But Louie either didn't notice or didn't care, his tongue delving deeper into her seeping channel, occasionally withdrawing to lap up the juice that managed to escape her channel. Merrill, he had decided, tasted wonderful. Light and sweet, but with a hint of the musk he so enjoyed with Melissa and Genie. He couldn't get enough of it, inflicting several varying-sized orgasms on Merrill, one after the other, forming a huge, intensely deep explosion of pleasure in the girl.

 

Just when Merrill was sure she would die right then and there from the intense release, she vaguely sensed Louie pulling his tongue from her pussy, and his face from her groin. Concentrating what little focus she had left, she saw him feverishly working on his pants. Oh, right, he still hasn't gotten much out of this, she realized in a kind of general way. Her brown eyes drifted down, seeing him free his hard length. Framed by her spread thighs, she found it very attractive. I guess he does like me, she thought, seeing the proud rod throbbing as it leaked a little pre-cum. “Louie,” she cooed softly, opening her arms as she unconsciously spread her thighs as wide as she could.

 

With his dick free, Louie turned his attention back to Merrill, seeing her open her arms to him, her thighs spreading wider. As she opened her legs, her blushing nest opened as well. With a hungry growl, Louie stretched over her, settling on top of the small thief, his tip touching her molten entrance. Merrill gulped when she felt his tool press against her virgin passage. She recalled Melissa's and Genie's words about Louie never intentionally hurting her. I guess I will just trust them, she sort-of decided. Rational thought was difficult for her just then, given how much her mind had been melted by the sustained orgasms Louie had forced on her willing body. Right now, she was reasonably sure that she couldn't stand; maybe not even sit up without falling over. That's fine, though, since I think lying flat on my back will get me what I want, the thought flittered through her mind.

 

Between her legs, it felt like a battering ram was seeking to enter her. Grunting softly, Merrill wiggled her hips, unconsciously seeking to swallow the invading dick with her slick pussy. Thanks to her earlier release, she wasn't tensing up, and her muscles were relaxes, allowing Louie to slowly, steadily claim her. The pre-cum weeping from the slit in his tip was helping, as was Merrill's constant flow of slick Merrill-cum. Both of them sighed in pleasure when the tip finally forced its way into her completely. For a moment, both held still, savoring the feeling.

 

Merrill was feeling such intense sensations that she wouldn't have believed it possible to survive these feelings. She could feel herself stretching around Louie at the same time that she squeezed him with her muscles. It didn't hurt at all, though it was incredibly tight. Feeling the throbbing of his tip where it was tightly wedged into her entrance was feeding her lusts, and she wanted more of him in her. Twitching her hips, she urged him deeper into her passage.

 

Louie couldn't believe how tight and hot Merrill was. Melissa was tight, as was Genie, but Merrill was an entirely different matter. So tight and slick and hot that he couldn't stand it any more. He was preparing to push forward, hungry for more of her, when she twitched her hips. Another lustful growl escaped his throat as he pushed forward, his tip obliterating her maidenhood in one shot. Merrill didn't even notice. All she could feel was the thick, strong dick driving into her most intimate reaches. “Ugh!” she grunted, feeling him drive deeper and deeper into her.

 

In short order, Louie was pushing against the entrance to her womb, the plum-sized crown pushing against her cervix with each thrust. Louie was panting, nearing release, as he relentlessly sought to penetrate her to the very deepest reaches he could. Merrill was nearly mindless by now, drooling happily as her body jerked her hips up to meet Louie's thrusts, her mind completely blown by her first taste of the deep, heavy, draining orgasms that were generated by the feeling of Louie's dick in her pussy, rubbing her G-spot and pushing against her cervix.

 

“Merrill!” hissed Louie, his balls tightening as he grabbed her hips and held her tight to him. “Cumming!” he breathed raggedly, his load exploding into her, flooding through her cervix and into her womb. “All for you,” he sighed as the last of his load crammed into her womb. Merrill was teetering on the edge of passing out when he said that. Just before everything went blank for her, she managed to weakly grasp his wrists.

 

“All your, Louie,” she breathed before succumbing to unconsciousness. Louie barely managed to get her situated before dozing off himself. Outside the door to the kitchen, Melissa and Genie exchanged looks and knowing smiles before ducking into the room they shared to survey the damage.