Chapter 0 - Hall of the Elf Lord

Hall of the Elf Lord
Vesian IV
 
              “Please, sir knight! You must help me!” 
              Vesian lowered a hand to his sword hilt as he brought his courser to a halt. The party approaching him on the road were well-dressed, perhaps merchants or the servants of some high lord, but their clothes were all a mess and their hair disheveled. Ever wary in sight of the enchanted forest, he watched them approach with suspicion.
              The lead rider, a woman of near fifty in an embroidered dress of green wool, dismounted and fell to her knees before him.
              “My mistress, the Lady Isabelle, is lost!” she wailed. Vesian raised a mailed hand.
              “Calm yourself,” he commanded, “Good woman, and explain what has happened.”
              One of her companions dismounted and laid a comforting arm around her shoulder. He looked up to Vesian, his face pale and drawn. “It is our lord’s daughter,” the man explained. “She has been taken from us.
              “Taken?” Vesian inquired. “By whom?”
              “By the forest!” the woman cried, a wrinkled hand thrust toward the foreboding face of the forest a mile distant. “We were riding, and…” she choked back a sob, and her companion continued.
              “There was a strange sound on the wind, like flutes. Lady Isabelle’s horse bolted, and ran straight for the woods. None of us could catch her, and she could not control the animal. Before we could do anything, she disappeared into the trees and was gone.”
              “She’s like a daughter to me,” the woman sobbed, bringing herself under control at last. “I am Basine, her nurse and guardian. Gods save me, it was just a few hours of hawking, and now my dear Isabelle is gone. Please, sir. You must save her!”
              “Speak sense, Basine!” her companion admonished. “He can’t go off into the Dalamari Forest! There’s all manner of horrors in there! He’ll be dead by sundown.”
              “And she’s in there!” Basine shot back, shoving him away. “My dear girl is in that awful place alone! He has to go in after her. Are you not a knight, sir?”
              “I am,” Vesian sighed, already knowing that he would not make the tournament at Chateau Vauvert in time. “Tell me what you can, and I will search the forest for your Lady Isabelle.”
              Basine’s face lit up in relief, though her companion looked at Vesian with a mixture of pity and bafflement.
              “Aye, sir. She is a slight girl, with black hair, green eyes, and wide hips. I’ve always said she’d make someone a good wife. She was wearing a blue dress trimmed with sable and riding a red mare, though I’ll have the traitorous beast put down if you bring it back. Damned thing, it could have gotten her killed!”
              “It might have already,” the man muttered, and Basine shot him a furious look.
              “She’s still alive,” Basine snapped. “Now shut your damn fool mouth before the gods hear you!”
              “Very well,” Vesian replied. “I will search for her.”
              “Thank you, sir! Oh, the gods bless your travels! I could not bear to lose my Isabelle.”
              “And the marquis would have our hides if anything happened to her,” the man added, though when Basine’s eyes turned on him, Vesian knew he wished he had kept his mouth shut. 
              “There is a manor not far from here that belongs to his lordship,” Basine went on when she had finished staring a hole through the man’s soul. “We will wait for you there, for a dare not return to the castle without my charge. Please be quick about it, I fear for her safety in that wood. Beasts, fae, even dragons lurk beneath its boughs.”
              Vesian knew all of that and did not need a reminder of the dangers he had just agreed to brave on behalf of some damsel he had never met before. But he knew her father’s reputation, and could expect a generous reward if the girl came home in one piece. He turned over his shoulder to see his squire struggling up the road behind him with their unruly packhorse in tow. 
              “Damned stubborn thing,” Thibault muttered. “What’s gotten into you?”
              “It’s the forest,” Vesian called. Thibault looked to his master and shook his head.
              “I told you we should have taken the eastern road. Just being in sight of the place is setting the horses off.”
              “We won’t make it to Vauvert anyway,” Vesian replied. “We’re heading west.”
              “West… into the forest?” Thibault asked. “What? Why?”
              Vesian pointed to Basine’s party. “Lady Isabelle’s horse carried her off into the forest, and we’re her best hope of rescue.”
              “The forest claims better knights than you every year,” Thibault countered. “Why should we fare any better?”
              Vesian shrugged. “We have to try. Would you rather we leave the damsel to the mercy of the forest?”
              Thibault sighed defeated. “Is it too much to ask that our deaths be quick?”
              Vesian smiled. “That’s the spirit. Now hand the reins over to Basine, we’re going to have to travel light and a forest is no place for horses.”
 
---
 
              The shadowy forest loomed ahead of them, and Vesian stopped just before its edge. Towering trees thousands of years old spread a thick emerald canopy above him and dense undergrowth covered the forest floor. In the depths of the forest, he could see fae lights dancing slowly through the trees.
“Are you sure you want to go in?” Thibault asked from behind him. “Maybe she’ll just come out on her own.”
              Vesian snorted. “Find your courage, Thibault. She needs our help. And besides, some knights do come out of the forest unscathed.”
              “Some? Vesian, the poor girl is probably already dead. What’s the sense in us dying to bring back a corpse?”
              “As long as there’s a chance she’s alive, I won’t give up on her. I swore an oath. You can stay behind if you want. Tell everyone I wouldn’t let you follow me. But I’m going in.”
              Without brooking further discussion, Vesian stepped across the green threshold of the forest. The world seemed to shift around him, taking on a strange, silvery hue. The sounds changed, the chirping of forest birds was now airier, at once more distant and more ever-present. Somewhere in the emerald depths of the forest, he briefly heard piping. 
              He turned toward Thibault, but behind him was not the open fields through which they had walked, but more of the verdant forest. In every direction it stretched away from him with no sign of where its edge lay.
              “Thibault?” he called, but only the chirping of birds answered him. “Damn it.”
              Turning back again, he decided to forge ahead alone. The treetops loomed distantly overhead, the light streaming through the forest canopy in golden rays. Vesian drew his sword, for he could not shake the feeling that he was not alone. 
              The piping sounded again, and he cocked an ear to the wind. He turned his head this way and that way until he found that the sound was louder in one direction than the others, and set off in that direction. Sword in hand, he walked in the direction of the piping for what seemed to be hours, but the sun did not change position in the sky. The forest looked familiar everywhere and he came to worry that he was lost, stumbling around in circles. Will I ever become un-lost? He wondered as concern set in. Or am I doomed to wander this forest until I starve?
              His worry soon gave way, however, for he came upon a rocky ridge within the forest. Its crest rose some fifty feet above the forest floor, and its stony flank offered many handholds for a climber. Sheathing his sword unbloodied, Vesian began to climb to the top. The climb was easy enough, and soon he crested the ridge. 
              But he was disappointed to find that he gained no great vantage from the top. Instead, all he could see was the same forest he had been roaming for hours now. Defeated, he sat himself down on the rock and laid his chin on his palm to think. Here and there he could see blue sky through the trees, but no landmarks presented themselves for him to orient himself around. He knew that, on the outside, the forest was perhaps three hundred miles across, but legends and folk tales claimed that the forest was far larger than its borders intimated. He might spend the rest of his life inside it and never see more than a tiny fraction of it all, let alone find Lady Isabelle. 
              The stone beneath him rumbled, and Vesian froze where he sat. Slowly, he turned to look around. He expected to see the trees shaking in an earthquake, but to his shock he saw that only the ridge where he sat was shaking. Off in the corner of his vision, a rocky spur shifted along the ground like a dog’s leg moving as it slept.
With awed horror, Vesian realized that the ridge upon which he sat was in fact some enormous, stone-skinned behemoth, slumbering in the midst of this ancient forest. Slowly, in mortal fear of awakening the giant, he rose to his feet and began to pick his way down the slope to the forest floor again. The ground groaned beneath him, and he started.
              His feet slipped on the rock, and he fell to his backside with a loud cry. His mail screeching against the rock, he slid three strides down the slope before he caught himself on a rocky protrusion. The ground shook again, and Vesian froze. Nothing moved, though his heart was pounding in his chest. He slowly picked himself up and continued down the slope.
              The forest floor was in sight, and Vesian in his haste thought to jump the rest of the way, but feared the noise of hitting the grass might disturb the monster’s slumber. Like a mere fly on the neck of a bull, he sought to tread lightly and escape notice. He crept closer to the grassy floor, ever fearful he would wake the beast.
              At last it was within reach, and all too eager he put his armored feet on the forest floor and ran for the cover of the trees. Plunging through brush and brambles, he ran until the thundering of his heart threatened to overwhelm him. At last convinced that the behemoth was far behind him, Vesian leaned himself against a thick tree trunk to catch his breath. He cast a look back toward the ridge, now hidden behind the towering trees, and saw no motion. 
He sighed, but quickly realized that whatever orientation he had had before was utterly ruined now. His dash through the forest had come without any thought beyond an instinctual fear of the massive creature he had inadvertently scaled, and now he felt even more lost than he had before. 
              Frustration boiling over, he drew his sword and slashed at a thicket. His blade cut through the tangle of vines, but from them burst forth a vast swarm of many-colored butterflies. He yelped in surprise as they poured past him, but the surprise soon turned to awe at the sight.
              Vesian stood agape for a long moment. The forest occupied a place of great fear in the minds of Aquitaine, but here he was overwhelmed by its beauty. Blue, green, red, orange, and violet, they swirled past him in a great column spiraling upward toward the forest canopy. There they scattered in all directions, little motes of color sparkling across the emerald sky.
              As the swarm dispersed, something caught his eye. It was a scarlet swan, winging its way through the trees in a straight path. There’s a welcome sight, thought Vesian. He pushed himself off the tree and watched it sweep past. It was flying with purpose, and Vesian fell in behind it.
              He soon lost the bird in the trees, but he followed the straight line it had flown until he detected the sound of running water. His heart lifted, and a mercifully short distance away he found a small stream. The water flowed clear and fast through a deep trough in the earth, and he saw little silver fish flitting through the cold depths. Streams eventually flow to the sea, he told himself, but the swan had flown upstream and he decided to follow its flight.
Feeling that he was getting closer to something, Vesian hurried his pace. Coming to a place where the stream passed through a thicket, he donned his helmet, drew his blade and forged ahead to the other side.
              He emerged in a glade before a rockface that ran to either side out of his view. The glade was blessed with an abundance of flowers as colorful as the butterflies he had seen before, and sunlight streamed down from a hole in the forest canopy above. The stream he had been following emerged from a pool fed by a waterfall plunging over the rockface, and the scarlet swan swam lazily in circles around the pool, joined by two others of its kind. 
              There, in the spray of the waterfall, bathed a naked young woman. Her skin was pale, her hair dark gold, and her body slender. Vesian sucked in a breath at the sight of her, so lovely was the sight. Her body glistened in the mist, her wet skin was raked by delicate fingers as she ran her hands over her nude body. The pink nipples on her lively round breasts stood erect under the cold spray whose droplets glistened on her white flesh. Vesian unconsciously took a step forward, feeling the hardness of his cock against his hauberk already. He felt lust for her coursing through him, despite his apprehension about the forest. All he could think of was to mount the little nymph and fuck her silly.
              He doffed his helm, pulled the mail and surcoat over his head, and threw it aside. His swordbelt fell to the grass as he advanced toward the pool as if in a dream. The nymph seemed unaware of him, instead bathing serenely in the rushing water of the falls. Vesian threw off his boots and clothes to wade naked into the pool. 
              His splashing through the water alerted her, and the nymph turned to look at him over her shoulder. She smiled coyly, stroking a long tress of her wet gold hair in her delicate hands. Her smile crooked up at the edges of her mouth and she arched her back to stick out her ass. It was a delicious ass, Vesian saw at once, his cock standing up stiffer. Her ass was round and smooth, at once both shapely and slender and it called to him as he approached.
The nymph’s blue eyes flashed as he neared, surging through the thigh-deep water over the last strides to reach her. His heart was aflame, and he felt Nystra’s own lust rushing through every inch of his being. He was enraptured by the nymph, unable to think of anything else but fucking her.
              “Hello, mortal,” the nymph purred. “Welcome to my glade.”
              Vesian did not reply, except to reach out and seize her by the waist. She squealed in delight as he pulled her close, thrusting his cock into her smooth and hairless sex without even a word of greeting. Each thrust sent ripples through her smooth, heart-shaped ass and the sight of it was mesmerizing. Vesian’s hands clutched at her, clawing hungrily at her beautiful little breasts and the bead of her sex. She screamed and shuddered in his arms, but Vesian did not let up. He bit at her neck as he fucked her from behind, drawing a pleasured sigh from the nymph. Her hands reached back to caress him along his legs and flanks, feeling his powerful muscles that drove the cock into her pink purse. 
              He kissed her neck and grabbed at her breasts, feeling the soft orbs bounce in his hands with each stroke inside her. They were so round and perky, deliciously soft to the touch. Lust coursed through him and he crushed her slight body against him, grunting like an animal as he fucked. 
              “Such a strong man,” the nymph crooned. She ground her perfectly shaped hips against his in rhythm with his cock’s thrusting, her hands running all along his body. “You’re just the thing I’ve been waiting for.”
              Vesian only grunted in reply. Her bold blue eyes staring up at him, the nymph giggled in his arms. The noise, so pure and raw with delight in the cool air of the primeval forest, set his hips thrusting even faster. A sodden lock of hair clung to her rosy cheek, and Vesian brushed it aside. She turned her head back to whisper in his ear.
              “Come for me, my dear mortal.”
              “Not yet,” he grunted, his fingers pinching her soft pink nipples between them. “Oh, Nystra’s tits, not yet!”
              She giggled again and bit softly at his ear. Vesian’s eyes flew open and he was at once close to coming. The nymph was unlike any other woman he had had his cock inside of. Her skin was so soft and silky to the touch, he could not believe his own senses. It was all he could do to keep from coming inside her already, he did not want the moment to end.
              “Almost there?” she giggled teasingly, “Let me help you.” Her hot, soft lips brushed his jaw, but Vesian shoved her away. With a squeal of delight, her naked torso swung forward to hang parallel to the water’s surface. Clutching her at the wrists, Vesian held her suspended there as he fucked her from behind, the slapping of his flesh against hers reverberating out into the towering trees beyond the glade. 
              Vesian felt his lust for her grow. He wormed his fingers into her mouth, pulling on the inside of her cheeks with his fingertips. The nymph moaned again and he fucked harder. One hand slid down her cheek and tightened around her throat. She coughed, her eyes rolling back in her head to stare up at him. Her head craned back to kiss him. He snarled with furious lust and squeezed her throat harder. 
              The nymph cackled with glee, her laugh half-strangled by his grasping hands. She ran her soft hands along his thighs, then up to wrap her fingers around the base of his cock as he drove it into her. The light touch of her fingers sent shivers up his spine. His toes curled in the soft mud of the pool and he could not contain himself any longer.
              He came with a mighty groan, his cock opening to pour a seemingly unending stream of his seed into her pink purse. He squeezed her tightly with hands and arms, turning her pale flesh rosy red beneath his fingers. The nymph shuddered in his grasp, moaning loudly with orgasm. Vesian crushed her against him and raised her up on his cock, her delicate feet lifting from the water in his arms. 
              His cock throbbed, then spurted again inside her. Her overfull purse dripped hot white cum down his cock’s shaft and to the clear, cool water below them. He lowered the nymph to her feet in the water. Still weak-kneed and murmuring with pleasure, she steadied herself against his powerful chest with one hand, fanning her rosy cheeks with the other.
              “Well,” she breathed, “That was quite the greeting. What is your name, mortal?”
              Vesian only now became aware of how hard he was breathing. He took a deep breath to steady himself. “I am Sir Vesian de Surrac, a knight errant of the Order of the Griffon and servant to King Guntheric of Aquitaine.”
              “My, that is quite the name,” she teased. “I am Idalia, and this is my grove. You are welcome here, Sir Vesian de Surrac.”
              “I thank you, good nymph, for both your hospitality and for… well…”
              She laughed, silvery bells ringing in the cool forest air. One of the red swans took flight, its powerful wings lifting it into the air where it soared away into the trees. 
              “It is you who has done me a service,” Idalia replied, rising on her toes to kiss his cheek. “It can be so lonely in this forest. I am always glad to fuck a handsome mortal.”
              She took his slackening cock in one hand and gently stroked it, smiling up at him as she did. His jaw sagged open, and he clenched his fists by his sides to regain his composure.
              “Apologies, dear girl,” he stammered, “But I am here on a quest that I dare not delay for too long.”
              “You were not so long in coming just now, perhaps we might fuck again? Lay yourself in the grass and rest a moment. I’m sure your cock will rally in no time.”
              Without waiting for an answer, she led him out of the pool to lay on the grass by where he had discarded his clothing and effects, pulling him gently by his cock the whole way. The green grass was soft beneath his naked skin, and Vesian felt a powerful drowsiness coming over him. Idalia lay herself beside him, one hand on his cock and the other stroking his hair.
              “I am most pleased that the goddess led you to me,” she murmured in his ear. Vesian raised an eyebrow.
              “Was it the goddess? I followed a red swan.”
              “The swans serve the gods,” Idalia replied, stroking his cock, “And they serve me.”
              “Perhaps,” Vesian mused, his chest still rising and falling quickly. “But I came in search of a woman.”
              “And you found one,” murmured the nymph. “For is there any woman as much a woman as I am?”
              “Perhaps, perhaps not. But I have known many women throughout the realm and you fuck like no other.”
              “You are too kind,” Idalia purred, her fair cheeks turning red. Vesian smiled a crooked smile. Despite eagerly allowing a strange man to mount her in the bath, the nymph still blushes at common flattery, he thought to himself. A strange creature indeed.
              “But no, I did not come in search of you, glad as I am to have found you. I came looking for a damsel carried off into the wood on the back of her horse.”
              Idalia sat up and brushed her golden hair over her shoulder. “Hm,” she grunted in disinterest, avoiding his gaze. Laying on his back, Vesian looked up to her and took his abandoned cock in one hand. He hoped she might continue her pleasuring, but the nymph had cooled toward him, her eyes wandering toward the far side of her glade to settle on a stand of fruit trees. 
              She stood up, her long bare legs cutting a trail through the grass to where the boughs hung heavy with fruit. Still ignoring his stare, she plucked an armful of the ripe red fruit and carried them back to him. Idalia knelt beside him, the succulent fruit glistening in her arms. Vesian felt himself lick his lips unconsciously and he suddenly realized that he was quite hungry.
              Yet as he looked at them, peasant tales sprang to his mind. They told of wanderers lost in the forest who were persuaded to eat strange fruits only to find that they became ensorcelled. Some never wanted to leave the forest thereafter, while others were transformed into wild beasts. Vesian felt himself raise a skeptical eyebrow as he surveyed the offerings.
              Idalia seemed to read his mind. An amused smile split her pretty face. 
              “They pose no danger,” she laughed. “Though would be trapped here forever with me be such a terrible fate?”
              Vesian shrugged. “No, but I did to promise to get the damsel back.”
              The nymph sighed. “Eat, and we will speak of your damsel.” She held out one of the fruits to Vesian and he took it. Biting into it, he found it was sweet and juicy, like a ripe peach but more so. Vesian moaned in wonderment, but also because the nymph laid a hand on his cock and kissed his cheek.
              “Tell me of this damsel,” she said, lying down beside him. As Vesian opened his mouth, the nymph closed her hand around his cock and began to stroke.
              “The Lady Isabelle,” he began, gasping as her delicate hands worked his cock, sending shivers along his spine again. “She and her servants were out riding when they heard a strange flute on the wind. Her horse bolted into the wood and carried her off in the saddle.”
              “And you promised to bring her back,” Idalia mused. “A pity.”
              “Why’s that?”
              “I know this fluting,” she said, her hands working faster on his cock. “It is the work of the elf lord Saimdol. He has taken your lady for himself and will be loath to let her go until he has had his fun.”
              “Is there anything he wants?” Vesian asked. The thought of dealing with an elf lord frightened him, but his honor as a Knight of the Griffon was indispensable and in any case he could not leave Lady Isabelle behind.
              “Who might know the mind of an elf lord? I do not tread the same paths as he, though he sometimes comes to my glade to fuck.”
              “Well, I must find some way to persuade him. Can you show me to him?”
              “So soon?” she pouted, still stroking his cock. “Must this lord take all my fun?”
              She sat up, her beautiful breasts trembling as she did. The nymph swung a leg over his hips to straddle him, stroking his cock in front of her as she looked down into his eyes. Vesian felt his heart quicken. 
              “I suppose I could stay a while longer,” he managed, and Idalia smiled. Raising herself up, she settled herself onto his cock. He slid inside her up to the base and Idalia began to ride. Her perfectly round breasts heaved up and down on her taut chest and Vesian grabbed them in both hands. She lifted herself up on his cock, a slick lance penetrating her warm, pink sex, and dropped down again with a lusty slap against his hips.
              “Kiss me,” he begged, desiring to feel her against every part of him. She bent to kiss him and Vesian wrapped her up in his arms, pressing her hot body against him as she rode his cock. They moaned in the grass together, and Vesian clawed at her with his hands, caressing and clutching her soft, innocent flesh with the worn hands of a knight errant. She opened her eyes and stared at him, her blue orbs shining with delight and her mouth stretched open in a teasing, crooked smile.
              His lust for her had built up to something terrible inside him, and now Vesian could contain himself no more. He rolled her over onto her back and propped himself up on his hands, drawing his cock almost all the way out of her purse before slamming himself back inside. He grasped her breasts in his hands, squeezing with a fury he had never known before. Idalia giggled with delight, her little frame shaking with each voracious thrust into her.
              It was not enough. He desired not just to fuck her, but to have her, to dominate her beautiful body and make her scream his name. His hands climbed her naked chest to wrap around her throat, his thumbs digging red into her neck. The nymph gritted her teeth, sinking her own fingernails into his back.
              “Fuck me,” she snarled, her eyes narrowing as he did just that. His cock throbbed for her, aching to come inside her, but he could not let the moment end yet. He wanted it to never end. Given the choice, he would stay here, fucking the impossibly gorgeous nymph until the end of time.
              But he could not. He was about to come, he knew. Idalia’s pretty face was reddening as he strangled her, her narrowed eyes staring furious lust up at him as he perfect round breasts heaved under his assault. He tried to keep his seed inside him, but the effort was fast overwhelming him. 
              He groaned with pained exertion and at last he could last no longer. Releasing her delicate throat, he pulled his cock from her nethers and spurted a line of cum up her flawless chest and into her eyes. His hot, sticky load landed in a long streak from her rosy nipples to her sapphire eyes and he came again. And again. He came until he thought he might collapse, covering her pale flesh in more cum than he had ever seen before, even in Chateau Valeur when he and four other squires had snuck a slutty serving wench into their barracks. 
              He knelt in the grass, panting and heaving as he stared down at his handiwork. Idalia stretched out on her back, her legs shaking. 
              “That was wonderful,” she murmured. “Won’t you lay with me a while longer?”
              Vesian sighed. He sat beside her, his cock hanging down between his legs. 
              “I must be going. Can you tell me the way to the lord’s hall?”
              Idalia rolled over onto her stomach and set her lower lip in a pout. A milky droplet of cum hung from her red lip and stretched toward the grass. Vesian watched it, his breathing at last slowing until it broke free and dropped to the earth. Idalia did not reply. With a sigh, he stood up and waded into the pond. 
              Pouring handfuls of cold, clear water over himself, he watched Idalia in the grass with a wry, amused smile on his face. She stared back longingly, her blue eyes watching his every move. When he emerged, dripping wet and glistening in the sunlight, she sat up, her breasts still wet with his cum. He began to dress himself, and the nymph finally stood up and came to his side.
              “You really mean to leave?” she asked sadly, and Vesian could only nod. 
              “I am a knight errant, and I made a promise to save the lady. Perhaps fate will draw me back here someday, but for now I must go.”
              “Very well,” she sighed. “The hall of Lord Saimdol lies that way,” she said, extending a pale arm and delicate finger toward one edge of the grove. “Not far through those trees you will find a clear brook. Follow it upstream until you come to his glade. Though I will warn you, to an elf lord, you mortals are nothing but amusement and a means to an end. Trust not his hospitality.”
              “He is not like you?” Vesian teased, reaching out to goose her lovely ass. She yelped in surprise, her frown momentarily giving way to a smile. She slapped his hand away, but bit her lower lip as she studied him, naked from the waist up and still wet. But her smile soon vanished.
              “No,” she said, her grave tone returning. “He is capricious and sometimes cruel, a lord with worldly pursuits and little care for the simple pleasures of my glade. He has taken this lady and will require you to pay a price to free her. Be careful, and do not enter into any agreement with him without due consideration.”
              “I will be careful,” Vesian promised. “I thank you for your words of advice.”
              “Mortals are nothing more than amusement to the fae,” she reminded him again, “now go, before I ensorcel you to stay forever.” 
              She turned away from him and waded into her pool. Where before it had only risen to her knees, Vesian now watched it swallow her up to her waist, then her shoulders, until the water rose up above her head and she vanished into the bubbling surface beneath her waterfall.
              He stood staring at the spot where she had disappeared for a moment, considering whether to stay, then pulled his surcoat over his head and belted on his sword. With a deep breath, he set out from the grove in the direction she had pointed. 
 
---
 
              He again walked through the forest for what seemed like hours, but now the forest seemed to be growing darker. Where he could glimpse the sky through the boughs, it had taken on a reddish tint and the rays of sunshine lancing down grew dimmer. Vesian forged onward, following the brook upstream with the determination of a man with no other choice.
              The nymph’s words rang in his mind. Mortals are nothing more than amusement to the fae, she said. What does that make me? he wondered. As the brook stretched ever on and on before him, he wondered if perhaps he should have stayed in her glade. He began to think he might never reach its source. Perhaps it was even an enchanted brook that ran in a circle and he was even now treading over his own footsteps from before. In the deepening twilight, it would be easier to miss his tracks, assuming that the forest had not overgrown them in his wake.
              His dark thoughts were interrupted by a sudden distant howling. He stopped and drew his sword. Cocking an ear to the wind, he waited in silence. The howling came again, this time much closer. In the direction of the howling, a thicket rustled. Vesian set his jaw and steadied his blade. 
              There came a third howl, this time followed by the baying of wolves. Big wolves, from the sound of it, and something thrashing its way through the brush.
              Vesian stopped, the shaking of the thicket intensifying, and extended the point of his sword forward, hoping that he might spear whatever it was that came surging forward. The wolves snared, jaws clashed, and the thicket burst open to reveal… Thibault.
              The squire flailed about as he tore free of the brush at last, getting tangled up in his own legs as he toppled to the ground at Vesian’s feet. His surcoat was torn and prickled with thorns, the paint of his shield scuffed, and his helm scratched all over. But he bolted to his feet again and his sword flashed into his hand.
              His eyes met Vesian’s and Thibault stopped.
              “There you are!” he gasped. “I lost sight of you for the briefest of moments, and then those damned wolves set upon me! I knew this forest would be the death of us! Damned wolves, the size of a horse!”
              “Get beside me,” Vesian urged, and they each brought up their shields to form a short shield wall, their swordpoints concealed behind them. Before them the thicket shook furiously and Thibault’s pursuers snarled with ferocious malice. The branches strained in the air above, and Vesian heard a wolf yelp. It cried out again, then another joined it. 
              “They’re caught,” Thibault muttered. “Serves them right, I had to fight through that accursed thicket, so should they.”
              “I don’t think that they are,” Vesian replied. “They’re retreating.”
              The thicket had stopped its shaking and the growls of the wolves grew fainter but it was still some time before they dared lower their shields and sheathe their swords.
              “I thought I was a dead man,” Thibault breathed at last. He turned to Vesian and punched him in the shoulder. “Where did you go?! Didn’t you hear me calling for you?!”
              “No!” Vesian protested. “I took one step into the forest and turned around, but there was nothing there but trees. I’ve been wandering these woods for what seems like days! I’ve covered miles, run from a monster the size of a mountain, seen a scarlet swan…” 
              He decided it was best not to mention his tryst with a nymph to a man who had narrowly avoided being eaten by giant wolves. Thibault could be so envious.
              “Well, aren’t you lucky indeed,” Thibault grumbled. 
              “You have no idea,” Vesian mused.
              “What do you mean?” the squire asked suspiciously.
              “I’ve spoken with the fae,” Vesian replied hastily. “This brook will lead us to the hall of the elf lord who has taken Lady Isabelle.”
              “An elf lord?” Thibault muttered. “Well, doesn’t this just keep on improving for us… Lead on, I suppose.”
              With a shrug, Vesian sheathed his sword and continued upstream. He was pleased to have his loyal squire and friend once again at his side, for the dangers of the forest seemed legion even when armed with the nymph’s advice. Thibault for his part was on alert, his gaze sweeping the nearby brush and tree canopy alike in a constant, paranoid search for threats. As they walked, Vesian began to realize that Thibault was newer to the forest than he was. While he had spent what seemed like days wandering the forest, and fucking Idalia, Thibault seemed to have just stumbled in.
              Again, he remembered a peasant’s tale, this time of a boy who stumbled into the forest and reemerged mere moments later as a withered old man who had promptly slumped dead to the ground, laid low by age. This forest was a perilous place. Will we even be able to return home once we find Lady Isabelle? he wondered. But he could only shake his head, for the strange magic of the forest defied all mortal comprehension. Slowly, he began to get the feeling that they were being watched and then his silent musing was interrupted by a distant fluting that stopped him cold in his tracks. 
              For all his anxious vigilance, Thibault ran right into his back without realizing. The eerie tones chilled him to his very core and sorcery touched his mind, he knew. His mind swam with strange thoughts and voices that he could not shut out. He felt himself moving again, heading for a clearing that seemed to emerge from the forest.
              The trees thinned out to reveal a twilight glade before a towering outcropping of gray rock crowned with the most massive oak that Vesian had ever seen. It soared up into the already impossibly high forest canopy, spreading its branches over an area large enough to cover a castle’s bailey. In the glade before it, horses roamed unattended, their shapes somehow more slender and yet also more powerful than that those of the horses he had come to know. His feet moved unbidden toward the outcropping, where his eyes made out a cave entrance splitting its face.
              Here the fluting grew louder and more insistent, and Vesian’s pace picked up to match. Behind him, he could hear Thibault following close behind. What had once been a small cave entrance seemed to grow wider as he neared, until it was a vast black mouth waiting to swallow him up in its umbral depths. Passing through its mouth, he glanced upward to catch a glimpse of elven eyes glittering down at him from the rocky ridge above. 
              Inside he found a smooth stone path that curved down into the cave’s depths. The fluting was louder here and joined by other instruments as well. An ethereal harp and jaunty lute combined for a strange melody that set Vesian’s nerve on edge. He wondered if Thibault was similarly uneasy, but could not bring himself to look over his shoulder. Instead, he marched down the sloping ramp under strange, glowing lights until it debouched into a wide cavern and he stopped to stare in awe.
              He had emerged from an archway of living wood so finely shaped that it must have been carved, though it showed no sign of a knife’s touch. From the archway, the stone ceiling soared a hundred feet over his head in a great dome, pierced in its center by the roots of the enormous oak above, and in several other places by great shafts of light that lanced down into the cavern. Straight ahead of him, a spiraling walkway of living wood climbed from the tiled floor of the hall to a throne in the tree’s roots, currently occupied by an imperious elf lord who held a staff in one hand and a crystal orb in the other. His glittering blue eyes stared across the cavern at Vesian, who detected the slightest hint of a smile on his face.
              But Vesian’s eyes were soon torn away, for between himself and the elf lord stretched two hundred feet of cavern, occupied by lavish furnishings, bathing pools fed by waterfalls cascading down from the roof, and an ongoing orgy the likes of which he had never seen. Dozens of naked men and women—elven and mortal alike—were cavorting on overstuffed silken couches, in the bathing pools, and on the bare stone floor. Moans, kisses, and the rhythmic slap of flesh on bare flesh echoed about the room, all to the accompaniment of music that ushered forth from somewhere in the darkened depths of the hall behind the throne.
              Vesian heard Thibault gasp behind him, and felt his cock hardening beneath his mail, but his gaze went not to the squire. Instead, it settled on a lone figure dancing nude before the base of the lord’s stair. A slender young woman, with long raven hair that reached to her wasp-like waist when it was not flowing in the air behind her as she danced. Even from here, Vesian knew that her eyes were green. He stepped through the archway and strode unerringly down the red marble path that connected the hall’s entrance to the lord’s throne. 
              The elf watched his approach with heightening amusement. Vesian’s mind ran back to the nymph’s parting words. Nothing more than amusement and a means to an end, he remembered. He looked around at the naked bodies entwined in the cavern’s pale light and shook his head slightly. Amusement indeed.
              Lady Isabelle caught sight of him as he neared. She was beautiful, he realized. He had never had much trouble imagining why the elf lord had abducted her, but seeing her dancing naked in the twilight hall removed all doubt from his mind. 
              Her green eyes flashed with something like recognition, but she did not stop her dance. Her long raven hair swirled about her as she spun and Vesian felt his breath catch in his chest. He stopped within two arms’ lengths of her, staring mutely at her. She was smiling, but he knew from her eyes that she was as much a prisoner here as he was. 
              Vesian tried to speak, to call out to her, but the insistent music in his ears still his tongue. Instead, his gaze was pulled up toward the elf on the throne who stared back at him with eyes of arrogant amusement.
              From the roots beneath the throne emerged a herald, clad in forest green and pearled finery. He stepped onto a platform just above Vesian’s head, his pale hands clutching a gnarled staff. Three times he banged it against the stone and then he called “Who comes before my master? Speak your name and your purpose, mortal.”
              Vesian felt the spell’s grasp on his mind loosen and worked his tongue for a few sputtering moments before he could speak clearly again.
              “I am Sir Vesian de Surrac, knight-errant of the Order of the Griffon. I have come for the Lady Isabelle whom you have abducted by magic.”
              “So you have,” the elf lord mused. His eyes danced along Vesian’s form and his mouth twisted with mirth. “Well, here I am. I am called Saimdol, Lord of the Twilight Realm and Master of all that lies between Night and Day.”
              “Saimdol,” Vesian began. He willed his hand to the hilt of his sword, but it would not move. He strained against the spell that bound his mind and body, to no avail. With a deep breath, he pressed on. “I challenge you,” he proclaimed, and the music that pervaded the hall dimmed for a brief moment. “I challenge you for the lady’s freedom.”
              Saimdol’s mouth crooked upward. “Freedom?” he replied with a mocking smile. “I have put no chains upon her, nor do I threaten her with spears. She is free to leave when she wishes. Or perhaps instead she will join the orgy. There are many here who would gladly see that.” 
              Saimdol gestured past Vesian, who turned to see three naked elf men sprawled out on couches as they watched Isabelle dance. They stroked their erect cocks, smiling like cats watching a bird peck at the ground, and Vesian swallowed. He could not deny how much he wanted to see Lady Isabelle fucking, on all fours and used by strong, powerful men, and even to be one of those men, but he also knew it to be a cruel trick of the elf lord. He looked to the Lady Isabelle. She continued to dance in entrancing circles, but he could see in her jade eyes a plea for aid. She was no willing dancer in the elf lord’s court.
              “You lie,” Vesian declared. The herald above him bristled, but Saimdol merely smiled again. “She is not here of her own mind and I will fight you for her freedom.”
              “Fight me?” the elf lord laughed. “I fear that would be a quick affair. I am far more than your equal at swordsmanship.”
              “Try me,” Vesian challenged. “You may be surprised.”
              “Perhaps. But I have a different idea. I propose three tasks. Finish them, and I will free the lady.”
              “What sort of tasks?” Vesian asked suspiciously. 
              “Simple tasks, of the sort a mortal such as yourself might find it easy to accomplish.”
              “Then why do you need me? You no doubt have many warriors in your hall that might serve you so.”
              “My reasons are my own. Still, the offer stands. If not, we shall have that duel. Servant, bring me my blade.”
              From the gloom below his arboreal throne appeared an elf in a sky-blue mantle, a sheathed blade laid across his arms. He climbed the twisting stair to his master’s side with alacrity and upon reaching the precipice, he knelt and presented the sword to his master. Saimdol stood from his throne, set aside his orb and staff, and took the sword. He drew it forth and in the twilight it glowed with a pale, eerie green light. Vesian felt his heart flutter at the sight. 
              “Shall we duel?” Saimdol asked. Vesian gritted his teeth.
              “Tell me more of these tasks.”
              Saimdol smiled. “I thought so. Lady Valurra,” he called, and a woman stepped forward from the roots below the throne. Vesian felt his breath catch at the sight of her, for her beauty was stunning. She was an elf, with the long, pointed ears of her kindred that gracefully stood up to either side of her head. Long brown hair past her waist in rich waves, swaying in a breeze that Vesian could not feel. She smiled at him, her blue eyes burning in the twilight of the hall, and her pale, delicate hands went to the golden girdle that bound her green gown about a narrow waist. There she drew from a pouch a ring. It was impossibly delicate and made of silversteel, studded with gems that sparkled as she held it up. 
              “My lordship,” she said in a voice of silver bells, “Demands that you bring him this ring’s mate, a twin in all respects.”
              Vesian shrugged. “I have no knowledge of such a ring.”
              The lady smiled again. “I do. I will show you where to find it, but it must be you who retrieves it.”
              “Lady Valurra will set you the three tasks,” Saimdol said from his throne, his sword now sheathed and laid over his shoulder. “When you have finished, return to me and I will deliver the Lady Isabelle into your arms.”
              “See that you do,” Vesian glowered. “And see that she is unharmed and unspoiled during her stay.”
              Saimdol made a mocking pout. “But she is so beautiful,” he lamented, and Vesian saw the naked elves watching her frown as well. “And so alluring in her naked glory… Make haste at your tasks, for we will only restrain ourselves for so long.”
              Vesian decided that was all the assurance he would get from the elves and turned to Thibault behind. The squire was staring about in awe, from Isabelle to the Lady Valurra, then to the expanse of naked bodies mounting and thrusting about the cavern. Elf and mortal alike fucked in the cool air of the elf lord’s hall, and Vesian wondered where all the mortals had come from? Had they all been lured here as Isabelle had? Could he free them all?
              “Must we go right away?” Thibault murmured, one hand rubbing his cock through his trousers. “I would like to experience the orgy first, and this should only take a little while.”
              “You heard the lord,” Vesian hissed. “We must complete three tasks, and quickly, else he’ll set his men to despoiling the damsel.”
              “I’ve never fucked an elf before,” Thibault complained, “And we’ve not been to an orgy since last midwinter at the countess’ manor…”
              “A lady requires our assistance,” Vesian reminded him with a shove, and Thibault had the decency to look guilty.
              “Leave your servant,” Lady Valurra instructed, striding up beside him. “These tasks are given to you and you alone.”
              Thibault brightened up. “Well, you go on ahead and you’ll know where to find me.” He immediately began removing his surcoat. 
              “You’re awfully eager for someone who not too long ago was refusing to come into the forest.”
              But his squire ignored him to strip naked and head off in search of an elf woman with his cock in his hand. Vesian sighed to himself, only to be prodded by the elf woman at his own side.
              “Follow me,” she commanded. “Your first task awaits.”
              
---
 
              Vesian stood at the edge of a silvery pool not far from the lord’s hall. With Valurra by his side, he looked down into the glassy depths and saw little but their own reflections. The pool was perhaps a mere ten paces wide, with no tributaries or outlets, standing almost perfectly still beneath the emerald boughs far above. Yet he could not escape the feeling that something sinister lurked below the surface.
              “The Mirrorpool,” Valurra proclaimed. “It is a watery fragment of a world long lost. Lost to us, for we are no longer welcome there. But mortals like you are strangers there, and you will not experience the perils that bar us from it.”
              “Perils?” Vesian asked cautiously. “What is down there?” Valurra looked at him with a wry smile.
              “The ring,” she replied. Vesian sighed.
              “What else is down there?”
              “That is hard to say,” the elf answered with a shrug of her slim shoulders. The forest breeze stirred her hair and a strand blew across her face. Vesian was momentarily struck dumb by her beauty. Valurra seemed not to notice, instead turning her eyes to the pool. “None among the elder kindred have been down there in an age.”
              Vesian mastered himself and followed her gaze to the pool. Now and then a slight breeze stirred the surface of the pond, and in the ripples that broke the watery mirror he thought he spied a pair of eyes looking back at him. His hands dropped to his waist, where he wore a sword at one his and a thrusting dagger at the other. The breeze stilled, and the ripples faded, but Vesian’s unease did not diminish. 
              “Well?” asked Valurra. Vesian turned to face her again. This time, her beautiful face was marred by a smile that mocked him with the arrogance so typical of elves. He felt himself frown.
              “I would know more about what this is before I dive down there and into the clutches of some beast that lurks in the dark depths.”
              “What more is there to know? I have told you the ring waits for you. Standing around up here isn’t going to bring it up. You must dive down there and find it.”
              “How am I going to find a little ring in a deep pool?” Vesian demanded with increasing exasperation. Valurra raised an amused eyebrow and tilted her head to one side in thought. A lock of dark brown hair fell across her face again and she brushed it lazily away. 
              “I tend to forget that humans cannot see so well in the dark. Very well, I will put a spell of light on you so that you might find it. The ring should glow with its own light, but after so long in the dark, it may be quite dim.”
              “A spell of light,” Vesian grumbled. “That should attract every flesh-eating thing that dwells below.”
              “If you rather go in the dark then I shall keep my spell. But it will make little difference for it is a small pool and whatever dwells there will likely known of your passing whether you are lit up or dark.”
              That did not make Vesian feel any better and he now wished that Thibault was here with him. He envied the squire even more than he expected to, with himself stumbling around a hostile, enchanted forest on various fool’s errands while his squire was sucked and fucked by beautiful elves in a grand hall.
              But he sighed and pulled his surcoat over his head. There was little point to waiting around. 
              “Very well, give me your light. At least I’ll be able to see what is trying to eat me.”
              “And at last you make sense,” Valurra teased. She raised a hand and called out in an ancient tongue. Vesian felt the hairs on his skin stand on end as sorcerous power coursed through the elf. A tiny mote of light appeared in the air before him, growing in size to that of an apple over a few mere heartbeats. It floated lazily at the tip of the elf’s finger until she touched his forehead and the glowing orb separated to circle slowly about his head. “There,” she proclaimed. “Are you at last ready to complete the first task?”
              Vesian sighed again. He looked into the pool, the light globe circling his head like the evening star. “As you wish,” he said, took a deep breath, and then he stepped over the rim over the pool and plunged below. The water was cold, colder than he had expected. It swallowed him up in its chilly depths and he felt himself pulled down. He had swum in his mail before, but this time he felt different. The water’s grip was stronger and more insistent. He kicked and groped about for a hand or foothold on the rocky rim. His mailed foot struck off a jagged rock and he grunted in pain, bubbles cascading up from his mouth, but he caught onto another rock just afterwards to slow his descent and now felt secure enough to look around.
              He was perhaps two fathoms below the surface, the water already uncomfortably tight around him, but he could see in the pale glow of Valurra’s orb that the pool’s bottom lay far below still. Below him, the light dimmed, and long shadows danced on the pool’s rocky walls. He gritted his teeth and tried not to lose his breath, for he was in the realm of Tarnilaen the Dark God now. 
              Above him, the surface of the pool shone like a silver roof. He was not so far from it, but it looked so small to him, and the water around it so dark. Vesian felt his pulse quicken and turned away from it. He had to find the ring before he ran out of breath. He lowered his gaze to the darkness on the pool’s floor. Long shadows and rays of light played across the floor in their turns, and he strained his eyes against the cold darkness for any sign of a ring.
              At last, he spied a flickering mote of light and dove for it. The water tugged at him hard as he released his hold on the wall, and he sank quickly toward the floor. As he drifted past the rock walls, he spied narrow, circular holes in the rock that ran deep and dark. He did not want to think of what lurked inside, though Valurra’s light globe threatened to show him.
              But instead he turned his eye toward the spot on the pool’s floor where he had seen the light he hoped was the ring. It was nearing quickly, though not quickly enough for his liking. Yet at last he set his feet down on the soft, chalky floor as the water crushed him in its grip. His ears were screaming in pain, as if daggers were being shoved into them, and he bent over to scrabble through the soft mud in desperation to be gone and on his way back up to the surface as fast as he could. 
              A long shadow flickered overhead. Vesian tried to put it from his mind and search for the ring. His mailed fingers raked furrows in the long undisturbed mud, scattering dried leaves and riling up a cloud of mud. The shadow above his head flickered again. Vesian would have inhaled deeply were he not already underwater. Slowly, he turned a dreadful gaze upward toward the source of the shadow.
              Not far above him floating a great eel, its serpentine body flicking back and forth in the distorted light that came from above. A baleful yellow eye stared back at him, lidded beneath a glossy membrane that snapped open. The eel’s mouth slowly opened to reveal needlelike fangs and jagged, rending teeth. They stared at each other a long moment, and slowly the eel turned its head toward him to lock both eyes on him. Two sickly golden orbs glared malice at him, and the eel’s bulk began to cut through the cold water toward him.
              As the light flickered, a flash from below caught at the corner of Vesian’s vision. He tore his eyes from the approaching beast and looked down. There, half-buried in the mud, was a ring of silversteel and studded gems, was the ring. A perfect mate to the one Valurra had shown him above, he almost thought it might be the same ring, cast down here by the elf woman when his eyes were turned. 
              But it was unimportant. He snatched up the ring in a fistful of mud and turned himself back to the eel. The beast was fast approaching now, a stream of white bubbles flowing from its flanks as it streaked toward him. Vesian drew his sword, straining against the cold, crushing water as well as his own waning breath. 
              The monster flashed down at him and Vesian thrust his blade back up at it. The eel’s maw opened wide, expecting to tear him to pieces, but the sword plunged down its throat instead, and Vesian felt the blade bite flesh. The beast’s fangs still descended on him, its jagged teeth threatened to rip him open, but with a twist of his sword hand, Vesian turned the terrible mouth aside and the teeth cut uselessly at his mail. 
              Thrashing in its death throes, the eel’s bulk buffeted at him, threatening to knock the breath from his body and leaving him drowning even in his moment of victory. But Vesian wasted little time in leaving the dead beast behind. He kicked himself upward, propelling himself toward the rocky wall of the pool where his hands might aid in his ascent. 
              His breath was fading fast. Fighting against the pull of the water sapped his strength and caused his lungs to burn, but also lessened the crushing grip of the water around him. But he feared it would not be enough. The silvery surface of the pool seemed so close and yet still so far away. Darkness began to creep in at the edge of his vision. He hauled himself from handhold to handhold, feeling the insistent fire in his lungs as his last breaths faded. The surface loomed just above him, so close!
              But Vesian felt his hope fade. He could not reach it in time, and as he weakly reached a hand toward the lip of the pool, he felt himself sinking back into the realm of the Dark God. His eyelids became heavy and darkness overwhelmed him.
              There was a flash of light, and a pulse of energy ran through Vesian. His eyes flew open again, and he felt a fresh breath fill his lungs. Wasting no time, he seized a rocky protrusion in his hand and hurled himself upward.
              He broke the surface of the pool and gasped for air. Clear, cool, and scented with the smell of the forest, it filled his eager lungs. Water streamed from him, his clothes were soaked, and his lungs and arms still ached from exertion, but he flopped to the grass forest floor and pulled himself out of the water to lie panting under a forest canopy.
              He choked down gulps of welcome, fresh air, his chest heaving and his arms outstretched. The sun had never felt so good on his face. 
              A shadow fell across his face, interrupting his relieved luxuriating in the sun. Lady Valurra looked down at him with mild interest.
              “Do you have it?” she asked, holding out an expectant hand.
              “I am alive, yes,” Vesian replied sarcastically. 
              “So you are. The ring,” she demanded. Vesian sighed and opened his hand. There, caked in mud, was the ring. Valurra wasted little time in picking it up. With a sneer of contempt, she shook off the mud, which splattered onto Vesian beneath her. She raised the recovered ring and its mate to her eyes for inspection. The elf looked from one to the other, then back again until at last she smiled with satisfaction. “I knew it,” she breathed in amazement. “At long last.”
              “What are they?” Vesian asked from the ground. 
              “Keys to a lost world,” Valurra murmured in wonderment, seemingly half-forgetting that Vesian was beside her. She marveled at the rings another moment, then snapped herself out of it.
              “Come along,” she said, stuffing the rings into her pocket. “Your next task awaits.”
              “Might I have at least a moment to rest? I nearly drowned down there, and a close brush with eternity in the Dark God’s clutches has a way of wearing on a man.”
              “Indeed, but you are made of sterner stuff than that, I warrant. You want to save the maiden, don’t you? You had better not be dawdling then. She looks so delicious and naked in that hall. Saimdol might decide to keep her as a plaything instead of letting her go back with you if you wait any longer.”
              Nothing more than amusement, Vesian reminded himself bitterly. He hauled himself to his feet, still dripping wet as he did. Valurra gave him an innocent smiled, to which he replied with a scowl. The elf laughed.
              “Do not play so reluctant with me, Sir Vesian. You crave adventure. I have seen a hundred of your kind before. Brushes with death, the thrill of battle, and the touch of a woman are what drive you.”
              “Have you now?” Vesian asked with rising interest. He wondered how long the elf had lived, for rumor said that they were immortal and as old as the world itself.
              “Indeed,” Valurra replied, leading him away from the pool and into the forest. Vesian had to hurry to catch up to her, his wet clothes thick against him and his mailed boots squelching in the soft dirt of the forest floor. Valurra cast an amused look over her shoulder and smiled, but said no more.
              “What is the next task?” Vesian asked after a lengthy silence convinced him she would not enlighten him. 
              “A band of satyrs dwells in a nearby hollow,” Valurra said after a moment of thought. Vesian began to wonder who was truly setting these tasks? “Saimdol has grown tired of them, for they drink and sing loudly, get drunk and run through the trees, brawl, and molest his women. You are to drive them out. He merely said drive them out, but I say kill them. They are savage beasts and we are better off rid of them.”
              “Why does Saimdol not do this himself?” asked Vesian. “He surely has no shortage of warriors at his call.”
              “He does not,” Valurra agreed. “But it matters little, this task is given to you and so you must do it.”
              Vesian frowned again. He was finding the forest to be every bit as confounding as the peasant tales had warned him. A small part of him wanted to abandon Isabelle to her fate and flee back to the mortal world where things made more sense. Yet he had left his squire behind at the orgy, and while he might leave a lady in danger, he would never leave his friend Thibault. 
              There came a sudden pounding on a drum that thundered through the forest and caused Vesian to jump. A raucous cheering followed it and Valurra scowled. 
              “There are the satyrs,” she sneered. Through the brush just there.” She stopped and pointed ahead to a thicket that formed a wall across the forest before him. “I will return to the hall,” she said. “I have no wish to endure the courtings of the satyrs. Go kill them for me.”
              Without further comment, she turned and headed back in the direction of the lord’s hall, or so Vesian assumed for he was well and totally lost in this forest. 
              “Will you show me the way back?” he called. She turned over her shoulder and regarded him with slight amusement again. “This forest all looks the same to me,” he said with a helpless shrug.
              “I will return to meet you when you are done,” she said. “And I will check on your companion for you. Fear not, you will not lose your guide.” Her face darkened. “But if I see one breathing satyr when I return, you are on your own.”
              Then she stepped into the trees and her green gown merged with the forest foliage. She was gone. Vesian stood alone under the boughs, hearing the breeze in the branches and the satyrs’ raucous bellowing. With a sigh, he turned toward the hollow.
              He walked along the edge of the thicket until he came to a place where it thinned enough to admit him. The forest floor sunk away into a hollow, and he had to follow a dim and twisting trail floored with rough flagstones until he emerged again into a bowl-shaped hollow roofed with thorny black branches. A series of rude tents of animal hide had been thrown up haphazardly around the bowl and more hides strewn over the ground. The light was dimmer here, blocked out by not only the trees above but also by the canopy of thorny vines overhead. Long shadows played along the walls, dancing by the light of a firepit at the center of the bowl, set with meat roasting in the open on spits. Satyrs sat by the fire, banging on crude drums as all around the bowl danced a band of satyrs in a wild press of bodies not unlike that which might be found in an infantry battle.
              They sang and capered, their hairy chests and arms wet with spilled wine and the juices of meats. Long, thick cocks swung hard between their legs and among the score of them were buffeted about four naked women, their hair a mess and their bodies wet with sweat, spittle, and cum. Their eyes were at once glassy with drink and crazed with lust for their companions. Vesian felt his lip curl in disgust at the raw, primal display of base urges.
As Vesian entered, one satyr spied him and broke from the press to approach him, arms wide, smile broad, and horns shining in the firelight. 
              “Ah, another reveler!” he cried, his horn of wine sloshing about as he staggered forward. “Welcome! I am Maurdion, and this is my band. Have a drink, have a haunch, take a lass to bed or fuck her on her feet by the fire, it’s all a revel to honor the Goddess herself!”
              “I am here on business,” Vesian said soberly. The satyr scoffed and waved a dismissive hand.
              “There’ll be none of that,” he said, grabbing a cask of wine from where it lay on the ground. He uncorked it and topped off his drinking horn. “Have some fun with us, mortal! You are so short-lived, you must enjoy life while you can!”
              Behind him, one of the women cried out in ecstatic delight as a satyr seized her by the hips and thrust his long, thick cock inside her. He pawed and clutched at her breasts and the others gathered around to watch, the satyrs stroking their long cocks and the women playing with themselves in their own turn.
              “The orgy continues,” Maurdion observed over his refilled horn of wine. “Come, these sluts are up for anything!”
              “You must go,” Vesian broke in. Maurdion stopped, his drinking horn raised to his lips, and regarded him curiously.
              “Go where?” the satyr asked. “Is there better fun to be had elsewhere?”
              “Perhaps. But I am commanded to send you away, and to slay you if you do not go.”
              “By whom? The lord of these lands has given us permission to stay, and his protection while we are here.”
              “Which lord has given you that?” Vesian asked.
              “Saimdol, Lord of the Twilight Realm.”
              “He is the one who has commanded me to drive you out.”
              “Nonsense,” Maurdion laughed. “Someone is playing a trick on you. He has given us his word.”
              Was this a trick? Vesian wondered. Had Valurra gone above and beyond her authority to dispose of a group of satyrs she found troublesome? Or was the satyr lying to him?
              “I have been given orders by Saimdol to obey the commands of one of his kinswomen, and she has told me to send you away,” Vesian elaborated, deciding it would be better to leave out her more specific commands.
Another satyr approached them, this one tall and muscular, with a scarred chest and a sword on his leather belt.
              “Maurdion, bring the newcomer and join us. These mortal sluts are waiting impatiently for us.”
              “Ah, Ashan, this mortal tells me we must leave, by order of the Lord of the Twilight.”
              “He lies,” Ashan growled. The satyr’s hands went to his belt, and Vesian dropped his own hands to his sword hilt. “Just as well,” Ashan continued in a low tone. “It’s been too long since I’ve had a proper fight.”
              “I’m not looking for a fight,” Vesian said hastily, “I’d like to settle this peacefully.”
              “Yet you come here and tell us to leave,” Ashan shot back.
              “Why?” Maurdion demanded. “So you can have our things for yourself? Mortals are always so greedy.”
              “I told you why,” Vesian protested, “The elf lord has commanded you to leave.”
              “And I told you he has given us his protection. So you must be lying.”
              “Sydonas,” Maurdion called over his shoulder, “Put that mortal slut aside and come here. This mortal is spoiling for a fight.”
              “I am not looking for a fight,” Vesian repeated, but he could tell it was useless. The satyrs were set on fighting, so he might as well start it.
              His sword flashed from its sheath and plunged into Ashan’s chest. The satyr stared down at the blade in his belly with open-mouthed shock, and Maurdion shrieked with surprise. Vesian tore the blade out and sent a spray of blood arcing across the satyrs’ camp and Maurdion’s chest as well. 
              “Treachery!” he cried. “Murder, robbery, and villainy!” the satyr turned and ran for it, but Vesian hacked him down where he stood. The other satyrs turned toward him and stood stupid for a moment, the one named Sydonas paused in the middle of thrust into the woman in his arms. Maurdion sprawled across the ground at Vesian’s feet, whimpering as he tried to grab at the wound in his back, and the others seemed unsure of what they were seeing.
              Then their minds caught up and it was pandemonium. The women screamed, the satyrs roared, and Maurdion cried out in agonized desperation. Sydonas threw aside his lover and grabbed a heavy woodsman’s axe from a pile of tools. He shoved past two other satyrs and advanced on Vesian, who was suddenly struck by how tall and broad the satyr was. 
              The other satyrs scattered, colliding with each other, their women, and theirs tents in a mad dash to safety. One ran through the firepit, scattering cinders and singing his thick body hair. His yelps faded in Vesian’s mind as Sydonas approached, and he steeled his mind for battle. 
              The big satyr slapped the flat of his axe blade into his palm and snarled. Vesian raised his shield, not giving an inch. 
              “You made a big mistake coming here,” Sydonas growled. “Now I’m going to hack off your limbs, fuck you raw, and eat you alive.” Spittle flew from his mouth as he threatened, and his grotesquely huge cock stood pointing at Vesian. A wicked light gleamed in the satyr’s eyes. 
              “Big words for a savage beast like you,” Vesian retorted. His clothes were still wet and made his movements stiff, and the satyr was surprisingly agile for someone so big and drunk, but he could not imagine losing to such a bestial foe. “Enough talk, let’s settle this.”
              “Agreed,” the satyr snarled, and he lunged for Vesian. His long-hafted axe split the air with a terrifying keen, descending to shatter Vesian’s skull. But even in his stiff, waterlogged clothes, Vesian was spritely enough to dodge aside, and his blade lashed back like a viper’s fangs. Its point bit into the satyr’s shoulder, drawing a bright line of red blood as it tore flesh and scarred bone.
              But Sydonas was undeterred. More than that, the sight of his own blood drove him into a frenzy. The satyr whirled on Vesian, the axehead whipping through the air faster than his eye could follow. It was only the unconscious positioning of his shield, instilled in his by years of intensive training by his armsmasters, that diverted the blow up and away from him in a shower of splinters.
              Yet the force of the strike still rang his arm and rattled his bones. He staggered back and fell to one knee. Sydonas advanced with a furious snarl and the axe slashed down again. Vesian rolled to the side and the axe bit deep into the dirt. Clods of earth were thrown about, but the satyr wasted little time is wrenching his axe free and resuming his assault. 
              Vesian got a foot underneath himself and climbed up on one knee. Sydonas swung across this time, aiming to cut him in half at the waist. Vesian leaned forward and caught the haft of the axe on his upper arm, leaving the blade to slash uselessly through the air behind him. The force of the blow knocked the air from his lungs, but he drove himself upward and rammed his head into the satyr’s chest. Sydonas grunted and wrenched his axe toward him. The tip of the blade dug into Vesian’s back; a minor annoyance thanks to his mail. 
              He stabbed upward into the satyr’s flank with his blade and struck home. Sydonas howled with pain and dropped the axe. He staggered backwards, clutching at his side, but the movement only tore his wound wider. Vesian gave him no relief, and plunged his sword into the satyr’s belly. He twisted it and ripped his foe open, spilling his entrails onto the dimly lit forest floor. The satyr toppled over, his mouth wide in shock and his limbs twitching their last. Vesian stepped over Sydonas and ran the blade through his throat.
              “Why?” asked Maurdion from behind. Vesian turned. The wounded satyr lay on his side, his living companions scattered into the forest. Vesian stood over him.
              “You would not leave,” he replied.
              “We only wanted fun. The lord gave us wine and food, he let us into his hall, he brought us women… I thought we were of one mind. He gave us protection.”
              “I did as commanded,” Vesian said.
              “Not yet,” Maurdion replied weakly. “I have no strength to flee, so I will have to die. Finish it.”
              Vesian did as bidden. He then sat down on an upended wine cask and stared into the satyrs’ dead eyes, wondering if this had been worth it. 
 
--- 
 
              When he at last decided he had no answers, he climbed the path out of the satyrs’ hollow. He emerged to find Valurra standing with Lady Isabelle. The latter was still naked, her head bowed and her hands folded shyly in front of her shaven sex. Valurra stroked Isabelle’s hair lovingly with one hand, the other placed possessively on the girl’s lower back.
              “She is free?” Vesian asked with surprise. 
              “She is released into my care for now. I have plans for her.”
              “Set her free at once,” Vesian demanded.
              “I am afraid I cannot, per the terms of Saimdol’s enchantment. But her mind is free, for now.”
              “Is it? Lady Isabelle, are you free to speak your mind?”
              “Yes, sir,” she said meekly, trying in vain to cover her body. Vesian was suddenly uncomfortably aware of how much he was ogling her. But he could not help himself. She was a beautiful, naked, woman, and he had just been triumphant in a fight. It was well known among the knights of the Order that after a fight, a knight needed wine and a woman. Or two women.
              He banished the thought from his mind. Lady Isabelle needed his help.
              “Speak your mind, then,” he commanded, and she did.
              “My horse spooked,” she began, clearly frightened by the memory. “I remember a strange fluting, and then my horse started galloping into the woods! I could do nothing but hold on and hope not to fall and break my neck!”
              “Yes, it was an enchantment. But what of the lord’s hall? Do you remember that?”
              “I remember everything. I remember dancing, and the elves staring at me. They were waiting for Saimdol to give the order and then…”
              “Yes,” Vesian interrupted. “But he never did.”
              “They were going to fuck me!” she exclaimed with a shudder.
              “They might still,” Valurra murmured. Isabelle blushed and cast her eyes to the ground. Vesian scowled at the elf. “And who could blame them? You are so lovely to behold.”
              “The satyrs are gone,” Vesian declared, eager to change the subject. 
              “Dead? Or merely gone?” Valurra asked.
              “Three dead, the rest gone.”
              “Only three, what a pity.”
              “Who wanted them dead? Saimdol, or you?”
              “Both,” Valurra answered. “But Saimdol had promised them that no harm would befall them by his hand, so he needed to borrow yours. I think we both would have liked more of them dead, but you have done as asked, and I will complain no further. But now I have another task for you.”
              “Yes, the third and final task,” Vesian prompted.
              “Not quite,” Valurra said with a sly smile. “This one is for me, not my lord.”
              “Then I won’t do it. Give me Saimdol’s third task and let me take Isabelle back home.”
              “I’m afraid you don’t have a choice,” the elf replied. “She is in my care, and I set the tasks.”
              “This is not what we agreed,” Vesian growled, his hand tightening around his sword hilt.
              “It is not,” Valurra agreed with a shrug. “But nevertheless, unhand your sword, it will do you no good.”
Vesian instead tightened his grip, but the sword suddenly grew hot in his hand. It seared him, burning through the mail to reach his hand. With an unknightly yelp, he let go and shook his hand out in the cool forest air. “Sorcery!” he hissed.
              “It is one of my many talents,” Valurra purred. “But now you must show me one of yours. Draw your other sword, my dear knight, and pleasure this mortal maid before me. I would have a demonstration of your skills.”
              “A demon… you want me to fuck her?!” he gasped in shock. Isabelle squeaked in surprise, then blushed a deep red and wrapped her arm tighter over her breasts.
              “I do,” Valurra murmured. “She is lovely, and I find you alluring as well. Consider it a test. Pass, and you will enjoy my favor on your third and final task.”
              “I won’t,” Vesian insisted. “The lady is a prisoner here.”
              “She doesn’t mind, do you, girl?” Valurra tilted the girl’s chin up to look her in the eye. “I can tell you want him.” Isabelle blushed deeper.
              “Unhand her,” Vesian snapped, but Valurra paid him no mind. Vesian grabbed for his sword again, but the scorching heat forced him to let it go, this time with a hiss of pain.
              “You want him to fuck you?” Valurra asked again, and this time Isabelle managed a little nod. 
              “Yes,” she squeaked, and Vesian felt his mouth fall open. Her body was no less alluring here than it had been in Saimdol’s hall. Her raven hair hung down to her wide waist, and creamy pink nipples topped her small breasts. Her sex was shaven and glistened with moisture, her bare skin pimpling with gooseflesh in the cool breeze of the forest. Valurra ran a lustful hand down the girl’s side and slid it across to caress her sex. The elf nibbled at her ear, and Isabelle trembled, biting back a shy smile.
              “She wants you, Sir Vesian,” Valurra whispered, turning to face Vesian, her cheek against Isabelle’s own. They made an exquisite pair, one nude and the other in a forest green gown. Valurra’s blue eyes stared hard at him while Isabelle’s fixed timidly on the grass beneath them. “Will you give her what she wants?”
              Vesian clenched his fist. He wanted her, he could not deny it. His cock was standing up for her and his heart burned with desire. It was only the three of them here. 
              He felt himself nod. Valurra smiled in triumph.
              “This way then,” she purred. She led Isabelle by the hand to a stream, Vesian following numbly behind them. The elf left Isabelle standing in the grass on the bank, then seated herself on a log laying across the stream and spread her arms wide. “Well, lovers, make love!” she commanded.
              Isabelle turned shyly toward Vesian, still with an arm over her breasts and a hand over her sex. Her cheeks were a deep shade of red, but her green eyes sparkled. Vesian had seen that look in countless women before, usually just before they stripped down and swallowed his cock. The only difference now was that Isabelle was already naked. 
He stepped forward to Isabelle and raised a gentle hand to her face. 
              “Are you sure about this?” he whispered, and Isabelle paused a moment, then nodded.
              “Kiss me, my knight,” Isabelle whispered back to him and his resistance crumbled. He wrapped her in his arms, pressing her naked body against his cold armor, his surcoat still damp from the enchanted pool. She was hot to his touch, her lips soft but insistent against his, and he clutched at her ass with his mailed gauntlets. 
              “What sort of knight handles a lady with mailed hands?” Valurra teased from her seat. “Strip naked and take her!”
              Isabelle bit her lip in anticipation, staring into Vesian’s eyes. She giggled as she gently laid a hand on his swordbelt, and Vesian began to strip. He felt Valurra’s eyes boring a hole through him as he pulled his surcoat over his head and threw it aside. 
              “Kneel before him,” Valurra commanded, “and suck his cock.”
              Isabelle went to her knees before him and he produced his hard cock from his trousers. She smiled in eager anticipation and took it in her hand, stroking it slowly but firmly with one hand. Her other hand caressed her body on its way down between her legs, where she began to play with herself. Vesian stroked her hair, winding a hair through it like a horse’s reins as she lowered her lips to kiss his cock.
              “Suck it,” Valurra commanded, and Isabelle giggled. She laid the cock against her cheek and looked up to Vesian with piercing green eyes as she slid it along her face and between her lips. Her touch was soft and warm, her kisses gentle and her fingers deft. Her tongue touched his cockhead, and Vesian shuddered with ecstasy. He put a hand on the back of her head and pushed her down his cock until her nose pushed into his belly. 
              Vesian threw his head back as Isabelle went to work. Her hands stroked his chest and balls, her tongue caressed his cock, and her lips brushed at his belly went she all the way down on him. He held her head in his hands and held her still as he thrust into her mouth. Opening his eyes, he stared down into hers. Isabelle smiled around the cock thrusting into her mouth and his mouth fell open. The sight of him stared wide-eyed and wide-mouthed at her caused her to giggle again, a delightful, playful sound muffled by the cock between her lips.
              Slowly, he turned his head to regard Valurra sitting on her log. The elf was feeling her breasts through her green gown, her teeth biting her lower lip as she watched. Her chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. Just amusement, Vesian remembered the nymph saying. 
              “Play with her cunt,” Valurra commanded now. Vesian bent over Isabelle, who spread her legs for him, and pinched the bead of her sex between two fingers. Isabelle shuddered and moaned at there mere touch, and Vesian heard Valurra murmur in appreciation. He released her hair and squeezed her breast in his free hand as he played with her sex. Isabelle moaned around his cock. He slipped two fingers deep inside her and explored the depths of her cunny as Valurra had commanded. 
              Isabelle whimpered with pleasure and grabbed at the hand inside her, only for Vesian to grab her hand himself.
              “Both hands on the cock,” he demanded, and she nodded her head in agreement. Her green eyes stared pleadingly into his, and Valurra sided with Isabelle.
              “Fuck her,” the elf hissed, her hand strumming vigorously beneath her gown. “Fuck her from behind.”
              Vesian needed no more encouragement than that. He lifted Isabelle to her feet, her lips trailing a line of spittle to his cock. The line broke, dropping spittle onto her naked breasts, and she giggled nervously. Vesian kissed her. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed her body against his, feeling his cock against her bare thigh. Isabelle’s lips were soft to his touch, and parted to allow his tongue inside her. His entwined with hers, and Isabelle moaned through the kiss, a sound he felt through his whole body. He shuddered with desire, all the while feeling Valurra’s insistent, hungry eyes on the two of them. He pulled away from Isabelle and stared into her eager green eyes.
              “Turn around,” Vesian whispered, “Then kneel.” Isabelle nodded again, then did as he commanded. Her spread knees in the grass presented her round, white ass to him, and Vesian felt his cock throb in anticipation.
              “Fuck her,” Valurra insisted, and Vesian knelt behind Isabelle with his cock in hand. She craned her head to look back at him, her cheeks red and her eyes hungry for cock. Vesian held his cock at the ready, stroking himself as he prepared to enter her. Isabelle stared at him impatiently and he smiled.
              “Well?” she pleaded, “What are you waiting for?”
              “Indeed,” Valurra agreed, “What are you waiting for?”
              “Say it,” Vesian said with a heavy breath. “Say the words, Lady Isabelle.”
              “Fuck me,” she breathed in a rush. “Fuck me, Sir Vesian, fuck me!”
              Vesian shoved his cock inside her and seized her by her narrow waist. Isabelle’s eyes widened, then rolled back into her head. She sagged from her elbows to the grass, the long blades brushing against her naked flesh, and she moaned so louder Vesian thought Saimdol might hear her back at his hall. Valurra leaned forward with great interest, and Vesian drew back his cock, then slammed himself into Isabelle with a great clap. 
              She whimpered, her round little breasts swinging beneath her, and her fingers raked furrows in the dirt under her hands. Vesian thrust into her again, drawing a louder moan this time. Her sex squeezed around his cock, she drove her little ass back against him as he fucked, and she lifted herself up on all fours again to stare into his eyes. Vesian slid his hands up her chest to grope her round breasts, and Isabelle bit her lower lip in a pout.
              “Don’t stop,” she pleaded, and Vesian worked his hips against hers faster. The clapping of their flesh together resounded through the trees, drowning on the running water of the stream and Valurra’s heavy breathing as she watched. Isabelle moaned with each thrust inside her, and Vesian felt himself close to coming. Valurra would be displeased, he knew, and he was not ready to be finished with the girl yet himself. He slowed his thrusting and instead wrapped a hand through Isabelle’s long raven hair and pulled her head back for a long kiss.
              “He’s close to coming,” Valurra said, and Vesian winced internally. Was it that obvious? ”Ride his cock,” the elf commanded. “Give him a reprieve.”
              Vesian shoved Isabelle off his cock and she sprawled herself into the grass. He knelt there, panting, his cock throbbing for her still. Isabelle turned her to look at him, her hands cupping her breasts and her legs crossed to hide from him the sex he had just been fucking. He chuckled a moment at how modest she seemed, when moments ago she had just been moaning and bouncing on his cock. 
              “Lay down,” she whispered, “And I’ll ride you.”
              Vesian lay himself down in the grass beside her, and Isabelle threw a leg over him, taking his cock in both hands. She stared down at him, stroking his cock as she raised her sex over it, ready to descend.
              “No,” Valurra commanded, and both Vesian and Isabelle turned to her in impatient confusion. “Not that way,” she continued. “Ride his cock facing me, so I can see your pretty face. I want to see his cock going inside you.”
Isabelle hesitated, apparently never having ridden a man this way, but then she turned around and mounted his cock in reverse. She planted her hands on his chest and raised her knees so that she might employ all of her legs’ power to bounce herself on his cock. Isabelle raised herself as high on his cock as she could go while keeping him inside her, then slid herself back down to slap against his stomach. She moaned with pleasure, and Valurra echoed her.
              “Spank her,” Valurra commanded, and Vesian hauled off and slapped Isabelle’s round white ass, drawing a delighted squeal from the damsel. “Oh ho! She likes that, the little trollop!” Valurra crowed. “Again!”
              Vesian slapped her again, harder this time, and reached around with his other hand to play with Isabelle’s cunny again. Isabelle squealed again, as loud as any noise she had made before, and Vesian felt himself smile. He sat up, reaching for Isabelle’s breasts which he squeezed between his rough hands, still somewhat singed from the elf’s sorcery. 
              “Slap her tits,” Valurra commanded now, and Vesian obliged her. Isabelle squealed, and convulsed with shock. For a moment, she stopped her riding and turned to look at Vesian with a stunned expression on her face. Vesian froze, unable to believe for a moment that he had struck her so on a command from the elf. Then a delighted smile crept across Isabelle’s face, and she rose up on his cock again. Her pale round ass bounced on his cock, and as Vesian watched it rising and falling on him, he wanted more from her.
              “Turn around,” he commanded, “I would hold you close.”
              “Do no such thing,” Valurra ordered. “I want to watch you.”
              “Don’t listen to her,” Vesian commanded, sliding his hands up her naked chest to grip her throat. “I’m the one fucking you. Listen to me. I want to see your pretty face.”
              Isabelle hesitated, looking from Vesian behind her to Valurra in front of her, all while posied halfway up his hard cock. Vesian lost patience quickly. He lifted her legs up and spun her around on his cock to face him. Isabelle giggled with delight and set her knees down to either side of him. She turned to look back at Valurra over her shoulder, and the elf smiled.
              “You’ve got a lovely ass,” Valurra murmured. Giggling again, Isabelle turned back to Vesian and lowered her head to kiss him. Vesian grabbed her breasts in both hands and squeezed, pushing his cock up into her warm, waiting sex. She rode him, hanging her head teasingly close to him and withdrawing from his lips with a smile when he tried to rise and kiss her. 
              “Come here, girl,” he growled, and grabbed her by the hair pull her close. He kissed her again and she giggled through the lock of their lips. His cock thrust deep inside her, making her moan and quiver with pleasure. Vesian felt himself near to finishing as well, and crushed Isabelle against him, looking over his shoulder at Valurra, who was herself mesmerized by the sight of his cock driving in and out of the girl.
              Isabelle’s swinging nipples brushed his mouth and he latched onto them like a suckling pig, stubbornly refusing to let go. Isabelle moaned again, clawing at his neck and back with restless hands that could not get enough of him. Vesian fucked faster, gritting his teeth as he tried to contain himself even as he was building toward orgasm.
Valurra leapt up from her log and cried “Wait! Pull out and cum on her pretty little face!”
              Vesian groaned, so caught up in the act of fucking Isabelle’s hungry little slot that he could hardly hear Valurra’s command, let alone make sense of it. But the elf’s insisting words broke through the haze of lust, and with a mighty will, he rolled Isabelle onto her back and pulled himself out of her.
              She lay panting in the grass, confused and frustrated as he ended their coital embrace, but recognition dawned on her as he straddled her head with his cock in both hands. Valurra rushed around them to get a better view, kneeling by Isabelle’s side as Vesian stroked himself to climax.
              His cum came hot and fast, spraying across Isabelle’s pretty, young face like a geyser. She squealed with delight as the sticky seed painted her soft skin. One rope flew too far and landed on the hem of Valurra’s gown, but the elf paid it no mind. 
              Vesian fell to his knees, then sagged into the grass with exhaustion. 
              “Well done,” Valurra murmured. She touched a long, delicate finger to Isabelle’s flushed face and scraped a fingerful of cum into Isabelle’s waiting mouth. Isabelle smacked her lips and giggled with lascivious pleasure. She rolled over in the grass to look into Vesian’s eyes.
              “My knight,” she whispered, and Vesian smiled back at her. 
              “Come,” Valurra said, pulling Isabelle to her feet. “Bathe, for we must be off.”
              “So soon?” Isabelle whined, and Vesian echoed her thoughts.
              “Yes, so soon. My servant is coming, and Vesian has one more task to complete for Lord Saimdol. Into the stream with you both.”
              She ushered Vesian and Isabelle into the stream and watched from the bank as they bathed. Isabelle splashed him with cold water, and he replied in kind with a giddy smile. The cold beads of moisture clinging to her made her skin break out in gooseflesh and her pink little nipples stand up, growing red and wet in the water. 
              All too soon, Valurra ushered them out of the stream and made Vesian dress. Isabelle remained standing naked in the grass, her hair still wet but her skin clean. 
              “You could have given us long,” Vesian groused at the sight of river mud under his fingernails. 
              “Isabelle will return to Saimdol’s hall with me in a few moments. But first, I await my servant and what she brings,” Valurra replied. “Ah, there she is now.” Vesian followed her gaze to the edge of the glade, where another elf woman was approaching, leading a horse. The horse was a majestic roan that moved through the forest’s undergrowth with surety and poise he never would have imagined from a horse. Seeing the grace of the animal made him think, just for a moment, that his own horse might have made it inside the enchanted forest.
              Valurra took the reins from her maid, who carried a spear, bow, and sheaf of arrows over her shoulder as well. The maid handed the armaments over to Valurra, who passed them on to Vesian. 
              “This is my most prized steed,” Valurra said, “And armaments from my own forge. You will need them for your next task.”
              “Which is what exactly?” Vesian asked, though was admiring the horse more than he was listening to her. 
              “Take this glade courser and ride into the night. There you will find a meadow where a white stag grazes. Bring me his antler.”
              She tapped the sheaf of arrows hanging from his arm. “Bring it down however you like. The spear is more your style, but you might find the bow to be an easier method. The glade courser will enable you to chase it, should the stag catch your scent. He can run through the trees as fast as a bird can fly, and only my glade courser will be able to keep up.”
              “Is the white stag not sacred to the Wild God?” Vesian asked, but Valurra shrugged. 
              “It is a stag. Stags are made to be hunted. Saimdol has demanded its antlers and you are tasking with providing them.”
              “Incurring a god’s disfavor…” Vesian began, but Valurra waved a dismissive hand to cut him off. Then she reached up to her bodice and pulled her gown down to expose her breasts. Vesian choked on his surprise, sputtering and stammering like an untested squire. Her bust was perfection. Her breasts were round and lively, unimaginably shapely, and pale like the moon. Crowned with pale pink nipples that stood out on the forest air, it was all Vesian could do not to grab and kiss them. Unconsciously, his hands rose toward them.
              Valurra laughed and pulled her gown up again, and Vesian felt his heart sink as her beautiful breasts were hidden from view.
              “Will you do as I command?” she asked, and Vesian nodded mutely. The elf laughed, silver bells ringing in the forest. She pulled Isabelle close and kissed her scalp. “Very well. I will take the lady back to Saimdol’s hall. Consider your test passed, and we will meet here once the stag is felled.”
              “Here,” he repeated stupidly. “Yes, I will bring it to you.”
              “I am eager to receive your gift,” she purred, then pulled Isabelle along with her in the direction of Saimdol’s hall. “Oh,” she called over her shoulder. “Your squire is well, since you asked. He is having the time of his mortal life.”
Vesian blushed with shame. How could he have forgotten to ask about his friend, left behind in the enchanted hall? 
“I thank you,” he stammered after her. He could not see Valurra’s face, but he was certain the elf was laughing at him.
Cursing himself for his own lack of discipline, Vesian mounted the courser and rode off in the direction Valurra had pointed. The forest was growing light, having been in twilight for an indeterminate amount of time without ever reaching night. Vesian looked around what he could see of the sky. There was no obvious source of sunlight. When Saimdol claims to be lord of the twilight, he must mean a place not a time, he realized. 
              The twilight began to brighten as he left Saimdol’s realm, and he could see rays of sunshine streaming in through the branches. The courser was an impressive steed, picking its way easily through the overgrowth as surefooted as any mountain goat was in its own home. He envied the elves who rode these beasts and could only imagine what he could do with one in battle or a joust. The glade courser also seemed to know the way, as if it had understood the words he had exchanged with Valurra, and was heading in the indicated direction without further guidance from him, even as it crossed streams and navigated around a gorge.
              When the trees thinned out ahead and gave way to a meadow, the glade courser slowed and Vesian dismounted.
              “Good work,” he said, patting the horse on its neck. He slung the arrows over his shoulders and crawled up a large boulder to have a look around the meadow. Peering over the lip, he immediately spied the white stag grazing on the far side. 
              In all its radiant white beauty, he knew in his heart that this was a sacred beast. Its antlers caught the sunlight between them in a radiant crown of light. Vesian heard himself breathe in sharply and had to remind himself to breathe out. The stag was standing still, its head bowed as it nibbled on the brush. Vesian slowly crept down from the rock and led his courser through the tall grass. The image of Valurra’s naked breasts came unbidden into his mind, and he shuddered with desire. If he had to bear a curse to kiss and suck them, so be it.
              He stopped within range, fearful that coming any close might allow the beast to catch his scent. He nocked an arrow and drew back the bow. But then he stopped. He could not bring himself to let the arrow fly.
              As he stood considering what he was about to do, Vesian remembered another peasant tale, this one of a hunter who slew the white stag and served it at a midsummer feast. Finding himself stifled by the noise of the feast, the hunter wandered outside, whereupon he was taken by a strange mood. He fell to all fours and, to his horror, discovered that he had become a stag! Moments later, his fellow hunters emerged, seized their spears and slew him, not realizing he was one of their own.
              Vesian had no desire to end up a midsummer meal. He lowered his bow and let the tension out of the string. With a silent sigh, he put the bow and arrow away and stowed them on the glade courser. Perhaps there is a better way, he thought. Then he swung himself onto the horse and took its reins. 
              “Quickly and quietly,” he whispered into the horse’s ear as he spurred it forward through the meadow. His sword flashed into his hand and, as the stag turned toward him, he dug his heels into the courser’s flanks and launched into a full gallop. 
              The stag bolted, leaping gracefully over a thicket to plunge into the trees beyond. Vesian urged the courser in pursuit. They cut through the trees as fast as the wind, both stag and steed darting around boulders, trees, fallen logs, and thickets. Vesian could hardly keep up, but quickly found that he did not need to guide his horse. It knew to pursue on its own. 
              “Bring me alongside it!” he urged his horse, and the courser seemed to understand. The stag crashed through a low hanging bough and the courser followed it without a second thought. Low in the saddle, Vesian reached forward to grab the stag’s antlers. They bobbed just out of his reach.
              “Faster!” he called, straining as far forward in the saddle as he dared. To fall at this speed would likely be the end of him. The courser kept apace with the stag, but ever the white beast remained just out of his reach. Their chase carried them further into the forest, far from Saimdol’s hall, and Vesian began to grow impatient. 
              Holding the reins and his sword in one hand, he lunged for the stag’s antlers with the other. His hand grasped only air, and he lost his balance. He cried out in panic and dug his heels into the courser’s flanks, barely arresting his fall before he hit the fast-rushing ground below. He hung there, halfway out of the saddle, and flailed about uselessly until at last he caught the harness and pulled himself back into the saddle. 
              The stag had pulled away as the courser slowed its pace to accommodate Vesian’s precarious position. Now Vesian spurred it on again, eager to catch the beast at last. The stag cut right, then left, but the courser was not to be fooled. The horse drew close again and Vesian lunged for the antlers again.
              He caught hold of the majestic rack and pulled the stag closer to him. The beast whined, thrashing its head about and threatening to gouge either Vesian or his horse. But Vesian held it steady and let the reins fall as he raised his sword above his head. He brought it down at the base of the stag’s antlers with a great crack. The bone splintered and the stag moaned in desperation. Vesian could see the fracture developing. He chopped down again and the whole antler broke free. 
              Freed from Vesian’s grasp, the stag fled into the forest and he slowed his steed. He held the antler up before him and smiled. It was half of the stag’s enormous rack, but it was what Valurra had asked for, and the Wild God kept his beast. Satisfied, Vesian turned the courser around and urged it back to Saimdol’s hall.
 
---
 
              The glade courser carried Vesian straight to Valurra, who was waiting for him alone by the stream. She had removed her shoes and pulled her gown up to dangle her feet in the clear water, regarding them contentedly as she sat on a log over the water. The courser snorted at the sight of her, and Valurra looked up. Vesian raised the antler in triumph, and she smiled.
              “Well done,” she congratulated, standing up. She held out her hand and Vesian pressed her bow and spear into it. Valurra raised an amused eyebrow and set them aside. “The antler,” she demanded, and he dismounted and handed it over. “Spotless,” she mused.
              “The stag lives,” said Vesian, “Though a bit lighter without an antler.” 
              Valurra’s eyes sparkled with mirth. “You are a merciful hunter,” she said admiringly. 
              “You wanted an antler, I brought you an antler. The beast didn’t need to die.” Nor did the satyrs, he thought to himself. 
              “I had wondered if you would find a way, though I admit it would have been somewhat amusing to see what misfortune the Wild God would have brought upon you for killing his chosen animal.”
              “Your concern is touching,” Vesian replied acidly. Valurra laughed and set aside the antler. 
              “I am impressed, mortal. Come, sit with me by the stream. Does it not calm you?”
              It did, Vesian had to admit. But the sight of her in her gorgeous green gown and the memory of her breasts set his heart racing again. He tied the glade course to a branch and crossed to sit beside the stream with Valurra. The elf smoothed her skirts as she dangled her feet in the water again, then looked to Vesian.
              “You desire me,” she said, and Vesian nodded. “Tell me that you desire me,” she commanded. Vesian struggled to find his tongue for a moment.
              “I want you,” at last he stammered. “You are a woman of rare beauty.” What was he doing? He wondered briefly. He had completed his tasks, Lady Isabelle was waiting for him. He should be heading to the hall to lead Isabelle from this forest as fast as he could. Why was he here, letting himself be seduced by an elf?
Valurra leaned close in to put a hand on his thigh, and he stopped questioning himself. He could see down her gown to catch a glimpse of the magnificent breasts that had enraptured him before. His heart beat like a galloping horse and he felt his cock stiffen. Valurra sensed his quickening pulse and smiled a hungry smile. Vesian reached down to undo his belt and the elf laughed. She bent to grab the hem of her gown in her hands and lifted the dress over her head. Throwing it aside, she stood naked before him and Vesian paused in awe, his trousers around his knees and his hard cock standing erect in the cool air of the forest. Valurra gave him a bemused smile, flicking her hair over her shoulder.
              “You have never been with one of the Elder Kindred before, have you?” she teased, and Vesian could only nod dumbly. “Very well, you should be honored to know me as your first. Now go on, get naked. Your armor won’t be much use here.”
              Vesian stripped as quickly as he could, all the while feeling Valurra’s hot, hungry eyes on him. When at last he was naked, she stepped close to him, eyeing him from head to toe with great interest. Her eyes lingered on his toned, scarred chest, then on his cock. She laid a hand on his shoulder and dragged it across his shoulder blades as she circled behind him. Her long brown hair hung below her waist, waving in the forest breeze. A jeweled chain woven through her tresses flashed in the light streaming in through the canopy above. 
              He swallowed anxiously, finally daring to raise a hand and touch her hip. Her skin was unbelievably soft and so silky smooth. He felt his whole body tingle at the sensation as he ran his hand from her hip up to her breasts where he cupped her soft round flesh and pinched her pale pink nipples between his fingers. Valurra exhaled in satisfaction. Her hands reached out to him and closed around his cock.
              Vesian shuddered again. Her touch was soft yet firm. Insistent fingers curled around his shaft and began to stroke. Her soft skin embraced him, and he curled his toes in the grass. As she stroked him, he fondled her breasts, something that brought her great amusement. Valurra took his hand on her breast in her own hand and squeezed, her nipple protruding for him to suck. Vesian did not refuse. 
              He bent his lips to her breast and kissed it. Drawing wide circles around his nipple with his tongue, he latched on and began to suck. Valurra sighed with pleasure. Her head tilted back but she did not stop stroking his cock. She ran her free hand through his hair and smiled. He felt her gaze on the back of his head and turned to look up into her eyes, still playing with her nipple with his tongue. She smiled at him, and he felt himself grow hotter from head to toe. The elf lifted his head from her breast and kissed him.
              “Come,” she said, taking him by the hand. She led him into the stream and pushed him onto the log where she had sat earlier. She stood naked before him, the water flowing around her knees as her long hair waved just above its surface. “Sit, and I will pleasure you.”
              Vesian needed no more encouragement and spread his legs. The bark was rough on his skin, but he could not bring himself to care when faced with the prospect of a beautiful elf woman sucking his cock. Valurra bent before him in the cold water, wrapping one hand around his cock and steadying herself on his knee with the other. Her sapphire eyes stared up at him over a ruby smile. 
              Valurra lowered her lips to his cock and Vesian inhaled sharply as she swallowed it in her mouth. She sank low on his cock, her tongue caressing his shaft as her fingers slowly stroked him. He curled his toes in the cold water beneath the log and ran his fingers through her hair. Valurra moaned around his cock, her tongue licked at his shaft and balls, and Vesian felt a shudder run through his whole body. 
              He ran his hands over her bare back, exulting in the softness of her pale skin. Valurra’s muffled laugh only spurred on his lust. She tossed her head to throw her hair over one side and tilted her head so that she could look up at him with brilliant blue eyes that glittered in the forest sunlight. Vesian felt his breath catch. She winked knowingly at him and he sat back on the log, bracing himself against the rough bark with both hands. He threw back his head, closed his eyes, and turned his face skyward to feel the sun on his face. 
              She worked her tongue and fingers on his cock, building him to a climax until he could take it no more. Before he could come, he lifted her head off him and looked into her eyes.
              “Wait,” he pleaded with a gasp, “I want to fuck you before I come.”
              Valurra smiled and leaned back. “Come,” she said again, and he really wanted to. “Lay yourself in the grass or else this rough bark will tear up your lovely flesh.”
              She took him by the hand and led him into the soft grass by the bank of the stream where she laid him out. Propped up on his elbows, he watched her kneel beside him and begin stroking his cock again. He wanted her. He reached up a hand to caress her beautiful breasts, and she leaned in to kiss his neck.
              “Get on,” he whispered in her ear, “Ride my cock.”
              With a final kiss, she mounted his cock. Vesian shuddered open-mouthed as he watched her pink sex engulf the head of his throbbing cock and slide lower on it. Valurra moaned softly as he went into her, biting the tip of one delicate finger between her teeth. She slowly turned to stare into his eyes and Vesian felt his heart pounding in his chest. She put her hands on his shoulders, pushing him back into the grass as she bounced her sex on his cock, moaning louder and faster atop him. Vesian lay back but reached up to grope her breasts, exulting in the silky touch of an elf woman’s flesh, a feeling he had long dreamed about but never experienced until he became entangled in this forest’s affairs. His feet scrabbled in the grass, positioning himself to gain greater thrusting power. He slapped his hips against her buttocks, and Valurra squealed in delight. 
              “You like that?” he asked, clapping his hands on his ass and giving her a lusty squeeze. Valurra bit her lower lip in a hungry smile, lowering herself to his chest and wrapping her arms around his shoulders as she rode him. Vesian kissed her shoulders, then her neck, then her jaw, and finally locked lips with her in a passionate embrace. His tongue split her lips and entwined with hers inside her mouth and he felt her moan in his chest. 
Valurra broke from the embrace, caught him by the wrists and pinned his arms in the grass, riding harder and moaned louder with each stroke of her sex on his cock. Vesian moaned with her, wrestling with her for control. Her mouth hung open, her breath came fast, and her hips worked up and down with vigor.
              Vesian seized his moment and rolled her over onto her back, propping himself up on his knees to thrust deeper inside her. His balls slapped against her ass as he fucked and the elf arched her back with a bestial groan of pleasure. He grabbed her breasts in his hands, holding her up by them as she supported all her weight by her legs around his waist and her head, her back forming a luscious white bridge between them and her arms stretched out wide. Vesian pinched her nipples between his fingers, twisting them until she screamed. He felt her growing hotter and wetter around his cock and the knowledge of her pleasure drove him to fuck harder.
              His hands climbed her body until they wrapped around her throat, choking her as she moaned and screamed under the rapid pounding of his hips. Valurra came, screaming and shuddering and gushing womanly fluids onto his cock as she did, but Vesian did not relent. He fucked her as she squirmed in his arms, his cock building to climax until at last he could contain himself no more and exploded inside her. He sagged over her, his cock spasming loads of his seed inside her hot, wet sex until he had no more to give, and he slumped forward, utterly spent. 
              He lay atop her, resting his head on her breasts, and let his breathing slow. It was a tender moment. She stroked his hair and he nuzzled at her breasts, kissing her soft white flesh under the forest canopy. The stream babbled nearby, and Vesian at last stirred to wash himself in its cool water. Valurra lay in the grass and watched with interest. 
              “Was it everything you expected?” she teased in a dreamy voice. Vesian returned to kneel beside her. He kissed her brow and the elf smiled. 
              “It was indeed. But I must go.” Vesian stood up and began to dress.
              “Leaving so soon?” Valurra murmured from the grass. Vesian nodded.
              “I have completed your lord’s tasks. It is time that he releases Lady Isabelle to me so I can take her home.”
              “Stay a while,” Valurra called. She turned over on her back, stretching languidly in the grass. She spread her legs, opening her pink flower toward him. Vesian felt his heart race again and his cock harden. 
              “I cannot,” he replied with some effort. “This forest is no place for mortals. It is past time that I leave, with Isabelle in tow.”
              “Then I will show you the way back to the hall. You might get lost here, and then our fun would never end,” she teased. Vesian was not pleased by the thought. 
 
---
 
              Vesian descended the twisting path into the lord’s hall again. The orgy had run its course, but men and women still lay together on the couches as servants passed between them with food and drink. Thibault lay on a couch before the throne’s roots with a copper-haired elf woman and a buxom human girl, half-asleep and well-satisfied. Vesian smiled slightly, glad to see his squire well. 
              His expression darkened when he caught sight of Lady Isabelle, now kneeling nude beside Saimdol’s throne as the lord caressed her hair. Vesian strode forcefully to stand before the throne and presented the stag’s antler. 
              “Here, I have done as you asked.” He threw the antler down before the throne and a servant emerged to retrieve it. “Now, recently the lady from your spell.”
              “So you have,” Saimdol mused aloud. He stared down imperiously from his throne and gently touched the nape of Isabelle’s neck. She shuddered, and Vesian scowled deeply.
              “Well? Release her.”
              “I have another task for you,” the elf said. Vesian clenched his fists.
              “Our agreement was three.”
              “It was. But now I have a fourth.”
              “You will not abide by the terms of our agreement?”
              “I will not. But I will abide by the terms of my new agreement.”
              “How do I know that?” Vesian demanded. “How do I know you will not break this new agreement like you did our last one?”
              “You don’t,” Saimdol shrugged. “But what choice do you have? I have the lady, and I am your superior in skill at arms. And I have many sworn swords who are also your superior at arms.”
              Mortals are nothing but amusement to the fae, Vesian fumed. The elf was right, but Vesian still thought to reissue the challenge to arms. Perhaps he would lose, but it would feel good to clash with this arrogant, duplicitous elf. 
              Saimdol seemed to know what he was thinking, for his swordbearer appeared at his side again and presented the blade, hilt first, to his master. Saimdol make no move toward it, merely considering Vesian with an amused smile on his face.
              “What is this fourth task?” Vesian finally asked through gritted teeth. Saimdol smiled broadly at him.
              “I am so pleased you asked. A beast lurks in the forest, not far from here. My astrologers say it was sent by the gods to punish those have offended them—”
              “Perhaps by perfidy?” Vesian suggested acidly. Saimdol continued as if he had not heard him, though Vesian saw the swordbearer glare at him in offense.
              “And laid a spell upon this beast that it might only be slain by mortal hands in the light of a full moon. Which it nearly is. I confess, I did not expect a mortal knight to arrive at my court so soon after I lured the lady here. The alacrity of your rescue should be appreciated, my dear lady,” he said to Isabelle, who said nothing but continued to stare pleadingly at Vesian.
              “And, as this beast is the true reason you have brought me here, once it is slain, she and I will be free to go?”
              “Indeed,” replied Saimdol. “You have my word.”
              “For all that is worth,” replied Vesian, thinking of the satyrs he had slain. “What sort of beast is this?”
              “Nothing you have ever encountered before, for the Dalamari Forest is a realm unlike that which mortals have ever experienced. It has the head of a great wolf, the body of a leopard, and the wings of a bat. It dwells on the butte near the Giant’s Tower. Valurra will show you the way.”
              “Very well,” Vesian spat. “I will slay this beast for you. But mark my words, when I return, I will have the lady or it will be swords.”
              “Begone with you then,” Saimdol sniffed and waved his hand. “We are finished here.”
              Saimdol rose from the throne and lifted Isabelle to her feet. She cast a worried look over her shoulder as he led her away down the steps behind his throne. Vesian scowled, and Valurra appeared at his side again.
              “Do not worry about her,” she said. “Saimdol sees little in the girl. He will keep her until you have slain the Ravager, and then the three of you will be on your way. Speaking of your servant, you should rouse him. You may have need of him soon.”
              Vesian wanted to complain about Saimdol’s faithlessness, but decided it was not worth it. Neither he nor Valurra could change the lord’s mind, and any further complaining was a waste of air. He crossed to where Thibault lay dreamily on a silken couch and scooped up the squire’s discarded clothes on his tow. He kicked them at Thibault and snapped “Get up.”
              Thibault stirred from the couch with the grumpiness of a man awoken from a wonderful dream, and gathered his clothes.
              “Is it finished?” he asked, rubbing his eyes. Vesian scowled again.
              “No. After the first three, he gave me another. But you can help with this one. Come along, my patience wears thin.”
              “How do you know he won’t give you a fifth?” Thibault asked as he pulled on his trousers. 
              “I don’t.” Vesian growled. “But unless you want to fight him, it’s all we’ve got.”
              “I’m so glad I followed you in here,” Thibault groaned. Vesian had no response but to glare at him. Valurra only smiled. She reached down to her skirt and lifted the dress over her head. Even though he had just enjoyed every inch of her naked body, Vesian could not help but gawk. Valurra stripped naked in the hall, and a servant appeared to help her dress in a hauberk of silversteel and a gambeson beneath. She crowned herself with a conical helm and lifted a spear from the servant. 
              Turning to Vesian and Thibault, who were still gawking, she said “Come, the Ravager awaits.”
Speechless, they followed her from the hall and into the forest. Turning onto a little-used path, they traveled beneath colossal oaks and over a deep, fast-running stream. The twilight deepened until darkness closed in about them and they only light was that of a full moon. Vesian stumbled along the the blackness behind Valurra until at last they could see a towering butte of granite before them, glowing in the pale light of the moon. 
              “There,” Valurra said, pointing with her spear, “that is where the Ravager lairs.”
              Vesian bit his lip in thought. “How do we get up there?” he asked, looking for a path up the cliffside.
              “We climb,” said Valurra matter-of-factly. Thibault groaned, but Valurra did not wait. Instead, she strode boldly to the base of the cliff, shouldered her spear, and began to climb. With a shrug, Vesian followed. 
It proved hard climbing, for the butte was tall and the rock treacherous. Vesian slipped twice, each time threatening to send him plunging to a quick death on the slopes below. He caught himself quickly each time, but his overriding fear was in waking up the monster that laired above. He could do little enough against a winged monster while on foot, but he was worse than defenseless while clinging to the rocks a hundred feet in the air. 
              But Valurra went up with alacrity, showing the easy grace of her kindred. Recovering from his second slip, Vesian looked up to find the elf breezily hanging one-handed from a small ledge twenty feet above him. She smiled a teasing smile under her helm, then laid her free hand on the wall and resumed her climb. 
              Vesian looked down to Thibault. His squire clung to the rock beneath him, heaving labored breaths. 
              “Damn this demon,” Thibault gasped, “for taking so high a perch. I’ll kill myself climbing before I ever get in reach of its claws.”
              “Almost there,” Vesian lied, and Thibault smiled. The squire pointed up the cliff.
              “Even in her armor, she’s got a sightly ass.”
              Vesian smiled back at him. “Come on, just a little further.”
              They hauled themselves up to the rim of the butte with great effort, arms burning and fingers aching. Valurra waited for them there, her helmed head just below the lip. The moonlight suddenly dimmed, and Vesian looked around with a start. But there was no sign of the Ravager. Instead, a bank of clouds had drifted across the sky to block out the moon.
              “We must wait,” Valurra hissed in annoyance. “These clouds will pass soon enough. Then over the edge and slay it before it wakes.”
              “I don’t know if I can hold on that long,” Thibault complained. He cast a look toward the base of the butte far below and shuddered. Under his helm, Vesian bit his lip in concern. Thibault was right, his hands were aching so badly he feared he would not be able to grip his sword. He turned toward the cloud that crawled across the moon’s face with agonizing slowness.
              “Hurry up,” he muttered. Yet the cloud only seemed to slow. It hung lazily in front of the moon and Vesian grew ever more impatient. Above him, he swore he could hear the monster stirring. Yet he could think of nothing but to cling to the butte’s granite flank and pray the cloud bank moved on. His arms were burning, his fingers cramping, and his brow beaded with sweat. 
              At last, a ray of moonlight broke through the cloud and fell upon the impatient climbers. 
              “Go,” Valurra hissed, and they pulled themselves over the lip of the butte as the moonlight burst through the cloud to bathe the flat rock with silvery light. Vesian flexed his fingers as he lay on the rock, feeling their stiffness fade. Breathing a sigh of relief, he looked around.
On the opposite side of the butte was a massive nest, made of broken branches and weathered bones. Vesian swallowed with trepidation as he looked into the empty eyes of five skulls placed around the rim. He wondered who they had been in life, elf or human? 
              Something stirred in the nest, and Vesian reached for his sword in alarm. Two great wingtips, black and leathery like a bat’s, stretched up over the top of the nest. Thibault tore his sword from its scabbard, and Valurra readied her spear. The moon shone brightly above them, illuminating the whole crown of the butte. 
              “Now is the time,” the elf whispered, urging Vesian forward. He unslung his shield from his shoulder and took a tentative step forward. The wingtips retracted into the nest. He stopped. “What are you waiting for?” Valurra hissed.
              Vesian looked to his squire. Thibault held his sword in both hands, his shield on one arm, waiting for Vesian to make the first move. Thibault looked to him and shrugged. Vesian sighed.
              “I’ll go first,” he whispered and started forward. Thibault followed behind him while Valurra stood some distance back. Vesian was unsure what she expected to do, but could not deny that having her with him made him feel safer.
              He approached the nest as quietly as he could, all too aware of his mail softly clinking beneath his surcoat. The nest was too tall to peer into, and he would have to climb in close with the monster to bring his sword to bear. Steeling himself, he checked over his shoulder to ensure Thibault was close by. His squire nodded in readiness.
Vesian put his foot on the edge of the nest, meaning to climb into it, but the branch cracked underfoot. He froze. Had he just alerted the monster? He hoped against hope, for one brief moment, that it might be too deep in sleep to hear. Then he decided it was futile. Better to strike now, before it could wake. 
              He laid a hand on the rim of the nest and set his foot in place to scale the wall, but there came from within a terrifying roar of such ferocity that he froze again in fear. He felt his limbs turned to ice. He teeth chattered. He cursed internally, he yelled in his mind Keep going! Attack now! Don’t be a fool! But it was no use. His arms and legs would not budge.
              In a great rush of black wings, the monster burst from the nest. Malevolent golden eyes stared down at him from a giant wolf’s head, its wings stretching wide to block out the stars behind it. The Ravager hung in the air above him for a dreadful moment, wings beating against the air and its lupine lips curled back in a terrible snarl. Long, scything claws gleamed in the moonlight.
              It swooped down on him, claws outstretched, and Vesian heard himself cry out. Something grabbed at his shoulder and hauled him to the rock, narrowly avoiding the vicious claws. His sword flew from his grasp, he thudded hard against the stone, his helm clanged, and he was overpowered by the ringing of metal around his ears. When he looked up, Valurra crouched over him, spear in one hand and the other dexterously tracing the arcane motions of a spell.
              She let out a cry in the elvish tongue of old and a glittering web coalesced in the air before them. It drifted slowly toward them, splitting into three which wrapped each of them in softly glowing strands that were cool to the touch.
              “That should offer some protection,” she declared. Beyond the barrier, the monster could be see soaring away through the night sky. Vesian breathed a momentary sigh of relief and fumbled about for his lost sword.
              “I stabbed it with my spear,” she said as the spell sparked in the air before them. “Only out of habit, but it could not penetrate the monster’s hide. You will need to slay it with your own sword.”
              Vesian caught his sword by the hilt and pulled it close. Thibault appeared to clap a hand on Vesian’s shoulder and pull him to his feet.
              “It’s coming back around!” he called. Vesian set his shield in front of him and looked up into the sky. A great black shape wheeled across the stars and those hungry eyes of gold fixed upon him again. Vesian cocked his sword arm back for a killing thrust. 
              The Ravager beat its wings to propel itself into a swooping dive. Vesian edged closer to Thibault, their shields raised together before them, and Valurra set herself behind with her spearpoint jutting forward between them. The Ravager had chosen its target, Vesian knew, and he steeled himself for its attack, trusting in Valurra’s spell of protection and the truth of his sword arm to slay the beast and keep him alive.
              But at the last moment, the monster swerved aside and crashed into Thibault instead. Vesian plunged his sword forth, aiming for its heart, but the Ravager’s evasive maneuver turned what should have been a mortal blow into a minor wound to its spotted flank. Vesian’s sword tip carved a long, bloody gash in the golden fur, but he could see that it was neither deep nor deadly.
              Thibault, on the other hand, was hurled aside from the full force of the striking beast. He, too, lost his sword in the crash and was bowled over, skidding toward the edge of the butte. Vesian cried out to him, Thibault flailed madly about, and went over the edge. Its prey struck, the Ravager swept off into the sky. Thoughts of the monster suddenly gone, Vesian ran to the edge and looked over.
              To his relief, Thibault hung there perhaps ten feet below the edge, precariously clinging to a jutting rock.
              “Thanks the gods you’re alright!” he cried. Thibault said nothing, but cast a worried look around him.
              “Is it coming back?” he asked. Valurra appeared at Vesian’s side, lowering her spear toward Thibault.
              “Quickly, take the spear and I’ll pull you up!” Thibault looked toward the Ravager swooping through the skies, turning around for another attack, then grabbed Valurra’s spear. The elf sprawled at the edge of the butte, gripping her spear just below the blade, and began to pull. The Ravager was fast approaching, and Thibault and Valurra were both completely exposed. Vesian’s heart was pounding. He grabbed the tip of the spear and began to pull, but his squire was not rising fast enough, and the monster was so close.
              As it bore down on Thibault, Vesian released the spear, cast aside his shield and, gripping his sword in both hands, hurled himself from the butte.
              He heard both Valurra and Thibault cry out in horror, but his focus was instead on the Ravager. It beat its wings in surprise, trying to avoid him and send him plunging to his death below, but Vesian had aimed well. He would have landed on its exposed belly, except that it beat its wings down at him and buffeted him about terribly. He wrenched his sword upward, tearing the wing, but that did not prevent him from being bludgeoned by its weight. 
Now aware that he was in freefall, he flailed about for something to grab and caught the Ravager’s wingtip. The wing lifted up, carrying him with it but too burdened to lift the monster aloft, and the beast began to sink toward the forest floor.
              “Vesian!” he heard Thibault cry somewhere distantly, but Vesian could not reply. The Ravager swiped at him with its razor-sharp claws, and he strained his body just out of reach, one hand clutching the wingtip for dear life, the other wildly slashing his sword about before him as he tried to fend off the monster’s slashing claws. 
              The forest treetops suddenly loomed close, and the Ravager snarled in frustration. Vesian inhaled sharply just before they crashed through the leafy canopy and into a thick branch. It struck him in the chest, ripping the wingtip from his grasp. He grunted in shock, the sword slid from his grasp, and before he could catch himself, he slid off the tree limb and continued his plummet toward the earth. Somewhere nearby, he could hear the Ravager shrieking and snarling, but his helm had been knocked around to block his vision, and he was blind.
He struck another branch, then a sword, and with a final, terrified cry, broke through the lowermost branches to plunge screaming to the floor.
              Mercifully, he landed in a thicket to break his fall. He staggered to his feet, arms and legs ensnared by the thorny branches, and wrenched his helm off to gulp in fresh air. The edge of the thicket was just before him, close enough that he could reach his arm out, if it were not caught on thorns. Gods be good, he thought, a pace further from the tree and I’d be a dead man. 
              He ripped his arm free, hearing the terrible tearing of his surcoat, and kicked his way free from the thicket. He looked around. His missing sword was nowhere to be seen, but the Ravager lay in the shadow of a mighty oak tree directly in front of him. It had come through the fall worse than he, and one of its wings was bent grotesquely at the joint, while its leopard’s tail flopped about like a fish on land.
              Vesian slammed his helm back on, pulled a dagger from his belt, and charged the thing. He could not help but roar a battlecry, but regretted it the moment the Ravager’s head snapped around toward him. It was not as injured as he had believed, and the creature leapt at him, bowling him over in the middle of his charge. He thrust the dagger at it, but in the shadow of the great oak, it turned aside from the monster’s hide. Vesian thudded to the dirt again, though this time the leaves and dirt made for a softer landing than the granite atop the butte had.
              But he quickly had other concerns, for the Ravager’s lupine head loomed over him, golden eyes staring death down at him. Bile dripped from long fangs as it snarled. Its teeth gleamed in the light of the full moon.
              Vesian stabbed the dagger upward, looking for its heart. He found it. The Ravager’s eyes went wide with shock, it sagged on its feet, and it gasped a gust of hot air across Vesian’s face. The dying breath filled his helm and made his eyes water, but he sank the dagger up to its hilt and twisted to make sure.
              The Ravager breathed its last and slumped down atop him. Vesian felt the breath crushed from his own body beneath its bulk. He released the dagger hilt and tried to heave the corpse off him, but to no avail. He tried again, muscles straining against the monster’s bulk, but it was useless. The long climb, the fall back down, and the fight had robbed him of too much strength. The dead thing lay unmoved, crushing the life from him even in its death.
Vesian lay on the forest floor, staring up at the full moon and stars as the life was slowly pressed from him. He surrendered himself to the gods, for it was there will that had led him into he forest in search of Isabelle. He only prayed that Thibault would survive to lead her out of it.
              Something was crashing through the brush nearby. Vesian closed his eyes, ready for some forest beast to appear to devour him as he lay there helpless. But instead, the Ravager’s bulk was heaved off him and his eyes flung open as he gasped for fresh air.
              Thibault and Valurra stood over him, panting with exertion.
              “Of all the stupid, reckless, downright mad things you’ve done,” the squire gasped. “That might be the worst of them all.”
              Vesian crawled to his feet. His chest was still burning and his knees felt weak.
              “The beast is slain,” he coughed, and Valurra smiled.
              “Come,” she said. “Your Lady Isabelle awaits you.”