Captive (25 page)

Aisla trotted forward, scared yet eager to have her tuppenny filled with huge troll cock. Immediately outside the copse she stopped, leant her axe against a convenient rock and took off her harness to go naked but for her boots. Sinking down to her knees, she put her bottom towards the copse and gave a whistle. The response was immediate, the foliage pushed aside to reveal no troll, but a colossal black ogre, his mouth stained red from the blood of the deer carcass he had been devouring.

For one dreadful moment Aisla could do nothing but stare in open mouthed horror, and then it was too late, the ogre was on her. Massive hands clutched at her waist, dragging her in despite her kicking legs and flailing fists. The fleshy mass of its genitals squashed against her naked sex. The beast paused, then began to rub, rutting in her wet sex and she knew she was to be eaten and raped at the same time even as her fingers scrabbled desperately for the axe. She was lifted, the ogre sniffing her and growling even as its penis hardened between her thighs, the axe came with her and she struck back, missing as the massive cock went hard between her buttocks.

Twice it pushed, the hot, thick shaft rubbing in the sweaty crease of her bottom. Again she struck, but weakly, unable to aim at its head or guts. Its tongue licked out, tasting her skin. She struck at its leg, only to hit with the flat of the blade in her panic. The ogre bellowed in pain and rage. Aisla screamed as its jaws opened around her head at the same instant a great gout of sperm erupted over her bottom and up her back.

Again she cut, a last, desperate effort. She felt the blade bite into the leathery flesh as her head was engulfed in its jaws. It screamed, a blast of sound full against her ears. The teeth closed on her neck and the tongue smothered her face, filling her with the ghastly certainty of coming death. Her body hit the ground, her head still in its mouth as she dropped the axe and caught the awful jaws, wrenching at them with all her strength as her body slipped in the slimy mess of sperm between them. Its weight crushed her to the ground, but to her amazement the jaws yielded, opening under the pressure of her arms until she could pull her head clear.

Aisla squirmed out from beneath the suddenly limp ogre. Snatching the thick saliva from her face, she opened her eyes as she started to run, only to stop as she realised that the ogre was dead. Staggering back and sitting down hard on the ground, she fought her terror and a strong desire to be sick, panting and shivering until at last she regained control of herself. Pulling the axe from beneath the horrid body, she saw the glyph glowing a brilliant blue and found herself mumbling a prayer, to Sulitea.

With the ogre’s head fixed to the prow of the Dog, Aisla’s reputation grew to awe. Only Sulitea knew the truth, the men imagining that Aisla had actually defeated a full grown ogre face to face. The sperm she had scraped from her back and between her buttocks also proved highly effective, providing her with all the confidence and ferocity the men had come to expect, if with less duration than the troll sperm had provided.

Unfortunately the Merim Islands proved no more fruitful raiding ground than the Aprayan coast, but for different reasons. Again and again the Dog would stealthily approach one of the rocky islands, only to find nothing but blackened ruins. There was no sign whatever of the inhabitants, nor their livestock, and whatever valuables the pirates might have hoarded had been taken. What remained had been smashed or burnt, the small stony fields salted. Aisla explained to an increasingly frustrated Jairoth about the Hai hero Arrasir’s expedition against the Merim pirates, which was presumably the cause of the carnage.

‘He is dead then, this Arrasir?’ Jairoth demanded. ‘A good thing…’

‘No,’ Aisla answered, ‘or at least I suppose not. The Hai give hero as a title to their greatest living warriors rather than those slain in combat.’

‘Let me catch up with him and he will be a hero in the true sense,’ Jairoth snarled. ‘Does he have no sense of honour? Salting the fields! He leaves nothing for others, only uninhabitable rocks where there had been villages and land, albeit poor. And what of the villagers? I raid but I slay only those who raise arms against me!’

‘There were no graves, nor pyres,’ Aisla pointed out. ‘Doubtless the villagers have been taken to the Glass Coast.’

‘There is a great arena in Zihai,’ Sulitea put in. ‘The men will go there, to die for the entertainment of the people and to the glory of Arrasir and King Mogath. Younger, more attractive women will also go into the arena, for a somewhat different display, which they will survive. They will then be taken as wives, second and third wives by the warriors who fought with Arrasir, and others, as will the remaining women. The children, I imagine, go with their mothers.’

‘Second and third wives?’ Jairoth demanded. ‘What is this?’

‘It is the Hai way,’ Sulitea explained.

‘Decadence! Perversion!’ Jairoth snarled. ‘You are learned, Sulitea, as befits your upbringing, but I would rather be a peasant than defile myself with such knowledge!’

He smashed his fist down on the table, making the plates and cups they had been using dance as others who had been listening growled agreement. As she listened to him an idea occurred to Aisla, to be rejected and then return with greater force, spurred by the wine she had drunk and her morning dose of ogre sperm.

‘Certainly they are decadent,’ she remarked, ‘but also rich. I know of a great storehouse in the city of Jihai. It is filled with priceless velvets and silks, many in colours impossible to our artisans. It is only one of many, and in Aegerion such goods will fetch as much as you care to ask. More in Ateron, where so few merchants ever come. The Princess Talithea would bury you in gold for a bolt of pure black Jihai velvet. Take a shipload as a gift and she would have Prince Kavisterion give you an estate.’

‘She would?’ Jairoth replied.

‘Beyond doubt,’ Aisla answered.

‘Where is this Jihai?’ Jairoth demanded.

The Dog slipped silently through a low mist, moving on muffled oars with the sail lowered, the ghastly ogre’s head seeming to peer through the white fog with the warriors close behind. Ahead, the piled boulders of one of the Jihai breakwaters became visible as a low black line, then the squat bulk of a fort. Aisla bit hard on one of her harness straps, chewing the sour leather to activate the ogre sperm in her belly. The man to her side gave a grin at her eagerness, quite ignorant of what she was doing. Beyond the man Jairoth gave a muttered command, which was passed back. The oars backwatered, bringing the Dog alongside the breakwater with a gentle bump.

Aisla swung herself up and over the gunwale, landing silently on a flat-topped boulder. Jairoth was already down, two others beside them. They climbed the breakwater in a series of jumps, locating the winch that worked the boom. It was unguarded, and with all four of them straining at the handle it began to turn with a groan. Out in the mist the Dog was a dark grey shadow, sliding along the face of the breakwater and around, into the harbour mouth. Keeping level with the boat, they moved down the breakwater, reaching the quay at the same time.

Jairoth clapped Aisla on the back, favouring her with a triumphant grin and then walking boldly forward, striding out of the thinning mist to where a handful of Hai fishermen and sailors had began to gather on the quay. The nearest looked up, his mouth dropping open in horror at the sight of them. Another screamed and they fled, all together, running into the city and yelling that the Aeg were on them.

‘Lead us to this storehouse,’ Jairoth said, then turned to the Aeg who were swarming onto the quay. ‘Follow Aisla and cut down any who oppose us!’

Aisla ran, her strength and confidence flaring as she went and the inhabitants of Jihai scattered in terror. She laughed as she remembered how different she had felt before, when Grathor had led her up the same street, and with the same destination in mind.

What few people had been abroad fled at the sight of them, leaving the streets empty. They reached Madame Yasma’s establishment without exchanging a single blow, and Jairoth’s great axe shattered the door at the first stroke. Inside Aisla swarmed up the stairs and into the storeroom, laughing in glee at the display of wealth before her. Sulitea came behind her and they began to loot, selecting the richest and most expensive materials, then those in colours favoured by Talithea or hard to come by in Aegmund.

As she worked she could hear noise building outside, terrified screams and the urgent clang of bells. She ignored it, snatching at bolt after bolt and hurling them down the stairs until Jairoth finally called out that they had more than could possibly be carried. They rushed from the building, Aisla laughing at the thought of Madame Yasma’s face when she discovered her loss. Outside the street was no longer deserted, with soldiers pouring down the hill, loyal troops with the plain crossed swords of the King on their jerkins. Jairoth gave a bellow at the sight and dropped his burden, signalling others to follow. All responded, leaving a pile of priceless cloth spilt on the street. The soldiers faltered at the sight, then began to give back as the Aeg rushed on them, Aisla included.

Sulitea’s yells for them to get back to the boat were ignored, Jairoth felling the leader of the soldiers with his first blow. Two more went down, one under Aisla’s axe and the remainder fled. The Aeg gave chase, all order lost in the mad whirl of battle. More soldiers were coming from the fort, archers among them, but unable to find targets among the wild melee in the street. Another figure had stepped out, a robed man carrying a great hammer, his face set into a hard sneer. He began to chant and weave the hammer.

Aisla thought to recognise the movements of an evocation. Snatching at the shoulder of the man to her side she yelled for help. He responded and another with him, crashing forward in a whirl of metal to drive the Hai back. Aisla darted into the gap, struck one man aside and parried as the Gannite’s hammer lashed out at her head. The hammer shaft caught on her blade and split. Seeing that his assailant was a woman the priest gave a choking cry of rage, abruptly silenced as Aisla let the blade twist on air and struck it back handed across his neck. He died instantly, the glyph on her axe pulsing rich blue.

Without losing momentum she turned, swinging the axe to clear her way, only to be forced to draw her stroke to avoid hitting Jairoth. Seeing the priest dead, some of the Hai began to break, others yelling in anger and pressing towards Aisla. Confusion reigned, half the Hai in flight, the others making a furious assault on the Aeg, only to find themselves unable to get inside their reach. A Hai knight yelled for his squadron to rally, only to find the castle portcullis falling behind him. A moment later and he had fallen to Jairoth’s blade. The remaining Hai scattered and Jairoth was calling them back to the Dog.

Aisla ran with the others, snatching up bolts of cloth as they reached the pile. Looking up, she found the way to the harbour completely empty, the quay deserted save for the four warriors left to guard the ship. The worst of the mist had burnt off, leaving the harbour sparkling in the sunlight. She ran for the quay, stumbling with her burden and whooping with joy at the chaos she had caused and in delight at her revenge on the loyalists. Sulitea was beside her, laden with two bolts of black velvet and laughing as boldly as the others.

A bugle sounded from behind them but they took no notice, only to hear it answered from the sea. Aisla paused, staring out into the retreating mist to find four dark shapes coming in towards the harbour. Jairoth swore and increased his pace, reaching the quay and dropping his burden. They began to load, hurling the bolts of cloth aboard the Dog as more bugles sounded both from the fort above them and the approaching ships. Soldiers once more began to emerge from the fort, now in tight formation with archers behind a wall of pikemen with shields.

Jairoth gave a contemptuous grunt as he flung the last bale aboard, then roared for speed as he caught Sulitea and pushed her up over the gunwale. Aisla followed, only to find the four Hai ships almost at the harbour mouth. Behind them the city was in tumult, with screams, shouts, the clang of bells and the blare of horns. She caught the name Arrasir once, then again.

The Dog pulled clear of the quay, but too late, with the four ships bearing down at the full speed of their oars. Jairoth yelled for them to fight and the rowers dropped their oars to pour out onto the deck with axes and swords. The Dog ploughed forward, oars crashing together as they met the first boat. Aisla hastily swallowed her last vial of sperm and bit her harness, then gripped the axe and leapt. Her jump took her easily to the Hai boat, seaman giving back in alarm as she came among them. One swung at her, but slowly, to be struck aside with ease. Other Aeg were jumping down beside her, meeting the oncoming Hai.

The ship lurched as it struck the Dog, sending men sprawling. For a moment Aisla found herself in clear space. Around her events seemed to move unnaturally slowly. The Dog was sandwiched between two Hai ships, held apart by a mess of splintered oars. Hai were pouring on board her, led by a tall man with a great mane of brown hair, his followers yelling the name Arrasir as they came. Jairoth met him, their weapons crashed once, both swung in without disengaging, each certain of their strength and speed, only to meet the other’s weapon.

Aisla felt a wave of sick dismay as Jairoth fell, followed by blind fury at his killer. She ran and leapt, landing back on the Dog, even as she saw Arrasir slump forward over Jairoth’s body. A Hai warrior struck at her and she was forced to parry. His sword met her blade and shattered but he was already moving back and pulling a long dagger from his belt. Aisla darted the axe in, almost catching him but forced to parry a sudden low stab from the broken sword blade. She danced back, swinging the axe up, only to find that the deck of the Dog had begun to tilt. Her opponent jumped clear, ran and leapt for the adjoining ship. Aisla made to follow, only to see Sulitea climbing up from below decks.

All around her men were disengaging and leaping from the ship as it began to tilt, to other ships or into the water. Aisla pulled Sulitea behind her and looked round, finding nothing but Hai sailors and warriors on the nearest ship. Beyond there was fighting, on two ships now drifting clear of the sinking Dog. Aisla judged the distance to the nearest group of Aeg other than the few in the water. Despite her burning aggression and self-confidence she knew it was too far, with too many Hai warriors in-between. Beside her Sulitea began to chant, and weave patterns in the air with her hands.