Chapter 10: The Bedchambers of a Sorceress

Acro’Nor escorted the swordsman to the main chamber and up a series of steps to the chambers above. This area of the castle was much more decorative, with weapons on the walls and looted statues at the doors.

Around one door, the pelts of various animals hung, flanked by crossed tusks large enough that even a giant could step under them without having to bend down between them. These doors were at the end of the hall, and leading to it were sumptuous rugs that could have only been bartered for, or looted from some past conquest.

Indeed, many of the decorations were either rustic of an easy distinguishability belonging to the giants themselves, or taken as loot or traded in barter. There were no themes, no monotone of culture. Everything was a variable of color and size and origin in such a manner as to be of uniqueness all its own.

Thumping heavily behind him, Acro’Nor said nothing as they stalked across the runners and furs through the soft lighting of mirrored lamps defused by opaque shades, giving the lighting of these upper halls a soft glow. Despite his lack of words, his breathing was easy to make out among the muffled celebrations below.

Acro’Nor stepped ahead of Falinor and put his hand on the door, looked at him, and said, “Take off your sandals.”

He obeyed.

“You will now please the princess of Da and do as she bids you in all things, human.”

Holding his stern gaze for a moment, Falinor then regarded the door, waiting for the giant to open it, which he did.

“Enjoy yourself, human,” Acro’Nor said, his face a mask of toothy and malicious humor, and yet behind that mask was still a face of sullen jealously. “Few humans are given a chance like this.”

With slightly narrowed eyes, Falinor regarded the giant one last time, and then waited for the door to be opened, which Acro’Nor did in one solid motion of his thick arm. The swordsman carried the trey into the mostly dark chambers beyond.

The door was shut behind him.

A subtle breeze, cool on the skin, wisped through the chamber and the diaphanous curtains surrounding the bed just beyond fluttered. The brass monoliths at the windows contained bright flames that guttered slightly.

In the hearth, a hot fire crackled just a short stone’s throw from the bed. Upon the silk-covered mattress a figure lay behind the diaphanous curtains.

The giantess stirred by pulling her foot back, exposing her smooth ivory skin as the sashes of her dress parted and fell away from the arch of her knee.

“Falinor?” the giantess called. “Come here, swordsman.”

The rugs under his feet were soft as he strode forward and around the curtains where she gazed up at him. She was lying lazily on her elbows as her back rested against suede pillows behind her with golden fronds.

“You know my name, Princess?”

She smiled arrogantly. “You did tell me, did you not?”

“And you did not tell me yours.”

“But you know it.”

There was pause between them as she caressed the surprisingly smooth skin on her ivory-white calf. “Orchan’Da,” he offered plainly.

“Hmm,” she noised with a smile, a sense of satisfaction in that sound she made. Her cheeks were pink from her drinking, her eyes slightly unfocused, but even more so than before.

Also…

There was something else on the air.

He sniffed.

“Incense from the land of Murakh Annd,” she said, sitting up. “Does it not tingle the senses, Falinor?”

Now that she had said it, he noticed his vision had come in and out of focus slightly as everything shimmered for a moment and then came back. His nose tickled.“I feel…”

“Good,” she said slowly, her spirits high. “This incense heightens pleasurable experiences.”

“Does it?” he asked, feeling oddly curious, his interest in her—something that had not been present moments ago, now present, and heightened.

“Yes.”

She beckoned him with a single finger. Slowly, he stepped forward and reached down over the trey, taking up one of the sweets, a crystalline pastry, oozing with sparkling sugars. He offered it to her, and she seemed delighted and surprised all at once. Orchan’Da opened her mouth, taking a bit as he held onto the little sweet.

“Mmm,” she noised, chewing and swallowing. She then proceeded to lick and suck her fingertips, all the while her eyes not leaving his. Orchan’Da then took the sweet from his hand and offered it to Falinor.

He partook of it, chewed and felt something inside him as the sugars melted over his tongue. She pushed her fingers into his mouth and he sucked what was left of the sweetness from them as he held onto her wrist, the trey still in his other hand.

“Do you feel it, Falinor?” she breathed.

“I…”

The swordsman almost stumbled. He did feel it. He felt taller somehow. He felt stronger—more vibrant. His vision then clarified. It was as though he had been stricken with a sorcerous spell when the sweet sugars entered his body after he had inhaled the smoke of the incense.

Glancing at her, he saw her now. Oh, she had been attractive before. But she was his enemy—an enemy that could just as well kill him at any time. She had said he was now a slave. But he didn’t care—not anymore.

Not ever.

Not as long as he could be with her. His own desires became intensely apparent to himself as he looked upon her, his eyes traveling across her full lips, down the lines of her neck and over the curves of her body.

“Yes,” she said breathily. “Falinor!”

She flung her hand under the tray, hitting it and all of its contents away. It tumbled to the floor and the brandy spilled.

Neither he nor Orchan’Da cared one whit.

Her breathing was much the same as his, the swordsman noticed. Deep, long breathes. She touched the straps of her dress, pushed them—nudging them, and Falinor leaned in over the silks atop the mattress with his knees.

Looking into her eyes, he saw her desire within, her lean body and how it moved, calling for him to come closer. She was hard and yet soft—in all the right places. His desires were intensifying. She seemed to know this as she smiled saucily at him.

Taking her dress straps in his hands, he yanked them over her shoulders and she growled like a beast and spread her legs. Falinor then yanked her dress down to her waist, exposing her breasts. There was an intense stirring in his loins. He wanted the giant princess as much as she wanted him, but it was she who put her hands around him and pulling him in close so that their lips were a hair’s breadth apart, their hot most breath mingling.

Then she kissed him, fully and deeply, her warm lips over his as she thrust her tongue into his mouth. Knowing fully that she was his enemy, he should search for something to kill her with, and yet, the swordsman did not.

Instead, he pushed his body against hers, the thin fabrics of her dress barely separating them as they moved together—both in the throes of passionate need.

Then she pushed up against his chest and looked into his eyes. She was a large woman—a giantess—but he was not altogether small in her arms. “Take me, Falinor. Now!”

He almost did, but something made him take pause. An odd curiosity as he looked down across her body, taking her in, her rumpled dress still bunched up at her waist. “Do you truly find pleasure in humans?”

A subtle flicker of disappointment.

But she recovered quickly. “Yes, Falinor.” As she said the words she gyrated her shoulders in a caressing way ash she whipped her long black tresses over her shoulder. He found her lusty demeanor enticing—far more so than he should have. “Why would I not?”

How does one explain such things without vulgarities? he wondered. And instead of saying the words aloud, he looked his hand in hers. Perhaps the size difference was typical between humans, with that of a woman’s being the smaller.

She smirked.

And then she did something Falinor had not been expecting. She thrust her other hand between his legs and felt him, explored him. With his eyes closed, he nearly fell back into the throes of passion, when she sniffed bemusedly. “You are more than enough, Falinor!”

He looked at her then, surprised.

“Now take me!” she commanded.

And he did.

Had he been expecting her to be sweet, he would have been terribly mistaken. She was not sweet—she was a beast. At several junctures she cried out, growling and howling, her strong arms near to crushing Falinor as he cried out in anguish and in pleasure while she scratched him, crushed him and pummeled him with her body, all the while biting and nipping at his neck.

And then as she finished, he thought she would let up, slacken as her passions must surely do—but her beast-like exultations of pleasure increased, her muscular grip tightened, her fingernails raked him harder than ever as his own warm blood began to trail down his back.

Falinor grunted loudly, snarled and grit his teeth as he tried to pull away from her suddenly, but she grasped him tighter and yowled, biting him on the neck hard enough to make him wince and knish his own teeth from the pain. “Enough!” he growled. “Orchan’Da—stop!”

But she did not.

He fought to resist her. He put his hands on her shoulders, pushed, but she grabbed his wrists and peeled them back, grabbed him and holding him so that he could not move against her. And then she wrapped her legs under him and thrust herself against him with enough force to slide the mattress.

Falinor grunted wetly from deep inside his throat, his head feeling like it would burst. “Orchan’Da!” he wheezed. “You… are—crush—ing! Me!”

“YEESSS!!” she screamed, her face demonic with eyes wide and mouth agape, her toothy smile a terrible sight as she bucked him with the force of all her might and muscle and physical weight bearing down on him. “YES! YEEESSSS!”

The scream that came out of him then surprised even his own ears, but through the pain, he could not dwell on it as he struggled to get away before she cracked all of his godsdamned bones!

*

She waited impatiently in the trees just outside of the village, glancing up at the clouded and moonless skies as she listened to the drumbeats and flutes in the village. The festivities were lively, as they always were.

But the giantess knew that a dark and terrible truth lie at the heart of those frequent festivities of Da—a thing she could not stop even had she wanted to. But this was where she would find what she needed, had discovered this one night in a sudden epiphany after losing so many others.

She would—

The bushes rustled and she turned her head, her hand instinctually moving toward the haft of the maul that lay against the tree. But as her heart lurched, she realized the small form of Orvin.

“It’s you.”

“I am sorry,” he breathed with a quick bow. He was tired from running. His small legs must have been burning. He continued. “I have just come—from the castle.”

“And?” she asked impatiently. “Orvin—tell me.”

“The one I told you about—the strong one,” he said, speaking of the swordsman with the magical capabilities. “He is in her chambers now as we speak.”

She saw the folded breeches in his hands, but asked him not about them. “Orvin!” she cried. “Why did you not tell me sooner?”

“Forgive me,” he said. “The celebrations within… they are…”

“No matter,” she said. “I know just how to get into her chambers. “Wait for us at the river, yes?”

“Yes,” he said, and nodded. “I will be there, Princess.”

She moved, muttering to herself through the trees quietly.

“Oh! My lady!”

“Yes?”

“Good luck.”

“Mm!”

She moved with alacrity, avoiding the few guards that patrolled the fort. There were no inner walls here in Furan’Da—the fortress lightly defended—for what enemies would dare to assault the giants within Malik’Dar—or the house of Da itself?

She passed through the stables where the humans kept their horses and she made her way up to the walls, her heart hammering inside her chest. She uncoiled a rope and tossed the grapple up to the steeple of the roof.

It landed noisily and she hunched in on herself, fearing that that noise would reveal an intruder in the fortress. Glancing about, the giantess saw no onlookers and no alarms had been sounded.

Above, the open windows of Princess Orchan’Da’s bedchambers were easily accessible. The giantess jumped, pulled with her arms and ascended the side of the castle with little effort.

Once she was high enough, she heard the ecstasy of her cousin’s passions and the painful cries of the human warrior within her bed. Part of her wanted to kill her cousin now—but then she might be an outcast forever.

A thing that will likely come to pass should we succeed, she thought, muttering similar words under her breath as she climbed.

Near the top, the giantess pushed out with her feet and climbed the rope with her arms, the fibrous twine creaking as she grunted with each thrust of her arms. The man was being killed.

Would she be too late?

As she attained the height she needed, the giantess let her boots land within the window frame. She let go of the rope and let herself fall out as she grasped the ledge of the window and hanging onto the frame with her hands.

The wood creaked, and her cousin within cried out in the throes of her sorcerous sex. “YEESSS!!” she screamed. “YES! YEEESSSS!”

The giantess pulled herself up with one powerful thrust of her arms and she landed within the window frame in a squatting position. The smells of the aphrodisiacs and the drugs unmistakable to her as they tingled her nostrils. She dragged the back of her hand over her nose.

The man grunted loudly and screamed, a scream not of ecstasy or passion, but of pure unbridled pain.

He was about to be slain!

She thrust herself into the chamber and landed on her feet just as Orchan’Da began her wicked and sorcerous incantations.

The giantess moved around the bed swiftly, yanked back the curtain to the wild and surprised eyes of her cousin who looked up at her just as she made a fist.

Orchan’Da cried out angrily as she released the warrior, but it was too late. She brought her knuckled fist directly into Orchan’Da’s nose, sending her head bouncing against the pillows in a spray of blood.

The man wriggled free and rolled off her unconscious cousin as the giantess’ eyes rolled into the back of her skull. The man cried out and gasped, his skin a dark red, the whites of his eyes showing as the veins in his neck protruded, his gaze one of terror and physical shock as he glanced about with feral need to escape.

He then coughed hoarsely and double over.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

The warrior nodded, holding up a hand as he scurried back from her.

“Do not retreat,” she said. “I am here to rescue you.”

Finally he looked up, coughed again and made a confused face. “Res”—he coughed again—“Rescue me?”

“Yes,” she said with a nod. “I need you for something.”

“Gods,” he growled and got up from the bed.

The giantess looked away from the human’s nakedness, feeling a sense of awkwardness as her cheeks heated. She could cave his skull in with her bare hands, but seeing him naked made her embarrassed.

The gods were enjoying tonight.

He had found some water and drank deeply as he held up a finger for her to wait, then he gasped for air as the excess water trickled down his sweaty body. He glanced over at Orchan’Da lying motionless on the bed.

“Is she…?”

The giantess shook her head.

“Then I will,” he said. He he moved toward her, but she stopped him by putting out her arm, her hand and fingers outstretched.

“She is my cousin and you will not slay her, human.”

He looked at her then and cursed. “What do you want?”

“First,” she said, feeling her cheeks heat anew. “I want you to dress yourself!”

“Oh!” he shouted, glancing down suddenly. He took up his tunic that had been lying on the bed and thrust it over his head. “Forgive me.” Then sardonically—very sardonically, he took a bow, flourishing his hand.

“I did not come up here to weather your insolent attitude, human.”

“No?!”

“Perhaps my cousin enjoys such, by I do not.”

“Ah,” he said with a more sober nod of his head. “Yes. No—of course not. What is it you wish of me. Why have you come?”

“Not here,” she said quickly. “Come with me. We must get away.”

*

“Not here,” the giantess said quickly. “Come with me. We must get away.” He watched her as she glanced to the window. “We must go before we are discovered.”

She moved to the open window where a thick rope hung and he nodded. This was his escape—unexpected, but still.

And then he remembered Chiarro and the others as he turned back. “Wait!”

“What?” she said, her tone impatient. “Come—we must go.”

“My friends!”

She shook her head. “There is nothing to be done now.” She looked at him, held his eyes with hers. She was beautiful, like her cousin, though her features were more girlish. And her hair was tied back into two pigtail braids that flared out and bobbed at the sides of her neck.

“How old are you?” he asked incredulously.

“What?!” she snapped. “Why does that matter?”

“I am not leaving without my friends.”

“Do not be foolish,” said the giantess. “If we try to save them as well, we will be stopped!”

Closing his eyes in frustration, he knew her to be right. “Forgive me,” he said, holding out his hand. “I don’t even know your name.”

“I am Harrkania’Dar.”

He thought about it. That name meant nothing to him. And of course it did not. “Lead the way,” he said, taking his chance at freedom. Then he added, “I will have to come back for my friends another time.”

“I am glad you see reason, human.”

“My name is Falinor.”

“Falinor,” she said, giving his name a weight as she nodded from atop her sitting position in the window. As she sat, they were of an even height.

Orchand’Da moaned pitifully from the bed and they both glanced. “We must go!” hissed Harrkania’Dar.

Nodding, Falinor said, “All right.”

The giantess called Harrkania’Dar lifted her bare thighs and swung her heavy boots out of the window as she took hold of the rope. She was down to the grounds in mere moments.

“Come on!” she hissed, beckoning him to follow.

One last time, he glanced back at Orchan’Da. Then he shook his head and muttered, “The gods have been fortuitous this night. At least for one man. I am sorry, Chiarro.”

The swordsman did follow, then.