Tales of
Erogenia
Based
on the online comic created by J.E. Draft.
Episode 2: Journey to
Jinqua
Chapter
12:
Atonement
Zenaria found that reaching
the sea was not as easy as she had hoped.
The forest was unlike anything she had
experienced. Massive trees dominated
the forest but between each of the massive trunks was a tangle of vines and
smaller plants that made easy movement almost
impossible. Only the sinuous
feline strength that she and Sir Varden possessed made steady movement
possible.
Here and there they found
it easier to climb one of the giant trees and advance through the treetops
rather than try to force there was along the
ground. Zenaria with her lithe
body was quite adept at this, but even Sir Varden was able to climb quite
well in spite of his greater bulk.
Eventually, however, Zenaria
caught a tang of salt air and a few minutes later the rhythmic sound of waves
as they broke upon a beach. They
pushed through a final tangle of thick brush and vines and found a hill of
pure sand in front of them. The
roar of the sea was so close as to drown out all other sounds and together
the two cat-like warriors climbed the
dune.
Waves broke majestically
on a white sand beach. Beyond
them the sea stretched endlessly to the
horizon. Zenaria had seen the
sea before from Junals palace, but that had been from a
distance. This close she was
incredibly impressed by its power.
The continual breaking of the waves was almost hypnotic and for more
than a minute she just stared at the
surf. Finally, however, she looked
at sir Varden.
It
is time, she sent.
Yes, came the simple
response. Perhaps the lion did
not want any more of his inner thoughts
revealed. Whatever the reason
he turned parallel from breaking waves and moved toward the distant
tower.
The damp sand near the water
made for easy walking for the first hour and then they reached a place where
a rocky headland jutted out into the sea.
The barrier forced them to turn inland and they immediately encountered
their first obstacle to reaching Junals
palace. Facing them was what
seemed to be an impenetrable barrier of thornbush and twisted
vines. The incredible tangle
seemed a bit too coincidental to Zenaria.
The sorcerers palace was only an easy hours walk away,
but was guarded by a vegetative barrier designed to rip any intruder to
shreds. There seemed little choice
but to either retrace their steps or attempt to clamber across the rocky
headland.
The headland seemed the
only logical choice. Zenaria
suspected that the thorny entanglement probably extended all around the
sorcerers lair and time was not on their
side. If Junal activated the
Orb of Power, he would almost certainly be
impregnable. Zenaria headed
determinedly toward the rocks.
The first part of the detour
was not difficult. Zenaria and
Sir Varden advanced along a wide rock shelf, but the closer they got to the
end of the headland the narrower the shelf became and the higher the cliffs
towered about them. At the same
time waves rolling in toward the headland hammered the point, throwing spray
high into the air.
Zenaria and Sir Varden were
soon soaked and events did not improve as they forged on toward the
point. Heavy waves thundered
against the rocks, threatening to throw them into the sea or slam them against
the cliff. It was apparent that
there was no way round the headland by the route they were
taking. They would have to
climb.
Retreating a little Zenaria
began to clamber up the cliff face.
Her leopard claws were well suited to such activity, enabling her
to climb quite easily. It was
a different matter, however, for Sir
Varden. His heavier lions
body struggled to ascend the almost sheer cliff and Zenaria had to stop and
help him up by grabbing him by his thick mane and hauling him to her
level. In spite of the pain it
must have caused him to be lifted by the scruff of his neck, he did not complain,
but the going was slow. The cliff
was several hundred feet high and most of it sheer and slick with
water. And, Zenaria reminded
herself, there were still several miles more before they reached Junals
palace. They would be very lucky
to reach it before nightfall.
They had almost reached
the top of the cliff when Zenaria heard something that sent shivers down
her spine. The sound was
unmistakable. Low, guttural,
and sibilant it was the speech of an Erogenian warriors most despised
enemy. She crouched low and peered
over the edge of the cliff.
Just a few yards away were
a half dozen green-tinged Urtt warriors.
They were armed with typical Urtt weaponry, crudely crafted swords
and wooden clubs studded with spikes.
For all their primitive construction the weapons could inflict terrible
wounds and Zenaria was fully cognizant of the fact that neither she nor Sir
Varden possessed any weapons.
They were, however, two
powerful catlike beasts and had the element of
surprise. In spite of the arduous
climb Zenaria felt her fatigue disappear at the prospect of
battle. She sent a message to
Sir Varden.
Urtts.
We will rush them.
Now!
She sprang onto the cliff
top as she finished. Sir Varden,
who was crouched on a ledge just below her, followed, gaining the cliff in
a single bound and then they charged toward the Urtts.
Their attack caught the
Urtts completely off-guard. The
pounding of the waves had covered any sound they might have made while climbing
and certainly the Urtts had no reason to expect that anyone would be coming
up the sheer cliff at them. They
squealed in fear and ran as the two cats charged toward
them. But a fleeing Urtt was
no match for a charging cat.
Zenaria caught the Urtt she had singled out before he had taken two
steps. An instant later her fangs
severed his spinal cord. Sir
Varden slammed his prey to the ground crushing it beneath his forepaws and
then went on to the next Urtt, breaking its neck with a single blow of one
of his paws. By this time Zenaria
had caught up with her second target, leaping upon him from behind and ripping
out his throat before he could recover.
That left just two Urtts
fleeing toward several large standing
stones. Zenaria and Sir Varden
hurtled after them determined that none should
escape. As they followed the
fleeing Urtts between the stones they got a bit of a
shock. They found themselves
entering a large circular stone formation inside of which was a complete
Urtt encampment. With shouts
of alarm dozens of Urtts jumped to their feet and grabbed for
weapons. Outnumbered fifteen
to one, Zenaria and Sir Varden did the only logical thing they
could. They
attacked.
Claws extended Zenaria slammed
into the closest group of Urtts.
She ripped open the throat of one of them, slashed another across
the chest, and sent another flying with a backhand
blow.
Theres
something to being a leopard, she
thought. Her strength was
astonishing; nothing stood a chance against
her.
Beside her, Sir Varden was
even more savage; his huge jaws and mighty claws tearing apart the Urtts
as if they were little more than dolls.
Within just a few heartbeats Urtt bodies littered the area and the
few that remained were fleeing for their
lives.
Zenaria and Sir Varden hunted
them all down. The Urtts were
running for their lives, but their speed was no match for the speed of the
lion or the half-leopard woman. And
Zenaria and Sir Varden were determined that no one should escape to warn
Junal. There was little doubt
in either of their minds that the Urtt encampment was part of Junals
security and wondered what other obstacles they would have to overcome before
reaching his palace.
Chest heaving, Zenaria halted
over the body of the last Urtt. She
ran her tongue over her muzzle and grimaced in catlike
distaste. Urtt blood was foul,
or at least she found it so. At
few yards away Sir Varden stood over the body of his last defeated
foe. He was streaming blood and
Zenaria realized with a bit of a shock that it was not all Urtt
blood. Then she felt the pain
of her own wounds.
She had a nasty gash across
her belly; her right arm was slashed open just above the elbow; and she had
a multitude of cuts on various other parts of her body, including a painful
wound just below her left nipple.
Apparently charging into a horde of Urtts without armour or a weapon
other than teeth and claws was not without its
dangers.
Now that the excitement
of battle had worn off the wounds throbbed
painfully. It was nothing that
an Erogenian warrior could not handle but Zenaria realized that she needed
to stop the bleeding and deal with the raw gashes before she went
on. She looked at Sir Varden,
wondering if his powers of healing remained, but the lion simply returned
a baleful golden-eyed stare. His
own wounds remained untreated and she suspected that in his changed form
he had lost his healing powers.
With no magical solution
at hand, she went back to the tried and
true. Her clawed hands were not
as nimble as they had been, but she could still hold a
needle. She pawed through the
Urtts scattered possessions and found what she needed, a length of
catgut and a bone needle.
Starting with her stomach
she stitched together the bloody edges of the wound and then dealt with the
cut on her arm. Not surprisingly
closing the jagged cut just below her nipple proved to be the most painful,
but she endured it with true Snow Leopard stoicism then she turned to Sir
Varden.
The lion growled a low warning
as she approached, but Zenaria merely chided
him.
You big pussy. Hold
still or Ill take you by the scruff of your
neck.
Resignedly the lion settled
down to wait. With his innate
power of healing she guessed that he had never suffered any normal medical
treatment before. If she had
been capable of smiling she would have.
She finished before she ran out of
catgut. It was a serviceable
work of first aid even it was not up to the level of the best
healers. At least Sir Varden
would not bleed to death in the next few
hours.
The best thing for both
of them to do would have been to rest.
Any heavy exertion would probably reopen the wounds, but they did
not have that luxury. They had
fought their way onto the headland and the palace was now clearly visible
beyond the screen of thick vegetation that crowded the
headland.
We
must go,
Zenaria
sent. Sir Varden growled in
assent. Before them there was
a path through the impenetrable thorn forest and Zenaria guessed that it
probably led to Junals palace.
However, she had no doubt that it also led to further traps and
obstacles. Given time she would
have preferred to find another way into the palace, but every heartbeat gave
Junal time to activate the Orb.
They would have to take their chances and hope that their skill and
daring could overcome any difficulties.
She stepped forward, heading down the
path.
It was like walking into
a green tunnel. On all sides
almost indescribably thick vegetation crowded in on
them. Even in her leopard form
moving through the thorn infested forest would have been
impossible. Zenaria felt as if
she was being herded, but she kept on, her eyes moving in all directions
in search of danger.
The danger when it came
was from a direction she might not have seen had she been in human
form. However, the vertical pupils
of her cats eyes were oriented upward and she jumped back just in time
to avoid a heavy net woven from some sort of thick pliant
vine. It crashed to the ground
just half a step from where she and Sir Varden would have
been. It was weighted with heavy
stones and would have been almost impossible to escape had it landed on top
of them.
Her senses tingling, Zenaria
scanned the upper branches and her surroundings, anticipating an immediate
attack. In this she was not
disappointed. Emitting shrill
shrieks dozens of strange brown creatures leapt at them from
above. In the heartbeat before
they made contact Zenaria observed that they were much like the arboreal
creatures she had seen leaping through the treetops when they had first arrived
in the forest. There was one
major difference; the long-limbed creatures she had seen earlier were not
armed with stone knives and wicked-looking wooden
clubs.
The latter were primitive
maces consisting of lengths of wood studded with razor sharp pieces of
flint. Zenaria had to jump back
to prevent her ear from being removed by the first
assailant. After that her reflexes
took over.
Numbers and the element
of surprise were on the side on the attackers, but martial skill and sheer
feline ferocity were on the side of the two
warriors. Zenaria batted the
first attacker aside with a swipe of her paw, sending it flying back into
its fellows. Using her feline
agility to the best advantage, she dodged and weaved blocking blows when
she had to and avoiding others while at the same time counter-attacking savagely,
using her razor edged claws to rake her attackers.
She was too busy to watch
Sir Varden, but every now and then she glimpsed him as the magnificent
black-maned lion tore through his
attackers. Every blow of his
paws killed, sending the attacking simians head over heels, and his jaws
crushed each attacker he got hold of.
The attack lasted only seconds, and then the long-tailed attackers
retreated to the treetops, leaving a score of their dead and dying comrades
behind.
Whats
next?
Zenaria
wondered. The attack had caused
her little physical damage, but had reopened her stomach
wound. Fortunately, she still
had the needle and catgut tied in a loop around her
wrist. Stitching the wound closed
a second, time she wondered whether or not Junal knew that they were coming
and was placing these obstacles in their
path. She decided it didnt
really matter. They were running
out of time, there was little choice but to press on.
They continued down the
forest path doubly alert after the ambush, but met no more obstacles other
than a rain of fecal matter and ripe fruit from a bunch of angry
tree-creatures. It was unpleasant,
but preferable to nets and stone knives.
Finally, angry and considerably
smellier than they had been Zenaria and Sir Varden reached the end of the
forest trail. It opened onto
the beach once again, but they hesitated to step into the
open. Surely by now they must
have triggered some sort of alarm in the palace, or was Junal relying purely
on his savage guards to protect his palace from
invasion? They stepped cautiously
onto the beach.
There appeared to be nothing
at all threatening. Golden sand
sloped gently down to the pounding surf, and green jungle fringed the high
tide mark. A few hundred yards
away, perched on another rocky promontory was Junals palace, its tall
tower dominating the sprawling palace
complex.
The lack of apparent opposition
did not allay Zenarias fears.
Certainly there should be something when they were this close, or
was Junal relying on the power of his magic to provide
protection? It had certainly
been enough before. Senses alert
for danger she stepped out onto the sand, Sir Varden shadowing her, and headed
toward the palace.
A movement to the forest
side was her first warning of an ambush.
The undergrowth stirred and then moved toward
her. At first Zenaria thought
the foliage was being pushed aside and then she saw that it was the foliage
itself that was moving toward her.
In complete incredulity she watched as tree-like beings moved onto
the beach. They ranged in height
from about five to eight feet and had numerous branch-like appendages. More
than anything they resembled walking trees, an appearance that was enhanced
by the fact that their limbs sprouted leaves and clinging vines wound about
their bodies. They moved slowly,
almost as if they lacked the flexibility of animals, but they formed an
impenetrable wall that completely blocked the way.
Zenaria backed away, but
as she did so something told her to chance a quick check over her
shoulder. Her hair literally
stood on end. Rising from the
ocean waves were dozens of dark purple tentacles, many thicker than her waist
at their widest point and armed with nasty hook-like appendages at their
tips. She and Sir Varden were
trapped between two evils. Making
up her mind in a fraction of a heartbeat, Zenaria sent out a single
command.
Jump!
She took a single step forward
and then calling on all of her strength she released her leopard muscles
and leapt toward the advancing
plant-creatures. Her leap took
her high into the air and over their leafy
tops. Sir Varden followed a little
less nimbly, but his sheer size and power carried him past their
adversaries. They both hit the
beach running, or rather, bounding, and headed for the rocks at the base
of the promontory. Reaching the
bottom of the sea-cliff they scrambled up the rocks, halting some four yards
above the beach and just out of tentacle
range. Above them were another
hundred yards of cliff and then the
palace. Zenaria looked at Sir
Varden.
What
next? she sent. Sir
Varden shook his huge head, his black mane
ruffling. The expression was
unmistakable. She looked toward
the top of the cliff, and flexing her claws began to
climb.
It was an easy climb for
Zenarias leopard body, but as before she had to reach down and grab
Sir Varden by his mane in order to pull him up to the next paw
hold. Nevertheless, they both
finally reached to top of the cliff and the base of the
palace. But something bothered
Zenaria.
This is too easy,
she sent.
Too
easy. Surely
Junals palace had to have more defences than
this.
She glanced down at the
throbbing wound in her belly, reflecting that perhaps it had not been quite
so easy after all. If she could
have smiled she would have. But
still, she suspected a trap. Junal
did not seem like the sort of person anyone could sneak up
on. Then again, she and Sir Varden
were no longer truly human. No
doubt without their animal form probably neither of them would have made
it as far as they had, so perhaps there was a chance after
all. She headed toward the nearest
window.
It was a good six or seven
yards above the ground, but it had never been intended to keep a leopard
out. She gained it in a single
bound and then hauled herself in.
Wait, she
sent to Sir Varden. Then she
looked around her.
She was in a large room,
probably a guest quarters or perhaps a room for a favourite concubine from
the look of the furnishings. It
was exquisitely decorated and hung with beautiful wall hangings depicting
romantic scenes. Zenaria tore
one of them free and threw it out the window, keeping one end in her
grasp. It did not reach all the
way to the ground, but it didnt have
to. With a leap Sir Varden caught
his claws in the bottom of the hanging and hauled himself to the
top. Reaching the window ledge
he clawed his way in and an exhausted Zenaria let the hanging
fall.
The various wounds she had
incurred were bleeding again, but she could not afford to rest
long. They were in the palace
and they had to find the Orb before Junal activated
it. Motioning to Sir Varden she
headed toward the doorway and into the
corridor.
Outside the corridor was
deserted, but which way to go? They
hadnt seen much of the palace when they had been Junals
guests, but she guessed that the best place to look would be
to move toward the magicians tower.
She had a vague idea of its direction and she and her lion companion
headed off that way, keeping their eyes and ears open for any of Junals
attendants.
Whether by good fortune
or some other reason they encountered no one, moving from corridor to corridor
and closing steadily in on the centre of the palace until all at once they
came to a majestic hall. And
there, suspended at its centre, was what they had come to
find.
The Orb of Power glowed
with a golden light, hovering some five feet off the
floor. It blinded Zenaria to
everything else in the hall. As
if drawn by a lodestone, Zenaria stepped toward
it. She realized at once that
she had made a mistake, but incredibly, nothing
happened. By some fantastic stroke
of luck the Orb of Power seemed to be
unguarded.
Zenaria bounded toward it,
reaching it in a heartbeat. Her
clawed hand stretched toward it and then she slammed into an invisible
wall. The unexpected barrier
knocked the wind out of her and she landed in a heap below the
Orb. Sir Varden fared no
better. Even as she tumbled to
the floor he launched himself at the Orb and with a crash dropped to the
floor beside her.
Zenaria rolled to her feet
and then turned as a sardonic laugh echoed through the
hall. Well, I must admit
I never expected to see you two again, especially so completely
changed.
Zenaria looked in the direction
of the voice. At the top of a
flight of stairs stood Junal, flanked by more than a score of heavily armed
guards. Zenaria tensed, ready
to spring, but she knew that she would probably not get the chance and a
second later she was proved right.
With a flick of his finger Junal rendered both of them
helpless. As before Zenaria found
she could not move so much as an eyelid, no matter how hard she
strained.
With a sneering grin the
sorcerer slowly descended the stairs and then walked around them in a complete
circle. I must say,
he jeered, that you look a little the worse for
wear. Apparently my outer defences
are somewhat effective. I doubt
that anything else could have gotten in.
He stepped forward and ran
his fingers over Zenarias sleek fur, his fingers dancing down her
back. My, he
said. You are a magnificent
creature. Perhaps even more beautiful
in this form than you were as a woman.
He stepped back and motioned
his men forward. Chain
them. I wish to release them
from the holding spell. I want
to see the princess reaction when she is able to
move.
The guards stepped
forward. Several of them were
carrying heavy chains to which were attached thick
shackles. They locked them into
place while Sir Varden and Zenaria stood helpless, securing the ends into
heavy rings in the floor. Then
Junal motioned with his hand again, and Zenaria felt the spell
lift.
There was a loud roar from
Sir Varden as he lunged forward, but the chains
held. The guards had taken no
chances with him, placing a heavy collar about his throat and anchoring it
on either side, and placing heavy shackles above each of his
paws. He could move no more than
a few inches in any direction.
For Zenaria it was the same,
the only difference being that the chains holding her arms were each held
by three husky guards, pulling her arms back while four others held two chains
that were connected to the collar about her
neck. These men were pulling
in the opposite direction, creating a painful tension on her neck and arms
and arching her back so that her chest was thrust
forward.
This apparently was exactly
what Junal wanted. He moved back
toward her and ran his hands over the sleek fur of her breasts, caressing
the taut nipples. Zenaria struggled
in rage, but could not move as Junal fondled
her. Coupled with her anger was
a feeling of haplessness and humiliation as she was subjected to the degrading
treatment.
Yes, Junal said,
as he continued to squeeze and stroke her, I think I may keep
you. You will make a most interesting
pet. I may even see if you are
capable of mating with other members of my
menagerie. He looked at
Sir Varden while continuing to place his hands in Zenarias most intimate
places. Have you tried
it with the lion yet?
Something in the way Zenaria
reacted gave away her inner thoughts.
Junal stepped back and smiled.
Is it possible that you have already mated with your lion
companion? I might have known
that a barbarian would find such a union
natural. I thought were little
better than a whore the first time I laid eyes on
you. It will be fun to watch
what happens when I put you with my
tigers. I expect a simple love
spell will put you in the mood.
He gestured again, his fingers describing an intricate series of movements
and suddenly Zenaria felt a familiar and unwelcome warmth flood through her
loins.
She made a catlike moan,
her body twisting invitingly as the spell took
hold. Much to Junals lewd
delight she tried to go to her knees and present herself for
mating. Oh yes, the
magician crowed, I see
it will work very well indeed.
His mocking laugh filled the room.
Zenarias vision
clouded. All of her frustration,
anger, and humiliation welled up within her like the eruption of a
geyser. A red haze descended
over her eyes with an explosive contraction of her body she wrenched at her
chains, tearing her right arm free.
Junal jumped back beyond range of her
claws.
Hold her you fools,
he shouted. But for some reason
he did not activate his paralyzing spell.
That was his mistake.
Zenaria was still held in place, but attached to her right arm was
a twenty foot length of chain. She
cracked it forward, using every once of her
strength. It snapped around
Junals neck. For a brief
instant Junals face reflected surprise and then complete terror as
she jerked the chain toward her.
Too late the sorcerer started to raise his hand and then the chain
tightened. There was an audible
snap and then the entire world seemed to fall
apart.
With a thunderous crash
Junals palace began to
disintegrate. The great pillars
of the hall crumbling, and the high ceiling tumbling toward the
floor. The guards fled, leaving
Zenaria and Sir Varden in the middle of the collapsing
ruin. Giant blocks of stone crashed
around them sending fragments of stone in all
directions.
Zenaria was certain that
she and Sir Varden were going to be crushed, but she would not leave her
companion. She tugged at his
chains, hoping somehow that she could release him, but the heavy links resisted
all efforts. Still, she would
not give up. Either she would
free her companion or she would die with
him.
To her surprise she did
not die. Instead, covered with
small pieces of stone, and choking on clouds of dust, she and Sir Varden
survived the collapse of the palace.
As the dust settled she understood
why. In a radius of ten yards
from the Orb of Power the floor was clear of any large fragments of stone
other than those that had bounced in from the
perimeter. In protecting itself,
the Orb had protected them. Giving
up her futile attempts to free Sir Varden, Zenaria slowly approached the
Orb. Her mission had been to
somehow return it and there it was, but she hesitated to touch it, remembering
the consequences the last time she had done
so. Finally, with a mental shrug
she reached out and cupped the glowing sphere in her clawed
hands.
A shudder ran through her
body and there was an indescribable sensation as the Orb briefly glowed even
brighter and then dimmed once again.
Suddenly too weak to stand, she collapsed to the floor, releasing
her hold on the Orb. Her skin
felt as if a thousand beetles were crawling beneath her skin and she had
to fight back the urge to bring up the contents of her
stomach.
Through watering eyes she
saw that the Orb had not moved, hovering the same distance above the floor
as it had been when she had first seen
it. Slowly, she got to her
feet. It seemed that nothing
had changed. How could she retrieve
the Orb when it resisted her efforts to acquire
it? Then came a voice from behind
her.
Leave it, Princess,
we have done our part.
Zenaria turned, eyes wide, and there stood Sir
Varden. No longer in lion form,
he was entirely nude, but displayed none of his old embarrassment at the
situation.
How
? she gasped, and then realized that she was
speaking with her human voice. For
the first time she realized that somehow she had been returned to her human
form.
Sir Varden stepped toward
her, his hands outstretched and took hers in
his. Junal is dead and
his palace destroyed. Leave the
Orb to the magicians. It is theirs
to claim.
As if to emphasize his words
there was a disturbance near the Orb.
The air shimmered and suddenly Alzid was there, staff in
hand. The dwarf bowed, apparently
completely unconcerned that neither Zenaria nor Sir Varden was
clothed.
Confused, Zenaria stared
at her nude body. There was not
a mark on it. Had the Orb restored
her and Sir Varden to their natural form or had Junals death had something
to do with it? There was no way
of knowing, although probably Alzid could have told
them. Her eyes went to where
the dead magician lay. If his
neck had not been broken when she yanked on the chain he was certainly dead
now. All that was visible were
his feet and the red-velvet slippers that covered
them. The rest was hidden by
a massive block of stone.
I knew the Orb was
no longer in Junals control as soon as you freed it, Alzid said,
and so I used the transportation spell to bring myself to
it. As if guessing what
Zenarias next question might be he continued
speaking. The Orb cannot
be hidden from one such as me. I
can sense its power wherever it is, but it would have been suicide for me
to attempt to retrieve it. Junal
would have detected me at once and I would not long have survived his
wrath. It was you and Sir Varden
who had to find a way to the Orb and I see that you
succeeded.
What now? Zenaria
asked. She still held Sir
Vardens hand and he made no attempt to let go of
hers.
With the power of
the Orb I can return all of us to the
palace. Junal is dead and his
power destroyed. His minions
have fled and I expect his slaves will return to their
families. There is nothing more
I need to do here.
Zenaria
nodded. She was very much looking
forward to retrieving her bow and sword.
And she wanted a hot bath to clean off the grime that covered
her. After
that
Well, she could think
of something. Return us
then, she said.
Wait, Sir Varden
interjected. I do not know
about the princess, but I would prefer to find something to clothe my body
before I find myself in the Emperors
court. It seems unseemly to enter
like a naked savage.
Agreed, Alzid
said. I see that there
a number of bodies among the ruins.
Perhaps you could salvage some clothing until something more suitable
is found for you.
It took Zenaria and
Sir Varden a few minutes to find clothing that was not too bloodstained or
too torn to be serviceable. None
of it fit properly, but it did the job of covering their bodies and soon
they were ready.
Alzid touched the Orb of
Power. Unlike what it had done
to Zenaria it did not repel him and he chanted a brief
incantation. It was nothing like
the transportation spell he had used to send them to the outskirts of
Junals palace. Apparently
the power of the Orb made that sort of elaborate spell
unnecessary. However, there was
the same feeling of gut-wrenching disorientation and then they were back
in the huge domed room where they had first found the
Orb.
It belongs here,
Alzid said, carefully placing the orb back in its
setting. However, I will
have to improve the security to prevent another incident like the one that
brought you here. In the meantime
the Emperor is waiting.
Once again Zenaria and Sir
Varden were escorted through the palace.
This time, however, they were treated as returning heroes rather than
hired killers or wild beasts. They
were received with thanks, their weapons and armour returned to
them. In Zenarias case
she was gifted with an exquisite suit of bronze armour magically light but
enchanted to act like much heavier
armour. All of this was received
with thanks and then they endured the usual banquet that went with such
occasions.
Normally feasting and drinking
was something that would have delighted Zenaria as it would any Erogenian
warrior. But this time there
was something else on her mind. She
ate and drank just enough not to appear ungracious and endured the speeches
of thanks with proper attention.
When the Emperor finally retired she excused herself, asking that
she be shown to her quarters.
Sir Varden used the occasion
to excuse himself also and together they were escorted through the corridors
of the palace by Alzid. I
have taken the liberty of placing you in the same suite, the dwarf
explained. There are, of
course separate bedchambers.
However, if you prefer I can place you in completely separate
rooms.
No, Zenaria
answered, this will do.
Provided of course that the gentle knight
agrees.
I am happy with the
arrangements, Sir Varden replied.
Alzid smiled his pleasure
at their acceptance and motioned to the guard to open the
door. Zenaria and Sir Varden
stepped into the grandest room she had ever
seen. Everywhere they looked
there was the greatest luxury and
ostentation. Gems had been set
into the malachite floors and walls and glowing crystals threw a magical
light throughout the room making the thousands of precious stones sparkle
with the light of myriad stars.
Servants, both male and female and obviously chosen for their beauty
knelt before them awaiting their command.
Zenaria looked at Sir Varden,
not sure of how to react. Never
in her dreams had she envisioned a room like this and she had no idea what
to ask of the servants.
Fortunately, Alzid was a bit of a mind
reader. The servants will
serve you any way that you desire, he volunteered, Send away
any that you do not need. You
can call for service at any time simply by pulling the
bell. I would suggest, however,
that you allow them to show you to your bedchambers and perhaps prepare a
bath if that is what you want.
Thank you, Zenaria
replied. I will do just
that. Perhaps all of the servants
could leave except those who are needed to prepare my
bath.
Alzid nodded his approval
at this suggestion. He gave a
few quick commands leaving Zenaria with just two female servants and two
male servants for Sir Varden, having evidently guessed that the knight would
not be comfortable being attended by two very nubile and only partially clad
young women.
They were shown to their
rooms and the servants helped Zenaria remove her
clothing. The rags they had worn
when they had arrived had been replaced with much finer garments, but they
had been allowed only a quick wash before the ceremonies and festivities
began and she was looking forward to the
bath.
The bedroom and the bath
rivalled the living area in opulence and
decoration. Needless to say the
attention Zenaria received in the bath left her more than satisfied, but
during the entire episode the matter that had been on her mind during the
banquet continued to occupy her thoughts.
She cut the bath short and waited patiently while the serving girls
combed and styled her hair. Not
being knowledgeable of Snow leopard warrior hair styles they twisted her
thick dark mane into an elaborate
coiffure. Zenaria tolerated this
simply not to appear ungracious, but she dismissed the two girls as soon
as it seemed appropriate. Then
bathed and dressed in robes of the finest silk; and her hair studded with
jewels she emerged from her bedroom.
The living area was deserted
except for the two serving girls who had seemingly misunderstood her instructions
about leaving. She ignored them
and crossed the room to Sir Vardens
bedchamber. Pushing it open she
found the knight dressed in silken finery similar to
hers. He appeared scrubbed, but
restless. His back was turned
to her and he was peering out the open balcony doors toward the glowing lights
of the rest of the palace, his faced creased in a frown.
Sir kni
she began and then stopped. She
would be cursed by the goddess of the Moon before she would keep on calling
him Sir knight or Sir Varden. Not
after what he had done to her.
Varden, she
continued as he turned, there is something I require of
you.
The knights eyes widened
slightly and he flushed, his eyes fixed on
hers. And what is that,
Princess? he asked, his voice tinged with tension.
This, Zenaria
answered, releasing her hair with a tinkle of falling gems, and untying her
sash to let her robe fall from her exquisite warriors
body.
Sir Varden looked at her,
his blue eyes wide and a slow smile spreading over his
features. Then he stepped toward
her.
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