Tales of Erogenia

Based on the online comic created by J.E. Draft.

Episode 3: The Mountain of Fire

 

Chapter 1:  Lost

 

She was magnificent; perhaps the most magnificent woman Queron had ever seen and he was a fine judge of woman flesh.  Tall, broad-shouldered, and muscled like a warrior, he did not have to see her wield the long blade she had strapped over her left shoulder to know that she could fight.  He adjusted the glass and moved it over her sun-bronzed body, noting her long legs, slender hips and narrow waist.  Then she turned slightly giving him a full profile.  He pursed his lips in appreciation, his eyes lingering on her full breasts, flat belly, and elegant neck.  Her long dark hair was worn in a long braid that trailed down her back, almost reaching the curve of her backside

 

Her eyes appeared to be some shade of green, something that was difficult to determine through the viewing tube, but he could clearly see her full lips and high cheekbones.  He moved the glass slightly to take in her male companion.  He was similar in a few ways, being tall board-shouldered and dark-haired, but there the similarities ended. 

 

By any standards, the woman was lightly dressed, clad only in loose-fitting trousers that allowed ease of movement and a long flowing top.  Strapped over her clothing was a light leather harness that held her sword, a long-bladed knife, and a few small pouches.  The man, on the other hand was completely overdressed for the climate, wearing full body armour that shone so brightly that Queron could barely look at it. 

 

They were a puzzling pair.  For one thing, they seemed to have appeared from nowhere.  Surely with that bright armour his small scouting party should have seen them long before they stumbled upon them.  Something equally puzzling was the fact that they were on foot.  Walking across the never-ending plain in the baking heat carrying that amount of armour should have been impossible, but there they were.

 

Queron lowered the viewing tube and Daget prodded him from behind.  “Let me see,” he demanded, holding out his hand for the tube. 

 

Queron frowned.  The delicate instrument had cost him a small fortune and he hated to let it out of his grasp, but in the interests of maintaining good relations with the other two scouts he handed it over, but not before admonishing Daget first.  “You drop it and I’ll have your balls.”

 

Daget, however, appeared not to be listening, he had the viewing tube jammed against his eye.  “By Voln, I’d like to get between her legs.  What do you think she’s worth?”

 

“Depends on whether or not she’s a virgin,” Queron answered.  “They always go for more, but just the way she is I’d say a gold talent.  More if she can be broken.”

 

“The breaking part is what I like,” came a voice from behind. 

 

Queron turned his head to look over his shoulder.  “You think too much with your cock, Gron.  We haven’t even caught her yet.”

 

Gron shrugged.  “Just a matter of time.  They don’t even know we’re here.”

 

Queron had to concede that point.  The viewing tube gave him a tremendous advantage when scouting, allowing him to sit back and study his intended victims from a safe distance.  He and his two companions were snuggled down in a cluster of large boulders in a slightly raised position on the almost flat plain.  Hidden from the view of any Urulana hunting parties they could scout out the terrain before moving to a more exposed position.  The two white-skinned warriors were something of a bonus, but where they had come from still eluded him.

 

He should have seen them, but it was almost as if they had materialized out of nowhere.  That, and their rather unusual appearance made him uneasy and he wished that Daget had not called on the god of thieves so openly.  It did not pay to invoke any god rashly. 

 

 

“By the Moon and Sun,” Zenaria muttered.  “Where did Alzid send us?  This place looks nothing like Erogenia.”  She looked at Varden.  The knight was shifting uncomfortably in his armour. 

 

“I don’t think we are going to be able to get back to Jingua from here,” she said.  “Perhaps you should get out of all that cast iron before you roast.”

 

“It’s the finest Kivalian steel and was created by a master smith of our order,” Varden protested, his handsome face dripping with sweat.

 

“Right now it is just so much useless weight.  We are going to have to stash it someplace along with everything else that is too heavy to carry.”  She looked at the pile at her feet; the fine armour and other gifts given to her by the Jinguan emperor to present to her mother the Queen of the Clan of the Snow Leopard.  It would have to be left until she and Varden figured out where they were and how they were going to get back to their homelands. 

 

She looked at the bizarre landscape in front of her.  She had never imagined there could be a place quite like it.  It was a vast plain dotted here and there with strange trees with thorn-studded branches that spread out horizontally from the top like giant flowers.  Here and there were patches of brush, but the dominant feature of the landscape was sun- browned grass that stretched as far as the eye could see. 

 

However, the vegetation was the least remarkable aspect of the landscape.  Everywhere she looked the vast plain was dotted with animals; thousands of them.  Some were recognizable as variants of animals she had seen before.  There were herbivores with spiked horns that ranged in size from tiny deer-like animals to others with twisted horns that were bigger than a horse.  There were horse-like animals striped in patterns of black and white that ran in huge herds and other herd animals resembling cattle with massive bow-shaped horns. 

 

But the most bizarre were immense grey animals with ears the size of small tents, a huge prehensile nose, and massive teeth that curved forward from their mouths.  Only once before had Zenaria seen anything like them and that was when she had accompanied her mother on a two month journey to the isolated clan of the Ice Bear.  She had seen huge hairy beasts the size of huts that very much resembled the animals she was looking at. 

 

It was then that she noticed a movement in one of the trees and realized she was looking at an equally amazing animal, one that stood the height of three men, with a neck that took up half its body length and left it head high in the branches of the strange trees. 

 

Varden too stood transfixed by the spectacle of such a huge and varied concentration of wildlife.  “This be indeed a strange land,” he commented.  “I have never seen so many beasts.”

 

“Yes,” Zenaria agreed.  “We should have good hunting in this land.  At least will not want for food.”  She turned in a slow circle and noticed a cluster of large boulders a few hundred yards off.  “That might be a good place to establish a camp and stow our gear.”

 

Varden nodded his agreement.  “Thou speak wisely,” he said, reverting to the archaic mode of speech that Zenaria found so annoying.  But the knight missed her frown and was already gathering his possessions in preparation to moving toward the rocks. 

 

 

Queron hurriedly put away his viewing tube as the two strangers moved toward his hiding place.  He wasn’t sure why they had started to come his way, but he guessed it was for the same reason he had chosen to shelter in the cluster of boulders.  Moving quietly backwards, he and his companions moved away from the approaching warriors. 

 

He stopped in a small grove of trees and bushes.  There was a muttered curse from Gron as he snagged himself on one of the thorn bushes, and Queron glared him into silence.   Settling himself carefully to avoid the thorns he trained the viewing tube on the cluster of boulders. 

 

“Voln,” he muttered ignoring his own proscription against blasphemy.  He could just see the approaching strangers between a gap in the rocks and to describe the woman as breathtaking was an understatement.  She moved with the fluid grace of a cat, every line of her body exuding vigilance and danger.  Suddenly, she dropped her burden and drew her sword so quickly that he barely saw the flash of the blade.  Then she lowered the blade lifted a still writhing form from the ground.  She studied it for a few seconds and then with a flick of her wrist tossed the sinuous form aside.

 

“That’s was a black viper,” Duget whispered.  “How did she move that fast?”

 

Queron shook his head.  He was quickly revising his plans for capturing the two strangers.  If the man had anything like the woman’s reflexes he wanted better odds on his side.  Grudgingly he handed the viewing tube to Duget.  “Keep them in sight.  I’m going to get the rest of the men.  This one is just too good not to take when we have the chance.”

 

Daget grinned, making it plain that using the viewing tube to keep an eye on the exotically beautiful woman was not a task he found at all difficult.  “Just keep your cock in your drawers,” Queron cautioned.  “I don’t have a doubt that warrior bitch could cut it off in a heartbeat.  I want you here when I get back.”

 

 

Zenaria tucked the last of Varden’s armour into the small cave she had found.  Then she got the knight’s help in rolling a large boulder across the entrance.  “That should prevent any accidental discoveries,” she said.  “Now we have to find somewhere to camp.”

 

“Why not here?” Varden asked, wiping sweat from his brow.  It seems defensible enough.” 

 

“No water,” Zenaria answered.  “But with all of this game there must be a source nearby.  I would prefer to camp close to it rather than have to carry it all the way back here.”

 

Varden nodded.  He was finding the heat oppressive and was glad he had followed Zenaria’s advice and stripped off his heavy armour.  He now wore only light cotton trousers, a leather vest, light boots, and studded leather cuffs on his wrists.  Like Zenaria he wore a leather harness that carried his sword with its hilt over his left shoulder along with a large knife in his belt and the hilt of a smaller blade protruding from the top of his boot. 

 

Zenaria picked up her bow and slung her quiver over her shoulder.  “Come; let’s see if the gods will favour us with a successful hunt.”

 

Given the huge herds of animals Varden had a hard time believing that a hunter of Zenaria’s skills would have any difficulty and he was proven correct when in less than an eighth turn of the sun she brought down one of the strange spike-horned deer.  Quickly she slit its throat and then knelt beside it thanking her twin gods and the spirits of nature that had given the animal to her.  Varden looked on curiously.  He had witnessed this ritual before, but the stern god he worshipped did not admit to the existence of any other deities.  It was a belief system that troubled him somewhat, given the marvels and bizarre events he had witnessed as Zenaria’s companion and lover, but he suffered from a lifetime of religious conditioning and his beliefs were not easy to shake off. 

 

She worked quickly, bleeding and gutting the animal and then tossing it effortlessly over her shoulder before heading off toward a thin line of green about half a league away. 

 

“Why this way?” Varden asked.  To him one direction seemed about as good as another. 

 

“Those trees,” Zenaria answered, gesturing toward the horizon.  They are a brighter shade of green than the rest of the vegetation.  There may be water there.”

 

Varden shaded his eyes.  If he stared hard and used his imagination he could convince himself that the trees were actually a brighter green, but he noticed nothing until he and Zenaria had closed most of the distance. 

 

The trees were not the only thing Varden looked at.  After the incident with the venomous snake he kept his eyes open for other dangers.  He was surrounded by strange animals, many of whom appeared exceedingly dangerous and he kept in mind that if Zenaria had not spotted the snake he would probably have stepped on it. 

 

He had never visualized dying a horrible death at the fangs of a serpent far from his homeland when he had joined his holy order.  But he and Zenaria seemed irretrievably lost, transported far across the world by a powerful magician.  He understood that the Jinguan magician who called himself Alzid had not intended to strand them in the strange land where they now found themselves; on the contrary, he had been attempting to return them to their homelands, but something obviously had gone wrong with his spell.  Varden doubted very much that Alzid was even aware of his mistake, which meant that he and Zenaria were on their own.   Somehow they would have to find their way back, although how they were going to do that he had no idea.  He did know one thing.  If he was to be stranded in a strange land forever, he could think of no better person to be with than the resourceful barbarian he had come to love.

 

He and Zenaria had become lovers by pure chance.  Tricked into obtaining a magical artefact by an evil magician, they had been captured and imprisoned, and as part of a cruel joke by the magician turned into a leopard and a lion.  Trapped in their animal bodies they had been placed in a cell together and fed raw meat by their captors.  Zenaria’s leopard body had gone into heat and Varden had mounted her, completely unable to control himself.  It was not exactly an act of human love, but upon being restored to their human form they had become passionate lovers, Zenaria’s more relaxed attitude toward sex overcoming Varden’s religious hypocrisy. 

 

The love affair with the beautiful Snow Leopard warrior had shaken Varden’s convictions.  How could something so wondrous be considered sinful and evil?  It had resulted in a considerable reshaping of his beliefs; a reshaping that continued the longer he was with the headstrong warrior. 

 

He stopped his musing as Zenaria let out a low exclamation.  “There you see.  I knew I could find water.”

 

She was pointing to the ground and Varden noted that the surface was pitted with thousands of animal tracks.  The discovery only made Varden more wary.  Where animals went to drink their might be predators lying in wait. 

 

Zenaria seemed to agree with him.  She shortened her long stride and became even more alert, her head held high as if she was sniffing the air.  “I think it’s safe,” she said, “but we will go carefully.” 

 

Zenaria leading, they moved slowly through the stand of trees bordering the river and found themselves looking at a muddy stretch of slow moving water about one hundred yards across.  If was a far cry from the clear splashing mountain streams Zenaria had grown up with or even the larger rivers of greater Erogenia.  This water moved sluggishly and was the home of another host of strange creatures. 

 

Simulating logs, huge lizards lay along the muddy river bank and floated idly in the water.  In the river itself were even larger creatures with mouths large enough to swallow a man whole.  Zenaria frowned as she realized her idea of having a quiet swim was no longer practical.  “We’ll camp here for now.  It’s got water and we can build some sort of shelter out of the thorn bushes.”

 

She set about preparing their shelter first, reckoning that in this strange land security should be the number one priority.  Using their knives she and Varden cut down enough thorn bushes to surround their camp with an almost impenetrable barrier.  They left a gap that could be easily closed and Zenaria made a trek down to the river bank to get drinking water.  Then she prepared supper. 

 

It was a meal of meat.  Zenaria didn’t recognize any of the local plants and had no idea which were edible and which were not.  She piled up firewood and using flint and steel soon had a fire going.  She sliced off a couple of steaks and set them to cook on a simple grill of woven branches.  While the meat sizzled she sliced the liver of the animal she had killed into thin strips and popped a sliver into her mouth and then offered a piece to Varden. 

 

The knight looked askance at her.  “Shouldn’t this be cooked first?”

 

“We lack greens and fruit,” Zenaria replied.  “Until I figure out what plants are edible raw liver is a useful source of nutrients that cooked meat lacks.”

 

“That’s easy for you to say,” Varden said, as he took the sliver from her.  “You barbarians probably eat raw meat all the time.  But I like mine cooked.”

 

Zenaria glowered at him.  “We are stranded in a strange land and we could be here a long time.  I think it might be a good idea to eat as well as we can.  But if you don’t want it, I’ll eat it.”

 

Varden looked uncomfortable.  When they had first met, Zenaria had found him almost insufferable due to his priggish attitudes, but he had mellowed a great deal since that first meeting and had learned that Zenaria knew a great deal more about staying alive in the wild than he did.  Slowly he reached out and took the sliver and popped it into his mouth. 

 

Zenaria grinned as Varden grimaced.  “Just swallow it whole if it bothers you that much.  She picked up another strip and chewed it with obvious relish.  “When I was a girl we used to eat the liver like candy.”

 

Varden made another face.  “I need a couple of pints of ale to wash this down.  When are the steaks ready?”

 

“Soon,” Zenaria replied, offering him another slice of liver.  “You’ll just have to wait for the ale until we reach someplace more settled.  Assuming we can find such a place.”

 

Varden nodded.  For all he knew they might be the only two humans alive in this strange land.

 

It didn’t take long for the steaks to cook.  Varden had to be content to wash down the meal with river water.  Zenaria had taken the precaution of digging a small well a few feet from the river in order to filter the water before drinking it in the hope of straining out any impurities it might have.  It was an appropriate precaution considering the amount of wildlife that had no doubt defecated in it. 

 

“Now what?” Varden asked, as he finished his second steak. 

 

“Now,” Zenaria replied, “we sleep.” She motioned toward the sleeping pallet she had constructed for herself out of the fronds of a leafy plant she had found near the river.  “Unless you have other ideas.”

 

Varden smiled.  Slowly he pulled off his boots.  “Other ideas sounds very inviting.”

 

 

It was an interesting night, and not just because she and Varden made love to the point of exhaustion, finally falling asleep wrapped in one another’s arms.  Under Zenaria’s instruction Varden had evolved into a very good lover.  He had learned just how to touch her and where, and almost as important he had the anatomy of a horse in a very important area. 

 

But the round of heavy breathing was not the only significant event of the evening.  It was the cacophony that erupted around them as soon as the sun went down.  Even the sounds of their love-making and Zenaria’s sharp cries of passion could not drown the sheer volume of night noises that surrounded them.  It sounded as if every animal alive was right next to their campsite and tearing one another limb from limb.

 

“Predators hunt at night,” Zenaria observed, glad she had taken the precaution of situating their campsite in the middle of a thick grove of thorn bush.  She lifted her head and kissed Varden.  “Try to get some sleep.  We’ll need to be rested if we are to survive in this hostile land.”

 

Whether Varden slept or not, Zenaria had no idea, but she awoke just at dawn, refreshed in spite of her night time exertions.  She kissed Varden lightly and then rolled to her feet.  Strapping on her sword she began to tug at the thorn barrier she had erected across the entrance to their campsite.  A few heartbeats later she was joined by Varden. 

 

“I would have thought you’d be a bit too tired to get up this early,” the knight observed.  He didn’t seem at all upset at not being allowed to sleep longer.  In fact his mouth was twisted in a grin.

 

“I find making love invigorating,” Zenaria replied, tugging the thorn barrier aside.  She grinned at the look Varden gave her.  “Later lover.  First we have to find out if we are the only people in this land.”

 

They emerged from the thorn barrier.  Chewing on some of the cooked meat from the animal Zenaria had brought down, they moved cautiously through the landscape.  Other than the sound of birds the land seemed strangely quiet.  It was almost as if the animal world had exhausted itself during the night and was now resting up.  However, there were clear signs of the night’s activity in the actions of dog-like creatures that were tearing at the carcasses of several dead animals.  Overhead large long-necked birds circled waiting their turn or hovered on the edge just out of reach of the dogs.  Zenaria wondered what had done the killing.  Whatever it was must have been powerful as several of the dead animals were the large-horned cows.  It served to emphasize the need for constant vigilance.  As yet they were aware of only the more obvious dangers. It would not pay to be complacent after having survived only one night. 

 

“Where now?” Varden asked.  He was allowing Zenaria to lead, acknowledging her wilderness abilities. 

 

“There,” Zenaria pointed. 

 

Varden squinted off into the distance.  “Why that way?”

 

“That strange mountain.  It will help keep us on a straight path.  Other than that, it is simply as good a direction as any.” 

 

Varden shaded his eyes with his hands.  Far off across the shimmering landscape was a cone-shaped peak rising out of the plain.  He sighed.  It was a long way off, and he was not used to walking, but he guessed that he would be before this adventure was over. 

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