The
Elven Chronicles
Episode
Three
The
Fugitive Bride
Chapter
11 Ordeal
Honoria woke to the sound
of sobbing. She tried to move
and pain ripped through her body that was so intense she cried
out. Her loins burned and even
the slightest movement caused such excruciating agony that she was almost
paralyzed. Trying to hold her
body as still as she could, she tried to make sense of what was going on
around her. The sobbing continued,
although somewhat muted and after a few more seconds Honoria realized who
it was. “Ralasharia,”
she croaked. To her surprise
she could barely speak and she realized that she had screamed herself hoarse
when the Grotharg’s raped her.
“I… I… am
ss… sorry,” came Ralasharia’s
reply. “I failed
you. Better to have left you
in Sallia than have taken you with me.”
“But…you…saved…my
life,” Honoria rasped.
“The bandits would have…”
“They would have done
much less to you than being raped by a Grotharg,” Ralasharia
said. She was no longer sobbing,
but her voice was strained with
bitterness. “And they are
not yet finished with us.” Her
throat caught again and she ended with a
sniffle.
It broke Honoria’s
heart to see the proud Elf brought so
low. She seemed completely shattered,
but there was nothing she could do to console her companion; she could barely
move and her arms were still tied to the
staff.
“So you finally
awake. I delay march for you,
but now you sleep long enough.”
Honoria looked up to see
the shaman standing just a few feet away.
The sound of their voices must have alerted him to the fact that they
had awoken from their ordeal.
“You might as well kill us,” Honoria
said. “Kill us and eat us
now, because we are not marching anywhere.”
“You march if I tell
you,” the shaman replied angrily.
“I have you beaten.”
“Don’t you understand,
you shrivelled old fool,” Honoria
raged. “You have crippled
us. We can’t
walk. Even if you beat us we
can’t walk. So kill us
now.” Rage seemed have brought
back her voice.
The shaman stared at her,
his rheumy eyes wide with anger. He
shook his staff at her, the bones and other armaments that decorated tinkling
as he did so. “Weak human
bitch. Feeble Elf
bitch. You come with
me. I take more of your
power.”
“I have no power
left,” Honoria said.
“Neither does the Elf.
You took all of it last night when you had us
raped. If you try to take what
is left we will die.”
The shaman seemed to consider
her words. “We carry
you. When you strong again, take
more of your power. I take next
time.”
Honoria was a little puzzled
by the shaman’s last comment.
She was surprised at how angry she
felt. Perhaps it was the fact
that she felt she had nothing to lose that gave her the courage to say what
she had said. Certainly she never
would have considered it before.
The shaman went away, leaving
the two women alone except for a single Grotharg
guard. Worn out by her outburst
Honoria closed her eyes. There
was no sound from Ralasharia.
Apparently the Elf had chosen to remain silent or like Honoria was
too exhausted to say anything more.
A few minutes passed, or
it might have been more. Honoria
wasn’t sure. She opened
her eyes to the sound of Grotharg warriors grunting close
by.
“Uh,” a huge tharg
grunted. “Human bitch
awake. Shaman say we untie her
and carry. Elf
too.”
The other tharg made a noise
that may or may not have been agreement.
It didn’t matter. A
few seconds later two of the juvenile bitches came trotting
up. In spite of the fact that
they had probably been raped, neither looked any the worse for
wear. One of them growled something
incoherent at the two males when they made a grab for
her. They bared their teeth,
but stepped back as the bitch knelt beside
them. “Me untie
you. Shaman say we carry
you.”
Honoria said nothing, but
merely tried not to scream as her arms were untied and then she was pulled
into a sitting position. Ralasharia
let out a moan as she was untied, however, she was not treated as well as
Honoria. Even though she was
released from the awkward bondage of the staff, her hands were bound behind
her. Then like two sacks of potatoes
they were lifted to the shoulders of the bitches and carried to the centre
of the Grotharg camp. Both women
cried out in pain as they were dumped on the ground, but they were only there
temporarily. A few minutes later
several more bitches came up carrying four saplings that had been stripped
of their branches and bark. A
few more arrived, carrying lengths of cut
willow. Within a remarkably short
time they had woven two serviceable
litters.
While they bitches were
busy with this activity two thargs came up, one carrying a small anvil and
the other several lengths of chain.
They moved up to Ralasharia and pulling the moaning Elf into a sitting
position they untied her wrists and then holding her wrists to prevent her
from reaching the silver chain that robbed her of her power, they placed
each of them on the anvil and hammered an iron shackle to each
one. Then they did the same thing
to her ankles leaving her wrists and ankles connected by a length of chain
long enough only for her to raise her hands to her
waist. The Elf groaned throughout
the procedure, ceasing only when she was allowed to lie back on the
ground.
It took a few more minutes
and then the litters were finished.
With several more groans the two women were placed on the litters
and then they were hoisted into the air.
Without further ado the Grothargs set off, the thargs standing guard
over the long line of captive bitches with Honoria and Ralasharia set in
the middle of the column.
It was nothing like a smooth
ride. The bitches carrying them
seemed to deliberately hit every hole and trip over every
stone. In addition, both women
were suffering from thirst. For
some unknown reason the shaman’s concept of looking after them did not
extend to giving them food or water.
The Grotharg’s both male and female seemed inexhaustible, so
there were no breaks until
The litter was set down
and the Grotharg shaman hobbled up to
them. “Time you get
clean,” he rasped. A juvenile
bitch dragged each of the women from their litters and hauled them toward
the stream. Without least concern
for their comfort or the injuries they had suffered they literally tossed
them into the frigid water.
It would have been cold
if it had been high summer, but in mid-Autumn it was
bone-chilling. Honoria’s
breath was taken away. In spite
of the pain every movement caused her, she fought her way to the surface
and struggled toward the stream bank, but the bitches who had tossed them
in waded in after her and pushed her
under. A shuddering scream from
Ralasharia indicated that she too had been hurled into the
water.
Battling her way once again
to the surface, Honoria tried to fight her way to the edge of the water without
success. The chilling water did
not seem to bother the bitches at all and they delighted in pushing her under
again and again, while every now and then swabbing her body with a rough
cloth. She was now shaking so
badly from the cold that she could barely stand, her teeth chattering so
hard she feared they might break, but try as she might the bitches kept her
from getting out of the water.
“I’m going to die,” she
thought. “I’ll freeze
to death.” She lost her
footing and the icy water closed over her
head.
She came up gasping and
barely conscious. She was dimly
aware of being roughly hauled out of the water and then someone pinched her
nose and poured something burning hot down her
throat. A sensation of warmth
spread through her body, radiating out from her centre and reaching all of
her limbs. Then it began to burn,
especially in the regions of her anatomy that had been so severely brutalized
when she had been raped. “Oh
Goddess,” she murmured, “make it stop.”
“Oooohhh!”
Ralasharia’s
long groan revealed that she too was suffering, and then as Honoria’s
vision cleared she saw the shaman hovering over her.
“You better now,”
he said. Grotharg magic heal
you.”
It was a far cry from
Ralasharia’s Elven medicine, but Honoria had to admit that in spite
of the burning in her loins she did feel remarkably
better. Looking down at her body
she saw that all of the bruises and abrasions had
healed.
“Tonight you and Elf
serve me again. Now we
march.”
Honoria got to her feet,
helped by the prodding of spears held by the thargs guarding
her. Ralasharia stood a few yards
away, still shackled so that she could not reach the silver chain that robbed
her of her powers. For a fleeting
second Honoria thought of trying to reach the chain and tear it from the
Elf’s neck, but restrained herself.
The shaman who had defeated them had his lascivious gaze fixed on
them and he appeared stronger than ever.
Honoria looked again and saw that the shaman had
changed. Although still ancient,
he was no longer stoop shouldered and hunched over, but stood erect, his
hand on his staff. Then one of
the thargs pushed her forward and she was forced into the line with the other
prisoners.
As the line began to move
forward Honoria wondered why the shaman had not seen fit to cure them
earlier. It would have saved
them a lot of pain and discomfort, and then she realized that pain and discomfort
was something that Grothargs enjoyed inflicting on their
victims.
The rest of the day was
spent in marching to the next campsite.
Barefoot and cold, Honoria and Ralasharia had to move quickly to match
the Grotharg pace. They were
lined up so that there were a number of bitches between them so that there
was no chance of either of them helping the
other. Soon both women were limping
badly, their feet cut and bruised, but they dared not slow down, not with
the tharg guards prodding anyone who slowed down with their stone
spearpoints. They plodded on,
every step pure agony and their empty stomachs
growling. For the remaining few
hours of the march all Honoria could think about was how much her feet hurt
and how hungry she was. When
they finally stopped she sank to the ground, barely able to go another
step.
However, she was not allowed
to rest long. “Human bitch
and Elf bitch, come.” one of the tharg guards
ordered. Almost whimpering with
pain Honoria forced herself to her feet.
Behind her, kept at a discreet distance by the guards, Ralasharia
stumbled forward.
They were escorted to where
the shaman was. He was sitting
on a large boulder in a grove of trees that provided some shelter from the
wind. Gratefully, both Honoria
and Ralasharia sat just a few yards from each other, their backs against
trees. As soon as they had sat
the tharg guards ensured that they did not go anywhere by tying a rope around
their necks and securing it to the tree
trunk. They waited while that
shaman decided on their next ordeal.
“Feed you first,”
the shaman said. “Den you
serve me.”
Something was placed at
her feet. Although starving,
Honoria looked at it dubiously. She
knew from Ralasharia that Grothargs were cannibalistic, and although they
were not human, they were human enough that she did not want to be forced
to eat one of them. The shaman
watched her with a smile on his face, enjoying her discomfort and then Ralasharia
spoke. “Go ahead, Honoria,
it’s venison.”
Gratefully Honoria began
to eat, digging her fingers into the cold mixture that had been set before
her. She would have preferred
it hot, but was too hungry to be fussy.
While she ate the shaman approached Ralasharia and stood just out
of reach of her feet. “Elf,
bitch, you spoil my fun. You
punished for that.” He turned
and walked away, leaving Ralasharia to be fed by one of the captive
bitches.
The reminder of the meal
was spoiled by the shaman’s threat, not that Honoria was not already
sweating about what was to come, but she was so desperate for food she ate
everything in the bowl anyway and would have eaten more had it been
offered.
Supper over, the shaman
returned. He wasted no time punishing
Ralasharia, but he did it in a manner that caught both the Elf and Honoria
completely off-guard. He had
both women brought before him. As
usual he was seated on a rock, but he rose as they reached
him. He looked directly at
Ralasharia. “Elf
bitch. You speak when not
asked. I
punish.” To Honoria’s
surprise he then turned toward her.
Behind her, pressure on her shoulders pushed her to the
ground.
“What…? Honoria
gasped. Just inches away from
her face was the shaman’s dangling
member. He leered down at
her.
“You suck me,”
he ordered. “Or I hurt
Elf.”
“Noo!” Ralasharia
cried. “Don’t do it
Honoria. Don’t let him humiliate
you to save me.”
Honoria looked at the
shaman’s huge phallus in horror.
Even though he was not as big as most Grotharg’s he was still
bigger than the Duke had been. She
swallowed, her eyes wide with fear and
disgust. But she had to do
it. Already one of the huge thargs
had moved closer to Ralasharia holding a leather
whip. Taking a deep breath, she
ignored Ralasharia’s cries of anger and touched her lips to the
shaman’s organ. Almost
immediately it began to quiver.
“Now suck,” the
shaman ordered. Honoria closed
her eyes and shut out Ralasharia’s
protests. Raising her hands she
took the shaman’s swelling member in her fingers and guided it into
her mouth. Within a few seconds
it had increased in size to the point where it would barely fit, and she
had to fight back the urge to gag in order to continue the nauseating
act. The shaman took her hair
in his hands and forced her head back and forth, stimulating him into a full
erection. For a few seconds Honoria
thought he was going to explode into her mouth, but that was not the
shaman’s plan. Instead he
pulled out and shouted to the guards.
“Spread human bitch. I
take her power.”
“Nnnoo!” Honoria
cried. The thought of once again
being impaled on a Grotharg phallus caused her entire body to break out in
a sweat while her stomach twisted into knots, but three thargs had already
grabbed her, one pinned her arms behind her back and the other two spread
her legs.
“Aaaggh!”
In spite of the previous rape and the fact that the shaman was not as well
endowed as other Grothargs she was far from prepared for it and she screamed
in pain as he entered her.
“Oh Goddess,”
she moaned. “Please help
me.” The shaman thrust deep
within her, burying a shaft as thick as her wrist and half the length of
her forearm inside her. It was
brutally painful, but it was something else as
well. She felt as if her body
was being completely drained, almost as if the shaman’s phallus had
the power to suck her life force from
her. The pain increased until
it became so intense that she could not even scream while at the same time
she weakened to the point where her body could not even
move.
The shaman on the other
hand seemed to grow in strength.
The power of his thrusts increased until he penetrated her to the
hilt, his member actually continuing to expand even as he reached
orgasm. When he finally released
into her he screamed in triumph.
“Now I take Human bitch’s
power.” Honoria
fainted.
She awoke to the sound of
screaming. Ralasharia’s
screaming. The Elf was being
held in the same way that Honoria had been and the shaman was thrusting into
her so hard that every movement of his seemingly frail body caused the Elf
to jerk violently. Every thrust
resulted in a shriek of agony.
Ralasharia’s head was thrown back, her long red hair whipping
back and forth and then she suddenly went
limp. With another joyous scream
the shaman stepped away from her.
Honoria tied to get up and go to her friend, but she seemed drained
of energy. She could only watch
helplessly until a couple of the bitches grabbed her by each of her arms
and dragged her over to her unconscious
companion.
Slowly, like the coming
in of the tide, some of Honoria’s strength
returned. Eventually she was
able to sit up and hug Ralasharia to her.
Almost numb with cold, contact with the Elf’s body seemed to
help her. It also seemed to help
Ralasharia. After a few minutes
the Elf stirred and her eyes opened.
As she stared up at Honoria a slight smile of recognition tweaked
the corners of her mouth.
“Lie still,” Honoria
whispered.
“Like I have any other
choice,” Ralasharia returned.
No Grotharg bothered them
and only one guard was posted on them.
The shaman seemed to relize that after their
ordeal both women were too weak to
escape. After awhile, in spite
of the cold and the hard ground both captives
slept. When they woke again it
was morning and the thargs were once again prodding them to their
feet.
They were served the usual
mixture of meat and grain that the Grotharg’s seemed to prefer for all
meals and then were forced into line.
Honoria found every step pushed her to the edge of
exhaustion. “I’m so
tired,” she whimpered.
“I don’t think I can take much more of
this.”
“It’s the
shaman,” Ralasharia said.
“He is draining the life force from
us.”
“You mean when
he…”
“Yes,” Ralasharia
said. “And if we do not
escape soon, we will both die.”
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