0 comments/ 28829 views/ 0 favorites A Song of Summer Winds Ch. 01 By: thoros PROLOGUE The two armies met in the field two hours before sunrise. At noon, the carnage still ensued. By the end of the day, however, the defenders had been beaten, driven back into the protective walls of the city they were desperately trying to defend. The attackers were ruthless, renewing their assault upon the city day after day, without fail. Eventually, they starved the city, depriving it of badly needed food and water. On the eighteenth day of the assault, the defenders surrendered. They opened their gates and raised a white flag. The attackers descended upon the city like a swarm of locusts, devouring and destroying everything in sight, despite the offering of surrender. Men were slaughtered, women raped, and children mutilated or thrown from the city walls. The proud city of Tyrsis was no more. * * * * * The bashar Myles Kelg was a vicious man. He enjoyed the slaughter. Called the Swinging Sword because of his prowess in martial arts and his insatiable bloodlust, it had been his decision to sack and destroy Tyrsis. The fire was within his veins, and nothing could stop him. He had assaulted the city with a fury that was inhuman. Riding through the streets upon his great black destrier, he had slaughtered countless men and women as they fled before his wrath. Suddenly, another rider appeared. Cloaked in the green and silver coat of arms of the Tyrsian royal family astride a white courser, the newcomer charged him. Kelg was ready, moving his spear to impale the man as he came on. But, the man was too fast. Using his shield, he nudged Kelg's spear aside, and dealt a wringing blow with his warhammer to the still surprised bashar. Kelg fell from his horse like a sack of bricks. He looked up, the face of his former prince burned into his mind. He swore vengeance. * * * * * Prince Alyn Oakheart, rightful heir to the once magnificent city-state of Tyrsis, found himself without home and without family. The pain ran deep. His father, mother, and sisters...all lost. Lost to the invading southron dogs, led by that traitorous bastard Kelg. In the city, he had briefly been tempted to stop and finish the job he had started with Kelg, but his time in the city had ran out. The van of the Myrian armies was already on his trail, hot in pursuit. He escaped, though just barely. His home had burned down, the great flames licking up to high heaven, visible from even 10 leagues. Sobs of pain and grief racked his body. The agony of the arrow wound in his shoulder and axe cut to his thigh made stars appear in his sight of vision. He lay down on the floor, and curled up, not caring anymore as to what would happen to him. Sleep took him, granting him merciful peace. * * * * * She was a princess, supposedly. Or, at least, that is what everyone told her. She did not desire her mother's life; she did not desire to be the Queen of Myr. The countryside was her true domain. She had run away from home, evading the scouts that her mother and father had sent after her. She knew that eventually she would have to return, but she wished to enjoy the little time she had left free from the bonds of duty. Her thoughts were disrupted as she glanced at the road ahead. In the distance, she saw a corpse, lying upon the ground in the middle of the road. Curiosity getting the better of her, she urged her horse forward. Creeping up to the man, she realized that he was not dead, merely asleep. He was a beautiful man, full golden hair and broad shoulders. A rictus of agony and grief contorted his beautiful face into a grimace that made her heart tighten. Where had this man come from? His sable riding cloak was sodden with blood in several places. He had several injuries, including a festering pierce wound to his left shoulder. Startling her, the man groaned, feverish eyes flickering open for a moment. She stared, for a moment, into his incredible eyes. Violet orbs that penetrated into her soul, making her heart flutter. A spasm shook his body, and he closed his eyes again, barely aware of himself let alone the beautiful maid that now was cradling his head. She tried to sling him over her horse, but he was too heavy. She finally dragged the man, as gently as she possibly could, to a nearby clearing in the forest off of the road. She stripped the riding cloak off of the man using her stiletto dagger, and froze. Staring back at her was the surcoat of a Tyrsian prince. Her sworn enemy, though she did not know him. She struggled, unable to decide as to whether she should nurture the stranger back to health, or slit his throat. * * * * * He awoke with a start. His head hurt and he was bound to a tree, wrists and ankles tightly secured. The pain from his shoulder and leg were gone. She was in front of him again, the slight, elfish woman that he thought to be only a figment of imagination, a product of his head fever. Their eyes locked again, emerald green against gold-flecked violet. He could not understand his emotions for this strange woman. Remembering his bonds, he called to her. She looked up. "What is it?" Her voice had a soft and high singsong lilt. The voice captivated him and, for a moment, made him again forget about the world around him. Recovering from his stupor a moment later, he asked "Why hast thou bound me, my lady?" "You are my mortal enemy, and would do me and my family harm. Upon the morrow, we shall return to Myr. May god have mercy upon your soul." Her remark surprised him. Mortal enemy? Myr? He did not know this woman, he would certainly have remembered meeting her. "Pray tell, how have I incurred your family's wrath. I know not even who thou are." "I am Princess Alysane Taligari, of the house of Myr. I know who you are, my lord of Tyrsis." Her voice was steely and cold, though it wavered slightly. Her reply shook him to the bone. Despite his infatuation with this lithe, gorgeous creature in front of him, the urge to strangle her and spill her blood ran through him, coursing through his every fibre like lightening. She was the very enemy that he hated most, an anathema to his existence. Her family had ruined his life, destroying his family, killing his people, and driving him from his homelands, hunted like a common animal. She was right, if given half of a chance, he would slaughter her whole family. The look of fury and rage in his eyes showed through in his eyes. She flinched under his stare. It was almost...almost as if she felt unsure about holding him captive. But that would be impossible. He brushed those thoughts aside. Instead, his mind bent towards escape...and revenge. The princess had been thorough in her search of his body, removing all of his weapons and armor. However, she had missed the dagger that he kept sheathed in his boot. He tested his bonds. They were not tied tightly enough...slipping through them would be a simple enough job, though it would take time due to his still healing shoulder. That night, after Alysane had curled up in her furs and slumbered softly, he slowly freed himself from his wrist binds. Before an hour, he had succeeded in getting his left hand free. After cutting away the rest of his bonds with his boot dagger, he sprang upon the still sleeping Alysane. Roughly spinning her onto her stomach, he tied her hands and her ankles together. The shock in her eyes smoldered into uncontained fury. She bit at him, trying to tear his jugular out with her teeth, as dainty as they were. The captive was now the captor and the captor the captive. He could not decide her fate. On one hand, he felt like strangling her until her soft, unblemished skin turned black and blue. On the other, he felt himself immeasurably drawn to her full red lips and jade eyes, resisting the temptation to hold her and caress her. Eventually, he decided to do neither. He would wait, after all, time was one thing he had in abundance. * * * * * Myles Kelg strode into the Grande Palais of House Taligari of Myr a hero and celebrity amidst the cheers and applauds of the whole city. His defeat of the long hated Tyrsians had given him almost god-like status in the eyes of Myrians everywhere. He felt invincibility cloaking him. Later that same day, when he had the heads of King Taligari and all of his family mounted on spears in the Grand Palais courtyard, the cheering stopped. Myr had a new king, King Myles Kelg, the first of his name. Overconfident as usual, he did not think it important that a Taligari elsewhere was still alive... * * * * * They headed north on the Elkroad, to the freelands away from Myr. It had been three days, and his emotions concerning the girl riding in front of him had not cleared. At times, he found himself staring at her, lost in the littlest of things, like the smooth curve of her neck, or the bare skin of her shoulder. She held him entranced. At night, when the dreams of his family returned, the urge to do away with her returned, sometimes overwhelming all of his thoughts. He still did know where he was going, let alone, what to do about her. The Tyrsian prince was still a mystery to her. At times, he would look at her with the utmost tenderness and something that bordered on love. Other times, the hate in his eyes caused her to close her eyes and try to forget the world around her. He was a madman, that much was evident and, if she did nothing, he would eventually capitulate to one of his humors and either rape her or slit her throat. She needed to escape this madman. On the fifth day of travel, the opportunity presented itself. The prince allowed her to ride without her restraints. Taking advantage of the lull of late afternoon, she dug her heels into the horse that she was riding, urging it to surge ahead and carry her to safety. She could hear his curse as she took off. She reached the bluff a hundred meters off before he caught up with her. Her pony was nowhere near as fleet as the white courser he sat astride. With one muscular arm, he swept her entirely off of her pony and dumped her unceremoniously on the ground. She fell and the wind was knocked from her. She looked up at him and saw that, surprisingly enough, he was chuckling to himself. The sight she made, she admitted to herself, was quite humorous. The prince, not wanting to take anymore chances slung her over the horse and tied a rope to the headplate of her pony so that he could control its movement. She had realized the futility of escape and gave up trying to resist him. * * * * * Myr was slowly losing its magnificence. The once great city continued to suffer under the boot of its new ruthless king. King Kelg was in a rage that day, killing two people for just having looked at him from outside of the Palais. He still had not found Alyn. It had been only one week since the sack of Tyrsis. The thought of Alyn escaping him infuriated his sense of pride. Calling upon his viziers, Kelg ordered them to make it known throughout the lands that he would offer a rich reward to whoever caught the Prince and brought him back to Myr, dead or alive. Within a day, hundreds of freeriders everywhere began searching for the missing prince, each intent upon gaining their own fortunes. * * * * * They arrived in the free city of Nymeria three days later. Exhausted and in want of a hot meal, they took lodging in a local Inn, posing as husband and wife. The world swirled around her and her gut wrenched within for some inexplicable reason. Something felt horribly wrong to her. As they sat at a small table, eating a meat stew with bread out of a clay bowl, she herd snippets of the conversation going on around the bar. "King Taligari is dead, you say?" "Yeah, the traitorous Tyrsian bashar killed him and the rest of the royal family. They say the butcher left their bodies for the dogs and mounted their heads on spikes in the courtyards for the crows and vultures." "Ah well. The whole south is going mad these days. If we aren't careful, it will spread here. Say, did you here that Caddy Barbuckle was in town last week? No, really..." Before realizing what was happening, she was on her feet and running. Surprisingly, her captor let her run...after all, where could she go? She ran to the room they were occupying and threw herself onto the bed, great sobs of grief shuddering through her body. She heard the door open and close. The bolt was slammed home, locking the door. Rough hands grabbed her and quickly covered her mouth, stifling the scream that formed in her throat. She looked up. A rough, ugly man with a puckered scar on his left cheek held her. She could feel him against her body. His hands wandered over her smoothe supple body, eliciting another feeble attempt at escape as she came to know of his intent. His rough callused hand reached under the hem of her skirt and slowly stroked up her leg. He ignored her renewed thrashing, his hand continued to wander higher, and higher, and higher... * * * * * A part of him rejoiced. God had delivered justice and House Taligari was no more. The contentment in his heart curdled sourly when he saw the face of Alysane. Her green eyes had gone blank and moist, and her mouth quivered. She bolted for the door, unaware of the man that she knocked over in her haste. He slowly followed after her, unsure as to whether he should offer his condolences to her or not. After paying the innkeeper for their dinners and helping the fallen man to his feet, he went upstairs. Something was wrong. The door was locked. Quietly, he brang his eyes to a crack in the door. There was an intruder, and he was all over Alysane, roughly pulling her clothes off of her as she attempted to struggle. Without thinking, he kicked the door open. The man, surprisingly enough, was on his feet with shortsword drawn in the blink of an eye. His own sword sang as it was drawn forth from his scabbard. The two met in a clash of steel. The mystery man and the prince were both strong and very skillful. In minutes, both of the combatants were covered with minor cuts. The prince finally gained the upper hand and forced the man to his knees. As the man stumbled and tried to get up, the prince stabbed forward with his longsword, piercing the heart of the man, twisting as he withdrew his blade. The man was dead before he even hit the ground. The prince turned to Alysane. She was trembling, still dealing with the shock of her family's death and her near-rape. She was half naked and shivering. The prince, without thinking, moved towards her, tenderness and compassion in his eyes. Taking her into his embrace, he led her to the bed. That night, they lay in the bed together, she softly crying as he tried to console her. In the morning, they were off again. Something had changed in between them. During their journey, he never looked at her with hate and scorn as he had earlier. Something in him had changed. He knew, with certainty, that he loved the small wisp of a woman that rode before him. The soft silkiness of her colt black hair, the inviting promise of her sweet red lips, the swell of her breasts, and the flair of her hips all intoxicated him. He felt emotions rising in him that he had never felt before. God save him. She had cried and cried each night that they were abroad. The hot summer nights reminded her of her home, of her father and mother, her brothers and sisters. Each night, she would give herself into the arms of her enemy, seeking solace in his strong embrace. At night, they would lay together, sharing their strength and finding comfort in the other. Fate had tossed them together. She was sure of this. The "madman" of before had been tempered. He no longer bound her and, for her part, she no longer felt like escaping. He was the only attachment she had to the real world, everything else was gone. * * * * * That night, in their bed, she snuggled in closer to him, pressing the curves of her body into his body. He was surprised when her mouth found his and covered it. His lips tasted salty like the open sea, he returned the kiss, exploring her mouth in unbridled passion. His arms circled around her slender waist and gripped her closer. She breathed in his musky scent, it made her heady and dizzy. His left hand found her breast, and slowly teased her nipple into erection through the thin cloth of her bodice. Her hands wandered across his chest, removing the shirt that he wore to gain access to the broad valley of muscle that rippled in desire underneath. His hands wandered across her body, teasing her, electrifying her, setting her on fire with desire. He unlaced her bodice, releasing her breasts to his skilled hands. In savage lust, he ripped her skirt off of her, leaving her completely naked except of a small band of cotton, covering her femininity. Looking down at her body, she became embarrassed and quickly tried to cover her full breasts with her hands. Gently, he took her hands into his own, and kissed them. He lay her down on the blanket and kissed his way down her neck. Her smooth, soft skin rippled with desire under his ministrations. A heat that she had never felt before began to grow in between her thighs. She moaned and grasped his head, running her small hands through his luxurious mane of silvery blonde hair. He looked up, the amethysts in his eyes searching her face. His hands wandered down her body, carressing her muscular, toned legs, stopping finally at the curve of her buttocks. He pressed his fingers against her panties, feeling the extent of her arousal through the thin material. His flickering fingers elicited a drawn out moan of pleasure from her as he kissed the juncture between her thighs, making her panties wet. He inhaled her scent, marveling at the simultaneously sweet and tangy scent of her nectar. Her hips gyrated around his head as she continued to whimper in ecstasy. His tongue snaked out again, rubbing into her silken flesh through her sodden panties. She cried out loudly, hips bucking in wild abandon. Her body gleaned in the soft moonlight with a slight sheen of sweat. Unable to control himself any longer, Alyn hooked his fingers through the top of her panties and slid them down her long, shapely legs. Her own hands sought out the tie in the breeches that still confined him, quickly freeing his cock from its woolen prison. She took hold of him, gasping at the rapidly expanding size of his chamber. He positioned himself above her, ready to plunge his raging member into her fiery depths. He slid in slowly, relishing the friction and wetness. A quarter of the way down, he encountered a barrier, Her hymen. She was still a maid. Pressing his mouth onto hers, he savagely thrust downwards, breaking through her maidenhood. Her scream disappeared into his throat. He began to pump in and out of her, slowly at first but picking up speed as he went. Her initial pain quickly transformed into unimaginable pleasure. His face hung above hers, tender and loving. She brought her hand up to his jawbone, languorously drawing a line across his face from cheek to jawbone. At this time, his tempo increased to a inhuman speed. The heat in her thighs exploded again, this time much stronger. The combined convulsions of her inner muscles and the expression on her face pushed Alyn over the edge. Soon, his flaccid member slipped out of her, wet with the juices of their combined love making. She collapsed atop him, and they both slept. * * * * * The amorous couple woke before dawn, still remembering the night of passion from the night before. They were bound by more than physical attraction. Something much deeper and everlasting linked the two. Maybe it was their similar status as orphans, or possibly the intense grief they both had experienced. They no longer questioned their purpose. Both of them lived for revenge, the chance to bring Kelg to justice and make him pay for his double betrayal. With that, they set out south once again, on their way to Myr. A Song of Summer Winds Ch. 02 The first wave of attackers broke through the forest cover just as the sun rose. Within minutes, they were upon the prince and his traveling companion, furiously assaulting them with pitchforks, wood clubs and a few rusted swords. They were amateurs and the prince easily sidestepped their unskillful attacks, battering them with his heavy war hammer and beating them back with his great-sword. An hour later, each of the attackers lay bound on the floor, battered and bruised, completely stripped of their valuables. The prince recognized most of them. They were drunkards from the local inn the Prince and his companion had stayed at the night before. In the pockets of the man who seemed to be their leader, he found a notice: 10,000 Solaris for the man that captures the Prince Alyn Oakheart, former heir of Tyrsis, dead or alive. He expected no less. Kelg was savage and heartless, he could accept no less than complete obliteration of the Oakheart family line. A bitter taste made its way into his mouth. He remembered Kelg, as he had once been...a loyal commander in the Oakheart army. He had been an orphan that Alyn's father, Aeron, had taken to foster in the Tyrsian royal palace. Kelg and Alyn had grown up together, training at swords together in front of the castle donjon, or riding into the country for overnight adventures. Inseparable...until 3 years ago, that is. A dark mood had inexplicably settled over Kelg, and since then, he rarely sought out the companionship of his friend afterwards. As commander of the Oakheart legions, he was ruthless, sacking and destroying everything that came in his path. He had only been tolerated because of his excellent reputation in the field and his success in driving the Myrians away from the borderlands. King Aeron had fought frequently with Kelg, and eventually was forced to dismiss him because of his unquenchable bloodlust. When he left Tyrsis, there was no humanity left in his eyes. A year later, he rode against Tyrsis and his homeland at the head of a Myrian army... "Alyn?" He looked up, startled. Alysane had been looking at him, puzzlement in her large green eyes. "Hmmnn?" She looked worried "Who are these men? Why do they hunt us?" A tear was forming in her eyes. The dark purpose in the face of the men that attacked them set her off edge. "Locals, I think. They wished to collect a bounty...on my head. Come. We must move on, there will be others. The road south is too dangerous. We will head east to my Uncle's holdfast." They packed up their bags and were off, leaving their attackers still bound in the clearing where they had been attacked. Eventually, they would be able to free themselves from their bonds. Either that or they would be found by the animals of the night. They continued along the Unteroad, heading east into the crannogs. Alyn had amended his plan from earlier. Attacking Kelg now would only mean certain death, for him and for Alysane. Myrian scouts scoured the countryside looking for him while opportunistic bounty hunters sought to capture him for the large reward sum offered. He hoped to head east, into the lands of his third Uncle, Mors Kayfall, lord of the crannogs and east hinterlands. He would return to Tyrsis and Myr with his uncle's army and bring the dog Kelg to heel. The events of the last few weeks overwhelmed him, milling about in his mind without rest. His glance shifted over to his riding companion. He had loved her, then hated her, and now loved her again. He realized that he loved her more than life itself, the sweetness of her smile more precious than the air he breathed, the gentle curves of her body the temple and shrine of his life. She noticed his stare, losing herself in the soft gaze of his amethyst eyes, sending shivers of desire up her spine. A smile blossomed on her face. Maybe, they could stop for a while in the woods to take a break... * * * * * Eighteen bodies hung limply from the posts of the castle walls. That morning, eighteen of his palace servants had been found trying to sneak out of the palace. He had ordered them executed immediately. Kelg was sick and tired of Myr. He had thought that his fury would be quenched once he held the south and the Oakhearts were exterminated. He retired to his chambers, angry and in a dark mood. She was there waiting for him. She immediately went to him, softly crooning sweet words of comfort as he held her, looking into his plain, blocky face. Her startling blue eyes captured his, enslaving them to her will. Something unspoken passed between them. Something that was unholy and evil. Her strawberry-blonde hair cascaded on her shoulders, soft as the finest satin, enticing him, luring him deeper into her trance. Her breath teased across his neck, eliciting a rough groan from his thick throat. He had met her on a dusky summer evening. He had gone to his homeland in the hills of west Tyrsis after returning from an army campaign in the far west. A strange, sweet voice had been on the air. He could hear it resounding in the hills, soft...sweet...exotic...luring. It had called to him and, like a blind man, he had stumbled through the hills in search of the voice, heedless of anything else, addicted to its enchanting melody. He found her bathing in a small stream, naked as the day she had been born. The smooth, cream colored skin on her shoulders and back rippled with muscles underneath as she carefully bathed herself, rubbing at her hindquarter and body, singing that strange tune continuously. Abruptly, she looked up, seeing him. She hastily covered herself with her hands and sunk into the water of the stream, trying to hide herself from his intent eyes. "Pray thee, do not stop, my lady. Your song has captured my heart." "What is thy name, sir, and why have you been spying upon me." Her voice was soft, but sultry, caressing across his senses, stirring tingles and sparks of electricity across his entire body. "A mistake, my lady. I heard your voice on the wind and came in search of it...I..." He stammered unable to find the words he was looking for. Her eyes glinted with mirth, her high cheekbones raised in a brilliant, winning smile. His knees shook visibly. This woman was affecting him in ways that he had never thought possible. "No fault of yours, then. Pray tell, who are you? Where do you come from? Why are you here?" From there, their conversation had melted into oblivion. He could not even remember what happened afterwards, for he had been lost in her bright blue eyes. Three days later, he married her. Myles and Ellesaria Kelg. For a while, he had been happy. He had a beautiful wife, he was in the kings favor, and he was best friend to the crown prince and heir-apparent. Slowly, however, urges he had never felt before crept into his mind, ensnaring his thoughts, bending his mind towards glory and greatness. He slowly began to resent his lord and king, wanting to rule over himself. His mind stirred back to reality. He tenderly bent down and tasted her lips. He was weary and would sleep now. Sleep. Yes, sleep.... * * * * * Ellesaria marveled at the control she had over her husband. He had been a simple, but sweet brute when she met him in the hills three years ago. So easy to mold, so easy to control. He had never felt the evil emanating from her spirit, nobody ever could...before it was too late. She was growing weary of this simple man. His position of power had been useful in deposing the Oakhearts and the Taligaris but, of late, his usefulness to her was diminishing. There would always be ample time to deal with that later... Though over a thousand years old, thoughts of her past still left a bitter taste in the back of her mouth. She was cursed. Given immortality; immortal pain, immortal suffering, and immortal grief. Centuries and decades of loss had hardened her heart immeasurably and, now, she was barely human. She cursed her memory for being so accurate. She still remembered the prophecy. The prophecy, given over 800 years earlier by an old, blind mystic, foretold her release from existence. A man would come to her. A man whose heart beat in tune with hers, whose every breath echoed off of her own, whose soul was the definitive complement of her own. Her soul mate. She had searched for more than half a millennia, looking for this soul mate. Finally, she had given up. Her hopes crushed and her strength to continue greatly diminished. Her conquest of the south felt empty now, bereft of all meaning. Where would she go from here? What was left in her empty, soulless life. Her body spasmed, unexpectedly. A vision. The image of a man, startlingly beautiful with long flowing silver-blonde hair appeared in her mind's eye. His eyes twinkled with purple fire. She knew him...he was the former crown prince of Tyrsis. Alyn Oakheart. Her mind reached forward, touching his soul and spirit, searching his essence, probing his body and soul hungrily. Her eyes fluttered and flew open. This was the man. This was the man that would set her free. Her soul mate. She could feel him and all of his thoughts, a jolt that coursed through her, sending a heat through her body that she had not felt in hundreds of years. She would find him. She would make him hers. * * * * * Alyn could feel something entering his mind. The faintest of touch and the slightest trace of something amiss. He could feel the presence...a female presence. Whoever she was, she grew bolder and plunged into his soul, feeling him, letting him feel her. An image of her flashed into his mind. Beautiful, sultry, mouth slightly parted and turned upward in a knowing smile. She saw him and was letting him see her. He recognized this apparition. It was Kelg's woman, the she-banshee that had driven Kelg mad. She had been a beautiful maid, drawing the attention of every man with blood in his veins at his father's court. Something about her had unsettled him, though. Her eyes seemed to know too much, her smile seemed too diabolical to be human. The raw allure of her body was animal, bereft of human emotion. She was calling to him, a song that shuddered through the hot summer night, eliciting a reaction from his body that he did not willingly give. She held him in her eyes and her disquieting magic embers of blue fire reached into his soul, touching him to the core. And then she was gone. He could not tell if it had been a dream or real. He felt Alysane next to him, holding him as she slept. He shuddered involuntarily. Something about the dream felt too real to ignore. He still remembered her eyes; boring into his soul, relentlessly searching him, and voraciously tearing him apart. But most of all, he remembered her song. It had wafted through him, turning him into a mindless automaton. For a moment, he had lost total control over his body, her mindless slave. Alysane stirred next to him. She kissed him hungrily, somehow feeling his disquiet. He returned the kiss feverishly, needing to feel her, taste her, and smell her. They clung to each other desperately in the early hours of the morning, loving the other more than all else. They would continue east, hopefully reaching the city of his uncle, Ullenhyre, later in the day. When he thought of Ellesaria, he flinched. She had turned Kelg into a monster. What would she do to him? He shivered, uncontrollably, despite the warm summer air about them. * * * * * Kelg awoke reinvigorated. His wife was waiting for him. Without a word, they embraced. He immersed himself in the sweetness of her soft, supple body, drinking in her scent with insatiable gulps. She responded, throwing her arms around his neck as her mouth sought out his own. The kiss was real and, despite her coldness, sent sparks of electricity throughout both of their bodies. His hands eased down her shoulder and back, gently resting on the flair of her hips. He kissed her again, hungrily, losing himself in her essence. She pulled his cloak off of him, followed shortly by his undershirt. His hands meanwhile had returned to her shoulders, gently removing the straps that held her dress in place. The silk fell off of her body in rivulets of red and blue. He gazed at her body. She was the image of perfection. He trailed kisses down her neck, teasing her with soft nips. Deftly, he removed her silken over-shirt, freeing her perfect breasts to his searching hands and eager mouth. He took one of her nipples in between his fingers, rubbing it to a hard erect nub. His mouth enveloped her now erect nipple and gently caressed it with his coarse tongue. She purred, emitting soft moans as he continued to tease her breasts. The juncture between her thighs had grown wet with anticipation of what was to come. Reaching down, Kelg hooked his thumb and index fingers into the band of her panties and stripped them down. The smell of her sex wafted across his nose, making him swoon with desire. Meanwhile, her hands had sought out the lacings of his breeches, releasing them and allowing them to drop to the floor. He stood before her, erect and ready. She grasped him intimately, sending a shudder through his entire body. Stooping to her knees, she gently licked the head of his member, relishing the salty taste of his desire. She continued to lick and suck at his member, eliciting stifled moans from his strangled throat. With a harsh groan, he lifted her up in his arms and carried her into his bedchamber. He gently placed her atop his bed and settled down next to her. Immediately, her fingers curled around him, causing him to groan and arch his back. She guided him to the entrance of her flower. With one swift movement, he sunk into her entirely. They moaned together, simultaneously relishing the moment. The face of the man above her flickered and reformed into the white, unblemished, beautiful face of her true love. Emotive purple eyes with gold flecks stared back at her own as he thrust into her, quickly driving her to a mind-blowing orgasm. The physical shockwave of her orgasm swept across space. He was soon to follow, thrusting into her one final time, impaling himself completely in her hot sheathe before unloading his semen into her fiery depths. His limp member slipped from her canal with an audible squelching noise. She quickly got up, sliding her panties back up her long, shapely legs. She retrieved one of her bathrobes and redressed. He was still recovering from their recent lovemaking when she sat down on the bed next to him. His face was back to the plain blockiness that it had been for the last three years, the image of Alyn lost. She gently caressed his broad muscled chest. His breathing slowed, and he sat up. Her eyes found his and again he became her slave. He could not resist her. No matter how much his soul and body rejected the evil that she was. He could not resist her enchanting smile, devilishly beautiful body, and soft, sweet, sultry voice. She sang in his ear, telling him what she wanted, how he could please her. He smiled, happy at the thought of aiding her. He was decided. That night, he sent out nearly one thousand of his finest warriors. An evil smile twisted his blocky face. Alyn could not even feel the trap closing... Ellesaria decided that she did have a use for her lackwit husband after all... A smile grew on her face. She allowed herself to bask in the summer wind, hearing its song as it howled through the streets of Myr all about her. * * * * * Chapter 3 will continue with the journey of the Alyn and Alysane as they make their way to Ullenhyre, the city of his uncle Mors Kayfall. A Song of Summer Winds Ch. 03 This certainly is a long time in coming…and does not really follow the same suit as the two chapters already posted. Hopefully, it is more interesting now. If you like this story, and want to see more, then please tell me (because, at this point, I cant tell if it is pure rubbish or not). Thank you, and enjoy. -Thoros Very little is known about Ellasaria the witch's ancestry and past. Her descent has been traced to the northern Dymarian mountain ranges, where she is thought to have been the only daughter of a minor mountain lord. It is known that she was a mix blood, part elf but mostly human. Despite her predominantly human heritage, Ellasaria had elfish powers that no one had seen the likes of for ages. Like pureblood elves of old, Ellasaria was capable of activating her devastating powers without the complicated spells and rituals used by contemporary human sorcerers. It is rumored that in her formative years, she was reared among the elves themselves, instructed by them in the various forms of magic and sorcery. She was a natural adept and could easily channel great amounts of energy, surpassing the wildest expectations of all her instructors. Her thirst for power, however, became too great. For longevity of life and augmentation of her magicks, she sacrificed her conscience and her soul. She had turned into the ultimate enemy--The Saenalse--or in old elfish, an insatiable consumer of souls. The elves washed their hands of their failed student and turned her away from their halls in the eastern isles. In their eyes, Ellasaria was not elfish enough; she had allowed her human lust for power to take control of her. For centuries, she survived and continued to increase her inhuman powers by consuming the souls of countless hapless men that became ensnared by her bewitching song. By the time she found the unsuspecting Myles Kelg and plotted the destruction of Houses Oakheart and Taligari, she had already lost all vestiges of her human identity. Ellasaria lives in the void, soulless and completely aware of her inhuman form. No matter how many souls she devours, she will never recover her lost essence. Her only hope is to find another with as vital a spirit as her. Another life-force that resonates in tune with her own. Unfortunately for Alyn of House Oakheart, her search has ended and her gaze is now set fixedly on him. Like a wave of locusts, her armies sweep northward, consuming and destroying all in their paths, inexorably searching for Alyn. ****** The dreams persisted...only now they grew more persistent and real. Visions of her intruded on his every moment, whether waking or sleeping. He felt he was losing his mind and tried to convince himself that he had gone mad...but something about her piercing blue eyes and honey-sweet voice in his visions seemed so potent. He could sometimes sense her consciousness lurking just underneath his awareness, probing his mind. He brushed aside his thoughts, turning instead to the current problem of escaping Kelg's hunters and reaching his Uncle's protection. Kelg's bounty hunters were even now combing the forests and mountain ranges across the land for any trace of Prince Alyn Oakheart and Alysane Taligari. Even worst, from the few times that Alyn and Alysane had risked to venture into populated villages and towns, they learned that Kelg was creating a new invasion force to march against the northern kingdoms. The lands of man were ruled by two great houses and an assortment of smaller lords in the northern reaches. In the south, Houses Taligari and Oakheart had dominated militarily for several centuries. The north had remained safe because all of Taligari and Oakheart strength was vested against one another. But now, all had changed. A single unified south was marching north, and years of peace left the defenders incapable of fending for themselves. Travel during the daytime had become impossible due to the danger of being sighted by enemy scouts. Men wearing the Hawk sigil of Kelg patrolled the major roads regularly, forcing Alyn and Alysane to travel the roughly cut and hewn mountain trails. Their progress was slow and with each day, the chances they would be caught increased tenfold. Alyn froze and immediately signaled to Alysane to stop as he thought he heard something in the distance. He was not mistaken, far off, Alyn discerned the presence of another hunting party. Their torches illuminated well the tell-tale black banner with burning red hawk they carried as well as the red gilded black armor that each of the men wore. At the moment, they were safe from detection, hidden well by their relative altitude and tree coverage. Even still, the proximity of these headhunters made Alyn very uneasy. These had once been lands protected by his uncle's guard. Even the night now seemed a perilous time to travel. They had no choice but to press on and hope that they were not detected. ****** Tension and the sense of impending doom thickened the air about them. Alyn had seemed to close himself off to her several days earlier. His responses and summons to her were limited to a series of grunts and hand gestures. He seemed to be in a trancelike state, unaware of her, focusing solely on some unseen menace. Even when they made love, his eyes seemed glazed over, robbed of their burning purple luster. He seemed now only an empty husk of the vibrant youth he was merely two weeks earlier. Suddenly, he stopped, signaling sharply with his right hand for her to do the same. His sword was halfway from its scabbard when two other horsemen stepped from the darkened shadows a hundred meters off. They had not yet been sighted, but the proximity of these men to their location made that only a matter of time. Another several minutes passed and it became clear that both men were alone, most likely scouts sent out from the main party, judging by their light armor and signaling equipment. Resheathing his sword, Alyn retrieved his bow and quiver of arrows from his back. With two swift fluid movements, he buried two arrows in the gap between chest plate and helmet of the first man. He fell from his horse dead even before hitting the ground. The second man, however, reacted quickly to the new threat. Alyn's second volley arrows bounced harmlessly off of the man's now upraised shield. With a roar of fury, the man rushed Alyn with longsword on high. Alyn broke away from Alysane and met the man with his own sword. Both men were violently wrenched from their steeds by the force of their collision. But, the fight did not stop their, as each soon quickly recovered. For several minutes, Alysane could only hear the clangs of steel against steel as the two darkened figures battled in shade of the forest. It was obvious that the man was not an enlisted soldier. He had neither the endurance nor the finely honed swordsmanship of a career soldier. The prince on the other hand, was very much a methodical fighter. Each of his cuts drove the soldier back and away. This was a war of attrition, and the prince was not even winded. By contrast, the soldier was close to breaking point, tired and suffering from cuts along many parts of his body where the amour had been sheared off. Realizing his opponent’s moment of weakness, the prince slashed forward with a high upward arc. The blow knocked the man's sword from his hand, jarring his wrist and likely breaking it. The prince’s second blow followed a similar path, but was met with no resistance as it buried itself cleanly into the man's head. Wrenching the sword free, the man slumped to his knees, and then fell forward. Alysane saw Alyn as he carefully wiped the blood and brain-matter from his blade upon the cloak of the fallen man. A cold fury seemed to have settled upon him, something she had never witnessed before. He caught her eyes, as he resheathed his sword. "Come. We must continue onward." With that, he mounted his horse and continued, notsomuch looking back at her even once. ***** The man was tall, gaunt and looked as dangerous as a freshly sharpened blade. His grey eyes never left Alyn as he slowly brought his stallion to a halt and dismounted. To Alyn, the man looked faintly familiar, the same aquiline features, the same grace and the same colt black hair of his mother. After all, the man was his mother's brother...or half brother at least. "Greetings, Alyn. Welcome to the valley of your ancestors." Something seemed wrong. Alyn had rejoiced when he caught sight of the silver eagle banner and the group of men that carried it. At last, they had reached safe haven. Alyn had been even more so surprised to spot his very uncle at the head of the party. The two groups had met at the entrance to the valley in a small clearing. As his uncle dismounted, other men followed his uncle, each armed to the teeth with spears, swords, daggers, and darts. "Uncle! We must talk. An army is marching from the south..." "I know of this already, Alyn." His uncle’s voice was unnervingly calm. Something felt wrong to the prince as his eyes met those of his uncle, fiery violet against dull grey. From what Alyn had seen, the valley was completely open. The great walls at the entrance to the valley were even now unmanned and in disrepair. The land was in no way prepared for a siege. Worse still, nobody seemed worried about the 100,000 men Kelg had sent north to hunt down and kill Alyn while conquering all that they came across. He chose his words carefully. "Uncle, you seem ill prepared for a siege. Pray tell, how will you meet the enemy with the city defenses in this shambled state?" His uncle smiled...almost mockingly. "Kelg's army marches elsewhere. Kelg, lord protector of Myr and King in the south, has offered neutrality to Ullenhyre." "Kelg will come after me!" Alyn felt dread pervading every part of his body. "He doesn't need to." Alyn could hardly believe what he had heard. The twenty men that had by now formed a circle around him and Alysane all drew there swords at once, no longer hiding their evil intent. His uncle's voice cut through the air. "Kelg wants the prince alive and capable. Do what you like with the girl." Immediately, the 20 odd men from Mors Kayfall's retinue began to close in on Alyn. Thinking more on instinct than anything else, Alyn quickly dismounted, taking with him his longsword and bow and arrow. Using the flat of his sword, he smacked Alysane's horse on the flank. The horse reared up on its hind legs, and stormed forward. The two men in its way crashed to the floor as it smashed through them. The Ullenhyre men fell upon Alyn just as Alysane and the still half crazed horse entered the thick forest. With pure skill and strength, Alyn succeeded in fending off the first few men to assault him, but their numbers were too great. He was captured and bound up. ****** Epilogue The world of man changed in barely a few months. Both of the great houses in the south were toppled, and a new power emerged. Myles Kelg was supreme ruler in the south. Few would ever know that the true power behind the throne was Ellasaria, the bewitcher. In the north, an alliance had been formed to resist the coming onslaught. The leadership of this alliance had been entrusted to the Lord Protector of Ullenhyre, Mors Kayfall. But the alliance was betrayed, at the highest of levels and Kelg's armies marched without resistance. For the first time in history, all the lands were united under the same ruler. Many were crushed under the new regime, and no man was free of his tyranny. Alyn, last of the Oakheart line, disappeared after his capture in the valley of his uncle. His love, Alysane, escaped the clutches of the trap that had been set. But she was dying inside, sick to the heart, and no longer willing to carry on. Now she wanders, aimlessly through the forests of the middlelands...