The Samur: Chapter 11

The Samur: Chapter 11, Violent Conclusions {Part 1} (Fsolo magic viol)

� 2010 Rhys.The.Mage

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"I have this feeling that my luck is none too good,
This sword here at my side don't act the way it should
Keeps calling me its master, but I feel like its slave.”--Blue Oyster Cult, Black Blade

[1]
Tamaira, Rhys and Jillian and as many of the royal guards as could safely be dispatched, left the capitol riding hard to the east. Now that they knew, more or less, what was awaiting the Helel, they were desperate to get there in time. A little used signaling system using smoke was being used to send word ahead, but whether or not it would be successful was still, so to speak, up in the air.

They stopped less than was the traditional amount, their urgency of travel outweighing typical Samur needs for the jongul. Of course, what really happened was that there was just twice as much drinking and fucking to do in the evenings. After all, there was no need to be uncivilized just because they were heading off to war. The morning of the second day the smoke signals confirmed the Helel had received the message and were slowing their advance to allow Tamaira's party to catch up with them.

The Helel, however, was not the only actor in this macabre play. Lanira's forces were gathering in three different places and had relatively good intelligence on the whereabouts of the Helel. They were set to come together against the Helel all at once, with most of their numbers kept secret until the last moment.

The expanse of the central plains did not allow for much in the way of hiding places, and Lanira's forces were kept mostly east of where the T'Ing mountains met the ocean. The other third of the forces were actually onboard ships just over the horizon, waiting signals of their own to come to shore and descend upon the Helel in a great surprise. All told, it was a good plan, made all the more so by a leader that seemed to possess inhuman skill with an inhuman blade.

Tamaira and company did not cover as much ground as they hoped on their second day of riding. When they had to stop for rest they figured they still had the better half of a day to ride and catch up to the Helel. They had been unable to get any information from the army all throughout the day, and Tamaira was worried. The mood in the camp that night was somber for tomorrow promised to be a day of great bloodshed.

[2]
Early the next morning, Rhys and Jillian went off some distance from the others and set up their silver scrying bowl to begin the process of getting Cyd into their company. With any luck Gylal had found the drow and was even now standing by to send her their way.

Rhys decided to save his energy and went straight for the main scrying instead of making initial contact. Gylal's face, and Cyd's, resolved into clarity in the surface of the water. “Gylal, Cyd, it is good to see you both.”

"So I understand you need my assistance again mage?” Cyd said.

"Yes, and I am afraid the circumstances are even worse than the last time.”

“Naturally. Most things do tend to get worse when they are not fixed.”

Jillian tapped Rhys on the shoulder. “I can feel it again.”

Rhys nodded, and tried to sense what was going on. “I do not sense it.”

“Perhaps because you are involved in that spell. I think you need to hurry.”

“So, Cyd, are you and Latek ready to meet her kin?”

The drow laughed. “Latek has no kin, but we are ready to get rid of your problem.”

The air around Jillian began to heat up. “Rhys, you need to get moving on this.”

“What's going on?” Gylal asked.

Rhys shook him off. “Cyd, time is short. I need you and Latek to gather up our two staves and get to the pentagram in my summoning room. You need to go now.”

Jillian knew what was coming her way before she even saw it. Her skin crawled as a dark shape twisted on itself and came into existence about ten feet away. She did not wait for it to orient itself before she gathered her will and said, “ Zatares,” turn.

The creature howled, recoiled, and blinked out of sight.

Gylal's image reappeared in the bowl. “She's ready.” Rhys nodded, and dropped the contact spell. The water shimmered and cleared. He felt Jillian's magic release itself though he did not know what she was fighting. A moment later, between castings, he felt another tremor pass through the air. Ducking instinctively, he barely missed being hit by the wing of a large flying creature as it swooped by where his head had been moments before.

“Oh fuck,” he heard Jillian say. Looking up, he saw a wyvern start to turn back toward them.

“Can you handle it for now?” Jillian grunted her disapproval at his statement and tried to think of what might work on such a beast. Hoping that Jillian had a handle on the wyvern, Rhys turned his mind to the difficult task of getting Cyd from where she was to where they were.

As the wyvern completed its slow turn and bore down on her, Jillian had an inspiration. She was afraid, however, that it was going to get her killed. As the flying mini-dragon got progressively closer she prepared herself for the outcome. “Acel bor,” steel skin, she said. And steel resolve, she thought. The wyvern was approaching fast, and when it was a scarce thirty yards from her she held forth her hands and said, “Selyem,” silk. A spider web materialized in front of her, maybe twenty yards away. The wyvern recognized the danger too late and flew straight into it. Its wings tangled, it fell like a stone.

Instead of impacting Jillian on a glide slope, however, the beast dropped, hit the earth and rolled toward her like some kind of scaled boulder. Even jumping to the side, the rolling mass of flying critter still impacted her left leg and sent her reeling. As she tried to shake off the impact and assess the damage, the wyvern was cutting away the web with its snout and talons. Then, Jillian heard a yell from behind. She saw Tamaira rushing toward her and the wyvern.

Rhys blocked out the fight nearby and focused on one image, that of Cyd standing in the pentagram back in his laboratory in Kar Tosk. “Mozog, cyd, mozog, latek, hoz oket tol ott itt.” move Cyd, move Latek, bring them there to here . He reached out and latched on to Jillian's energy—even though she was engaged with the wyvern—he had to have her feed him. He concentrated on all the life energy around him, Tamaira, the jongul, even the wyvern, and physically tried to pull Cyd across the sea to his location.

Tamaira and the Jillian were on opposite sides of the wyvern, giving it two targets to think about. They were about to move in when the air shifted yet again. Behind Jillian a man appeared. He was in an a jet black robe with a hood pulled up over his head. He leveled a staff at Jillian, who had not seen the man arrive. “Duck!” Tamaira called out.

“Meghal,” the man said, die.

Jillian was just out of the way when the killing spell passed over her and impacted Tamaira in the chest. Tamaira did not know what to expect when the blast of energy hit her, but absolutely nothing was not on the list. The blast hit her full in the chest, and dissipated at once. She howled in laughter. “Fucking wizards. Yaaaah,” she yelled and charged the mage.

Jillian regained her feet and pointed at the ground near the mage, “Tuz ,” she said, fire, and the ground within ten feet of the man exploded in flame. The force of the explosive burning caused Tamaira to pull up short, but it lifted the mage off his feet. He was unburned, but dazed by the blast.

The wyvern had freed itself from the spider silk cage, and was even now moving to present Jillian and her team with two nasty opponents. Rhys kept up his concentration, and then there was another great shift in the air pressure and a dark elf popped into existence three feet from Rhys. “What kept you?” he asked, and fell to the ground. Cyd dropped his stave, threw Jillian's to her, and in one fluid motion drew Latek and spun on the wyvern. She landed one clean blow to its left wing, nearly severing it at the root. The wyvern howled in pain and turned to attack her. She laughed at it.

The mage saw Rhys on the ground and smiled, with only the woman he should be able to win in no time at all. She had managed to dodge his first attack, but she would not evade the next one. Jillian grasped the staff as it was thrown to her, and she pointed straight away at Tamaira. “Besseg,” she said, speed. Tamaira did not understand exactly what had just happened, but she noticed at once that everyone around her, including the black cloaked mage, was moving very slowly. She advanced on him with inhuman speed, hoping to take him before he figured out what was happening.

Though the mage did not fully register what was going on, he did seem to have a sense of things, and a brief counterspell enabled him to perceive her even if he could not move as fast. Concentrating on the silver band on his right hand, the mage leveled his staff “Rekeny,” he said, brittle. He had barely brought up his staff when Tamaira's blade impacted it. He blocked the warrior princess' attack and watched gleefully as her sword impacted his staff and broke into a thousand pieces. Not deterred in the least, Tamaira dropped her one side and kicked viciously at the mage. Though not injured, he was driven back a few feet by her kick.

The wyvern looked at Cyd, who stood holding Latek at an angle that signaled she did not in the least respect the formerly flying creature. It screeched at her, and still she stood her ground facing it with her sword pointed at the ground. Suddenly, it was as if Cyd and Latek had become bored with the beast. She turned her back to it, and it strained forward and struck out with its good wing. Cyd ducked, turned, and threw Latek with all her might. The sword needed no help as it guided itself straight through the beast's left eye and into its brain. The wyvern collapsed at once, Latek visibly quivering as the beast hit the ground. “I'm coming, I'm coming,” the drow said, trying to supplicate her egotistical weapon. Reaching the sword she had to put her foot on the wyvern's skull to pull it free.

Rhys was now pushing himself to his feet having regained his wits and some small measure of strength. He was surprised to see Cyd pulling Latek from the skull of a dead wyvern. What had he just missed? He was further surprised to see Tamaira and Jillian squared off against what could only be the object of their quest. Cyd was turning to join them.

The wizard in the black cloak dusted himself off and faced Jillian and Tamaira. Jillian thought the wizard seemed distracted, then he grinned and gestured to Tamaira, "Ho,” he said, heat. Tamaira squealed as her greaves suddenly became searingly hot. She jumped away, drawing a dagger and desperately trying to cut away the straps holding the heated metal.

“Fazik,” Jillian said, freeze. The wizard seemed to have anticipated her move for he showed no reaction as the spell impacted his hand and staff, and appeared to just stop. Jillian backed off slightly, “Ho, delme,” she said, heat shield. A moment later the mage threw a wall of flame at her and was shocked she did not simply disappear in a burst of fire..

A little further away, Rhys was still recovering from the exertion of teleporting Cyd. He moved slowly toward the fray, considering carefully what he had seen so far. He noticed Tamaira had shaken off her greaves and was now removing all her armor and clothing. Cyd was advancing opposite Jillian, and the mage was keeping his position against the three women arrayed against him and the as yet distant mage.

Cyd called out to Jillian, then threw Latek as the mage was briefly distracted. The sword whistled by his head, and he narrowly missed being nicked by turning his head just at the right time. To Cyd it was as if he watched it go by. His staff came up, “Felem,” he said, fear. Cyd recoiled slightly at some unseen sight that only she could perceive, but she held her ground and shook her head. She drew two daggers.

Jillian smashed her stave into the ground, “Razza,” she yelled, shake. At her bidding, a strong tremor shook the earth and she, Cyd, the mage, and Rhys, were knocked from their feet. Only Tamaira, Latek now in hand, remained standing. The gloriously nude warrior advanced on the enemy mage even as he sought to regain his feet.

“ Villam,” he said, still on the ground, lightning. A bolt of white hot electricity materialized in the air and raced toward Tamaira. The bolt seemed to trace around her, pass through Latek, and flow into the ground.

Tamaira shivered. “Now that made me all tingly. What else you got for me? A nude woman too much for you?”

Jillian regained her feet, Rhys was now near her. “Logas,” he said, blink.

Using a large amount of energy, Rhys vanished from in front of the wizard and appeared at once behind him. The mage, however, had somehow anticipated the move. His staff was already moving backward when Rhys popped in behind him. “Dalom,” he said, pain, and Rhys briefly went to one knee as the wizard brought his staff back up and hit him under the jaw.

“No, zisnor,” grow, twine, he said, and the ground leaped to life as the grass and weeds sprouted furiously and wrapped themselves around the three womens' legs. Tamaira instantly cut one leg free, but the mage was already moving away.

“Another time. And when we meet next, the odds will be even.” The mage hefted his staff even as Jillian made to throw another attack at him. He grasped at a ring on his right hand and said, “Otthon,” home.

Jillian went to Rhys as Cyd went over to Tamaira. Rhys was just starting to push himself up to his knees. “The odds will be even? That will not be good.”

Cyd was examining the burns on Tamaira's legs. “These will take time to heal, is there something you can do?” she asked Jillian.

Tamaira thrust Latek back to her owner. “Bah. It is just a flesh wound.” She held up her breasts and bounced them. “At least he didn't scar these.” She spat on the ground. “Still, I hate losing.”

Jillian rolled her eyes. “Breaking the sword and not winning equals a loss?”

Tamaira nodded, still nude. “Breaking that sword was far worse than not winning. What is a warrior without a blade?”

“Hmm,” said Rhys, still seated on the ground. “There are other blades, perhaps even as good as that which you just lost.” Tamaira grunted her disapproval. “Now, let Jillian take care of your legs so you are ready for the next time.”

Tamaira stood next to her, her feet shoulder width apart. Jillian sat on the ground at her feet, held her staff in one hand and grasped her right leg gingerly with the other. The warrior winced, but did not make a sound. “Yigot,” she said quietly, live. As she held her concentration she watched as the warriors seared flesh began to knit and reform itself.

“Tamaira, where is the rest of the band?” Rhys asked.

“I sent them on ahead, hoping to catch up with the Helel and pass them word of the danger they face.”

“We need to join them as soon as we can,” he said.

Jillian inspected her handiwork and then moved to take care of Tamaira's other leg. She paused, “Did it feel to you as if he knew what we were thinking?”

Cyd shook her head. “If he was reading our minds we would most likely be dead right now.”

Rhys nodded, “She's right. He had some kind of edge, like he was anticipating our moves, but it was not like he was reading our minds. I did not sense anything like that.”

Jillian began to heal Tamaira's other leg. The princess shifted on her feet. “Stand still,” Jillian said.

“That is kind of difficult when you are handling me that way.”

“What do you mean? I am only holding your leg and healing the damage.”

Tamaira raised an eyebrow. “Have you never had this done?” Jillian shook her head. “You will have to try it some time. Hmmm. I hate to go into combat without a sword.”

Rhys was about to speak up, but Cyd beat him. “No need to worry about that. When we find your people I suspect there will be more swords than wielders.”

Her legs now healed with only minor scarring, Tamaira donned her armor and the group hastily remounted and rode hard to the east in an attempt to intercept the Helel before they made contact with the enemy.

[3]
Many miles to the east, the Helel had made contact with the advance units of the rebels. Staying to the middle of the wide coast road, the Helel had split their forces in an attempt to fool the enemy into attacking before all of them were in position. They had found and killed two enemy scouts, and now their divided force, nothing more than a lure, had cleared the edge of the mountain range and spotted the town of Cenna in the distance. Their ploy was a bold one, for if the enemy were to keep them from calling in their reserve, they would be in great peril.

Between the town of Cenna and the Helel stood a large body of warriors, but not as large as the full army of the Queen of the Samur. The lead warrior, a pretty blond of twenty eight years, rode out to greet the emissary of the rebels. They met in open ground, quite distant from any other forces. The leader of the rebels was wearing typical combat armor. Raina, leader of the Helel, did not recognize her. “I am Raina of the Samur. Disband this rebel force and return home and no harm shall come to you.”

“And if you surrender now we offer the same bargain.”

“Surely you know that is impossible.”

The rebel nodded. “And surely you know the same.”

“So be it then.” Raina turned and rode back to her forces at a leisurely pace. She had not made it half way when the sky was filled with arrows headed her way. She fell from her horse, slain by a dozen strikes. A great roar rose up from the Helel, and they charged the enemy, swords and bows drawn.

The rebels had surprised Raina with their cowardly attack, but the Helel were a force of professional soldiers. As they closed they released several waves of arrows themselves, greatly thinning the ranks of their opponents before closing to sword range. But even as they closed they did not call in their reserve. Soon enough the two forces collided, riders thrown from horses and swords whistling through the air to strike. The clang of swords on armor, the cries of the wounded and the victorious, sang out over the battlefield. Still the Helel did not call in the reserve.

The next in the chain of command, a brute of a warrior named Itlan, rode at the rear of her troops. Directing their motions and guiding them strategically, she was proving to have a command of the field that few her age, or experience, had. She sensed where the line was weak, knew precisely when to strike and when to fall back, and readily defended herself when the odd enemy warrior broke through. Her battle was going well until another force rounded the corner of the nearby hills to the southwest of Cenna. She rode amongst the warriors, “Fall back and regroup. Send the signal for the others.”

Three archers aimed and sent burning arrows to the northwest to bring in the reserve. As the arrows arced and fell, Itlan wondered if there would be time for them to arrive. Even at this distance she could tell the leader of the rebels was in the newly arriving group. The black sword of which she had heard was all to visible as the woman who had been sister to Tamaira and Iolan rode with it held high.

As her force allowed themselves to be pushed back, trading space for time, Itlan was surprised to see the woman she used to know as Crown Princess Lanira get off her horse and wade into the fight. Yelling in anger, Itlan rode into the mass to close the distance to the rebel leader.

…

Itlan had slain ten or more of the enemy and was at last within striking distance of Lanira. To the rear, the reserve force of the Helel had her back. The odds were even again as the two forces came fully together. As Itlan at last gained a clear view of her target, she was surprised by what she saw. Clad only in the barest of chain mail, Lanira maneuvered amongst the dead without a visible scratch on her. Her body was splashed by blood here and there, and there were even some broken links in her armor, but she otherwise appeared unscathed. The evil princess spotted Itlan and turned toward her. “I have been looking for you,” the woman said, in a voice Itlan did not quite recognize.

Itlan was a bit tired after dispatching so many, but now that she faced Lanira, she felt rejuvenated as the adrenalin hit her system. This woman, and her sword, were a very deadly threat. Itlan felt alive. She laughed. “You seem to have found me, cunt.”

Lanira stood motionless, her long black blade held at an angle in front of her. She laughed back. “Do you know that when I kill you I shall feel such ecstasy you cannot imagine.” The black sword moved on its own, but Itlan was at least as good a swordswoman as Lanira, and the blow was blocked. Ducking away effortlessly, Itlan parried another blow and continued to conserve her energy while she watched her opponent. Lanira moved little, her technique practiced and just as easy to her as Itlan's. The two traded blows and parries for several minutes, but all that time Lanira did not seem to weaken, but Itlan gradually slowed.

Lanira's blade scored a small touch on Itlan's left arm, drawing a bright line of blood. Lanira dropped the point of her blade briefly and inhaled sharply. The sound of pleasure was unmistakable. Itlan feinted, then attacked quickly and scored a hit of her own on Lanira's right thigh. The wicked princess responded with blazing speed, her sword almost seeming to strike out on its own. And as the sword cut into Itlan's side, the cut on Lanira's leg closed and the woman with the long brown hair squealed in pleasure.

Lanira laughed as she caught sight of something. “Look now to the sea. Even as I kill you your cause is lost.”

Stealing a glance toward the ocean, Itlan saw the remaining ships of the rebels coming in to view. It was unlikely they could prevail against such odds, even though the fight on land was going their way. She turned her attention back to Lanira. “You are wrong. Soon you will be dead.”

Lanira laughed, then cast her sword toward the leader of the Helel. Itlan scarcely looked at it and lunged forward with a killing blow. As she moved, the sword shot from the ground and pierced her heart from the back. She fell to the ground, never even knowing what had killed her. Lanira wrapped her hand around the pommel of the sword and immediately exploded in an orgasm. Enjoying the life energy of the fallen foe, the sword fed some of that energy back to its wielder as a reward in the form of pure pleasure. Lanira's pussy was on fire and she could barely stand as the waves crashed over her. Pulling the sword free, she turned back into the fight, eager for another ill-gotten cum. The ships were only a little ways off now, and there was nowhere for the Helel to run. She shivered through an orgasmic aftershock and smiled at the pleasure to come as she raised her blade to the attack.

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