MAGE By Heck There is a bit of a sideways excursion to the main plot in this chapter, suggested by readers who e-mailed me their ideas. I like that - it's fun. Feel free to do the same. In the meantime, thanks to Mark Wilson and - somebody else [sorry!] - for these ideas. Comments to heck@heckster.co.uk CHAPTER FOUR LYING IN BED, staring up at the white ceiling, Lon pondered over what he had overheard. The Kobold, Quaff, had been undisturbed by his exit from the door at the foot of the hidden staircase, but that was not what gave him his feeling of dread. His respected tutor and mentor, Drosklyn Chaithe, was trying to become a Great Wizard. But that was not what was bothering him either. Lon and he had held several conversations on the subject, always concentrating on the good for mankind that lay in that power. What was filling Lon with trepidation was the fact that his master appeared to be striving to attain magehood by a short cut, through the back door, by using the powers of darkness. Assuming it was Chaithe he had heard, of course. Lon was not totally convinced it was he, but there seemed to be no other humans in the house; although given the dimensional adjustment the building was subject to, he would not have been surprised to find several families living in hidden annexes somewhere. But the voice had been so like Chaithe's, or like Lon imagined it would have been when Chaithe was a young man, that it was hard to believe it could have been anyone else. Could it? He turned over and laid his head in the crook of his arm with a sigh. "This can't be good". ********************************************** Two days on the road, and Brenhya was frustrated already. Makaar had thrown a shoe, and she had been forced to get off and walk, leading the mare who walked obediently behind. Walking with Makaar was normally something she enjoyed, almost as much as riding the splendid animal. But this was delaying her, and when she had a goal, a destination, she hated to be held up. From where the shoe was thrown, the nearest village was some four leagues distant. A distance that would not bother the powerful woman, nor her equine equivalent, but one that took time to cover, nonetheless. So it was darkening evening before the warrior reached it. The settlement was one of a people who called themselves the Quinqualado, meaning five ways, in their mother tongue. Originally from a land far to the south, the original settlers had been nomadic wanderers, forced out of their native land by persecution. The buildings were constructed along the same lines as those in their homeland; built of mud bricks and domed in shape. They huddled together in a circle around a central grassed area, the centre of which was stamped flat by decades of dancing feet. Brenhya had heard of the Quinqualado, of course, After all, their homes were only a couple of days ride from the Hall. But she had never visited them before, and was interested to see the way they had adapted to the very different and much colder land in which they had found themselves. As a people, they were short in stature, tending towards the corpulent, on the whole. Their skins were dark and swarthy, their features sharp and aquiline, their hair straight and so black as to be almost blue. None stood higher than Brenhya's shoulder, and she felt like a giant striding among them. To their credit, though, they were by no means intimidated by her, and watched her progress, as she led her big horse, with friendly interest. The sight of the magnificent warrior woman and her tall horse usually drew open-mouthed stares, and over the years Brenhya had become used to it and no longer noticed it. But here, she drew a brief glance, a smile, and total acceptance. She found it refreshing. She stopped a man near the central area. "Excuse me", she said. "Is there a smithy or farrier, hereabouts?" The man gave her directions, and she found her way to a large domed building, of similar construction to the dwellings, nestling on the riverbank where willows overhung the calm waters, reflecting an upside down world in the depths. It stood in the shade of the canopy of a huge and ancient oak tree. Outside, an anvil stood, a few tools on its steel surface, and the glow of the forge itself could be seen from inside. The sight took her back to her childhood; her father had been a smithy and farrier, and she had spent much of her early years playing in and around his forge. "Hello, in the forge!", Brenhya called. A loud hissing issued from within, as an ingot of white hot metal was plunged into a cooling bucket of water. After a second or two, a figure appeared, wiping its hands on a piece of sacking. Brenhya smiled a greeting as she realised that the smithy was a woman. She was tall, only five or so inches short of Brenhya's own height. Her skin was as dark as the Quinqualado, but it was obvious that she was of a different people. Where their features were sharp and hawkish, hers were softer. Her nose was quite broad and her lips were quite thick, while her hair was an explosion of tight curls. Her skin was smooth and clear, and her bright, dark eyes displayed an quick intelligence. Although the Sisterhood was a broad and diverse ethnic and racial mix, Brenhya had never seen a face quite like this woman's. It was an exotic look, despite being smeared with sweat and soot from the forge, and the warrior was very taken with it. She thought it was very beautiful. The smithy smiled as she approached the traveller, showing small and even white teeth. Her age was indeterminate, but Brenhya guessed at about forty. She was big, very big, but by no means fat. Her physique was as powerful- looking as Brenhya expected a smithy's to be, and then some. The contrast between her body and Brenhya's, however, was striking. Where Brenhya was tall and athletic, the smithy was blocky and broad. Where Brenhya was muscular and defined, the smithy was smooth and massive. Where Brenhya was agile and flexible, the smithy was a solid block of muscle. There was something very sexy about the woman, though. She moved lightly and with grace, despite her mass, and her small but firm breasts swelled enticingly under the thin singlet she wore. The smithy wiped her hands on her leather apron. "Good day", she smiled. "I'm Leanore. What can I do for you?" "Hello. My Name's Brenhya. My horse has thrown a shoe". "Bring her in, then. Although, I have to tell you that I won't just put one new shoe on. I'll change the whole set. Otherwise, the horse will walk unevenly, and may pull up lame". "I was going to ask you to do just that", Brenhya smiled. "Makaar is very special to me, so she's got to have everything right". A look of understanding crossed between the two women. Both were experts in their field, and both understood horses in depth. Farriery was in Brenhya's blood. She watched with a critical eye as Leanore tended to each foot in turn, expertly trimming the hoof and individually making and fitting each shoe. The warrior was also an expert trainer and gymnast, and could see that the heavier woman was in superb condition, despite the thin layer of fat that covered her. With a critical eye, she watched as the woman worked, observing the play of muscle in her thick arms. She handled the horse easily and well, picking up Makaar's feet with skill and confidence. The horse stood patiently, in her own way recognising she was in the hands of an expert. The strength of the woman's fingers was displayed as she removed the old shoes. She used pliers only to loosen the clenches, but pulled the metal free with the power of her hands alone. And as she pounded the hot metal, beating it into a perfect shape for each foot, the heavy hammer looking like a child's toy in her meaty hand, Brenhya noted the rise and fall of her huge biceps and the ripple of her heavy forearms. She began to think that this woman might even challenge her in strength, and the thought was intriguing to her. She surreptitiously felt her own biceps, a warmth in her groin at the thought. Brenhya removed her pauldron and swordbelt, and laid her heavy quiver to on side. She found a wooden bucket and upended it, squatting comfortably as she watched Leanore work. "You're obviously not one of the Quinqualado", she said conversationally. "How do you come to be here?" Leanore glanced up at the warrior. "I might ask you the same", she smiled. "I'm just passing through", Brenhya replied. "Heh! I was, too. Fifteen years ago". The smithy wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of a brawny forearm as she moved on to the next foot. "The Quinqualado are such a happy, friendly people, but they haven't got a clue about metalwork. I only stopped long enough to help them with some repairs, and before I knew it, they had built me this forge, and a house, and I was a permanent resident". She fitted a hot shoe to the foot. Plumes of smoke and a smell of burning horn rose in clouds around her. "Don't regret it for a minute, though". "Where did you come from, originally?" "Long way away. A country far to the south, even further south than the Quinqualado, although on the same continent. Took me three years to get here. I seem to have put down roots". The smithy put down the last foot. The job had been completed with skill and efficiency, and Brenhya admired the craftsmanship. She said so. "That's as good a job of shoeing as I've seen since my father", she said. "Thanks very much. What do I owe you?" "Four groats. Your father was a farrier?" "Yes. One of the best. He was starting to teach me the trade, just before he ...passed away. So I can appreciate a job well done. You have an affinity for the metal and, more importantly, for the horse. I've never seen Makaar so relaxed while she was being shod". "Well said", Leanore said, holding out her hand for the money. Brenhya paid her, and extended her own hand for the other to shake. The hand that took hers was just as large as her own. It was a little more meaty, but the warrior could feel a good strength in the firm grasp. She increased the pressure a little, and was please to feel it returned in equal measure. The two women looked at each other, Brenhya caught a twinkle in Leanore's eye. The farrier squeezed harder. Recognising a challenge when she saw one, Brenhya's powerful fingers closer even more tightly. Leanore sucked air through her teeth. "Strong!", she acknowledged, and tightened her own hand in response. Brenhya's eyes widened. At this point, she would have expected her opponent to be suffering pain and sinking to her knees, but the woman was simply smiling back and giving back as good as she got. "All right", the warrior whispered. She poured on the power now, the terrific muscles in her forearms expanding and knotting as her grip constricted even more. Now the farrier was showing signs of feeling discomfort. But by this point, any other persons' hand would have been crushed to an unrecognisable pulp, the bones splintering and shattering under Brenhya's implacable grip. Leanore, on the other hand, merely gritted her teeth with a slight grunt, and matched the warrior's grip, pound for pound. Brenhya, too, was feeling the pressure of the other's grip. This is getting nowhere, she thought. The faces of both women were screwed up with concentration as each threw her full grip strength into the contest. Beads of sweat were beginning to form on the brows of then both. Brenhya made a pointed glance at the anvil. Leanore followed her gaze, and turned to Brenhya, raising an eyebrow. The warrior smiled and nodded. They crossed to the anvil and knelt at either side. Their eyes met and they smiled quirky smiles at each other as they placed their elbows. "Wait", Leanore said. She ran inside the forge and returned with the piece of sacking, which she placed over the iron surface of the anvil. "We don't want to skin our elbows for the sake of a bit of fun". They set their elbows and took their grip. "On your three count", Brenhya said. Leanore nodded. "One ...two ...three!" Two sets of muscles swelled and hardened as the women took up the strain. Brenhya's bicep expanded and became iron hard, rising to a high peak. Leanore's was smoother, reflecting her less defined musculature, and less peaked than the warrior's. But it was slightly larger and equally as hard. Brenhya's forearm was a lattice of cables and straps of rubbery hard muscle and sinew; Leanore's was a column of pure power. The tendons stood out in both women's hands as their grips intensified, and they both threw their full, incredible strength into the competition. The evening was quite dark, now. Any one watching, seeing the two figures limned by the glow of the forge and covered with a fine sheen of sweat, might have thought they were a sculpture cast in bronze as they knelt motionless, faces grimacing in a rictus of effort. Tiny grunts escaped them from time to time, but they were locked in position, neither gaining or losing an inch. Their eyes locked together, their gazes boring into the other intensely. Both forearms were of almost equal length, so there was no noticeable leverage advantage either way. This was a contest of sheer strength between the two sets of great, rolling female muscles. The power each was generating was almost unbelievable. The poundage per square inch that was being developed between their palms was enormous. Their muscles were reaching a level of contraction, and thus hardness, that neither had reached previously. Brenhya felt as though her bicep was about to burst right through her skin. Leanore's muscles were burning as never before. Each woman was frankly astounded by the strength of the other. The corner of Brenhya's mouth turned up as she reached forward with her free hand. Her fingers closed about Leanore's upper arm, and probed the massive bicep. There was a thin covering on fat that indented slightly under her thumb, but the muscle beneath was iron hard and pumping with raw power. With a slight smile, Leanore returned the gesture, her hand closing around the high peak of the warrior's muscle. She dug her fingers in but, as hard as steel, the big, round mound gave not at all under her questing digits. She blew through her pursed lips in a whistle of admiration. Each was performing at her maximum. Brenhya had never in her life met a human individual, of either sex, that had been able to challenge her strength to the level that Leanore was taking her. She suspected that the smithy felt the same. The sweat was running freely down the women's faces now, and they ground their teeth as they strove against each other. Nearly ten minutes had passed since they locked arms atop the anvil. Their arms were shaking with effort, their muscles trembling in protest, and both were in considerable pain as their overstressed muscles screamed for relief. Brenhya was growling through the strain, and Leanore was emitting throaty grunts as she struggled to overcome her opponent. They were panting heavily, now, as their lungs battled to feed oxygen to their starving muscles. Every muscle in Brenhya's arm, from her rounded deltoid caps to her thick, sinewy wrist and powerful fingers, was at the limit of its power, and she began to think she would be held to a stalemate for the first time in her life. She would never be entirely convinced that it was pure strength that helped her to prevail. But years of training and conditioning had given her a stamina that was nearly abnormal. She could endure and outlast far beyond the usual human capability, and it was this, she was sure, that enabled her to win this titanic armwrestling bout. Gradually [and finally!], Leanore's huge arm began to be forced down, inch by fraction of inch. But Leanore was not going to give in easily. She battled all the way, resisting with all her might, and it took close to another five minutes before the back of her big hand touched the cold metal of the anvil. Letting out their breath with a whoosh, both women collapsed to hands and knees, sucking in air hungrily. They panted in unison, splendid chests heaving in their exhaustion. "Whoo!", Brenhya gasped. "I thought ...we were going to be there ...forever!" "Me, too", Leanore agreed, just as breathlessly. "It was ...a relief ...when you won. Heh! ...Not that I ...was going to ...let you win!" "I ...noticed. I've had a few ...armwrestling bouts ...in my time. But you gave me the most ...trouble. You have to be the strongest person I ever met". "Feeling's mutual. I never met anyone as strong as you". The smithy climbed to her feet. "In fact, since I grew up, you are the only person I ever met that was stronger than me". Brenhya drew herself up, massaging her sore bicep. "I'm not so sure that I am", she admitted. "I think I just outlasted you". "Same thing", Leanore said. She had to look up to meet the warrior's eyes, but not far. "You won fair and square, all the same". She stepped toward the warrior with arms outstretched, intending a congratulatory hug. Brenhya smiled as she stepped into the embrace, and wrapped her arms about the farrier's deep chest. She felt Leanore's thick arms tighten about her, and returned the hug with equal warmth. But she heard Leanore give a throaty chuckle, as the arms tightened even more. She returned the pressure, only to find that the smithy's arms contracted about her ribs still further. "Oh, so you're not done yet?", Brenhya laughed, as she increased the squeeze she was applying. "This is getting interesting". "One of us must be the stronger", Leanore observed. She adjusted her grip, taking a tight hold on her own wrist. She pulled her fist deep into the small of Brenhya's back, driving the breath out of her. "Good one", Brenhya nodded. "She what you can do against this". A look of amazement passed across Leanore's face, as the warrior tensed the muscles of her back and belly. Her stomach became a sheet of solid steel, and her back a column of marble. The farrier could make no impression on the granite hard figure Brenhya had become. Leanore attempted to do the same and, to her credit, her muscles were as mighty and hard and solid as any Brenhya had ever felt. But hers did not have the years of honing Brenhya's had., nor the degree of finely tuned muscle control, and as the warrior's stupendous arms slowly tightened more and more, she felt the air being gradually squeezed from her. Not to be outdone, though, Leanore poured every ounce of strength she had into the bear hug. Neither of them were able to speak, by now, but stared intensely into each other's eyes. Electricity crackled between them; they could not deny that the close contact, with their two powerful bodies plastered against each other, hugging each other fiercely, was a powerful stimulus. Sweat trickled between Brenhya's breasts, and another kind of wetness dampened her inner thighs. The same sensations were building inside Leanore as she grunted in response to Brenhya's intensified squeeze. They were way beyond the point where, in two other people, spines would have cracked and ribs shattered. But the splendid muscularity, the intense strength, of the two women protected them from such injuries. Their faces were very close together, now, and they could feel each other's shallow breaths on their skin. Though neither relaxed, the bearhug stopped as they gazed into each other's eyes, holding each other tight in a fierce but affectionate way, now. Brenhya's grip eased slightly. Leanore followed suit. "You know where this is going to lead?", Brenhya asked, a lascivious grin on her face. She let her lips brush gently against the other woman's. "I hope so", Leanore smiled. She let the warrior go entirely. "There's a pile of sacks at the back of the forge". She took Brenhya's hand and led her further inside the forge, to a deep and comfortable looking heap of hessian. She moved slowly and sensuously, looking back at Brenhya with an enticing smile. Brenhya's eyes drank in the sight of this lovely woman. She was a big, heavy chunk of muscle, but there was a female sensuality about her that gave the warrior butterflies. They stood together at the edge of the sacking bed, two tall, tremendously strong and muscular women lit by the red glow of the forge fire. Brenhya slipped her soft leather halter over her head, treating Leanore to the sight of her magnificent, full breasts riding high on the slabs of muscle that formed her chest wall. She dropped her short skirt and brief undergarment, revealing herself in all her naked glory. Leanore's mouth fell open as she looked upon the sight. Her eyes fed hungrily on the vision of the tall warrior, very nearly six and a half feet in height. The long, long muscled legs with their small, elegant joints. The triangle of tight chestnut curls, and the shapely hips that narrowed into a slender waist. The belly, with its squares and ridges of muscle that were apparent even when relaxed, and the spread of the wide shoulders with rounded deltoids and sloping trapezius muscles, and the long, powerful, and superbly muscular arms and large, strong hands. And to top the column of perfection, Brenhya's beautiful face with its serene expression, crowned by her glorious mane of luxuriant, dark red hair. Noting Leanore's expression, Brenhya smiled and raised her arms to display a pair of teak-hard, peaked biceps, each as big as a big man's fist. She rotated slowly in place, to display her incredible back, where the great muscles roiled and coiled under the silky, golden skin. Bringing her arms down to her sides, she pushed them out straight, so that the inverted vee on the back of her upper arms was displayed to best advantage. Leanore had never seen anyone demonstrating musculature in this way before, and the impact upon her was amazing. Her belly tightened at the sight, and she felt a slight wobble in the back of her knees. Her juices began to flow again, wetting the insides of her thighs as she struggled to remove her singlet. Out of frustration, she took the garment in her hands and rent it apart, ripping in from her chest. The body she displayed was very different from Brenhya's, but just as impressive in its own way. Lit with the red glow of the forge reflected on her dark skin, she looked astounding. Heavily muscled and thick, the slope of her shoulders was so steep that it seemed to begin at her jawline. Her back seemed to be a yard wide, and the play muscle under the ebony skin fascinated the warrior. Her arms were thick and heavy with muscle, but when she stripped off her moleskin pants, Brenhya saw that her legs were huge, like a pair of sturdy trees. Each of her huge thighs was close to being as thick as Brenhya's waist. They faced each other like a couple of jungle animals. Brenhya's lip curled from her strong white teeth as she emitted a low, rumbling growl. Leanore gazed hungrily on the majestic warrior, like a tiger sighting its prey. Brenhya stooped as she closed in on the other, hoisting her from her feet in her powerful arms. It was like lifting a solid block of muscle. She swung her round and dropped her into the sacks, standing over her like a towering angel. Leanore got to her hands and knees, her expression inviting, almost daring, Brenhya to join her. She did so, and the two knelt facing each other. Leanore held up her hands, inviting the slightly taller woman to interlock fingers with her. Brenhya accepted the invitation, lacing her fingers through the smithy's. They clenched tightly, and the women strove to force the other back. Using this as an excuse, Brenhya raised her arms, and consequently Leanore's, above her head. This brought their faces close, and Brenhya's mouth clamped hard on Leanore's. They kissed savagely and deeply, tongues continuing their ongoing test of strength as they wrestled and strove against beach other. In the glow of the firelight, Leanore's dark skin was a striking contrast to Brenhya's golden colour, and the two of them were a picture of feminine beauty and power. Leanore sucked hard on Brenhya's tongue. She disengaged the fingers of one hand and brought it down to Brenhya's splendid breast, squeezing hard and almost cruelly, sending waves of pleasure throughout the warrior woman's fantastic body. Brenhya brought her free hand down to the other woman's hard buttocks, gripping the hard muscle tightly and letting one finger impose itself in the cleft. It tickled Leanore's anus, making the heavy woman squirm with delight. They released their other hands, now, and placed them on each other's broad back, crushing themselves together as they fell over among the sacks. The two immensely powerful bodies strove against each other, rock hard muscles rubbing and sliding together, lubricated by a film of sweat. Their hands ran up and down their bodies eagerly, each aware that this was another woman of similar strength. It might have been that Brenhya had the edge, but only just, and neither had to hold back out of fear of hurting the other. Fingers poked and delved into crevasses and private places, exploring the warm and secret parts. Hands squeezed and stroked, unafraid to exert pressure at full power. They rolled over. Brenhya was on top, now, and pinned Leanore's hands. She bent her head, and kissed Leanore's face. Her tongue licked fiercely at the strong column of Leanore's throat, tasting the salty sweat, and lapped slowly across the massive chest. Leanore's breasts were small, but beautifully formed. They were firm and needed no support. Brenhya's mouth found the hard nipples, sucking and playing with the prominent bud. Her tongue ran around the aureole and flicked at the cherry sized tip. Moaning with pleasure, Leanore ground her hips against Brenhya's belly, lifting the warrior clear of the sacks. Brenhya enfolded one of Leanore's great thighs between hers, and squeezed hard. She was delighted to feel the limb flex and harden in her embrace, and rubbed her moist pudenda up and down the solid, arching muscle. Leanore pushed up against Brenhya's hands, managing to raise them a few inches before the warrior released them. She took hold of Brenhya's hips and raised her from her, sliding down in the sacks until her head was between Brenhya's thighs. Her hands found the twin, hard globes of Brenhya's buttocks, kneading the firm flesh in her fingers and pulling herself up to reach the sweet lips of her vulva. Brenhya raised up on her knees, and lowered herself on to Leanore's face. Leanore's hands clamped over Brenhya's thighs, nuzzling her face deeper into the woman's groin. She licked and nuzzled into the vaginal cleft, lapping and nibbling at the hard bud of her clitoris and probing deep inside the hot, wet tunnel. Brenhya threw her head back and arched her back, reaching behind to support herself on Leanore's raised knees. A word escaped her lips as the wonderful feeling flooded through her. "Yesss!" Leanore ran her strong tongue around Brenhya's labia, inside the soft lips of her vulva, before concentrating on the clitoris once more. Brenhya felt her orgasm rising inside her, and clamped down tight to prevent it. It was too soon. She lifted herself clear of Leanore's face, not without difficulty as the smithy's hands were still tight about her thighs. She bent down to kiss the woman's mouth, which was still wet and she could taste her own juices which, contrarily, stimulated her even more. She turned around to straddle Leanore's chest, and lowered her head between the farrier's massive thighs. She sniffed deeply, inhaling the strong woman smell, and flicked her tongue across the dark vaginal lips. Leanore spasmed at the intimate contact. She reached her arms around Brenhya's muscular waist, and hauled herself up to reach the warrior's vagina, reinserting her tongue into the moist warmth. Brenhya let herself slowly collapse atop the smithy, confident that her weight would be no burden to the splendidly powerful body beneath her. She burrowed her face deep into the woman's crotch, lapping fiercely and savouring the salty sweetness as her arms clamped tightly around the thick, hard thighs. Their lovemaking became as much a test of strength as an exercise in ecstasy, as their arms tightened about each other as two pairs of hips ground against two faces. Neither needed nor wanted to hold back, and each put her own full energy into the act. Their sex was wild, strenuous, and almost violent in its intensity. Their tongues probed harder, deeper, and faster, moving in perfect synchronicity, now. The urgency had come upon them both at the same time, and they were striving towards a mutual climax. Their hips thrust automatically as they became carried away on the mounting wave, and they gave muffled groans, faces still buried in the opposite groin. Finally, and at last, Brenhya's body began to spasm as the waves of orgasm engulfed her. She held on tight as Leanore's body was also wracked with ecstasy, bucking and writhing in Brenhya's grasp. Their mouths were filled with the flowing love juices of the other woman. Brenhya's throaty growl swelled into a full throated roar, and Leanore screamed in delight as the feeling built and built, growing to a height of climax that was truly stupendous, until the pair went rigid in each other's arms as the dual orgasm washed through them both, spasming so much that they rolled off the pile of sacks to end up on the flagged floor of the smithy's workshop. Leanore ended up on top. It seemed to go on and on endlessly, magnificent bodies straining against each other with a power that might have killed any other two women. But eventually, the feeling subsided into the tiny, popping little climaxes that made them twitch and jerk, moaning in final release. When it was all over, they lay inert, still head to foot, panting heavily and drenched in sweat. Brenhya felt drained by the experience, but the weight of the heavier woman on top of her was warm and comfortable, and she was a little disappointed when Leanore rolled off her to lie spread-eagled on the warm flags. "Wow!", they both breathed in unison. The looked at each other and gave short laughs. "That was incredible!", Leanore gasped. Brenhya could only nod in agreement. By unspoken consent, the two women got to their knees and crawled onto the sacking pile, where they collapsed in each other's arms and fell instantly asleep. *************************************************** It was a whicker from Makaar that woke Brenhya the next morning. The sun was high in the morning sky, and her almost infallible internal clock told her it was at least two hours past sunrise; long past the hour when she should have been up and on the road. She rolled the sleeping Leanore off her arm, and dragged herself out of the sacks, looking for a pump where she could wash up. She was a little surprised to find that she was stiff and sore, and bruised in one or two places. But then, considering the intensity of the love making she and Leanore had indulged in the previous night, perhaps her surprise was misplaced. She was bent over the pump, working the lever with one hand and splashing the ice cold water over her head and neck with the other when she sensed, rather than heard, Leanore step up behind her. Her belly muscles tensed in anticipation as the farrier's powerful arms encircled her waist and hugged strongly. "Good morning", the farrier said, laying her head against Brenhya's wide back. "Hungry?" "Starved", Brenhya admitted. She looked around for something to dry herself on. Leanore handed her a square of clean sacking. They breakfasted on fresh bread and strong cheese, smiling at each other over a trestle table that Leanore had erected outside in the morning sun. "You'll be on your way, soon, I expect?" Leanore already knew the answer to her question, but asked anyway, in the hope the tall warrior might be tempted to stay a while. "Mm", Brenhya said round a mouthful of delicious cheese. She would have liked to stay, but her journey beckoned her. "I have to leave almost straight away". She reached across the table and took Leanore's meaty hand in hers. "But I will come back one day. Trust me". An hour later, Brenhya swung her leg across Makaar's back and settled herself. The women had hugged and enjoyed a prolonged kiss earlier, but the warrior leaned down to give Leanore a last kiss before leaving. Without another word, she touched her heels to the mare's glossy flanks and rode away without a backward glance. Leanore watched her go wistfully. Something told her that she would meet this magnificent warrior woman again. But not for a long time.