NIGHTSEED [5]
By Heck

Comments to heck@heckster.co.uk

CHAPTER FIVE

  On the edge of a tiny hamlet nestling deep in the heart of the woods, a few 
minutes walk from the road, the oil lamps of a small cottage shone warmly in 
the late evening dusk. Climbing roses grew around the panelled door, and the 
minute front garden was awash with scented flowers all closed up for the 
night.
  Inside, the single room used for cooking, eating and sleeping, was simply 
but elegantly furnished with skillfully made pieces and decorated with fresh, 
vibrant colours. Even more flowers, carefully cut and arranged in neat 
displays, stood in vases on nearly every surface.
  On the wooden framed bed against one wall, Imtalt and his new wife, Joyly, 
lay locked in a lover's embrace. Three months, they had been married, and 
were still in the first flush of passion that meant they could not be alone 
together in private for more than a few minutes before one or the other of 
them would start the ritual mating dance of the newly wed.
  Imtalt was a carpenter, with a skill beyond his years, and it was his own 
hand that had built the cottage and provided it with furniture of a quality that 
would, normally, be beyond the reach of a couple so young. He made a 
passable living, adequate for their needs, by making furniture and building 
timber framed housing, by commission. Tall and athletic, with dark hair and 
darker eyes, he was the object of adulation by his bride.
  Joyly had been brought up on a remote farm, and had been resigned to a life 
of spinsterhood, without the opportunity to meet male company, until Imtalt 
had been commissioned by her father to build a new barn. She was short, and 
somewhat stocky, with work-hardened hands and strong muscles from years 
of milking cows and pitching hay at the bidding of her parents and elder 
brother, but was blessed with a sunny disposition and enormous capacity to 
love and be loved. Blonde, blue-eyed, and trim waisted, she was extremely 
attractive to look at, and Imtalt had been smitten when he first laid eyes on 
her. Meeting and marrying Joyly, he thought, was the best thing that could 
ever have happened to him.
  With a lingering kiss, Imtalt eased himself up to sit on the edge of the bed. 
"I suppose", he sighed, "I'd better finish carving that finial. I hope to finish 
Master Cleavis's staircase, tomorrow, and I'll need it to go on top of the 
newel post". The object he referred to lay on the scrubbed table in the centre 
of the room, exquisitely carved into the shape of an open pine cone, with just 
a few finishing touches needed to perfect it.
  Joyly laid her hand on his thigh as he began to rise. "Hold on a minute", she 
said with a mischievous grin. "I've got something to tell you".
  "OK",  he laughed, intrigued by the impish grin on her cherubic face. "What 
is it?"
  "We-e-ell", she began. "I went to see mother Shandri, today". This was a 
local fey woman who lived out on the main road. "She had some news for us. 
I'm pregnant! We're going to have a baby!"
  Imtalt just looked at her, mouth agape, a look of stunned incredulity on his 
handsome face. A look that turned to one of sheer delight, as the news sank 
in. He sprang to his feet, dragging his wife up off the bed with him, and 
dancing her round in a circle. "A baby!", he crowed. "We're going to have a 
baby! Oh, Joyly, that's fantastic news!" He swept her up in his arms and 
kissed her hard and long. "A baby!"
  Joyly hugged his neck, as delighted by his reaction as she had been when 
she received the news herself, and returned his kisses with enthusiasm. Their 
kisses became more fervent as the carpenter laid his wife down on the bed, 
and she began to giggle as she fumbled at the waistband of his pants. He 
responded by unbuttoning her blouse and pushing it aside, to nuzzle at her 
full, round breasts, but then he stopped.
  "This ...er ...this will be OK, won't it".
  "Of course, silly. I'm only a couple of months along. And before you ask", 
she continued, placing her finger against his lips to silence him. "Yes. I did 
ask Mother Shandri if it would be all right".
  Imtalt grinned back at her. "All right, then", he said, returning to the 
business within her blouse.
  Within minutes, they were both divested of their clothing. Try as he might, 
Imtalt could see no difference in the contours of her tight midriff, but her 
insistent kisses and fondling soon distracted him from his inspection.
  Her hand moved down to his groin, where his member was already stiff and 
pulsating. She caressed the length of the thick shaft and fondled his tight 
scrotum, as he took one of her erect, thumb-sized nipples in his mouth. One 
hand stroked the other breast, while his free hand found the moist darkness 
below, surrounded by tiny blonde curls.
  Both were fully aroused, when Joyly pushed her husband over onto his back. 
"For making a baby", she explained, "this one's just for you".
  She straddled him, and the mischievous look on her face told him what was 
coming next. Something that she had done for him a few times before. 
Something that, although it left him feeling guilty because the pleasure, or 
most of it, was all his, he could not help admitting to himself was his personal 
favourite. Something that not many girls were able to accomplish but, 
because of her farm-strengthened muscles, particularly in her thighs, Joyly 
could manage with comparative ease.
  Raising herself on her knees, Joyly settled herself so that his proud phallus 
slid easily into the depths of her wet vagina. She brought her feet forward so 
that she was sitting astride him, in much the way a jockey sits a horse. Hands 
on knees, she lifted herself so that she rode up and down upon his engorged 
penis in such a way that the only parts of their two bodies that were in contact 
were her vagina and his penis.
  Eyes tightly closed, Imtalt lay back, his fists closed around the carved bed 
head, and savoured the delicious sensation. No other part of his wife touched 
him; she continued to ride the pole of his manhood, taking almost his full 
length inside her, but managing to ensure that she never alighted on his 
pelvis. He moaned with the exquisite pleasure of her ministrations, resisting 
the building urge to thrust against her, striving to prolong the ecstasy as long 
as he could.
  Glistening with sweat, Joyly's thighs pumped up and down, flexing hard as 
she rode him. It was not without pleasure for her, and she moaned and 
chewed her lower lip. It was hard work for her, and her breath came in short 
heaves as she sought to delight her delighted husband.
  Finally, Imtalt could restrain himself no longer. His hands went to his wife's 
strong thighs, and pulled her down against him, thrusting his pelvis up to bury 
his full length deep within her. His orgasm wracked his body as his semen 
spurted hotly inside her in wave after wave, Joyly pushing down in a 
reciprocal motion, enjoying as always the sensation of his coming despite the 
fact that, on this occasion, her own climax was denied.
  Imtalt relaxed on the bed. Slowly and with a few little clutches of her 
vagina, Joyly rose to allow his penis to withdraw, causing tiny popping 
climaxes to make his body twitch deliciously. Perspiring freely and breathing 
heavily, she let herself flop down beside him. In silence for several minutes, 
just basking in the afterglow, they lay clasped in each others arms.
  Suddenly, a look of alarm on her face, Joyly sat bolt upright.
  "What was that?"

  The road wound through open, rolling countryside, a patchwork quilt of 
neatly tended fields decorating the delicately sloping hillsides. Small oceans 
of young wheat and barley waved with an almost tidal motion in the soft 
evening breeze, while meadows carpeted with yellow buttercups gave bed 
and breakfast to gentle-eyed cattle. A kestrel hovered over the lea, station 
keeping with minute adjustments to its wings, sharp eyes scanning the ground 
for prey, some small creature whose destiny would be to end its life with a 
brief squeak.
  Another pair of eyes peered through the gathering dusk, fascinated by the 
skill of the raptor. Having spent much of his life in study, with the goal of 
becoming a hedge-wizard under the tutelage of Ralagant, his late master, Lon 
had never taken much interest in the countryside. Such herbs and other plants 
as were necessary for his art had always been available from a carefully 
tended garden, and his training in woodcraft had been conspicuous by its 
absence. So, although he had lived all his life surrounded by nature, his 
hitherto closeted existence had denied him the experiences he was now 
enjoying.
  He walked at Brenhya's side, the tall, erect warrior striding out with an easy 
gait that nonetheless covered the ground at some pace. They were leading 
their horses, looking for a place to make camp for the night. At the rear, 
Brannagh dozed on his sturdy pony, the animal's herd instinct compelling it 
to follow the two larger equines. The dwarf jerked awake from time to time, 
as his perch became precarious, but settled back into his doze after only a few 
seconds.
  All of this scenery was entirely new to Lon, but it was becoming 
increasingly familiar to Brenhya. She recalled walking this road, in the 
opposite direction, as a young girl just a week or so after the terrible death of 
her parents.
  "Tomorrow, or the day after", she said, "we'll pass Rose Haven. I must stop 
and visit with Shandri for a while".
  "What's a 'rose haven'?" Lon asked. "And who is Shandri".
  "Rose Haven is where Shandri lives", Brenhya explained with a nostalgic 
smile. "She found me on the road, shortly after I ...left home. I had collapsed 
with exhaustion near her hut, and if she hadn't found me I would have died. 
This looks like a good place". 
  She indicated a spot near the road, where a tidy hedgerow would form a 
natural windbreak and the ground where their bedrolls would lie was not too 
stony. They led the horses to the place, and began to break out their gear. 
Thraxx just stopped on the roadside and lowered his head to graze. The 
sudden change of attitude caused the nodding Brannagh to lose his balance 
and roll forward over the pony's head. He landed on his rump in the grass, a 
surprised expression on his lumpen face.
  Brenhya and Lon could not help laughing at the outraged dwarf. He climbed 
to his feet, cursing all ponies, warriors and hedge-whatsits in his indignity, 
and led the pony to join the others. And, of course, the more he cursed and let 
his outrage show, the more the other two laughed.
  Finally, they got their humour under control, and got on with the task of 
pitching a camp. They gathered wood and fetched water, and while Brenhya 
built a fire and Brannagh prepared some vegetables for their evening meal, 
Lon paced nervously up and down. Brenhya eyed him curiously.
  "What's wrong with you?"
  Lon stopped his pacing, took a deep breath, and  straightened up. "I'd, er, I'd 
like to try the fire spell again. Um. If you don't mind".
  Brenhya frowned as she looked at him. "I don't know", she said. "I 
remember the last time".
  "I know, but I've been thinking hard. It's all in the inflection. I think I've 
worked it out. I can do it, Brenhya. I know I can".
  The look on his lean face was so like a spaniel's that Brenhya could not help 
but smile. "All right", she told him. "But give us a chance to get out of the 
way, first. Brannagh?" The dwarf looked up from his peeling. "Can you help 
me clear things away? Lon's going to try his fire spell".
  Brannagh got to his feet. "Gawds", he muttered. "I helps. But 'e's to waits 
until I's far away".
  "Why are you so worried", Lon wanted to know. "You've never seen me do 
it".
  "No". Brannagh began to pick up their gear and move it away from the pile 
of kindling that was to be the fire. "But I figgers this. Anythin' that 'as she 
nervous is summat I wants to be wells away froms!"
  Brenhya led their three mounts at least 20 yards from the camp site, and 
stood holding their reins. Brannagh joined her after a few moments. "All 
right, Lon", she called. "Any time you're ready. Remember, 'it's all in the 
inflection', you said".
  The apprentice wizard nodded and took another deep breath, centring  
himself. Eyes closed in concentration, he began to gesture, his hands and 
fingers weaving complicated patterns in the air.
  "Basman. Durican. Maltifal!"
  On the last syllable, he pointed dramatically at the kindling. His hand began 
to glow, and a brilliant red fireball the size of a grapefruit enveloped it. It 
seemed to remain there for what felt like a long time, and Brenhya was on the 
point of rushing forward to help.
  A look of panic was beginning to form on Lon's face, when the fireball 
drifted away from his hand. It fell toward the ground where it nestled gently 
among the kindling. The heap of dry material smouldered before the fire 
caught hold and it began to burn brightly, just as the fireball itself dwindled 
and died.
  Lon stood transfixed, his success failing to dawn on him just yet. He looked 
round as Brenhya began to applaud, a huge grin starting to appear on his face.
  "Yyyes!", he yelled, throwing his arms in the air. He began to dance around 
the fire he had made, whooping and calling, "I did it! I did it!" His two 
friends came forward to join him, Brenhya grabbing his hand as he danced to 
examine it for burns. There were none. Even taciturn Brannagh smiled and 
applauded, and Brenhya treated him to a big hug to celebrate his success.

   Imtalt laid a hand on Joyly's thigh. "Don't worry. It's probably just a dog 
sniffing about. Come here".
  He pulled her back down on the bed beside him, kissing her full on the 
mouth. His hands went to her breasts, fondling, hoping to initiate another 
round of lovemaking. She responded at first, but soon pulled away.
  "There it is again".
  Imtalt sat up and sighed. "You're not going to relax until it's gone, are 
you?" He smiled and stroked her hair. "Don't worry. I'll chase it away". He 
rose from the bed and crossed to the door, turning to smile back at her on the 
way. His hand fell on the latch and he pulled it open a crack.
  The door burst wide open, knocking Imtalt back into the room. He 
staggered, fighting for balance, an expression of terror on his face as he stared 
at what stood in the doorway.
  From the bed, Joyly could not see what had so badly scared her husband, but 
gathered the bedclothes under her chin as she heard a low, sibilant hiss. 
"Imtalt? What is it"
  Ducking its head to pass under the lintel, a huge black shape moved into the 
room. A long, purplish-black tongue slid in and out of the wide mouth, tasting 
the air, the flat head swinging from side to side. Its gaze alighted on the 
woman on the bed, and it gave a low, rumbling growl.
  Joyly screamed as the Dragonkind moved toward her, shrinking back against 
the wall, trying to make herself small. Imtalt cast about for a weapon, the only 
thing he could find being the sharp chisel he had been using earlier. He 
grabbed it up and threw himself on the beast, thoughts of his wife and unborn 
child lending him courage and aggression, landing on its back and driving 
the chisel into its shoulder with all his not inconsiderable strength..
  It was like stabbing a log of wood. The chisel penetrated about quarter of an 
inch into the thick, scaly hide, black ichor oozing out around the tool. The 
monster threw back its head and roared. It plucked the annoying little human 
from its back, and dragged him around in front of it. Its beady yellow eyes 
regarded him curiously as he struggled ineffectually in its grasp.
  The Dragonkind took Imtalt's neck in one horny hand, his thigh in the other, 
and raised him from the floor. Imtalt screamed, almost drowning out those of 
his wife, kicking and writhing as the creature smelled his fear.
  Almost casually, the Dragonkind pulled Imtalt in opposite directions, 
ripping him apart and tossing the two halves of his still kicking body to 
opposite sides of the room. Blood and viscera sprayed all ways, hosing over 
the walls and furnishings, splattering over the now catatonic Joyly. Imtalt's 
mouth worked silently and his hands clutched feebly at the air as his eyes 
glazed over.
  In one stride, the beast crossed to the bed and grabbed Joyly up roughly. 
Totally numbed by terror, the young woman was unable to resist as she was 
clasped against the leathery chest. Muzzle turned upward in almost sexual 
ecstasy, the Dragonkind began to feed, absorbing the vitality that gave it life, 
gaining an extra fillip from the tiny life of the foetus inside his victim.
  While the life of Joyly was sacrificed to sustain the monster, an horrendous 
howl filled the night air.

  It was late afternoon, two days later, when Brenhya and her companions 
arrived at Rose Haven. There was no reply to their knock at the neat, 
clapboard hut, but Brenhya went to the well-groomed garden and retrieved 
the key from beneath a stone under a fuschia bush.
  Indoors, they found themselves in a clean and tidy room, the simple 
furnishings well maintained and tastefully arranged. Brenhya stood in the 
centre, slowly revolving, taking in the ambience with a nostalgic smile on her 
lovely face.
  "It hasn't changed a bit", she smiled. "Look. Here's the bed. Shandri gave 
this up for me, so that she could nurse me back to health. And sitting at this 
table, she gave me the benefit of her wisdom as well as some of the best 
meals I'd ever had".
  Lon and Brannagh exchanged glances as if to say, "soppy women". 
Brannagh meant it. Lon was pretending; soppy was the last thing he thought 
Brenhya was.
  Brannagh went to the small window, just able to look over the cill. "Ol' 
woman's comin' now. This she?"
  Brenhya had to stoop, slightly, to see through the pane. Her face split into an 
excited, even girlish, grin. "Yes", she said. "That's her".
  Outside, a stooped, white haired old woman walking with two sticks and 
looking much more frail that Brenhya remembered, had stopped in the lane, 
looking suspiciously at the horses tethered outside her hut.
  "Who's there?", she called. "Who's in my house?"
  The door swung open, and Brenhya stood in the opening, arms spread wide. 
"Hello, Shandri", she grinned.
  The old woman let her sticks fall, her hands going to her mouth. She was 
reminded of a dishevelled nine-year-old that collapsed, exhausted, on the lane 
outside her hut, all of ten or eleven years ago. Almost on the spot where she 
now stood, in fact.
  "Brenhya? Is that you?" Shandri stumbled forward to meet the tall woman 
trotting toward her. The warrior enfolded her old friend in her strong arms, 
giving her a huge hug of greeting.
  "Careful, careful", the old woman laughed. "I'm not as spry as I was. Let me 
look at you". She stepped back, looking up at the young woman. "My, my. 
You turned out lovely, didn't you? Look at you. I said you'd turn out lovely 
and strong, didn't I?"
  "Come indoors", Brenhya said, picking up the walking sticks and handing 
them to Shandri. "I've brought some friends to meet you".
  Inside, Shandri was pleased to meet Lon and Brannagh, but was more 
anxious to hear about Brenhya's progress since they had last met. She made 
tea, and they talked about how Brenhya had found the Sisters of Themyra, 
and how she has become a warrior. Shandri did not fully approve of that, but 
said with a sigh that it was probably inevitable. She admired the young 
woman's stature and astounding muscularity and obvious strength, and in her 
turn Brenhya expressed admiration that the woman who, to her eyes, had 
been very old all those years ago, was still getting about and continuing to 
practice her fey arts.
  On the subject of the quest that had taken her past Shandri's hut in the first 
place, Brenhya was somewhat reticent, saying only that it had been 
successful, and Shandri had to be satisfied with that.
  "But what brings you this way, this time?" Shandri asked, heaving herself 
out of her chair to light a lamp in the darkening evening.
  "We're searching for a friend of ours. He's been kidnapped, and we're 
trying to track him down. We think he was brought this way".
  Shandri laughed. "What's so funny?", Brenhya asked.
  "Heh, heh. Nothing, really. It's just that, whenever we meet, you seem to be 
rushing off to somewhere else". Her face fell, and she looked glum. "We've 
had out share of tragedy in these parts, too", she said. "A lovely young couple 
in the village, Joyly and Imtalt, only married a couple of months, were killed 
day before yesterday". She was visibly upset, and Brenhya laid a comforting 
hand over her wizened one. "Only a day after Joyly came to me and I told her 
she was with child. I just came back from laying them both out. A terrible 
shame".
  "What happened", Brenhya asked, sensing that her friend wanted to talk.
  "I can't say. I've never seen anything like it, poor souls. He had been torn 
apart like a piece of paper, and she was just a dried out husk. I don't know 
who, or what, could have done such a thing".
  Lon spoke from where he sat on the floor. "D'you think it has anything to do 
with us?"
  Brannagh grunted, standing up to take another biscuit from the table. "S' too 
much of a quinsy dinky, 'f yer asks I".
  "Quinsy dinky?" Lon said, with a pained look at Brenhya.
  "Coincidence", she explained.
  "Why does he talk like that?", the young man whispered, thinking the dwarf 
wouldn't hear. The dwarf in question contented himself with a glare.
  "It's a dwarf thing", Brenhya said. "And I agree with him. For something 
like this to happen, on the very trail we are following, is too much of a 
coincidence for me, too. Shandri, can you show me the bodies?"
  "Tomorrow, tomorrow", Shandri said with calming motions of her hands. 
"For tonight, I'll make something to eat, and we can just visit for a while".

	7