A Daemon-Horn Blade Ch. 13

Gwenda was a tall and strikingly beautiful young woman, even dressed up in the plain leathers of a guards-woman. Even this, Lady Ayleth had to grudgingly admit. She was also quite smart and had grown up in a northern barony that was always on the pointed edge of danger, even in more relatively peaceful days. Her sharp green eyes missed little and her generously wide red lips stayed tightly shut when they needed to be, all the better to hear and listen, and react, to what was happening around her. This made her rival doubly dangerous.

She would be an extremely difficult opponent to take totally unawares, but Ayleth, with her long experience with conspiracy and intrigue, thought she was well up to the task. She poured on the charm, kept her voice to a light laughing lilt, and was the first to drop her clothes on the grassy bank of the pond for their swim and at once leapt into the slightly cold water. To fool her prey, she needed the illusion that she was unarmed, but just a little while earlier she had prepared the way by throwing a short club into the pond. It didn't float well, being of a rather heavy wood, but out of the corner of her eye she could still see it, just barely rippling the top of the surface of the pond, much like a river snake. She would continue to beguile her prey, to allow the tall red-head to drift into relaxation and be put further off of her guard and then she would strike and the tables would be turned! She wouldn't of course kill the girl, but she'd give her more than a few good blows to her unprotected flesh until it was made quite certain who the top boss was! After all, she was a ducal Lady, born to command, not this unknown upstart from some minor and unimportant northeastern large-holder. Why the stupid ambitious girl didn't even possess a title! She would be nothing at court... and she should remain nothing here, except to exercise whatever limited powers she might grant the girl later, if she improved her manners to her betters! Ayleth smiled and began to slowly drift her way in the water closer to the wooden club.

Gwenda smiled as well, and mostly closed her eyes to better enjoy the feeling of being nearly entirely clean for the first time in weeks, but she was not at all put off of her guard. She had been well warned by Rowan and even Boyle about the Lady's tendency towards revenge, usually taken at a sudden rather treacherous moment. Now they were alone, and this was a promising time as any for the jealous noblewoman to attempt to exact her revenge. In fact, as far as she was concerned, it was a more than perfect time for their relationship to be made quite perfectly and crystal clear. If the Lady was so bold as to initiate any sort of assault, she would be more than prepared for it.

Feigning her doze, Gwenda had more than enough warning through her barely cracked eyelids to see Ayleth grasp her right hand upon something mostly hidden in the water and now she kept that object secreted behind her back as she slowly moved closer to her. Ayleth's smile turned wider as she anticipated and relished the thought of her vengeance, but this evil glare only served to further warn Gwenda and she tensed her muscles underwater to be ready for action.

The Lady's sudden and vicious swing with the club right at Gwenda's head might have been instantly debilitating, and perhaps even unfortunately lethal, if the woman had not been forewarned of the assault. But she was, and the club swung harmless over her head.

"Stupid Bitch!" Gwenda laughed. "I'm going to take you apart like an ill-built straw scarecrow and then shove that cute little stick so far up your ass that it will shut your tediously arrogant and dim-witted little mouth!" She proceeded to just exactly that.

The rest of the actual fight was over in less than a minute, and it wouldn't have lasted nearly that long except that Gwenda was rather enjoying herself. First, she gave the noble Lady a particular vicious slap that nearly completely spun Ayleth's head and body all the way around in the water. Then, after relieving her of her club, Gwenda punched her so hard into her midsection that it completely drove all of the air out of her lungs. After that, another few minutes spent being held forcibly completely and firmly underwater, took the rest of the fight right out of the haughty and rather over-confident young noblewoman.

Gasping weakly for breath, the noble Lady Ayleth was unceremoniously tossed up onto the grass shore of the pond, where despite her weak pitiful cries for mercy, the offending club was, as promised, shoved quite nearly all the way up her ass, fortunately with the thinner end going in first, until only a few inches of the wood remained exposed outside her butt cheeks.

Gwenda smiled and admired her work while her defeated foe whimpered on the ground for mercy, but the tall angry red-head wasn't having any of it.

"You have got to be in fact quite the stupidest little cunt that I have ever met in my life! Noblewomen are supposed to be a bit vapid to begin with, in fact I think it's encouraged, but you haven't got the sense of a rabid poodle! In fact, I don't think there is a single thing inside your scared silly head except shit! I think it's now time that you learned your place!" She said with an evil smile.

Gwenda then grabbed Ayleth's hair hard and used it to yank her up from the ground hard, and onto her knees in submission. Then she slapped her sobbing face twice more, hard, on each side of her face, just to make sure that she had the bawling noblewoman's complete and undivided attention.

"Lick my cunt and asshole, Bitch! It's really about all that you are good, for it seems. I know that you know how... Rowan told me you certainly forced his old lover Cedany to do it for you quite often enough. Now you can return the favor to me! I know you, Cunt! You've been certainly happy enough to look at mine this afternoon, but I think we'll now enjoy some rather different amusements instead. It is time that you also learned that it is better to give than to receive, and for the next couple of hours I'm going to make good and certain that you know properly how to give back to your lady lovers. Perhaps then someday, you might be worthy of receiving some love back in return! Now stick your tongue up my ass deeper, you useless Twat! It will be the first honest work you've ever done yet!"

************

Rowan, crouched down behind a tree about thirty yards away could hardly believe his eyes and ears. Ever since the day several years ago Cedany had told him about the feminine acts of lovemaking that the Lady had made her perform on her, he had fantasized quite a lot actually about what two young women exactly did to each other, and how. Now, he was getting a very belated and rather comprehensive education!

Gwenda was very demanding of her now captive lover, and she made sure that the naughty noblewoman paid careful and close attention with her mouth and tongue to virtually every single inch of her body. Her ass was now quite well licked and immaculately clean, and her cunt also received similar detailed attention. Even from his hiding spot, Rowan could see that Gwenda's clit and nipples were quite engorged and extended, all the better for her captive slave-girl to better worship them. At no point however did Gwenda perform any of these services in return, she was clearly now the mistress who must be obeyed, at least for the present.

As the afternoon darkened into evening, Gwenda decided that her captive had been nearly chastised enough. She gave the thoroughly humiliated woman another pair of slightly gentler slaps across the face and pushed her flat onto the ground, then she emptied her bladder all over the cringing and weeping Lady, leaving not a single inch of her exposed flesh untouched.

"This is just a final reminder to you that you learn, and learn well, what your current place is in this world! Only Rowan has any oath of loyalty or duty towards you, and the despicable manner in which you treat him is an affront to your honor, whatever little you might have left! There is no priest in any of the Southern Duchies that wouldn't annul and dispense of his oaths, every single one of them, at knowing but a hint of the behavior you have exhibited so far in just the few weeks that I have known you!"

With a grunt, a bit of a readjustment of her squatting bare hips, Gwenda managed to squirt another long burst of piss that landed neatly across the Lady's hair and face, and she grinned.

"Let us be perfectly clear with each other. You stand at the very bottom of the authority for this regiment, more of a mascot than any sort of commander or officer. In fact, there is not one man or woman in this regiment that would even bend over to take a shit upon your very order or command. No one marks you, no one obeys you, and no one would ever follow you a single step, even into a tavern or bawdy-house. In fact, unless I am quite mistaken, no one even likes you!"

"Boyle likes me." Ayleth whimpered from at the feet of her subjugator.

"No..." Gwenda said sadly, as she turned to walk away. "He just feels terribly sorry for you. The good lad just can't bring himself to understand what a dreadful and quite awful person you really are. He sees only the best in everyone... including you. Someday we would all be very proud to find even a hint of what he sees in you. You could be ever so much better than you are, perhaps even someday a great Duchess who could strongly, but wisely rule this land, but I have not Boyle's kindly eyes. In you, I see nothing but narcissistic vanity and the tiresome complaints and whims of an ill-mannered child that has never once known even the threat of the stick of discipline. Speaking of which, you may now remove yours from out your ass... and try as well to learn a few lessons from this otherwise tedious escapade, or, at your next pleasure, I would be pleased to offer her Ladyship another repeat of this stimulating exercise. The next time I am forced to have this sort of discussion with you again, you'll not just be covered with my piss, but also be made to drink it like it was the finest champagne, so be warned. You will make an excellent attendant and toilet slave for someone, someday... unless you can learn to stand on your feet without arrogance and learn to rule, not just merely command!"

***********

Lady Ayleth remained sobbing in the grass until long after the dinner chimes for the camp had rung. Long after her hasty bath to clean herself off and long into the night she wept and hid herself under her bed blankets. She was sure she had indeed learned an important lesson or two however. First, that she was entirely unwanted, unwelcome and unloved, and that she should find herself some powerful alternate protectors as soon as possible, friendly nobles that could get her back safely home to her father. Her facial scars and the quest be damned!

Secondly, as she brooded in yet another sleepless night, she decided that under no circumstances would she ever try this sort of revenge again upon the arms-mistress Gwenda. She was too wily, too strong, too fast, and way too vindictive. She would have to be patient and bide her time to wait for a later, more subtle means of revenge.

***************

Rowan seethed with impatience as the great long column of the regiment stopped to a halt on the road once more, the sun just barely past mid-morning. Yet another of the hastily repaired wagons had broken down along the road and Coryn the quartermaster was checking the damage to see if it could be swiftly repaired or if the wagon contents would need to be unloaded onto one of the others. They were losing several carts each day it seemed, mostly due to overcrowding and weight as the women, children or elderly townsmen became too weary to walk even the annoyingly slow pace that the regiment was marching. Even with their food supplies slowly being diminished, the journey was taking a toll on their hurriedly assembled and barely adequate transport. The charred wood and ad hoc repairs weakened with every mile of the trip south, as did many of the camp followers.

Deciding that it was time for another exercise, Rowan shouted out the assembly command to rehearse for an attack from the very front of the roadway and the men and women of the companies surged forward to array themselves into their defensive line. Gwenda softly grunted her approval and rode off to inspect the regiment. During the nearly two week march south they had rehearsed this maneuver perhaps a hundred times, and the troops were moving into position faster, and with greater confidence.

In the last few days as they neared Ruromel the scouts had been finding lots of traces of Boar-Men in the area, but fortunately mostly dead ones, shot with arrows for the most part. This was a very encouraging sign that perhaps they were not the only human army in the area, or that at the very least there was a moderately organized resistance force, like Rowan's regiment, now resisting the Eorfleode invaders. Rowan had been torn between the opposing notions of slowing their already snail-like pace further, to allow further training and exercise, as he suspected that their first baptism of fire was near, or else to speed up their travel as quickly as possible to meet these other human defenders and to quickly join forces against the remaining Boar-Men in the area. In the end, everyone else in the counsel voted for just maintaining the status quo; to keep to their existing marching and drilling schedule, largely out of concern that any new change to their routine would probably harm their rickety and limited transport even further.

Amateur commanders study strategy and tactics, the Foole said once to Rowan, but the greatest generals were the ones that studied logistics. Right now their transport was by far their weakest link and it was agreed that nothing should to be done to further imperil it. They hoped that if Ruromel was still standing, that they could afford to spend a few days to better repair their wagons, to then be capable for some slightly greater speed afterwards.

Speed, Rowan thought, as he slowly rode up to join Gwenda and the head of the troop formation, would be rather nice. They had hoped to reach Ruromel yesterday, but two separate wagon breakdowns barely an hour apart had much delayed them. Now from the sight of Boyle riding hard to meet him at a full gallop, there was undoubtedly going to be some more bad news that he would have to deal with. Why was everyone always looking towards him when there was a decision to be made?

Boyle whipped off a snappy salute as he rode up to Rowan. This was something else that was really beginning to irritate him; they were old friends, too long fast chums for this sort of formality, but Boyle thought that this sort of ritual was good for the troops, to remind them of exactly who their leader was. There were worse things, Rowan supposed, but they rarely talked for pleasure anymore, as they used to; the needs of the regiment now took every available moment of thought that they had.

"Ro, there's some horsemen on the road ahead of us, maybe a bit over a mile ahead of us by now, and heading this way. Maybe a squad, perhaps a dozen at most."

"Do you think they mean trouble?"

"A mere dozen? Undoubtedly not, but they know we are here and seem to be heading this way to give us a look-over at the very least. Should we arrange a parley? I've already pulled back my forward scout patrol just in case, and sent out riders to pull in our flank and rear guards as well. Is that alright?"

"Seems prudent." Rowan muttered, leaning over to his horse a pat on its neck. "Yes, let's pull everyone in and assume a ready combat formation, but warn everyone that we're not looking to start trouble! Maybe we'll look a lot more scary and professional than we really are. Good first impressions and all that. Get me a dozen riders, yourself included... and also the Foole, ready for the parley, and let us find out what's going on around here. That's the worst thing about traveling so damned slow... even the turtles are getting the news ahead of us!"

With the regiment in formation, but with its arms kept at rest rather than readiness, Rowan, Boyle, Gwenda and Oddtus waited at their front, with their cavalry guard a dozen paces behind them. They didn't have to wait for the horsemen long and just a few minutes later they were well in sight. They were exactly ten in number, wearing dark well-soiled traveling leathers rather than duchy uniforms. Not guardsmen from Ruromel either, apparently. As they grew closer, Rowan could make out closer details of their leader, a lean and grim faced man who seemed oddly familiar to Rowan's eyes.

Their troop halted about ten yards away and after a brief study of the regiment and its leaders, the lean grim man burst into a smile and sloppily but enthusiastically saluted them. Rowan and Boyle looked at each other and smiled in turn, returning the greeting and the three men rode a little forward so that they could grasp each other's hands in friendship. The former bandit Loren, the man that Boyle and Rowan had spared two months ago on the caravan road to Lacestone had apparently kept to his oath indeed, and was doing rather well for himself as a leader of a group of scouts.

The Foole, smiling from ear to ear, rode up as well to greet the man whose oaths he had taken. "Good sir, you are looking much improved! And how is your fair wife, and your two sons? Are they all well?"

"Quite so, good Foole! They await me now back at Ruromel, which has been little bothered so far by the Boar-Men's advance. Their main invasion force followed around the southern tip of the Juniper Mountains and is now going west, down the river to the coast. It will be the City of Klith that shall next bear their main brunt, but they have stout stone walls and the sea to protect themselves."

"One might hope so, but high thick walls did not long protect the town of Elmcrygh, up the road to the north." Oddtus said grimly.

"Ah! We had not heard word of that great misfortune, for when my riders passed through that large town near a month ago, they were making stout preparations for trouble, and seeming unlikely to be taken unawares, or rapidly by their foe. This is most worrisome!"

"Loren, how many riders do you command, and are the Boar-Men corpses that we've recently seen nearby of your doing? If so, it was well and bravely done!" Rowan asked the former bandit.

"Twas our doing... I command but two score of riders, but they are all skilled at the art of firing their bows from horseback, so the Boar-Men rarely even scratch us except with a lucky bowshot of their own. We have killed a great many on this plain here and many more, further down by the river! While their main force did strike west from here, some smaller war-bands remain and have much troubled this area. Ruromel has no town walls, but our riders gave them good warning of the attack of one small war-band, and they found it no easy place to capture. Rather than face our arrows further, they slunk away after their first probing attack and secretly crossed the river at night, to fall upon the unprepared town of Brydara, right across the river. Some of those townsfolk got away on one of the last ferries across before the ropes were cut to keep the Boar-Men from following, and the loss of life was severe. Now Broadmore as well has known the inhuman rage and hungers of the Eorfleode, and undoubtedly soon their Duke himself shall arrive to take measure of the carnage. He and a regiment of troops of his own were reported to be near, perhaps to join us before the end of the week."

"That is the first good news that I have heard in a month myself!" Rowan exclaimed. Indeed, we have passed nothing but death and ruin during that time and we were afraid that only our meager force, assembled from the survivors of the north, stood alone against these creatures, but now my heart is more happily settled. We hope that by now the Duke of Tellismere has taken measures to handle and suppress the horde that was menacing the regions around Crystal Lake. If not, should this southern horde move north up the coastal roads, the entire duchy itself could be in great peril, should those two armies join together."