Daughter of the Witcher Ch. 04

The boy shook his head, "Mother got sick and died. I knew only that my father lived here. I came to find him."

"And you did, I see," the old man said, "But I think that your father does not want to see you. I do not know what to do with you now, but to have you put to death for seeking your kin seems a bit hard to me. Tell me what you know of your father."

The boy began and it also took little time. The old man had some questions and the young man answered them as best he could. What saved his life more than anything was his open-faced honesty.

"So, Màiri Ciar, " the laird said with a troubled expression, "there was something behind your look to me while you threatened hard questions of a man who I had begun to trust."

She looked down and nodded, "I thought it best to try to leave you with something that you might want to know about, laird. But it is not my place to advise you."

The lord sighed as he straightened up, "I think that you know of what this man has done, and it might be that he was the one who led the raiders in the first time. Does that leave you wanting a little vengeance?"

Màiri nodded, "I would kill him only for trying to kill my friend. My good luck to find the one who began it all. It was by his hand that the two of us lost our mothers and I lost six years of my life."

She stepped toward Beathag, ignoring the terror-filled eyes on the man who still held his dagger against Beathag's throat. Màiri pulled the blade away and helped her friend out of the man's grasp.

"Are you alright?" she asked, "Has he hurt you anywhere else?"

Beathag shook her head shakily and Màiri handed her the dagger.

"That is a costly thing," she smiled, "and to keep the weapon of the man who wanted your death brings its own power. I think you should have it."

Beathag looked from Màiri to the man, who still stood fettered and unable to move a hair, other than blink.

"Do not kill him, Beathag," Laird Ciar said, "I have men for this and I will learn more of this man's secrets before I allow him the peace of his death." He spoke to his guards and they bound the man to take him to the jailor.

"What to do about the son, ..." He muttered.

"Give him to me, Laird," Màiri smiled, "I have work for him which will keep him from both harm and mischief. If it pleases you, then let it be his penalty for wandering over the border. In exchange for one year's work for me, I will set him free with your agreement and then he can choose to be either an Englander or a new Scot, for by then, he will know the clan and be known as well."

The old laird thought about it and laughed a little as he nodded, "Aye, it solves my trouble neatly, for I cannot allow wanderers in the border lands. He came not with malice, but he did wish to find his father, hoping that there might be love there for him. Sad enough that he was given over by his father to be killed out of the man's desire to remain hidden and aiding my foes. Only do not be cruel nor overly kind. He is a man, as young as he is and a man's deeds shape his fate. High time to learn the lesson of it.

Now you, young kinswoman should go with your father to his home. I will send word in a day or so of something that I need done." He leaned a little and kissed her cheek, "Wait there for this, and welcome home, Màiri Ciar."

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For a well-known man of his clan and a warrior as well, Ranald Ciar lived simply. He'd never taken a wife and his home was not all that large. But he was able to provide them all with food and places to sleep that night.

After the meal however, the four of them sat looking at one another for a time; Ranald, his daughter, Beathag and the young man who was in Màiri's custody and whose name was Gilbert.

He sat in a robe which belonged to Ranald and was almost hilariously oversized on him. But he did have time to think on things such as the near boundless treachery of his father – who'd never done much for his son to make him worth the word, it turned out. The boy had come out of desperation and also to tell of the death of his mother. For this, he was to die thrown into a bunch of known raiders as though he was one of them and of course, no guard had believed a word of his professed innocence – those who even could understand him at all. They'd laughed as loudly as the other prisoners.

Gilbert didn't stutter and stammer so much now that it seemed that his life was his own once more, mostly. But he still had a little trouble making himself understood around the table, though the pattern of his speech was not that far off what was known by the Ciar clan, among the others in the area of the fluid and ill-defined border between England and Scotland.

The squabbles were a little serious to the participants and the farmers thereabouts on both sides – though it was nothing like it would become one day a couple of hundred years into the future when the day of the border reivers began. Now, it was just tit for tat with a little robbery and the odd murder thrown in.

In any event, Màiri understood Gilbert perfectly and listened a little uncomfortably as he tried to express his gratitude to her for helping to clear everything up.

"But what am I to be?" he asked, "I only know a little of farming that I learned from helping my friend and his father – and that is not much."

Màiri turned to look at him seriously for a moment and then she smiled before he grew too nervous and began to stutter again. "First I would know how old you are, Gilbert. Your looks say at best, about sixteen, and yet I see a little more age that that on you."

"I am almost twenty and useless, my father said to me," he said.

"Well you cannot swing a blade," she said, "that was clear to me. Can you ride?"

"No," he answered.

"Can you use a bow?"

"No," he said again.

"What about, ..."

It went on and on, with Màiri saying talents which might be of some use to them and Gilbert saying that he knew nothing of every one.

"Well," she said at last, "then I see it all as a good thing."

He looked confused, "How is that, lady?" he asked, "I have never thought of it this way, but I think that my father must have been correct. I am useless."

"Your father is useless to my way of seeing it. Your lack is a good thing," she smiled, "because you will have no bad habits to be broken of while you learn of all of those things in the correct way. In the meantime, you will be a servant to us, though not a true one. Your freedom will take a year to regain and that leaves a year for you to learn much.

But we will not have a year to get you to where you need to be in these skills. It will have to be a quick thing in every case and to do that Gilbert, I need the answer to one question – will you work hard for the learning? I may need you to carry messages through the border lands, and a lot of the time, there are men there who watch for either the laird or the English.

To carry my messages, there will be times when I want neither to know of them, so you will have to learn to use your wits so that you are not seen. I think you can see that we will need you to learn to ride well very quickly – faster than any other learner at many things. You have the size, but you have little strength for the life that I need you to live. I can help, but would you want the gifts that I can give to make you stronger?"

Gilbert didn't understand at first, but he wasn't a complete babe-in–the–woods. He knew there was something very different about both Beathag and especially Màiri. He nodded vigorously and said that he owed his life to Màiri and would do whatever she wanted of him.

She reached over and slipped her hand through the front of the robe to feel his chest for a moment. He gasped and she rolled her eyes. "What I felt – or rather, did NOT feel is among the first of the changes which you will need. Do not think of it for now. I need to speak to my father."

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When she had a moment alone with her father a little later, Màiri mentioned what she'd spoken of with Gilbert. "I can see that he would do anything out of thanks, but the trouble is that he can do little of anything very well. The first thing that he needs is more weight and strength but that will take months. I know what I might do for him, but he will need to learn to ride and very quickly."

"That is all fine, Màiri," he said, "but right now he would jump out of his own skin if he were startled enough."

"Then I will give him reason to believe in himself at least a little and I can change things for him. If I give you a man who is not afraid of his own shadow, can you teach him quickly?"

Ranald smiled, "I would agree just to see what you do to make him like that."

Màiri called Beathag to her, "What is left back home?"

"My home was burned, but yours could not be burned. I go there sometimes, but there is not much there. Why do you ask this?"

Màiri grinned then, "Because we need to go there this night. Gilbert needs our help so that he does not perish only learning to ride or to fight."

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Late that night, they rode to the old place and Màiri was determined not to allow her memories to rise up fully until at least the middle of the next day. Ranald let Gilbert down and then turned to go back home. Beathag lowered the wards which she'd set on the place so that they could get inside. With that done, Màiri erected new ones and the hovel faded from sight in blackness.

"What will happen to me?" Gilbert asked nervously from where he lay on the bed. He'd do anything for them, but he hoped that whatever was needed of him would not involve pain.

"Only good things," she said, "I would hope." She untied the robe and Gilbert lay there ashamed.

"That is the thing," Màiri said earnestly as she pointed at his face, "That nervousness, that fearfulness. Gilbert, it speaks poorly of you. A dog who acts as though he is often kicked will find himself kicked often. I will do as I can and I hope that you can draw assuredness from yourself after.

And it WILL hurt – at least a little.

And it WILL hurt a little afterward as you teach what I try to give you.

And afterward, you WILL be hungry quite often. " She began to remove her clothing and Beathag did as well. Gilbert's eyes almost left his head when they told him to lie still and close his eyes.

"Lie still and close my eyes," he groaned, "and while you are like that."

He groaned and muttered to himself, though it was just loud enough for them to hear it, "You said nothing about torture."

He smelled a little sharp-smelling smoke from a plant that they threw onto the small fire and they began to chant incantations, Beathag taking Màiri's lead. The two sat on either side of Gilbert and they ran their fingertips over his body very lightly. At first, Gilbert would have flinched, but the spell of it took hold before he could do it. His manhood began to stir and rise, but by then he was under.

The two girls smiled at each other to see it, but they went on and on. Gilbert passed into a much deeper trance soon afterward.

After they had done what they set out to do for Gilbert, Beathag and Màiri brought some food which they'd managed to scrounge out of the remnants of the gardens and the surrounding area in only minutes and they washed it all, leaving it on the table in a bit of a disorganized heap.

"He will need to eat first thing," Màiri smirked, "and that will keep him busy while we try to rest a little. It was a bit of hard work, no?"

Beathag chuckled as she nodded, "But I like the way that he seems to look now. He was a sweet-looking boy to begin – a little lost-looking, though there was little strength there. Now he is just as sweet and even more and as he lies there, though I see nothing lost about him. Did you plan this?"

Màiri shook her head as she finished washing the bunch of carrots, "I think that he is still a sweet one as a man. He could make a girl very happy once he learns a few things so that he can keep himself alive."

Beathag smirked and snickered as she looked over to where Gilbert still lay on his back and hung in a trance as he slept, "He could make a couple of girls very happy right now by the look of his toy. Hours now and he still has a cockstand. It grows to be a challenge for me to leave it alone."

The two of them looked for a little longer and then they giggled a little to each other. Beathag was the first to point out that he WAS there and everything and he was even naked with the robe open like that.

Màiri nodded and pointed out that they were both not fully dressed either, just wearing their cloaks from being outside in the darkness pulling carrots and such. "Perhaps it would be a shame to waste something like that. What do you think?"

Beathag chuckled again, "I do not have to think on it, Màiri. I know that it would be a shame to go to sleep and leave such a fine thing standing there that way."

"Then by all means," old friend," Màiri grinned, "He will not wake until the sun begins to rise and it gives us more than a little time. You may go first."

Beathag didn't really need to think about it all that much. She just smiled and took off her cloak. It was a little worrisome getting onto the bed and straddling him a little carefully, but after that, she just held that thing in her hand and eased herself down so that she could ride him.

The extent of the only conversation was short when Beathag asked, "What if he – "

"He will not," Màiri grinned as she leaned against the wall masturbating a little, "That honor – if it comes will be mine. You have had the seed of a man to help your art, but I still need one for the first time in me. There will be no babe from it," she laughed, "Oh no. There will only be two satisfied women and I seek to gain in my power a little, though no more than what is the need of a young hægtesse such as I am.

Beathag enjoyed her time on Gilbert but though she tried to savor it, she did end up sitting there straddling the unconscious young man as the trembled and tried not to cry out when her joy came to her.

She sat still for a couple of minutes savoring the passing of the feeling before she climbed off to change places with her friend and Màiri was on him in only seconds thrusting and chanting a little to try to control this as she wanted it and also manage the timing of things as best she could. She'd been truthful with Beathag, who'd agreed. For a witch to really rise in her ability, for the type of caster which they were, it was important at some point to have the essence of a virile man in her.

But Màiri was much more than that now, since she'd become a warlock herself and could use the darker powers of that ilk. To do that to the fullest extent of her ability, it was even more important at some point to have the essence of a virile man in her.

Màiri gasped and fucked on him, whipping her hips to work him inside her. It went on for long minutes, her groaning and sighing as she looked down at Gilbert's sleeping face. "If I'd been fucked well before this," she whispered to him so that Beathag could hear it, "I would bless you now in more than my thanks to you. But I can only do what I can do, Gilbert, and most of that will need to wait as I hope that you will be the man for us two. You would gain much from it as would we, -"

She stopped speaking then. She had to; because she knew that it wouldn't be long anymore and so she made up her mind and got off to turn around. She was back on him in seconds, but like this; she'd have better access to his scrotum and when she felt her climax rising for the first time with a real living man inside of her, Màiri took the stones of Gilbert in her hand and gently kneaded as she muttered and moaned in joy.

Gilbert remained in the state which he'd been in for all of this time, but as Màiri bucked and keened softly in her ecstasy, she made sure that she would get the seed as she needed it, so, ...

In a clinical sense, Gilbert simply ejaculated. From the standpoint of biology, that was what occurred.

But what came to Màiri was a large volume of semen. The human male surpasses all other primates in two things relating to sex. They are the champions in two regards in that the human male's penis is the largest of all and his ejaculatory volume far exceeds that of any of his biological relatives. Whatever Gilbert had in store on the off-chance that he'd need it at any time, there was nothing held back and the witch who rode him took it all.

When she was 'done' for lack of a better term, she got off and lay on her back with her hand covering her sex to hold what she'd gotten as her body took the essence of it inside itself. She gave it no thought, not knowing what it was to be a man and have the feelings of one, but to deliver what she'd gotten; Gilbert would face a curious aftermath later on when he awoke.

To be certain, what had been done for and to him would mean that everything would hurt a little as she'd said. It came from the working of larger muscle groups and to build, one must destroy a little bit beforehand. So Gilbert would suffer strange aches and pains which might make no sense to him, but he had been warned of this.

Perhaps the strangest ache would come from his balls, though it wouldn't be much in the broader view of things. But it would be a feeling that Gilbert had not likely ever felt before – the friendly ache of his testicles and seminal glands telling him that they'd truly been emptied well.

When Màiri was ready, she got onto her side against Beathag, who held her and kept of her hands over her friend's sex. They were both exhausted but happy and were still drifting off when ...

When he awoke, it was nearly dawn and it crossed his mind that Màiri hadn't lied.

Everywhere on him, every limb and tendon, each muscle group and nerve ending, ... they all hurt to a small degree.

And he was ravenously hungry.

He tried to sit up and almost screamed. That was when it really hurt. He managed to get to a reclining position on his side as he heard a little stirring from the other side of the room. Màiri and Beathag lay there, wrapped in each other's arms and trying to get a little sleep.

Beathag managed to lift an arm and point, "We gathered a few things before we were done," she said tiredly, "All of that pile on the table – those plants and things. All may be eaten in safety. It has been years, but there are still wild potatoes and carrots from our mothers' gardens and you may eat some of them. We need a little sleep. There is a glass hanging on the wall by the door. You may see yourself in it there. Wake us in no less than an hour and do not try to leave."

He got out of the bed and nearly landed on his nose. Between the aches of his body as it complained of being forced to actually move and the strong and disconcerting unfamiliarity if his body's sense of balance being different somehow, he barely made it to a standing position.

It took minutes of quiet shuffling to get to the door so that he could look into the mirror. When he did, he wanted more light, not believing what he saw. He took the looking glass down and held it in front of himself, almost dropping it several times before he regarded his own face in the mirror once more.

It was him, still Gilbert, though he now looked a little different. It was as if he was a little older and more mature somehow. He'd been thin and sallow, though he sure wasn't either one now. As rail-like as he'd always been, his face had held about the only baby fat on his body.

Now he looked like the same person, but his features looked, ... chiseled somehow. More rugged; more, ... masculine.

It was a little frightening.

And he was hungry.

With a little less shuffling now, he made it all the way to the table and surveyed what had been laid there. The way that it all looked, washed but nothing more, he wouldn't have eaten any of it on a bet yesterday.