Orin The Great Ch. 01

The cave, he quickly discovered, was not that large at all. It was hardly thirty feet from its entrance to its back wall, and more like a short tunnel, really. The back end, he saw, had been rounded as if it had served as a place for clandestine meetings, or some sort of dark ritual or other deviltry. A small mound rose up from the center of this circular space. Orin could well imagine some sort of idol or symbol or something of that nature being placed on top of it and worshipped. Or buried, he thought. His father had told him that to get to the heart of a matter, he must leave no stone unturned, no matter how innocuous it appeared at first.

Orin carefully plunged his torches into the soft ground, on opposite sides of the artificial cavity, for he'd sharpened their bottom ends earlier for just such a circumstance. They weren't very stable at first, but at least they stood upright, and this is exactly what he wanted. With his short sword, he dug into the dirt and gave each torch a more secure footing.

Next, he turned to the mound. Out of respect for whoever had built it, or whatever god or deity it might represent, he didn't scatter its structure apart like some sort of enraged animal would. Instead, he carefully sifted through it, in the case that he would have to build it up again afterwards.

After he dug into the mound by one foot of depth, he found nothing. Once he reached nearly two feet in, and was nearing the point of impatience and thinking of what other action he might take, the sharp tip of his sword struck what sounded like brittle wood. With a renewed vigor, he uncovered more of this oddity and was soon digging around the edges of a small box. Once he had enough of it loosened up, he pulled the box out of the mound and held it up so that the light of the torches might illuminate it further. It was made of a soft wood, as it was cracked and coming apart from the weight of all the dirt that had been piled up on top of it. The box was kept from falling entirely to pieces by two thin strands of wire that had been tied around it; one piece went from the top to the bottom, the second from one side to the next.

Using the tip of a dagger, he carefully worked out the knot where the wires had been tied together. Once done, he set the box back on top of the mound and wondered what sort of treasure might lie within it.

The box was not heavy enough for any sort of coin or other metal objects, he surmised, but possibly, it could hold a few gems or small jewelry or something of the like. Or perhaps, the box merely contained a collection of chicken bones, for he knew some of the eastern shaman used such artifacts in their rituals of magic.

After inhaling a deep, expectant breath, Orin removed the top of the box from the rest and looked inside of it. There was a bundle of cloth within, black cloth with dashes of a dark red, and he wondered if those crimson stains might have been aged blood. Blood, the youth was wise enough to know, was often used to seal pacts made with the Devil.

Even more carefully than he had been in digging out the mound, Orin slowly unwrapped the edges of the dark cloth. When he was done, he found inside of that box a most curious little doll. It was in the shape of a person, he noted, and made of straw that had been tied together to form arms and legs, and a body. There was no true head on the doll, just a small bundle of straw ends. Around its tiny body was set a small amount of fabric, as if to clothe the thing.

This was the most unusual detail of the doll, the dressing around it. The left half had on what looked to be a woman's kilt and apron, and sewn onto the right half were a man's thigh-long tunic, a small black strip that served as a belt, and leggings. Who would have thought to sew the attire of a man and a woman on the opposite sides of the same doll? And for what purpose would this be done?

Orin was still studying this curiosity, when he began to feel the spectral presence he'd felt before. It seemed to be observing him, as he stood there and scrutinized the doll. The young man thought back to what his father had said about invisible spirits.

"A ghost and a demon are two separate entities." The wise Orenn had once explained. "A demon can be dangerous outright, or a devious trickster. It will always attempt to bring you pain and suffering, even if at first it appears to be benevolent. A ghost, on the other hand, is the remnant of a person. Usually they are sad or angry at having been displaced from their bodies, as I've never encountered any ghosts that are happy or joyful sorts." The man had paused to think on the matter for a moment. "I have known some ghosts to be mischievous, for they are lonely in whatever dimension they've gotten themselves stuck into. They will knock a pail of milk over, or hide something of value from you, in order to draw attention to themselves.

"The best way to know if you've come across a ghost or a demon is this: if you suspect that one of these things is nearby, take a deep breath and open up your mind. Think of nothing, and allow the energy of the spirit to make itself known to you. A demon will certainly ebb darkness and evil, for this type of being is always conjured up with corruption and wrongdoing in mind. A ghost is merely a person without a body. It will send out feelings in the same way that a living, breathing person would: anger, bitterness, sadness, loneliness, and vengeance. That sort of thing. The reason most people fear ghosts is because they assume them to be demons when they are really not. Upon first encountering them, they get the creeps and the jitters, but this is only because they've never felt the presence of such a being before. A ghost might make the hair on the back of your neck stand up, but that isn't because it intends to do you harm. It is because the ghost is simply standing next to you. As I've said, open your mind to it, and see past this first impression. Then you will know if what stands before you is demon or ghost."

It sounded easy enough when his father had explained it, but now, with Orin getting the shudders from whatever was drawing closer to him, he was having trouble putting the advice into practice. The young man drew a deep breath and tried to clear his mind, but it was pointless. He could not get himself to relax enough to follow through.

He held the peculiar doll out, in the direction he thought the spirit loomed in. "What is the meaning of this?"

In response, one of his torches fluttered wildly, until it went out.

Orin's first impression was to quickly relight the thing, for the fear of the unknown began coursing through him like a river. This was the initial reaction any other man might have, he realized, and mightily he fought back against it. He had asked whatever it was that stood before him a direct question, and perhaps, in its unfathomable fashion, this was the only manner a bodiless entity could give a reply.

The second torch went out, leaving him in complete darkness.

Mentally, Orin traced the steps leading back to his campfire, hoping that in a moment of panic he would not run blindly and crash into the wall of the tunnel. He would force himself to walk, to take one short step at a time until he was sure he'd emerged from the cave. Then he would certainly see the flames still burning from his campfire, and go to warm his shivering body before them.

Orin took the first step away from the mound, when the spirit began to materialize before him. It was vague and translucent, and barely the outline of a person's shape. The ghost frightened him unlike anything he'd ever encountered in his life.

He heard its sobs then, quiet and longing, and also distant, yet seeming to come closer with every passing moment. Soon, the sobs had matured into full-blown wails, halting, heartfelt gasps that emanated from the core of the being, cries so powerful and convincing that Orin felt his own eyes begin to well with emotion.

It was a woman that stood before him, thought Orin, a woman desperately lost and lonely. As the young man succumbed to the woman's plight, he felt himself wanting to comfort her and to embrace her.

"Rohanna." He said, opening his arms to her.

The ghost came to him and slipped into his arms. Its touch was as cold as winter ice. Orin questioned how long he could bear it, when a very curious thing happened.

In his mind, Orin saw a field flourishing with spring grass and a sea of dandelions in yellow and white. He was running barefoot through this field, his shoes in his hand, and enjoying the feel of the blades of grass as his hurried strides briefly pressed his feet to the ground.

He was chasing down a young maiden that wore a peasant's kirtle colored in a pleasing shade of walnut brown. The kirtle was worn and patched in places, and in keeping with the dress of a common person. When the girl turned back to look at him, Orin discovered that she was a sight as beautiful as any he had ever seen. Her hair was black and flowing, her eyes lively and playful, and her smile seemed to radiate joy and warmth.

"Rohanna!" He called out, in a voice he did not recognize as his own.

After her, he ran, until he playfully caught her around the middle and gently prodded the both of them down and onto the grass. He lay down at her side, and she on her back.

Rohanna pretended to be absorbed with a dandelion she had picked, plucking from it one petal at a time and making one fanciful wish after another, while Orin watched her with great amusement and love.

He was no longer Orin, he discovered, but the girl's lover, Silas. The realization puzzled him, for how could he become two men in the same moment?

"Tell me that you love me." Rohanna requested. "I want to hear you say it."

Orin took in the girl's features. She was robust and motherly, with a pale skin that went rosy around her cheeks, and eyes that were as black as her hair. Her breasts were large and tempting. The hands that held the dandelion stem were soft and tender.

His heart went out to her, and in the voice of Silas, he said. "Of course I love you. I've always loved you, ever since we were two small children playing in the brook. Well before my father began to amass the wealth he has today, that has been giving the two of us so much trouble as of late."

Orin's mind reeled at the memories now flooding into his mind. The father of Silas had been a common man, until by chance he'd taken over another man's fields. At the expense of much toil and hardship, the man had an abundance of goods to trade at the market. So much of a surplus, in fact, that the man had rented wagons to transport the bulk of it to neighboring towns. This is why the village of Dunnidale had gained the reputation as being a good place to do trade with, and the man had become wealthy because of it.

Then came the downfall of Silas and Rohanna. The man's mother and aunt conspired together to sway Silas to marry a baron's daughter, instead of the woman he truly loved. They made much trouble for the couple in their intents to separate the two youths, for such was their desire to be intermarried with nobility. When they recognized that their wishes would never be fulfilled, the two women became bitter and vengeful. There was never any demon in Dunnidale; the curse had been decided upon by Silas' mother and aunt, and cast by a shaman from another town. Everyone involved in the plot was long since dead, but the curse and the souls of the bound lovers still remained.

Tenderly, caringly, Rohanna ran a soft hand across his cheek and looked up into his eyes. "Make love to me, Silas."

Orin nearly refused, for he was not Silas, he was Orin! Even though the two lovers had died ages ago, he still felt the scene to be real enough that he found himself not wanting to be in the middle of them. He could feel the warmth of the sun against his head, and smell the freshness of the grass around them, and the fragrance of the flowers nearby. Even the gentle breeze around them was real! When he set his hand upon Rohanna's soft belly, he found her body and her warmth to be as real as that of any other woman's!

"You're hesitating." Rohanna said, her eyes seeking to provoke him into action. "If you hesitate too long, I may as well go back to my chores."

Orin felt his body rising up to its knees. His tunic was expensive and showy, he noticed, made of a combination of linen and cotton, colored in a regal blue, and held at the waist by a golden sash. He felt that he, or that Silas, didn't much care for the fancy attire. Silas hated how others perceived him when he wore such lavish things, compared to how they viewed him when he had worn simpler clothing before.

He pulled the sash apart and set it to one side, before he pulled the entire tunic over his head and exposed his chest and back to the sun. A moment after, he was on his feet and removing his shoes and clumsy leggings.

"Will I have to undress you also?" He heard himself asking. "Or will you do that on your own?"

"I won't have enough time to undress." Rohanna answered him. "I must hurry back once we are done, otherwise I'll be missed."

Orin watched, as the woman drew her knees up, and pulled her kirtle up to her waist. She parted her legs, revealing her sex to be in bloom, and glistening with moisture.

She gazed adoringly into his eyes. Once again, Orin felt as an intruder, about to take another man's lover. Still, the young man did not stop himself, although he felt he could have, as his nude form stepped before Rohanna and dropped to its knees. He hovered over her, one hand secure around his cock, the other bracing his body, as he gently eased himself inside of her.

His father had not prepared him, had not even begun to warn Orin, regarding what happened next. It would seem something impossible had he not been experiencing it for himself. Orin was not only Silas, but he was Rohanna as well. When he placed his cock within her, he felt it expanding Rohanna's moist and warm opening from her perspective, felt it filling up her insides, and he reveled in that sensation as a woman would. He was thrusting into her from above, while at the same time, he was being thrust into from below, and along with Rohanna, he felt his hips rising up to meet her lover's as he embedded himself fully into her.

He was both the man and the woman. He was Silas, pausing to grope at her breasts, and to force his lips onto her as a passionate animal, while allowing his cock to relax and to keep it from erupting into an early climax. He was also Rohanna, feeling her breasts fondled, opening her mouth to accept her lover's lips and tongue, and urging him to return his cock to its former frenzy.

This, Orin understood, was why all those brave men had fled from Dunnidale. What sane man would dare admit how another man had throttled him, while deep in the Devil's Cave? And how many men had this very same thing happened to them in the past? Was it any wonder then, why the curse had never been thwarted and taken away?

Silas pushed into him once again. Orin raked his fingers across the man's bare back, as well as feeling those very same fingers rake across his own back.

Rohanna laughed.

"What is it, my love?" Silas asked.

"I've just had this very strange feeling, as if you and I had traded places, and I was on top of you, while you were lying here in my stead."

Silas smiled back at her. "The strangest things cross through your head, don't they, my dear? This is one of the things about you that draws me the most, your vivid fancies that no other woman can match."

Rohanna stared into her lover's eyes then, as if she could see past Silas and was looking directly at Orin. In point of fact, Orin was convinced she was looking at him.

"When we are finished here, promise me that you'll take me with you." She said. "Wherever you travel to has to be better than this drudgery of a place known as Dunnidale."

"I promise you that I will." Silas and Orin answered together.

With an increased fervor, and as if knowing there was no further time to spare, Silas plunged into his lover. Rohanna moaned and gripped at his shoulders, and made as if to kiss her lover frequently. The attempts were in vain, as the increased movement from her lover demanded her full attention.

Orin experienced everything.

He was Silas, thrusting into the woman, feeling his hips drive into her steamy void and his cock rising closer and closer to its peak. As Silas, he felt his outstretched arms quiver and tense, and he was taking a great pleasure in the ecstasy he provoked in his lover's face and voice.

He was Rohanna, feeling her body jostled about by every stroke, and the swells of her breasts hurl about beneath her clothing. It was her lusty, throaty moans that filled the air, saturating it with bliss and emotion.

She squealed, as her climax came into flower first, and she set her hands tight on her lover's chest, as if both to push him away and to keep him close to her. He intensified his actions, bringing his own body up to its peak, so that they might experience the pleasure together.

Like a breaking dam, Silas burst into her, dropping down onto her and clinging to her shoulders, so that they might share the moment together. And for the very same reason, Rohanna wrapped her arms around his back, and her legs around his thighs. She clasped him as tightly as she could.

Orin, as before, experienced everything.

Finally, when the heat between the two of them, or was it the three of them, began to dissipate, Silas drew his head away from Rohanna's, that he might take in the beautiful, perspiring face of his lover.

In unison, both Silas and Rohanna said, "Thank you, Orin."

Orin shuddered, finding himself back in the cave, and his two torches once again lit. No longer did he feel an eerie sensation about the place. In his hand, he still held the little straw doll that seemed to be the key to it all.

They had known he was there, Orin realized. Silas and Rohanna had both known that he was in the middle of their romantic tryst. Not only had they not cared about that, but they had actively encouraged him to go along with it.

The curse that had been set upon those two unfortunates had been meant to punish them forever, he understood. Once the doomed couple had figured this out, it had been their love that had kept them together. Rohanna's wails were made not because she was looking for her lover's soul, for she already had her lover with her. Instead, it was because they were two lonely people trapped in a scheme not of their doing. They had been banished into that small hole of a cave for too many years. The passing of time must have meant something to them, for they were entirely eager to get out of that place.

All of the brave warriors that had come before Orin had come to battle against a demon, and to make a name for themselves in the same way that Orin had at first. None of them had stayed in the cave long enough to discover that this was not about courage and skill, for they must have run away at the sight of the ghost, or its haunted wailings, or otherwise been scared off when the two lovers had involved them in their passionate and sensual meeting.

It wasn't about fear, or hate or animosity, Orin comprehended. It was about love. The legion of men that had entered that cursed cave had only to realize that, and the curse would have been understood and might have been lifted long ago. Within that corrupt and restrictive curse, the love between Silas and Rohanna was as strong as it ever was. Their love had simply refused to die and be forgotten, Orin now knew. The two lovers wanted to show everyone they could just how strong that love still was, and how strong it would be forevermore.

With the light of the torches to guide him, Orin carefully set the straw doll back into its wrap, then back into its box. He stuffed the box into the front of his tunic. He swore to himself that he would find someone that would be able to remove the curse and set those two ill-fated souls free. The two torches he pulled out from their spots, and with a confident air, the young man strode toward the mouth of the cave.