The Song of Roland Ch. 12

They went up, ever further into the mountain range as the meandering trail began to narrow and the higher altitudes contrived to make it a colder experience. Roland was glad he had brought a thick enough cloak to throw about his person that he didn't notice it much. When he offered a spare to Kelsea, she merely shook her head, "Succubi don't need to stay warm." She said. The purple woman wasn't wrong; she was a furnace in his arms. Carl Hale had accepted the spare soundlessly, his eyes dull as he took the coat without a word. Roland was unnerved at his trancelike state.

He mentioned this to Kelsea over the campfire that night, huddled beneath an overhang of rock just next to the road, where pictographic cave paintings had been scrawled in some unknowable language by the Beastfolk who had once lived in abundance in these mountains, centuries ago. "The Carl Hale I knew was a preening, vain cunt. A talker." He said to her from across the flames. She looked up at him, her face serious as he described their companion sitting next to them like he wasn't even there. "When are you going to release him?"

"Whenever I feel like it." She replied, her mouth quirking into a joking smile which died when she got a glimpse of Roland's hard stare. "What do you want me to say, Roland? I don't know how long it takes to make him safely fall under my spell. I'm not going to risk him 'cutting our throats in our sleep,' like you said, till I'm sure he's not a threat."

It doesn't take long.He thought, remembering his own demonic entanglements.Only enough till you're panting inside at the very thought of being with her again.Roland elaborated: "He's glamoured, completely under your direction till you break off this spell locking his mind inside. D'you think he's going to be all that friendly if you keep him like this for a month andthenfree him?"

"I don't care." She said, her voice defensive as her tail swished about her. "By then we'll be over the mountains and we can cut him loose."

Roland laughed, a bitter spasm that echoed in the overhang and made Kelsea's red-rimmed eyes look away. "There's no 'cutting loose' from a demon, Kelsea." He said, standing up and moving out of the cave, suddenly very claustrophobic in the confines of their camp. "Once you've worked your magic on them, they're bound to you. Forever." His head lowered as he turned his back to her, striding out into the late afternoon fog. "Whether they want to be or not."

The red-maned mercenary strode out across the rock-pitted trail upon which they'd been walking for nearly a week now. His breath was heavy as he saw plumes of white fog drifting and curling across the sharp inclines of the mountaintops. Down beneath the trail, there was a steep valley of winding canyons, speckled with deciduous forests and a wading stream deep in the seam of the hills, flowing down in rough-cut waterfalls into the plains behind them. Higher up on the ranges, tall, needly alpine trees stuck up like matchsticks in individual rows and stems, perforating the jawline of the snow-capped peaks with flashes of dark green. The mountains seemed to stretch on forever, and in some unfathomable distance Roland knew there was the ocean, an unending flow of water larger than the grandest lake. He had never seen the wondrous thing, and doubtless never would.

It was irrelevant anyways, their little band of the damned was crossing the range in the direction of the Magelands, a hard, mountainous realm far from the sea and its strange allure. Roland had originally intended to seek work in the local cities, perhaps cleaning up after some fool conjurer's summoning errors or heading north to the border forts, fighting off the beastfolk who occasionally migrated down from their homelands in the wild country. Now... now he didn't have a plan. His plan was to keep moving, to make enough money to live a day longer, and to suffer through whatever torment he had willingly placed himself in by putting his nob into a Succubus' fuck hole.

Roland's fist clenched in his hand, the teasing command of Kelsea's words flitting through his mind like a firefly's budding and varying shine. He moved further up the trail, his sight passing away from the overhang as he aimlessly climbed higher into the hillside. Had he the presence of mind to stop himself, he'd have taken his weapons and arms with him. As it was all he wanted was some fresh air, and a clear head. At least he'd getoneof those things on his walk.

Something had changed. Something had shifted in the precarious balance of his own will and that of the Succubus. He had ignored her once, a pestering fly on his shoulder whose promise of momentary pleasure outweighed her corrupting influence. How had he been so stupid? Nine years he'd been slaying monsters, learning to exploit their weaknesses and tricks to dodge their more murderous strengths. Nine years of collecting minutiae and forcing himself to learn to read, that he might better access the knowledge of those learned folk who had studied the beasts he was paid to dispatch.

Roland stepped off the beaten path, his hands grasping against the sharp incline to the left of the road and pulling himself up the damp earth, using half-buried rocks to pull himself up. He shivered in the cold, his cloak doing little to repel the moisture of the humid air, and keep it from seeping into his bones like an unearthly chill. The fog was thickening. As he reached the top of the embankment, the incline softened, allowing tall, leafy trees to jut out above the rock overhang over which he now stood. He could feel Kelsea's presence beneath him, like a dull heartbeat heeded just on the edge of hearing. As he panted from the effort, wiping at his legs with his muddy hands, the mercenary paused to consider the breadth of his bestiary knowledge, wondering how he'd gone wrong in its application.

Roland knew that a manticore's venom was so potent that a frontal assault was suicide. You had to sneak up on it, or - barring that - use a bow or a sling to strike at it from a distance. Ifforcedinto combat, you had to strike at its head, beneath the chin in the soft part where the jawbone split for the tongue to emerge. He knew the swiftest way to bring down a Minotaur was to use its titanic weight against it, get a grasp on on the thing's head and pull it down to the ground by the horns. Its body was a leathery skin, built for blocking and diverting blade strikes. You were more likely to get your weapon stuck in it than to stop a charging bull, better to dance around it, keep it tired instead of trading blows.

He knew especially how to kill a demon. He'd spent the better half of his adult life knowing; it was the first set of creatures he'd studied after his own traumatic experience with them. At the time, it had been more an effort of understanding one's own affliction than actually learning their weaknesses. Demons were corruption, they were domination and control personified into the warping flesh of their bodies. They mould, they change and shape that which they covet with the curving power of their own aura. Of all the beings in the world, they were most subtle, yet easily the most dangerous. If not killed outright, they were like an infection: slowly bleeding the victim like a thousand cuts to the body.

So why? He wondered. Why was he standing here, atop a cairn of rock and earth, staring out into the grey sky as water droplets beaded on his face as he contemplated his own, pernicious path to perdition? Roland, of all people, should've known better. He had seen - he hadfelt- the effects firsthand. He knew the consequences of mercy and the cost of compassion; they were just words that the horn-headed creature could use to twist him like a curling piece of white-hot iron around her finger. And now she had.

I love you, Roland.The Gods had laughed at that pronouncement, that silly proclamation of affection that had yet somehow affected him so deeply. He had said nothing to Kelsea about it, but those little words had done more to put him under her spell than all the sleepless nights spent within her, humping like she was a vessel for his seed, or an outlet for his growing frustration. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, his stance widening as he felt the low clench at the base of his spine imploring him to do something, to take action. Against what, he wasn't sure anymore.

"Roland," A voice said upon the wind, and his breath began to grow hoarse; it wasn't Kelsea's. "Roland." She said, the hallucination reappearing in this uncommon moment of solitude. Was nowhere safe anymore? When he was with his companions, he was being corrupted. When he was alone, he was stuck with... was there no refuge from the horrors in his mind? He didn't want to hear, to talk. The child in Roland merely wanted to sit alone, his knobby knees pulled up to his chin as he stared out at creation and cried.

"Roland," The voice said, a spectre's set of lips at his ears. "I'm here for you, my flame. My love. Where have you been?" The man's hand shook from how hard his hand was closed. He grimaced as he shook, feeling the pale silhouette of her at his back, an echo of her tender greetings in an age long passed. He felt the barest trail of her, moving up from his ribline to press her palm against his chest. He could feel a ticklish sensation there, at his sternum, as though she was really still there.

"I'm right here, Calexi." He said in a voice so soft that only he could hear. It lowered even further. "I've always been here..."

He'd called her Callie, that was the name she'd introduced herself as. Her real one would have shown her to be something altogether less savory to the townsfolk. Roland never did find out how long she'd been at the castle before she'd met him. Had it been days? Weeks? Months? Or perhaps she'd stumbled into him just as she'd arrived, like Kelsea had done nearly a decade hence: a frightened, impressionable being of pure lust that had sunk her claws into the first person she found in this lonely, hostile place. Roland didn't know. He desperately wished it had been so, elsewise the torment he was enduring was all the worse for its disingenuousness.

Maybe she'd never loved him. Maybe the creature sitting gathering warmth at the fire beneath him was also lying. He didn't know. Every book or scrap of learning he'd acquired in his journeys told him the same thing: imploring him to slay the beast before she could tempt him further. But when Roland looked in Kelsea's eyes, when he felt the cadaverous touch of his long-dead love's fingers trailing along his spine, he sighed and unclenched his hands, his spine curving as he gave in to the weight of the reality before him; he no longer had a choice anymore. They even sounded similar: Callie, Kelsea. He shook his head and laughed in derision; apparently he was a fool for a pretty name.

There was a sound upon the edge of his hearing, a strange, screeching cry that his ears at first dismissed as the hunting call of some large, predatory bird. "Come with me, Roland." Calexi's voice said, syrupy and thick like a Succubus' true nature. He turned his head, seeing nothing behind him but the trees and the rustling brush. It was only after the second warbling screech came out that his senses sharpened. The slayer in him suddenly noticed the shift in tone: the bird's call had something else added into it -something vaguelyfeminine. It was as if one of the great Rocs of the high Auroch peaks were mixed in with the high scream of a woman, either in the painful throes of labor or in the midst of battle, calling out a valkyrie's warcry. There was a swooping sensation above him, and Roland looked up in time to see a blur of blue flash high above the treeline and disappear.

Now he was fully alert. His hand unconsciously went for his blade, to lift and lower it and make sure it was there, but he gripped only air. Cursing his foolish absentmindedness, Roland craned his neck up and around, trying to catch a glimpse of the thing that was somewhere above him. He felt Calexi's hand against his wrist, tugging him to pull him away from his troubles. "Come with me, Roland. Come find me." She said. He tried to ignore her, his gaze turning to spot a sudden movement in the trees above him. The screeching had stopped, whatever beast was above him had found its quarry. Now, what in the world was it-

Roland spotted the rippling shift in tree branches just in time to leap away from the writhing foliage. The blue-feathered monster dove down like a bullet from its perch above him on the branch, leading with its bird-like legs as it tried to stab him with its dagger claws. He only just leapt out of the way in time to avoid being eviscerated, rolling across the ground and getting leaves and wet brush tangled in his clothing. The creature didn't give him time to recover, spinning around and leaping forward with its legs out like a bird of prey, her voice rising as she screeched angrily at him.

A Harpy. Roland had little time to appreciate the realization before the seven-foot tall beast was on him again, her large wings working like a slingshot to propel her rapidly at him in an aggressive strike. Impeded by his heavy cloak, Roland threw the side of it up in front of him like a shield, the Harpy's claws tearing into it with fast, twitching cuts and shredding the thick leather it like it was paper. Roland just barely managed to rip off the clasp, throwing the cloak over the aggressive woman and impeding her like a tablecloth snuffing out a flame.

Instead of staying to watch it struggle, the mercenary took off at a blind run, making for the hillside to rush down it and find his weapons. But within seconds the blue-feathered monster was on him again, screeching loudly and leaping forward with her deadly talons. Roland threw himself around a large elm, planting his back against it just in time for the Harpy to crash against it with her feet, her claws raking the bark where he'd been just moments before. Without hesitating Roland was running again, his headlong flight as ignominious as it was life-saving.

He didn't turn to look behind him, instead sprinting at full tilt out and away from the shrieking bird. Its voice grew exponentially closer and Roland tripped over the side of the embankment, rolling across the muddy ground as he bumped and cartwheeled down the hill. He hit a rock and winced sharply as he felt a pain in his side, his hands reaching out to grasp for a handhold to stop his headlong fall. "Gah,fuck!" He growled, tasting copper in his mouth as his chin connected with the earth. He spat out blood, his fall finally slowing to a stop halfway down due to the digging grasp of his fingers. He looked up, spotting the Harpy sitting in a perched, squatting position her sharp, avian eyes focused on him like a predator's steely glare.

She was large, on a scale of magnitude bigger and more muscled than the average human. Her legs were scaly, yellow bird talons up to the ankles, her legs were covered up to just above the knee with cerulean, fluffy feathers. Her arms were coated in the same blue plumage, her human like appendages attached at the front of the arms and back of the hands to large, angular wings that stretched well past her reach. The rest of her was humanoid female, with the exaggerated curves endemic to the beastfolk. Her naked breasts were massive globes that seemed to defy gravity with the voluminous jiggle and ease of transport.

Her hips were wide, broodmotherly in their shape and accommodation. She tensed her thick thighs, rubbing the milky countenance of them together as she assessed the hapless mercenary currently in her sights. Her hair was a slightly more fluffy version of her feathery wings, drifting down the back of her head like a flowing, sky-blue river. Her ears were pointed like an Elf's, and her nose, while more narrow than a human's, was pretty in its own right. Her sharp face turned in a distinctly avian way as she regarded him. Her lips were azure blue, as though tinged in woad or some kind of garish warpaint.

Roland matched her yellow-eyed gaze, her face twisting in a strangely human like smile before she began to awkwardly tread down the embankment after him, her wings flapping just slightly to buffet her as she stepped back and forth with her legs in a sideways, crisscrossing motion. Roland's stomach dropped. He began to rapidly scramble down, letting out a shout tinged with half-panic as he realized he wouldn't make it to the bottom before she reached him. "Kelsea!" He yelled, "Carl! Oi! There's a-" The palm of the Harpy's claw slapped down onto his outstretched hand, pinning it as her claws encircled him, the spiky tips tapping against the rock he held onto as she gazed down like a starving woman spotting a full course meal. She pulled him up by his arm with her leg, her lower body strength far outstripping his own meagre resistance. She flapped with one arm and stood with one leg while pulling the rest of him up to her level, adjusting her grip on him so her taloned claw held him by his side and her own, larger hand gripped his wrist. Her wide blue tail frilled as she let out a triumphant squawk. Apparently she didn't intend to eat him, just yet.

"Kraa!" She called, as if trying to speak to him. Her grin was predatory. Roland reached up with his free hand to try to pry himself out of her grasp. The blue bird merely cackled, lifting his arm higher so Roland dangled from it, his other arm unable to reach high enough. He let out a grunt of pain at the rough treatment as she planted her taloned foot against his chest, pushing him upwards with her thick thighs as she flung him like a catapult back up onto the top of the embankment. He collapsed in a heap, rolling onto his side as he tried to regain his footing.

Whoosh. The Harpy landed next to him, her body bending at the knees to encircle him with her plumage. The sudden press of the inhuman woman's breasts against his face informed Roland of her intent within seconds: she was in breeding season. "Oh fer fucks sa-mmmph!" His exasperated groan was cut off by the Harpy's large, hanging mammaries being shoved into him, the crack of her cleavage serving as a portable smothering method. Roland tried to peel her off of him, but the larger woman was strong, inhumanly so. Her legs reached forth and planted themselves against Roland's thighs, pinning him to the ground as she leaned her upper body's weight against him. Her hands were at his wrists, and for the second time in a week the mercenary was pinned by a horny being.

The Harpy cooed, her voice surprisingly soft as she crushed Roland against the ground, her bubble butt bending downwards in a squatting motion to plant itself atop his crotch. His leather leggings were now all that stood between her and her sexual prize. Roland looked up at her, the Harpy's lips plumping as she pulled him out of her crushing breast flesh and planted a wet kiss upon his mouth. He felt a sudden explosion of arousal sink down into his body. What had...

The Harpy pulled back, smiling and playfully licking her lips. He saw the trail of garish blue on her lips smudge and he remembered their bestiary. The Harpies were a surprisingly industrious lot, concocting crude potions and collecting scraps of herbiage across the mountain hideaways they called home. Roland had heard rumors that they made a wilder, more primal version of the Arjal Mage's famed lust potion, but he'd never seen it before in... well- in theflesh. Now as his eyes trailed across the quivering mass of naked skin, he realized that there was more to the feminine creature than mere brutish strength. She hadn't been trying to kill him, she'd been trying tomatewith him.

Her own face flushed as she looked down at Roland on the ground, her fingers loosening from his wrists as she bent down again, letting out a low chirp as she planted another, rougher kiss upon his face. She bit him, harder than Kelsea did, drawing blood as she pulled his lip forward like a stray worm she was digging from the ground. Her teeth opened and his lip snapped back like an elastic band upon his face. She cackled. Roland was hard, rock solid in a way he hadn't felt since the mating haze had taken both his pride and his dignity. In all his years hunting the monsters of the world, he never thought he'd have been so attracted to one. The bird gazed down at him, her smile deepening as she licked her lips again, sampling her own concoction as she removed her grip on his wrists. Roland closed his eyes, taking in deep breaths as he tried not to think of the woman's gorgeous rear bouncing against his crotch. Slowly, shakingly, his hands began to reach down and-