The Princess and the Barbarian

This is based on 1930s pulp fantasy stories. All the sex is lesbian.

As a warning, it features a fair amount of violence.

The verdant forest continued unbroken as far as the eye could see. Only the distant bay to the north, filled with an ice-bound sea, broke the monotony of the view.

Turning to the mail-shod woman riding beside her, Eyriloe said, "Cannot we take ship? I am raw from all this riding."

The woman, Captain Zufoo, wrapped her red cloak about herself. "We cannot, Princess. If you were to fall into the hands of pirates, or worse, the Frenkosh, we would be undone. It is safer this way, with you disguised as a member of my scouting party. Your mother needs the marriage treaty, and I will see you to your wedding."

Eyriloe sighed, and guided her horse along the track between twisted and deformed trees. "And what of the hill tribes? Might they attack?"

Zufoo shook her head. "A score of armed women without treasure? Why would a godless tribe risk your mother's wrath for that? No, this is the safest and surest way. In five days, we'll be in Eechin. I can have one of my women take a look at your saddle-sores when we camp tonight. Be glad that is the worst danger we face. And your dowry--" Here she drew from her armour a thick gold necklace inlaid with sapphires, "--will be safely delivered, too"

They rode without talking for a while, the only sounds the jingle of harness and tread of their horses. The red-cloaked riders of the guards flitted in and out of the trees surrounding them.

"Captain," said Eyriloe, "Have you ever met Queen Henno?"

Zufoo smirked. "Young brides always worry about who they'll marry. I saw Queen Henno once, years ago, when she came to Wersew as part of a diplomatic mission. She was just a princess in those days. Tall and beautiful, and by repute a mighty warrior."

"But is she kind? Good?"

"She rules her people well, if that's what you mean. As to how she'll treat her future wife, how should I know?"

Eyriloe laughed. "I suppose it was foolish of me to ask for advice on marriage from a military woman."

Zufoo smiled. "I fear you are right. My wife back in..."

Eyriloe looked at her, wondering why she'd stopped speaking. The captain's hands clawed at a thick wooden shaft that jutted from her throat, crimson blood dripping between her fingers, before she slipped from her saddle.

"Ambush!" shouted Eyriloe.

The forest erupted into chaos, as creatures rushed from behind trees, some swooping down from on high on bat wings. They had the form of black apes, shaggy and heavily muscled, with bird-like talons at the end of their stumpy legs. The wickedly-glinting spears they brandished were of wood and iron.

Around Eyriloe, the guards formed up, thrusting and hacking with their swords against this unexpected foe. Eyriloe ducked to avoid the swoop of one creature, slashing up with a sword she hadn't realised she'd drawn. The creature crashed heavily into the undergrowth, and the smell of brimstone filled the air as its obsidian blood oozed down the blade.

Eyriloe's horse reared, and the princess fell, to see one of the creatures slashing her mount's flanks. Landing on her back, Eyriloe thrust into the creature's belly, causing it to stagger as black blood poured down its legs.

Rising, Eyriloe looked about. The battle was going badly; most of the soldiers lay dead or dying on the forest floor, and Eyriloe goggled to see some of the beasts feasting on the fallen women. Those who were not dead were separated, backs to trees, fighting for their lives.

The sound of wind whistling caused Eyriloe to turn, but too late to react. One of the creatures crashed into her, and they tumbled through the long grass to crash into a tree, Eyriloe's sword falling from her grasp. The beast moved fast as a snake, climbing above Eyriloe, its dagger headed for her throat. But the weapon stopped at the last moment, and Eyriloe saw an awful recognition in the sallow yellow eyes that gazed into hers. Somehow the malevolent intelligence that peered through those eyes was at once both obscenely human and terrifyingly alien.

The creature threw back its head and let out a howl which drew the others of its kind to its side. Eyriloe backed against the trunk of the tree and glanced around, seeing that no other humans still moved. Before her gathered the remaining monsters, around a dozen in number. One of them stepped forward, a looped rope in its clawed hands.

As Eyriloe prepared to fight it with her nothing but her teeth and nails, a crashing of branches sounded. Two of the creatures dropped in bloody piles of lifeless flesh, and Eyriloe saw fear on their faces for the first time. Behind them was a new combatant: a tall, muscular woman in just enough furs to cover her decency, moving gracefully among her enemies, her sword a flicker of lightning as here it cleaved through a creature's body, there lopped off one's head. Even the unnatural speed of the beasts was not enough to save them from the shining web of death the woman spun with her blade. She moved through the beasts like a goddess of war, her golden hair streaming, her foes dropping dead at her feet.

Taking her chance, Eyriloe snatched up her sword and thrust it deep into the rope holder's chest. Black blood poured onto Eyriloe's hands, hot and sticky. As the creature slipped down her sword, she saw the last two winged creatures flee, the other woman chasing after them. Her sandal-clad feet spurned the ground beneath them, and with a plunge, she caught a creature in its back as it took flight, her sword standing out a foot from its chest. But the other flapped its wings frantically, rising into the tree cover, then above, shrinking until it was nothing but a dot in the cerulean sky.

The woman cursed and, bracing her foot against her last victim's back, dragged her sword free, swinging the blade to fling the black ichor from it. After wiping the blade on the grass, she began to search through the saddle-bags of some dead horses.

Eyriloe watched her warily, leaning against the tree. When the stranger began to look through the purses of the dead soldiers, Eyriloe called out, "Leave them alone, by Rinete!"

The stranger stood and faced her, smiling. When she spoke, it was with a barbarous accent. "That's a pretty welcome for the woman who saved your life."

Pushing away from the tree, Eyriloe said, "That's no excuse to desecrate the dead."

"I wasn't desecrating them, just relieving them of coins they'll never spend."

"Will you help me bury them?"

The woman shook her head, her wild blonde hair swinging free. "The dead will be as comfortable above the turf as beneath it. You can stay and bury them if your conscience leads you to your own death, but those flying creatures will be back in greater number. I'll not tarry."

"Wait. What were they?"

The blonde prodded one with her sandaled foot. "Creatures of the outer dark, servants of Old Night. Somebody wanted you soldiers dead, because a sorceress tore a hole in the walls of reality to call these things through."

"Sorcery!" Eyriloe laughed. "I am not a child or a hill girl to believe such tales."

A dark look came into the other woman's steel-blue eyes. "You would not laugh so readily if you had seen the things I have seen. But you are young, little older than a child; it is the curse of the young to know everything before they have learned anything." She glanced into the trees. "I cannot stay any longer."

The woman turned to leave, and Eyriloe quailed at the thought of being alone in that ill-fated forest. Alone and lost.

"Wait. I am Loloene, a Lichoen soldier. We were carrying an urgent message to Queen Henno in the city of Eechin in Doytosc." There was no reason to let this stranger know the truth of Eyriloe's identity. "Have you heard of it?"

"Eechin? I once fought in an army to defend the city. Another time I led an army to sack it. I would have succeeded, if -- Iustri, this is no time for chatter." She pointed to the westering sun. "Eechin is five days hard march that way." She moved into the forest, disappearing as silent as a ghost.

"Hold! I can pay you for your help. Pay you well."

She watched the patch of forest where the woman had last been, but the stranger spoke from just behind Eyriloe. How did she move so quietly?

"How much?" said the woman.

Eyriloe turned to face her. "More money that a hill warrior like you has ever seen."

"Fool. I was once an emira in the lands of Ereboe, where the dark-eyed warriors wear silk over steel. There I had more gold than all your petty kingdoms could dream of. But I shall take your message in return for a purse of gold."

"I carry the message in my head. But if you take me to your village--"

"I have no village."

Eyriloe cleaned and sheathed her own sword. "I thought you were from this land."

"No, I am wandering alone."

"Alone? The hill tribes would slit the throat of any lone traveller."

The woman laughed. "The weak warriors of this land cannot slit the throat of Seithrath of the North."

"Why were you crossing this country?"

Seithrath shrugged. "I was in the service of the Tsarina Tetoene of Ryss, when I found I had to leave in a hurry."

"You were one of the tsarina's knights?"

"A mercenary."

"Ah. I am a knight."

Seithrath laughed. "I have seen your knighting ceremonies. A woman kneels like a cur, then another woman touches her shoulders with a sword. In my land, women draw swords for one reason, and it's not to tap another's shoulders."

"So you were a common foot soldier?"

The Northwoman grunted. "The common foot soldiers do the real killing and dying in a war, while you knights apply their perfume and compose sonnets to their lovers. But no, I was no common foot soldier. I was the tsarina's general."

"You? And why did you leave such a prestigious position?"

"The tsarina found me in bed with her wife."

"Her wife!"

"And her daughter."

"After you bedded her wife, why did she let you stay on and seduce her daughter?"

"She didn't. When I say she found me in bed with both of them, I mean at the same time. So I rode three horses to death fleeing that land, a headswoman's bloody axe waiting for me if I am caught. Now I will lose my pursuers in this godless forest."

Eyriloe pointed into the trees. "I saw a couple of horses run off that way. We could ride them."

Seithrath shook her head. "We leave the road. We'll travel faster by foot. The horses would be easier to track or spot. We'll keep to the south, where there are fewer villages. But not too far south; I am loathe to return to the spider-haunted forests."

Eyriloe looked down at her light cavalry boots. "I can't walk that far."

Seithrath laughed. "You can and you will. You'll get blisters on your feet instead of your civilised rump."

Her eyes travelled up and down Eyriloe's body, judging her worth as a warrior. And she saw more than just a warrior, if Eyriloe judged the desire in those icy eyes aright. Eyriloe blushed, for she was unused to seeing such blatant lust directed at her. What would it be like to lie in this barbarian's arms? But she squared her shoulders with a haughty gesture. She was a princess, on her way to marry a queen and give her her maidenhood. Even talking to an outlaw like Seithrath was beneath her.

"Very well, we will walk. You will guide me to Eechin for a purse of gold coins."

Spotting Zufoo's body, Eyriloe searched it for the necklace, but it was gone. She cast looks about, but couldn't see it glittering.

Seithrath stepped up to her, her mighty frame towering over Eyriloe's. Gripping Eyriloe's shoulder, she pulled hard, and with a great rip the princess's cloak tore, to fall to the leafy forest floor.

Seithrath nodded in satisfaction at what she'd done. "That red is too easy to see from afar. Will you take your armour off too? It's too shiny and noisy."

"No; I am a knight of Lichoe. My battle sisters lie dead on this field, but on my honour, I shall not abandon my armour."

Seithrath grumbled and strode away. "Keep up, girl."

⚔️

The pair trudged for the remainder of the day, Seithrath leading a trail through the deepest part of the forest, which she claimed would be both hard to follow and avoided any villages. Though Eyriloe tried to talk, the barbarian spared her no more than a few words. Despite her aching feet, Eyriloe pushed on, determined to keep up with Seithrath's iron stamina. The princess shivered in the bitter wind despite all her clothes; how the barbarian seemed unaffected with so much bare skin was a mystery.

Twice they saw the flying creatures that had ambushed Eyriloe; twice they hid from them in the trees. Eyriloe was glad Seithrath had insisted on leaving the track.

With Seithrath leading the way, Eyriloe often found her gaze straying to the barbarian's muscular bottom. Then looking away; such a woman was unworthy of a princess's attention. But her eyes were not as arrogant as her will, and eventually they would drift back to rest on the wonderful sight that tempted her with each powerful step.

As dusk drew in, Eyriloe called for a halt; she could no longer see as far as the nearest tree.

Seithrath laughed. "There is enough light to walk for at least another three turns of the glass. But as you wish. Light a fire, and I will gather food."

Exhausted, Eyriloe said, "Why don't you light the fire while I get dinner?"

Seithrath put her hands on her hips. "Would you know what to eat, or how to gather it?" To Eyriloe's headshake, she added, "You are as a baby in these woods. Light the fire, but keep it small. The light will draw things we don't want to meet."

With that she slipped into the night, her footfalls silent. Eyriloe sighed and gathered twigs, with which she lit a flame from her tinderbox. A distant howl caused her to spin about; was Seithrath serious about the creatures out there?

Her hand drifted unbidden to her sword hilt, but it was Seithrath who entered the small clearing, throwing two dead rabbits to the ground.

"Cook those, and fast. We sleep soon, then leave at first light." She looked behind her, as though staring through the trees. "Something watches us. I feel it."

⚔️

Eyriloe was embarrassed that she needed help from Seithrath to skin and gut the rabbits. Life in a palace hadn't prepared her for a rough life. She expected the meal to be bland compared to her usual fare, especially without any seasoning, so she was surprised at how good the succulent meat tasted, its hot juices dripping down her chin.

Opposite her, Seithrath lounged against a tree, tearing chunks from her rabbit with her teeth. She seemed as one with the primeval wilderness that surrounded them. And despite some scars from old battles, there was something beautiful about her; not pretty like a young woman, but a robust, confidant attractiveness. Attractive to some women. A princess would never feel desire for a low-born barbarian.

Eyriloe said, "You've seen those flying creatures before?"

"Once, in distant Nyboe, where the war drums beat through the steamy jungle nights. I was young then, younger than you are now. The witch-queen of that realm summoned the beasts to destroy a rival claimant to the throne and her army."

"What happened."

"After the war, the creatures remained. They kept arriving, preying on the local farmers."

"You killed them easily today."

"I had the advantage of surprise. And there were only a few, not the hundreds that plagued that far land. Only one thing could close the gateway to the benighted hell that spawned them."

"What was that?"

"The death of the summoner." A far-away look came into Seithrath's eyes. "I throttled her in our bed."

They slept on the long grass with no cover. Eyriloe was glad of Seithrath's closeness; her shadowy fears dissipated in the light of the barbarian's presence.

⚔️

The second day was harder, with freezing rain sluicing through the trees. Eyriloe's smooth-soled cavalry boots slid on the muddy sward, until Seithrath demanded she throw them away. It felt strange to walk in bare feet, but there was no denying she made better progress, and it wasn't long before she learnt to ignore the icy mud squeezing between her toes. There were more of the flying creatures in the skies, but again the pair remained hidden.

Around noon they came upon a huge, empty structure of a rough stone that Eyriloe couldn't recognise. Eyriloe would have walked past it, so overrun was it by the forest, but Seithrath's keen eyes found it. They sheltered from the rain for a few moments while Seithrath whittled a spear from an oak branch.

"What manner of building is this?" said Eyriloe. "It's bigger than any palace I've ever seen."

Seithrath looked around it. "I have seen these in forgotten places throughout the world. Wise women say they were built by men."

"Men?"

The barbarian cast an eye to the tumultuous sky. "You're aware that amongst animals there are both males and females?"

"Of course."

"Some believe that humans were once like that."

"Male humans? You must be joking."

"There are tales. People say they looked like women, but taller and stronger, with hair on their faces and chests."

"I once saw a creature in the royal menagerie in Wersew, an ape from the southlands. It walked on two legs like a woman, but was bigger, with hair over its whole body. Was that a -- what did you call them?"

"A man. I've seen apes such as those, and slain a few. They are not men. I think men are just an old legend passed around campfires by bored women. But an ancient civilisation raised this building, and if it was not humans, then who?"

"They must be all dead by now, whoever they were."

Seithrath loosed her sword in its scabbard. "Perhaps. But some evils lie unquiet in their graves, waiting for a foolish woman to rouse them once more."

⚔️

On they pressed, under the leaden sky. Eyriloe's calves and feet hurt from so much walking, but again they made good progress. Late in the day, they came to a fast-flowing stream which had burst its banks under the heavy rains. It was now yards wide. Seithrath skipped across, from half-submerged stone to mud-slick bank, as easily as Eyriloe would traverse a ballroom on a suitor's perfumed arm.

But when Eyriloe attempted to cross, her foot slipped on the uncertain ground, and she fell into the stream, her iron armour dragging her to the stream bottom. Clinging to a large rock, she fought desperately to raise her head above the water, to suck air into her needy lungs, but the weight of fast flowing water held her down.

A terrific pull on her armour hauled her clear of the water, and she was placed on a nearby rock, grasping wildly to its slick sides. Beside her stood Seithrath. How the woman had the strength to lift Eyriloe was a mystery.

But Seithrath's attention was elsewhere. Eyriloe couldn't see what she was looking at, back along the trail they'd followed, but her attention was rapt. A deep, guttural growl from the undergrowth told Eyriloe they were not alone.

With a scream, Seithrath cast her spear with all the strength of her mighty frame. At the same time, a vast bulk leapt out of hiding, hurtling toward the two women. It would have landed on them if it wasn't for the spear, which embedded itself in the creature and caused it to fall a yard short. Eyriloe got an impression of a malign feline intelligence glaring from green eyes, and ivory fangs a hands-breadth long, before Seithrath threw herself bodily at the thing, her sword flashing brutally downwards. The creature she fought was an immense yellow hunting cat, as huge as a horse, and Seithrath barely avoided the knife-like claws that sought to disembowel her.

Eyriloe struggled to rise and help, but her heavy armour held her down, tired as she was after her struggle with the stream. She drew her knife and sawed at the leather clasps on her mail with cold-numbed fingers, hearing the wild roaring of the beast over the tumultuous crashing of the stream. How long could Seithrath stand alone against that monster? Finally, the armour slipped from her shoulders to slide under the water, and Eyriloe rose, wearing nothing but her soaked cotton underclothes.

But the fight was over, with both combatants lying prone on the crimson-soaked grass. Rushing over, Eyriloe saw that the cat's head was near severed from its body, its matted fur covered in blood. Motionless nearby lay Seithrath, also covered in blood. Eyriloe knelt at her side, fearing the worst, but the barbarian groaned and slowly sat up. Eyriloe helped the dazed woman stand and walked her to the stream, where she washed away the blood, happy to see most of it was the cat's. But not all; there were a series of deep gashes on her thigh, the ragged flesh hanging loose.

Eyriloe did what she could to clean the ghastly wound, then had Seithrath sit down. With a needle and thread from her pack, she stitched up the gashes as best she could, then leaned close to the leg to bit off the thread. As she did, she noticed Seithrath's fresh smell, as wild and natural as the wilderness they were traversing. Helping Seithrath stand again, Eyriloe realised that the barbarian hadn't shown a hint of pain throughout her ordeal.

Eyriloe looked back at the hump of bloody fur that had been a creature of nightmare minutes earlier. "What was that thing?"

Seithrath tried her bad foot on a rock in the stream. "An ancient race of giant cat, now almost gone from these lands. I have seen one rend an entire hunting party apart. It had been following us."

Eyriloe shivered as she prepared to cross the stream, and not from the cold wind that whipped over her exposed skin, or her wet underwear. Her armour was lost somewhere in that fast-flowing water. "We were lucky that it didn't come across us last night. If we'd been sleeping when that thing came up--"

"I didn't sleep. I knew it was out there, and listened for it all night. It seized its opportunity when it I was busy saving your life at the stream"

She noticed Seithrath's eyes roving over her body, and was only too aware of how much flesh was showing now she'd lost her armour. It was no way for a princess to be treated, so why did it make her she smile?

⚔️

Their progress stalled during the day, with Eyriloe having to support Seithrath as they walked. She felt the barbarian's taut muscles under her hands, in stark contrast to her soft skin, and the barbarian's gentle breasts that pressed into Eyriloe's shoulder. That smell was there again, so raw, so human; not the perfumed sophistication of the women she was used to.

By the time evening closed in, Eyriloe was cold, though filled with red berries that they'd found along the way. Seithrath guided her to a cave in a wooded hill, which they were glad to find housed no bear or wildcat. While the barbarian stretched herself out on the soft grasses they'd laid, Eyriloe gathered wood and started a fire.

As she sat beside it, she said, "Where will you go once we've reached Eechin?"

Seithrath shrugged her mighty shoulders. "I'll find another adventure. Or it will find me. I'm minded to head south; I've not sailed the Great Sea for many years. The pirates there would welcome me back with open arms. Well, some would try to remove my head from my shoulders, but many would sail under me again."

Eyriloe looked across at the barbarian, watching the firelight play across her brooding face. "Where's home, Seithrath? Do you ever return there?"

"I am of the Englos."

"The Englos? I thought they were all dead."

"The rest are. But I had a life amongst them once: mothers, sisters, a wife, a daughter."

"You had a wife?"

"I've had several over the years. But it isn't the will of the goddesses that I stay in one place for long. So I travel and fight and love. Sometimes I miss home, but I know that my people are nothing but a memory now."

"Were you a warrior among the Englos?"

"I was their queen."

At a grimace from Seithrath, Eyriloe moved to look at her leg. "I see no infection, thanks be to Rinete. Does it hurt?"

"It has been agony all day."

"I didn't thank you, you know. For saving me earlier, with the cat. So thank you."

Seithrath shrugged. "It's what you're paying me for."

Eyriloe rolled her eyes. "Damn you, barbarian, I'm trying to be nice."

"Nice? You know, I saved your life twice today. The other time was when I hauled you out of the water."

"Thank you for that too."

Seithrath reached out to put a lock of Eyriloe's hair behind her ear in a surprisingly tender move for one so fearsome. "If we're counting, I saved you the first day we met too. What do the Lichoens do to show their gratitude when someone saves their life so often?"

Eyriloe froze. She was grateful, more than she ever thought she could be to a common soldier. But she felt the barbarian's hot gaze on her scantily-clad body, and knew what was being proposed. It was impossible; she was a princess, a virgin. Her bride awaited her in Eechin! Nothing could happen, even if she couldn't stop imagining running her hands over the barbarian's powerful body, or what it would be like to have the barbarian's strong hands grasp her hair.

But as her fingers grazed over Seithrath's smooth thigh, her thoughts were not with her mother, or her bride-to-be, far off in their cities of stone. The civilised world, with its customs and taboos, dropped away, and Princess Eyriloe with it. Here before Seithrath knelt the warrior Loloene. And why should she not show her appreciation?

"Perhaps, barbarian, I can show you how the women of the cities thank those who help them. And take your mind off your pain at the same time."

She leaned forward and kissed Seithrath's tight abdomen, running her tongue along the grooves.

A pair of strong hands grabbed her shoulders and twisted her onto her back, then Seithrath loomed above her. "No. I will show you how a woman of the outlands loves. She does not lie back and accept pleasure." Seithrath's finger ran along Eyriloe's cheek, causing her breath to hitch. "Where I come from, women take their pleasure."

Her head descended, golden hair tickling Eyriloe's chest, until their lips met. Seithrath's mouth was soft, but her tongue insistent, and Eyriloe opened her own lips in sweet surrender. The other woman's kiss became more and more passionate, more and more dominant.

A tugging at her top told Eyriloe that Seithrath wanted it removed. She sat up and lifted her arms; Seithrath broke the kiss only long enough to slip it over Eyriloe's head. For the first time in her life, Eyriloe felt another woman's hands caress her chest, the barbarian's palms cupping her pert breasts before teasing Eyriloe's nipples. Rinete be blessed, so this is what the act of love felt like! No wonder poetesses spoke of it so much.

Trailing a line of kisses down Eyriloe's neck and chest, Seithrath took a breast into her mouth, sucking hard and swirling her tongue around the nipple. In response, Eyriloe arched her back, gasping as she pressed her breast further into the barbarian's mouth.

With a heave, Seithrath stood, effortlessly lifting Eyriloe, who wrapped her legs around the barbarian's waist, holding her to her core. They kissed again, and Eyriloe felt her breasts pressed hard against Seithrath's chest, feeling her strong arms pulling them together, the barbarian's hands roving over her back and rear.

With a shock, Eyriloe felt herself pressed against the cave wall, the cold, unyielding and wet wall in stark contrast to the hot body pressing her against it, the soft breasts maddeningly pushing into her own through Seithrath's thin fur top. Kisses passed along Eyriloe's neck, and she felt her last remaining clothing, a cotton wrap tied about her hips, torn off. Nibbles joined the kisses on Eyriloe's neck, and she felt herself sinking lower in her surrender.

Seithrath pressed their bodies together, and Eyriloe opened her legs to accept her. As the barbarian's mouth found Eyriloe's again, the princess felt Seithrath's hand reaching between them, her fingers slipping inside Eyriloe's molten core. She gasped as she was penetrated, conquered, for the first time in her life. When the barbarian entered her, Eyriloe felt all her worries, all her concerns for the future and her mother's kingdom, fall away. She was nothing but a naked girl, offering her body to the most magnificent woman she'd ever laid eyes on.

As those fingers plunged in and out of Eyriloe's sodden centre, she felt a fire growing within her, one that had grown from a spark when Seithrath had first gazed at her so frankly during their first meeting. But it had grown to a bonfire, burning Eyriloe from the inside, the heat between the two women almost unbearable. And as those relentless fingers drove in, again and again, so the fire grew, until it was a conflagration, sweeping away all conscious thought. The princess was no longer high royalty, but a woman of flesh and blood. In the flame of her lust, the that woman became nothing more than an animal, screaming in ecstasy as the barbarian took her to a peak of pleasure undreamt of.

When she came to, Eyriloe was lying on the grass-strewn cave floor. Above her stood Seithrath, removing her scanty clothes and sword-belt, then kicking off her sandals. She was even more breathtaking with no clothes, towering over the supine princess. Even as she watched, Eyriloe's heart thudded in her chest. What would happen next? She didn't have to wait long to find out; Seithrath put one foot either side of Eyriloe's head, then crouched, bringing her powerful womanhood down, down to Eyriloe's waiting and eager face.

It rested a finger's breadth above Eyriloe's face, the smell intoxicating. There were drips of fluid beading the lips, and Eyriloe's tongue, unbidden by her mind, reached out to licked them away, before they dissolved into salty sweetness in her mouth. Seithrath knelt to settle herself, meaty thighs either side of Eyriloe's head. She licked the barbarian's lips, loving the feel of the soft flesh. Seithrath lowered herself, and it became hard to breath as Seithrath's womanhood formed an almost perfect seal over Eyriloe's face. But there were more important things than breathing; she pressed her tongue inside, in an act of worship. It was hot; Eyriloe wasn't the only one with a fire burning inside. As she enjoyed the intimacy of what they were doing, she heard Seithrath moan in pleasure. Then she rocked back and forth, rubbing herself on Eyriloe's face, using the princess as nothing more than an object to rub her genitals on.

It was a demeaning way to be used. It was a submissive position to be in. Eyriloe knew she should be enraged. She was a princess, and this was a wandering barbarian sellsword. This shouldn't happen, it couldn't happen. But it was happening, and Eyriloe felt herself surrendering to the other woman, her hands gripping Seithrath's hips as the Northwoman used her. Eyriloe could at least breathe now, though she was sure her lips would be swollen and sore in the morning. But what did she care of that? The swelling would be a badge of honour, a reminder of how she gave herself utterly to another's pleasure.

With a groan of primal triumph, Seithrath reached her climax, her gushing juices bathing Eyriloe's face.

⚔️

Eyriloe slept cuddled up to Seithrath, her fears subsiding at the touch of the bigger woman's body. Four times the barbarian awoke in the night, and each time she took Eyriloe again. Seithrath's vitality was shocking; she'd not slept the previous night, and now she was getting little sleep again, but there was no tiredness about her. She was as implacable as the granite walls of their cave.

What did this mean for Eyriloe? Was she Seithrath's woman now, to follow a wandering adventurer on her travels, until she either met her end or another girl caught the barbarian's eye? That wasn't the life Eyriloe was raised for, and she knew how much the marriage treaty meant to her mother's struggling kingdom. Fine foods and silks would make her life easy. But... Her hands ran over the slumbering barbarian's abdomen, then up to cup her teardrop breast. Could she really live with an ordinary woman, even a queen, after a night of passion such as she'd had? Then again, would Seithrath even want her the next day, having had her fun?

When dawn came, Eyriloe was barely able to get her torn underclothes to conceal her modesty. Seithrath was back to her usual untalkative self. But there was a smile that played about her mouth at times, as though she had claimed yet another treasure from the hard world that beset her. The wound to her leg didn't stop her from walking as fast as on the first day, and the two progressed well through the forest, the prior day's rains ended.

As the sun hung at its highest in the sky, Eyriloe called to Seithrath, who walked half a dozen paces ahead, "Are we nearing Eechin?"

"Yes. We are in lands the Doytoscs claim."

"So we are safe at last."

"No, the natives do not consider themselves part of Doytosc. And there are other--" She held her arm and stood still.

Eyriloe held still too, but could heard nothing other than the roar of a distant river and the song of birds. She did not speak; if Seithrath sensed something, she trusted her.

With an ululating cry, dozens of the bat-winged apes descended from the trees. Seithrath dodged spears as she drew her sword and flung herself at the nearest enemies, striking down two in as many heartbeats. No spears were aimed at Eyriloe, but she jabbed and thrust as the monsters closed in.

Ducking the blunt end of a spear, she rushed towards Seithrath, who was creating piles of enemy dead. But as she ran, Eyriloe felt intense pain in her shoulders, and looking, saw pitiless talons driven deep into her tortured flesh. Those wickedly curved claws were attached to a bat-ape above her, flapping its wings so that the pair rose high above the trees.

Eyriloe's sword slipped from nerveless fingers, and before she passed out from the pain, she saw Seithrath, desperately fighting at the centre of a ring of the beasts. Even as she watched, the barbarian fell, and the creatures leapt on her.

⚔️

Eyriloe awakened screaming Seithrath's name. She sat up, unsure of where she was, to find herself in a soft bed, with sheets of black satin. Her hands reached for her shoulders, but she was amazed to feel that they were unmarred by any wounds despite the claws that had torn her flesh. Stumbling from the bed, she realised she was naked. There was only one window in the stone-walled chamber, but it staggered her to look down and see that she was high on a mountain, with a chasm below whose bottom was so deep it was hidden by mists. Hurrying back to the bed, she wrapped herself in a sheet.

Marching through the wooden door, she found herself in a chilly throne room. Arrayed around the edges were many of the bat-apes, but sat on a stone throne at the far end was a white-robed woman whose flawless beauty was an affront to nature, her straight black hair a bitter contrast to her ivory skin. A smirk reached her perfect mouth when she saw Eyriloe.

"Ahh, Princess, I was wondering when you would rise. Would you care for refreshments? Or clothes?"

A snap of her finger brought a young naked woman, who kneeled before Eyriloe, a pile of silk clothes in her arms.

Dressing rapidly under the sheet, Eyriloe saw the red dress she now wore would have scandalised a harlot of Pregyi. The revealed flesh was somehow more tantalising that her nudity had been.

"Who are you?" she asked the woman on the throne. "What do you want with me?"

That smirk again. "I am Kekref the Ageless. I have searched for you since you escaped my first ambush. You are to be traded to Queen Ivirildos of Frenkoe."

Eyriloe strode towards the woman. "I am a princess, not a prize pig to be bought and sold. What does Queen Ivirildos want with me?"

Kekref laughed. "Why, to marry you, of course. You are heir to the throne of Lichoe, and she wants her daughters to inherit your petty kingdom."

"Daughters? I would never let her--"

"I don't imagine she means to leave you a choice."

Eyriloe shivered, so sure of herself was Kekref. "And my wounds? What of them?"

"The queen wouldn't want to purchase damaged goods. I healed you with arts long thought lost to humanity. My knowledge is not limited to the petty understanding of reality granted those who live mortal lives."

"And what do you get from this? What price for playing with dark sorcery? What will you sell me for?"

Kekref leaned forward, her dark eyed-glare burrowing into Eyriloe. "She offered the return of my soul."

⚔️

Seithrath felt the familiar shock of impact in her shoulder as her sword sliced into another body. Casting a wild glance behind her, she saw Eyriloe hoist into the air by one of the creatures. She turned to reach her, but her injured leg gave way, slipping on a patch of mud.

Instantly, she was covered by a pile of the creatures, biting and stabbing and clawing. But she refused to give up; the women of the outlands never did. Dropping her sword, useless at such close quarters, she grabbed a dagger from a hairy hand and thrust and sliced at everything that moved. Her opponents were confused by their own numbers, unable to see Seithrath as she twisted and turned in the mud. But every blow from the barbarian brought an enemy to the ground, giving her a body to shield behind.

Light broke through between the bat-apes, and Seithrath knew she was thinning their numbers. With a cry of triumph, she lifted her sword again and rose, to hew and slice. Heads, wings and hands fell to the ground as she wreaked bloody havoc.

At last she stood victorious, breathing like a bellows and bleeding from numerous small wounds, watching the dark spots in the sky, one of which was Eyriloe. Her sharp eyes followed their path, and she set off in the same direction.

⚔️

As night fell, Seithrath stood before a forbidding fortress. No civilised woman could have climbed the mountain beneath without any equipment. But to one who had climbed the vast peaks of Engloe as a girl, even the smallest fingerhold was enough. And a fierce desire burned in her savage heart, for she had given the girl her word to take her to Eechin, and had taken her as a lover. No mountain, no horde of bat-winged apes, could stop her from fulfilling her promise.

Forcing herself to ignore the weariness in her limbs, she found cracks in the great obsidian stones of the wall, leaping for foothold to handhold, wondering what race of giants could have hauled such huge blocks up the mountainside. Or possibly it was done by sorcery; she shivered with atavistic dread of the unknown and the dark arts. But still she climbed.

At last she reached a window, a vast hole in the wall with no glass. She hauled herself over the lip and dropped inside, silent as a lynx's footfall.

There were no lights, but her wilderness-bred eyes could see by the scant starlight creeping through the window. A civilised woman would have blindly blundered about; not so a daughter of the wilds. Slipping through a door, she saw a flicker of light in the distance -- a candle, moving slowly down the corridor, in the hands of a woman.

Quiet as the midnight wind whistling through a graveyard, Seithrath crept up behind the woman and seized her roughly, her hand clamped over the girl's mouth. The woman struggled ineffectively, but at least the barbarian's fears that she might be a demon were quieted; it was warm, yielding flesh under her hands. Young, naked flesh at that.

Seithrath whispered fiercely in the girls ear. "Stop fighting or I'll snap your neck." Once the girl stilled, she continued. "I'm going to take my hand off your mouth. If you scream, it will be the last sound you ever make. Do you understand?"

With the girl's nod, Seithrath removed her hand, though the other kept a tight grip about her torso. "Who are you?"

"I am Este, Mistress, of the Lothyenoens. I am a slave of Kekref, the sorceress."

Seithrath was impressed that, despite her fear and trembling limbs, the girl was not panicking. "Was a captive brought here today?"

"Yes, Mistress. Kekref is keeping her in the top chamber of her castle. She intends to take her to Peros tonight, riding on storm clouds over the leagues inbetween."

Seithrath's voice was a deep rumble. "She'll ride my sword to Hell. Is there rope with which I can tie you up? I don't want to have to knock you unconscious."

"N--no." Este turned to look up at her captor. "But I will not warn Kekref of your coming. If you take me with you, I'll guide you to the prisoner. I can also lead you to the secret way down the mountain."

Seithrath hesitated only a moment. "Lead on then. But remember my sword is just behind you."

Despite her misgivings, she enjoyed watching the girl bend over to pick up the dropped candle.

⚔️

Eyriloe pulled on the gold chains attached to her wrists. The four bat-ape guards left her unmolested, their sullen silence unnerving as they gambled over dice. All she could do was await the return of Kekref, who had promised to take her to a gilded captivity as the Queen of Frenkoe's forced bride. It was frustrating, especially after she'd had a glimpse of a free life in the preceding days, a life where she could chose who she loved.

But even as she bridled at her captivity, she saw a shadow steal over the window. It was a shadow she knew only too well: Seithrath wasn't dead, and had returned for her! Like a thunderbolt, the barbarian launched herself at the bat-apes, moving with a brutal grace that wreaked havoc wherever her sword flashed. In less time than it takes for an apple to fall from a woman's hand, all four were dead, their vile bodies collapsing to a carnal house wreck on the floor.

"Seithrath! You came for me!"

"Of course I did, girl." She kissed Eyriloe passionately. "Is there a key for your chains?"

"The sorceress might have it."

Seithrath grabbed one of the chains and heaved, her muscles standing out like cords of steel. The chain elongated, then one of the links snapped, and Eyriloe's hand was freed, wearing the most expensive bracelet a princess ever had.

When her other hand was also freed, Seithrath put her over her shoulder and carried her out of the window, into the waiting night.

⚔️

Eyriloe was led from the castle via a circuitous labyrinth. Seithrath held her, but a girl named Este led the way. Este had found them clothes, and Eyriloe and Este were dressed in layers of furs with thick boots; Eyriloe was warmer than she'd been since leaving her mother's castle. Seithrath remained in her scanty furs, and Eyriloe couldn't stop admiring the barbarian's mighty physique.

They made good progress through the forest during the day, Seithrath leading them. But they all kept a wary eye on the skies and the watchful trees, fearful of an ambush. But there was no attack, and as dusk fell over the whispering forest, Seithrath called a halt. They built a fire under a rock overhang and ate venison that the barbarian took down with a makeshift spear.

As they sat, Eyriloe remembered her last night with Seithrath, annoyed that Este was sat on the other side of her. If it was just the two of them...

In a lull in the conversation, Este began to sing, a keening tune in a barbarous tongue, but not unpleasant. As she sang, Eyriloe watched her, seeing the beauty in her fierce eyes, and the generous curves that even thick furs couldn't entirely hide. The contrast to Seithrath's muscular body couldn't be greater. And was the barbarian's hand resting lightly on the girl's hip? It was! There had never been a suggestion that the fire between two of them would last beyond that one night, but nevertheless, Eyriloe felt her anger and bitterness grow.

When the girl's song had ended, Seithrath asked Eyriloe to sing too. She hesitated, but would not be shown up by a mere girl. Years of training in the arts of courtesanship had given her a wonderful voice, and she would impress Seithrath with it. So she sang them an old Lichoen folk song, of an old battle, of a woman scorned and of a love regained. The delicate melody was a stark contrast to the rough song that preceded it, and Eyriloe hoped Seithrath appreciated it. Even as she sang, she felt the barbarian's arm reach around and rest on her waist. She'd chosen Eyriloe! But even as she thought that, she looked across to see Seithrath's hand still resting happily on Este's hip.

When Eyriloe's song ended, Seithrath decided to sing too. Eyriloe expected a gusty barbarian song, with bawdy lyrics. But that wasn't what she got. It was a delicate tune, surprising to hear from one so physically powerful, and the subtle melody held Eyriloe's rapt attention. Seithrath sang of lost lands and lost loves, a poignant tale. Eyriloe was barely aware of the barbarian's hand moving, sliding from her hip to rest on her bottom, which it grabbed and fondled. With a smile of triumph, Eyriloe looked once more at Este, to see the barbarian's other hand treating the girl the same way. She was outraged! It was bad enough that a princess had become a barbarian's plaything, but to share her with a hill girl! And not even one at a time. But Eyriloe didn't move. She enjoyed the feel of the confident hand, and there was no doubting her gratitude to the woman who had saved her so many times. Instead, she listened to the rest of the song, leaning against Seithrath's magnificent frame.

When she felt the last notes reverberate in Seithrath's chest, Eyriloe saw that Este had cuddled up to Seithrath on her other side.

The girl looked across Seithrath's bust, her emerald eyes locking with Eyriloe's. "Seithrath has saved both our lives. Mayhap she's even saved our souls from being cast into a dark hell beyond our ken. She deserves to be thanked." A smile spread across her mouth. "By both of us."

So saying, the girl leaned forward, and through the dark veil of her hair, Eyriloe saw her pressing a trail of kisses along Seithrath's abdomen. Eyriloe remembered kissing there herself, and thinking it was hers.

Este looked up at Eyriloe. "I will not take her from you. But there is enough of our champion to share."

Watching the girl return to kissing the barbarian's torso, Eyriloe wondered what to do. Did she want this? A look up at Seithrath revealed the barbarian watching her, her icy eyes hooded. And with that look, all resistance, all royal upbringing, fled. She was Seithrath's woman, to use, and share, as she wished.

Raising herself to her knees, Eyriloe kissed Seithrath, reliving the wild passion as the barbarian's tongue subdued her own, and claimed her mouth as its own territory. When she pulled back, she saw Este's head nearby, watching them. Without hesitation, Seithrath leaned forward and claimed the girl's lips. Eyriloe trailed a line of kisses down Seithrath's shoulder while she watched.

When the kiss ended, Este leaned over Seithrath, her own lips close to Eyriloe. After a moment, the princess leaned forward. The girl's lips were softer than Seithrath's, but lacked the passionate intensity, the burning desire, the masterful strength and determination. Yet it was pleasant -- more than pleasant -- as their tongues slid over each other playfully, equals.

A hand on her shoulder pulled Eyriloe from Este. They both looked at Seithrath, who glowered over them.

"By Iustri! My pleasure comes first, girls! Attend me before your games with each other."

A glance at Este showed the same thoughts going through her mind. They wanted to serve Seithrath, to please her, to worship her. A smile at each other, then they slipped off their heavy furs, their nubile bodies gleaming in the firelight. Next they removed Seithrath's clothes and sandals. Since when did princesses of Lichoe remove the sandals of barbarian sellswords like the lowest slave? But there was no denying doing so ignited a flame in Eyriloe's loins.

With the three now naked, Seithrath lay back, her head raised to watch. It was Este who took the initiative, kneeling between Seithrath's muscular thighs and peppering them with kisses. She reached up and took Eyriloe's hand, pulling her gently forward while her kisses travelled slowly up the barbarian's leg.

Responding to the tug on her arm, Eyriloe knelt beside Este, the girl's body soft and yielding beside hers. She showered Seithrath's other thigh with kisses. The pair moved teasingly slowly, gradually nearing each other as the headed for Seithrath's centre, their long hair tangling as their heads and tongues aimed for the same destination.

When they arrived, Este gave Eyriloe a short kiss. But it was not their own pleasure that concerned them. While Este lowered her head and ran her tongue up and down the barbarian's nether lips, Eyriloe went high, kissing and licking around Seithrath's clitoral hood, the barbarian's rough hair scratching her cheek. At the top of each of Este's licks, her tongue would run over Eyriloe's. The princess glanced into Este's green eyes, and saw that her fingers were moving in and out of the barbarian. It was no surprise when Seithrath moaned in pleasure. Eyriloe reached out, her hand travelling over a stomach more perfect than any sculptress could carve, to find the barbarian's breast, which she both kneaded and needed, before twisting the stiff nipple.

Beneath her cheek, Seithrath's mighty frame trembled with passion. Este's green eyes flicked up to Eyriloe's again, before holding her tongue out before her and burying her head in Seithrath's womanhood. The barbarian arched in delight, and Eyriloe joined in, surrounding Seithrath's clit with her mouth, sucking and toying with her tongue, revelling in the strong and wild taste. The two drove the barbarian to heights of pleasure, until she climaxed with a scream of ecstasy.

She pushed the girls away, too sensitive for their continued ministrations. But there was a consolation prize; Eyriloe and Este kissed lovingly while the barbarian sighed beneath them.

⚔️

Eyriloe woke to the sun's light creeping over the treeline. She was snuggled into the slumbering Seithrath, but looking over the barbarian's succulent breasts, she saw Este's face gazing back, smiling. Memories of the previous night flashed through the princess's mind: Seithrath taking them both multiple times, of kissing Este while the barbarian ravished her, of kissing Seithrath while Este pleasured them both. Perhaps sharing wasn't so bad after all, or an act so beneath a princess.

Could she live like this? Or should she continue on to her marriage? Her mother was relying on the marriage treaty to guard her western border. Could she let her mother down for lust?

A crack of a twig, and Eyriloe twisted to look behind her. There stood Kekref, an implacable smile on her perfect face, surrounded by a dozen of the bat-apes. Eyriloe rose, reaching for her sword, but Seithrath was faster, hurtling over the ground and drawing her sword in one swift movement, a naked force of nature.

Kekref simply laughed and stepped back. The bat-apes stepped between them, and the barbarian spun amongst them, hewing and chopping, leaving a pool of black blood on the forest floor.

Eyriloe ran to her side, just as naked, but as she neared her, Kekref clapped her hands with a sound like distant thunder. Searing pain swept up the princess's arm, and she dropped her sword. Looking at it on the grass, she saw the blade glow red hot, then grow white hot, then melt, all in the span of a dozen heartbeats. Seithrath dropped her sword too, and backed away, nursing a blistered palm.

Kekref laughed, the remaining three bat-apes standing at her side. "You thought you could defy me, barbarian? I was ancient when your people crawled up from the apes, and I shall end that dull race with your death. As to you, Este, why were you not warming my bed last night? I have shown you pleasures and pains beyond those any mortal woman should know. Was this lout's embrace worth the torment I shall put you through? And you," Here she looked at Eyriloe, who wilted under her gaze. "You and I shall be in Peros before noon. Your bride shall wait no longer, and I will have my reward."

With a shout, Seithrath threw herself at Kekref, naked and unarmed though she was. Before she could reach her, branches and vines from nearby trees wrapped around her ankles, wrists and throat, holding her in place. The trees twisted and their wood melted as they took on forms too awful to countenance, as though an alien geometry underlay them, inimical to both humanity and sanity. Under her thickening shackles, Seithrath fought until her mighty muscles stood out in cords, gasping at the constriction of her throat.

The barbarian shouted, "Black-hearted bitch! You shall harm neither of my women."

Este cowered back from Kekref, a knife held pathetically before her. Eyriloe was without allies to help her.

Kekref held out her hand to the princess. "Come, let us leave this land."

"No," said Eyriloe. "Let the barbarian go first."

Kekref chuckled. "I don't need your consent. Come here, girl, before I force you to. And Este, drop the knife and join me too."

The girls did, standing close to the sorceress. The bat-apes surrounded them. Eyriloe looked up at Kekref, grinning in victory, and wondered what she could do against her, naked and unarmed. In front of them Seithrath's eyes bulged; surely she couldn't last much longer.

Kekref stepped directly in front of the barbarian. "Farewell, warrior. You never stood a chance against the forces of darkness. You swing a sword, while I have crossed the interstellar gulfs to talk with creatures older than you could comprehend. I have spoken with dead women in ancient cities now dust. I have--"

On a sudden impulse, Eyriloe shoved Kekref hard in the centre of her back. The sorceress stumbled into Seithrath, who closed her jaw on Kekref's throat. There came a sound like a thousand pigs squealing in terror, and the bat-apes rushed forward, but the sorceress dropped lifeless to the floor, and with horror, Eyriloe saw what could only have been a good part of her throat hanging from the barbarian's bloody jaw.

With screams that hurt Eyriloe's ears, the bat-apes crumbled to dust, to be carried off in a puff of wind. The trees, meanwhile, returned to the previous shapes, and Seithrath crashed to the earth. Eyriloe and Este ran to her, fearing they were too late.

⚔️

The city of Eechin was a small place, yellow brick buildings huddled on a hill behind a great stone wall the swept the perimeter. Seithrath led Eyriloe and Este through the gates, and into the city proper, with its smell of night waste and horses. The guardwomen in their black armour looked bored. That was a good sign; excited guards usually presaged a threat.

Once inside, a passing merchant gave them directions to the palace. She offered gold to buy Seithrath's companions, but the barbarian turned her down. She would never trade in human flesh, and didn't understand why others chose to profit from such misery.

The palace was marble-clad over stone. It impressed Este, but Seithrath had seen far mightier structures in the East.

As they looked at the steps to the entrance, Eyriloe said, "Do you think Kekref is really gone? They speak of sorceresses defying death."

Seithrath laughed. "I thought belief in such things was for children and hill girls? But I believe she has gone down the long journey we all must make at last. Her magics were tied to her life, and they withered like a flower in snow once I killed her. Now girl, deliver your message."

Eyriloe was gone for some time, and Seithrath chatted with Este while they waited. When Eyriloe came back out, she was clad once more in mail, with a dozen guardwomen about her.

"Seithrath, I thank you for your service in bringing me here. But I must leave you now. Know that I will always think kindly of you -- both of you. But I lied when first we met, for I am Princess Eyriloe of Lichoe, here to marry the queen."

Seithrath let out a low whistle. "A princess? With furs, or less, you were my Loloene, a lowly knight. But now you wear armour, I see only Eyriloe, royal yet distant. I -- we -- shall miss you, Princess. I wish you happiness in your marriage. And I understand your decision; your daughters will sit their arses on royal thrones." Her arm wrapped around Este. "But do not fear that I shall be lonely."

After being granted a bag of gold, Seithrath led Este out of the city, the girl looked back. "I had no idea we lay with a princess."

Seithrath laughed. "I did. I had tracked that party for days before I met her. And we were well paid for our service." She threw the bag of coin high in the air then caught it. "And more than that." She reached into a pouch to bring out Eyriloe's dowry necklace. "Eyriloe's mother will have to send another. But what do I care for that? We'll spend this in the southlands. I grow weary of cold, and have a mind to buy a fleet and raid the blue waters of the Great Sea."