The Song of Roland Ch. 16

Pure pragmatism won out, and she instead threw him forcefully to the ground, using his throat as a handhold to shove him down into the snow. Even so, a loud thud could be heard as she dragged him across the frosty earth. "You." She said, straddling him, "Do not." her hands grabbed his wrists and shoved them to the earth, leaving him helpless upon the ground, "threaten him!" The last words came like the roar of a monster. She shoved her face down into his and forced him to stare at her, taken utterly aback by her assault.

Kelsea's body was all but shaking from rage. She let loose the restraints, her eyes blazing as she unleashed her influence upon him. Whereas with Roland it had always been a gentle, almost unwitting tug upon the mind, Kelsea ripped at Carl's senses like an animal in a frenzy, overbearing him with her hellish power. The locus of her fury tore into Carl's brain, and she saw the tearful fill of unwanted lust arise within his mind. His face slackened, his cloaked body going limp in the snow as she turned the frightened mercenary into a drooling, contradictory mess of both untrammeled desire and naked terror. His voice squeaked out of him in a nonverbal communication of his emotions, sounding nothing so much as a wounded creature cowering, waiting for the end.

She held him like this for a long, dreadful moment, her mind reveling in the undisputed authority accrued from her dominion before the walls within her rose again. Kelsea made herself retreat, regaining some semblance of rational thought as the emotions suppressed themselves like the tide receding after a hurricane. She had come dangerously close to losing all control, her body trembling from the very thing she'd unfettered from within. She sat up, forcing herself to take long, steady breaths as her inhuman heart hammered like a rattling cage within her chest.

Take him. Said a familiar, hate-filled voice in her head, Remake him, he's yours. Grevich's internal utterances were getting harder to ignore. Kelsea made herself stand, her fists clenching as she resisted the urge to continue the physical abuse. She heard a fearful coo and turned to see the Harpy, standing wide-eyed near Roland. The seven foot tall beast hunched back reflexively when Keslea met eyes with her, her hands raising in a defensive gesture as her azure wings folded back in on themselves, as if in fear of being next. Kelsea felt a feeble wave of despair as she saw the majestic creature shrink from her presence. She took in a shuddering breath, trying to remain calm.

"Bandage Roland's wounds." Kelsea said, not looking down at Carl as she did so, "Stop the bleeding, if you can. The Harpy will find us shelter for the night."

Not getting any immediate verbal response, She turned to look at Carl, still sprawled out upon the ground. He was openly weeping, twin trails of tears falling from each side of his face as he stared sightlessly up into the uncaring sky. His body shook from the burden that had been placed upon it. Slowly, like a man coming up for air, he sat up, shivering like a sapling bending to a windstorm. He leaned forward, placing his hands upon his outstretched knees as he struggled to regain some semblance of composure.

"If he dies, if anything should happen to him," she said, her face expressionless and her voice empty of humanity. "I won't kill you, I'll break you."

Carl let out a single, half-stifled sob, turning his head side to side as the intensity of the experience left him shaken to his core. "What-" He began to say, but his voice nearly gave out on him. He swallowed and started again, "W-whatever you say, Succubus."

She started to walk away from him, moving to gather their packs in preparation for their imminent move. She could still feel the yearning thirst within her, unsated and perpetually growing, but she ignored it for now. "My name is Kelsea."

Carl laughed, his voice unsteady as he carelessly wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, "S-something tells me you'd prefer the term 'mistress.'"

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Carl binded Roland's injuries, dressing them in bandages and stopping the bleeding as best he could. There was a deep, red stain upon the dressings on Roland's stomach, but at least he was no longer in imminent danger of death. The Harpy's deep cut along the line of her lower back had also been treated, the beast letting out a pained caw as Carl carefully cleaned the wound before tying a length of cloth around the Harpy's prodigious waistline like a mummy's wrap. Once he finished she'd thanked him with an enthusiastic kiss on the lips, grabbing the smaller man by the shoulders and lifting him bodily into the air before mashing her face to his. Carl coughed and spluttered as the Harpy carelessly groped his rear, shaking her pale, exposed breasts in front of her as if in invitation to copulate. Despite her warm entreaties, Carl did not take her up on the offer.

Kelsea gathered up what remained of their assorted luggage, observing with increasing worry the severely depleted inventory that was left. Her pack had been untouched, filled with camping equipment and a bedroll. Carl's too had stayed for the most part whole from the day's battle, his satchel stocked with medical supplies, water and some hard tack. He was down to the last three arrows in his quiver, knocking about like narrow matchsticks together within the empty maw they sat in.

Roland, however, had lost everything fighting the Hautviech: his pack was gone, alongside most of their cooking supplies, food and spare clothing. It had been strewn about on the road below before most had been kicked off the side or ground into the dirt by the Hautviech's wild movements. All he had to wear now were the shredded remnants of his armor, an ill attire for the high altitudes upon which they'd found themselves. Kelsea did not think it safe to return to the High Road, and even had they done so their dwindling supplies precluded them from safely making it to Arjal without some boon of sustenance. Gone too were Roland's weapons, left lodged in the beast he had helped to slay, its motionless corpse still splayed out across the narrow road below, amidst the charred ashes of the dead Briar Dogs. The survivors of the mercenary company were gone, fled somewhere to parts unknown.

The Harpy flew off in search of refuge, while Carl and Kelsea worked together to fashion a primitive litter with which to bear Roland's body across the snowy earth. As they worked the Succubus noticed Carl next to her, his muscles straining and his handsome face rigid with concentration as he stared down at the makeshift device he assembled out of stiff, icy branches and the fabric of Roland's ruined cloak. Her hunger only grew, the wish to mate with him outstripping her concentration as Kelsea caught herself stealing glances at his bare skin. They said nothing, the silence as heavy as the breathing air was light. He did not look up at her as he tied the last of his rope to the opposing boughs, lashing the burlap into a semi-stable basket with which to transport Roland. Carl looked down at his work, observing it with a practical eye, mentally calculating its ability to convey the weight of the large man. Kelsea moved to assemble their packs, slinging hers over her shoulder as she bent down to pick up Carl's.

"Albert." She heard his voice say quietly from behind her.

"What?" Kelsea said, turning to look at Carl's downcast face.

Carl tied the last knot on the litter before moving to stand, brushing his knees free of the lingering clumps of snow that clung with steadfast determination to him. He purposefully kept his shoulder turned away to the side, his cloak billowing in the breeze. "His name was Albert, the man you made me murder."

"It wasn't murder." Kelsea said.

Carl chuckled bitterly, a somber smile gracing his lips. "Wasn't it? He's dead. I killed him. Nothing I do will bring him back. That sounds suspiciously like murder to me."

"We were defending ourselves." Kelsea said, heaving his pack at his feet. Carl looked down at it, noting its presence with a dim sort of awareness.

"Were you, now?" He said, "...And what was I doing?"

"Whatever I told you to do." Kelsea replied, taking his bow in hand and tossing it to him as well. He caught it in his nimble fingers with the kind of smooth agility that perforated all of his body language. Carl's ironic smile became a genuine one.

"Ah, so business as usual then." He said, leaning down to pick up his knapsack. Kelsea couldn't help but watch his flanks as his back bent and he unknowingly displayed his masculine nethers within his dark leather trousers. She bit her lip and looked away. "I've got to admit: yelling out 'Demon!' in that prison cell was possibly the dumbest thing I've ever done."

"Aside from pointing an arrow at Roland, I'd agree." Kelsea replied cooly, gesturing towards the prostrate mercenary lying just a few feet away. "You could have just kept silent. He and I would have broken out of the cells and been on our way from Dornich. And you could have-"

"Burned alive alongside my comrades." Carl said, turning back to face her as he slung his pack across his shoulder line, "That is, assuming they'd have bothered to track you down had you not kidnapped me, heh." He tossed his blonde hair behind his head, blowing a long, stray lock from his clean shaven face. "It's not my way to keep silent, Succubus, whatever you might have thought while I was plodding along like a mute pack mule on the High Road."

"My name is Kelsea." She said, kneeling down next to Roland. Her hand went to feel his forehead, brushing aside his thick red hair. Despite the cold he was caked in sweat.

"And what a lovely name it is." Carl replied, "It doesn't describe you anywhere near as well as 'Succubus,' though. The horns and purple skin are something of a giveaway."

"You're testing my patience." She said, affixing him with a look. He laughed.

"No little devil, I'm testing your boundaries." Carl pulled his quiver over his other shoulder, the lonely arrows clattering about in their vacant holster. "I'm ashamed to admit it: but I've never been enslaved by a demon before. I'm still trying to figure out just where we all stand."

Kelsea placed a hand over Roland's chest, feeling the plodding heartbeat as his body laid in its senseless stupor. She wished he was here, awake; she wanted nothing more than to simply talk to him. She didn't look up at Carl as the man stared down at her. "You 'stand' wherever I tell you to stand." She said, her fingers tracing the line of Roland's sternum. "You do what I say, and maybe nothing bad comes of it."

Carl's face pulled into a sarcastic grin. "Is that so? Do these rules of yours also apply to the person you're fondling, right now?"

"He's different." She said, unable to stop touching Roland's chest despite the man's biting words.

Carl's head tilted. "How? Explain to me the difference."

"I love him." Kelsea said simply.

Carl chortled, "You have a nasty habit of talking in circles, Succubus; we've already had this back and forth."

Kelsea's eyes swept up to glare at him, "-And how did it end for you last time, Carl?" She asked.

"With a lovely peck on the lips and a few seconds of wanting to shit my drawers." Carl replied, shrugging. "If you think your angry scowl alone is enough to threaten me, you might be disappointed. I wasn't lying when I said I left my pride back in Dornich."

"Did you leave your common sense there, too?" She snapped back, "Why do you think it's a good idea to try to provoke me like this?"

Carl raised an eyebrow. "You think what I'm trying to do right now is provoke you, Succubus? No. If I wanted to 'provoke' you, I'd have told you the reason why the Briar Dogs wanted Roland buried in a shallow grave in the first place." They met eyes, her red-rimmed orbs lifting to stare at his unflinching green gaze. Carl's smile widened. "Ah, see: now I've got your attention, eh? You think a confrontation like that just drops out of the fuckin' sky? You think a band of soldiers whose livelihood depends on steady work and good pay would just leave everything behind, to chase two people who got the better of 'em in a silly bar fight down an empty road? We've had meatier tussles than that in a beer hall, and nothing real came of it... How much gold are you two carrying?"

"-Gold?" Kelsea asked, not comprehending the question. Carl smiled.

"Heh. Figures." He rubbed his thumb against the corner of his mouth, wiping at something with a careless sort of bravado. "I suppose 'finances' doesn't come up too often in conversation when you're humping like Orcs in a slave pit. By the Gods, I never thought Roland would get one by on a Succubus."

Kelsea stood, her shoulders squaring as she leveled eyes with Carl. He seemed to be taking all of this like one, big joke. He didn't so much as flinch when Kelsea's tail began to twist and bend behind her, her muscles clenching as she scowled at him. "Carl." She said slowly, "If you value your life, I'd stop talking. Right now."

Carl laughed, his voice dripping with genial indifference. "It's a good thing I don't value my life, then. Long story short: he fucked us. Completely." There was a long silence as Kelsea's eyes flashed. Carl snorted. "Not in that way, little devil! Gods, you've got the foulest mind sometimes. That man is responsible for more Briar Dogs dead in the last three years than any awful monster or appalling conflict ever inflicted on us. Between your theatrics on the road just now, and his own shit in the company, he must have caused the death of damn near a dozen people."

"I don't believe you." She said.

"You don't have to," He replied. "To be honest I don't really care if you do. I just want you to understand why those men you butchered showed up today: they were trying to save me. They thought I was in danger, and I joined in on massacring them because they weren't willing to leave a battle brother behind." Carl's grin was toothy. "Unlike Roland over there."

"You're-" Kelsea began, but the sound of flapping wings caused her to look up. The Harpy let out a greeting call as she circled above them, gliding down on outstretched wings as she spiralled down amongst the groves into a gentle landing in the snow. The bird's bright yellow eyes seemed to shine with mirth as she smiled at her friends.

"Caw!" She said, her legs tensing as she braced herself against the ground. "Kyaaah!" She hopped back and forth from side to side, her tail feathers frilling as she trumpeted her joy at her own return. Wordlessly, Kelsea walked forward to her, reaching out to enfold her in a hug.

"Hello, little one." She murmured. The Harpy cooed with unbridled delight at the Succubus' embrace, reaching around with her large arms to return the gesture. Kelsea noted with increasing arousal that her chest was pressed together with the bird's bare breasts. The hug became far more amorous than was necessary. The Harpy scooted forward on her talons, holding the smaller being in her arms like a treasured love. It was getting harder and harder not to notice her companions, especially one as naked as she. "...did you find something?" The Harpy chirped an affirmative.

Kelsea leaned forward, planting her lips against the woman's own. She quivered, feeling the warmth of another's skin, wanting nothing more than to ingratiate herself to her sex and lick the leaking juices from her body. She had to force herself to focus, reaching into her mind to pull the strange language out into the open. When she pulled back the Harpy's eyes fluttered before a wide, happy smile grew on her face. The bird began to speak, trilling in her melodious singing voice. Kelsea responded without vernacular, allowing her companion to make all the noise.

A cave. She cawed, the image appearing in Kelsea's brain. But a bad cave. Bad for Harpies.

Why is it bad?

There was a hesitation in the avian creature's features. She tweeted a soft reply. A snarling face with rat-teeth and wrinkled skin swam into the Succubus' mental vision. The creature's cave. The creature's nest.

How far away is it?

The Harpy cheeped an eager answer. Just over the treeline. A dozen flaps at most!

Kelsea shook her head. How far away walking distance?

The bird's face scrunched up in concentration. A... a few? Not many leg-steps.

"Thank you. Take us there." Kelsea said, kissing the bird woman yet again. The Harpy cooed and wrapped her leg around the back of Kelsea, pulling her tight as she indulged in the simple sensation of carnal joy. Kelsea lingered for several seconds longer than she intended, her tongue lashing against the Harpy's own as she found herself getting caught up in the act. Her hand reached around to spank the spacious rear of the Harpy's exposed body. At last it was the bird who pulled away, letting out a sultry moan. Kelsea, blushing, shook her head and stepped away unsteadily. She was shaking from the touch, like an addict getting just a pinch of her chosen opiate. Carl's observed the two, his expression one of bemusement.

"...Nice work." He said, his face wearing that insufferable grin of his.

"Shut up." Kelsea said, feeling another wave of arousal hit her as her gaze lingered on Carl's alluring features. "Help me move Roland."

Together the two picked up the heavy man, Kelsea doing the lion's share of the work as her unnatural strength easily hefted his shoulders up at the same time Carl took his feet. Kelsea lowered him as carefully as she could onto the improvised gurney, dropping down to a squat as she draped him upon the crude litter. Roland's face was peaceful: pained but calm. His expression was empty, as though the bearded man were merely sleeping. Kelsea put a hand to his cheek, feeling his face as his breath misted up in short, sedated gusts from his lips and nose. She smiled.

"So where are we headed?" Carl asked, breaking the tender moment.

Kelsea sighed, stepping away from Roland as she felt the subtle tick of his heartbeat in her chest. "The Harpy found the Hautviech's lair, It's just a ways into the forest. We can camp there, out of the cold until we can hunt for some game and heal his wounds."

"He's like to be cold till we get there." Carl said, casually unclasping his cloak. Pulling the ponderous thing off of him, the blonde bowman laid it atop Roland's unmoving form like a blanket, latching it around his neck before standing up, rubbing at his arms in a farcical show of chilliness.

"I..." Kelsea trailed off, not expecting such unsolicited kindness. "Thank you."

Carl shrugged, "Like you said before: if anything happens to him, you'll break me. I prefer that my mind remain functional for as long as possible. Madness is unbecoming."

Kelsea almost raised an objection, but instead shook her head back and forth, bending down to take the ends of the rough wooden branches in hand. Carl did the same on the opposite side. Together, the two picked up the litter, bearing Roland forward with Carl in the front and Kelsea behind. They followed the Harpy's direction, the bird woman's wings spreading wide as she lifted off into the sky. As she flew, the beast sang a high, lilting tune that carried far across the alpine air. Whenever she passed above them, out of sight through the treetops, the two followed the sound of her voice. Twigs snapped and icy brush crunched underfoot as they made their way across the uneven, rocky earth. It was slow going, and several times Carl had to stop to adjust his grip on the litter's irregular bark branches. Kelsea had no such compunction, her grip remaining strong and solid as she strode forward, stopping only when her unwilling companion had to.