Mask And Veil Ch 03

Chapter Three: Cherries

Keira dreamed...

You were born in Ireland, Keira - though it was foreseen that France would be your true home until you were ready to return to the Isle. In order for you to have your Bell, a cherry seed was blessed with your blood and planted near here. It is time for you to find your Bell Tree, where somebody awaits your arrival.

She was walking though the woods when she heard the beautiful voice and she came across a cherry tree in bloom. The tree aroused her in a way she didn't understand, so she was drawn closer to it. Keira could smell it's bloom and felt her nipples harden and stomach flutter.

When she turned away from it, she was awake, looking at Touran sleeping next to her. It had been twenty days since he had come to her and so far his wound was looking good and his spirits were rising. She smiled and reached over to touch his curvy beautiful lips.

He awoke to her touch and looked at her with his blue eyes and smiled back at her.

"Have I told you that I'm falling for you?" he said.

"Yes." She smiled deeper; couldn't help it, really. He made her blush, made her heart beat faster and she felt so warm and safe with him. Touran DeVaughn was one of the kindness men she had ever had the pleasure of meeting. "And I'm fallen for you."

Keira leaned over and kissed his wet lips and added: "I'll get us some food..."

But later she was sitting beside Katalina, who was weaving a new basket for her favorite flowers.

"Your dreams speak true, Child," Katalina said. "Your Bell Tree in near here."

"Where?"

"You must find it for yourself. It's important that you fine your own path."

Keira watched as Sam, one of the other elders, taught Touran how to carve wood into animal shapes. It was something Touran actually enjoyed doing while he waited for his wound to heal completely. And it felt great that he was being more accepted by the Rom every day.

"Will they take care of him while I go find it?" Keira said.

"Don't worry, Child. He has no enemies here."

Keira thanked the Seer and walked up to Touran who looked up at her with a gaze that made her heart melt.

"I have to go for a little while. There's something I have to do. I won't be gone long," she said.

"I can wait," he said. "Be careful."

Keira leaned in and kissed him again. She was in love and she knew it, but she was afraid to actually tell him. Maybe she should, maybe she should soon.

***

Hiking in the woods, Keira stopped at an opening, which in the center was a cherry tree. It looked exactly like the one in her dreams.

"You were born in my blood," she said.

"So I am a part of you," a voice said, coming from behind her. Keira turned to see a naked woman with almost elven features. Her hair was the same color as the pink blossoms that were blooming from her Bell Tree. "My name is Cerise-Renard."

"Suh-reese Ray-nar? A hammadryad." Keira enunciated.

"Yes. Your Bell-Sister. And you are Keira Brynn Davan, the Priestess of the Davan tribe."

Keira looked over the nakedness of her Bell-Sister and felt aroused by her. It was her blossom smell and the feminine sensuality that glowed around the hammadryad like a halo.

Cerise-Renard eased closer to her, embraced and kissed her deeply. The pull of the dryad's attraction and the feel of her body against hers, made Keira want her with a frenzy. Her passion increasing, she tasted the dryad's breasts and let the dryad pull her clothes away. Their legs interlocked and rubbed against each other's wet sexes until Cerise-Renard lifted her up and carried her over to the Bell Tree. There, the dryad laid her down and began kissing her way down her chest, her stomach, burrowing deep into Keira's pussy.

Keira had never had anyone touch her pussy before and the charge of it enraptured every nerve in her body. She gritted her teeth against the tickling sensations and engaged her mind in the wet pleasure of Cerise-Renard's tongue. The tongue moved deep, sliding over and between every lip, and danced on her clit like a it was made to be there.

Keira couldn't help but to scream as her body shook with an orgasm. And before she knew it her body was having another, her pussy contracting again and again. Her body undulating as the spasms expanded and contracted, ebbed and flowed.

Keira felt like she was cumming for over a minute and when it was over she felt so drained.

"That was beautiful," she told Cerise-Renard, who was drawing her face away from her wet pussy. The dryad's beautiful face was wet with her juices, but she didn't care. She kissed her anyway, tasting her own juices in the dryad's mouth. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. I'm glad we could finally have this moment."

Keira laughed, raising her legs and rubbing her pussy. "You made my pussy feel so good! I can't believe it."

"And it's a virgin pussy," Cerise-Renard said. "It tasted sweet and hungry."

"Thank you again."

Cerise-Renard then stood and pulled a black cloak from behind the cherry tree. "This is yours. It's called the Manteau de L'Bete. It was yours before you were born."

Keira took the cloak and smelled it. "What does it do?"

"You will take the form of the wolf. It should help you out when you leave the Rom."

"But I don't want to leave the Rom. They are my people now."

Cerise-Renard took a seat beside her, saying: "But it must be done. There will soon be another witch hunt and there are those who have fallen to the Darkness brought with the Light of the new Faith. Whether the Light wishes us in this new time doesn't matter. For our survival, the injustices of the Dark must be unraveled and banished. Otherwise the Old Ways will disappear forever. People will begin to confuse it with the Dark."

"The Old Ways are often mistaken for this Darkness?"

"Yes. And our numbers will suffer with the other innocence," Cerise-Renard said. The dryad put her arm around her and laid her head on her shoulder. "But I will always be with you. And if you ever need me, just look for a cherry tree. I will be there."

Keira looked at her cloak and wondered what Touran was a part of. Until he was ready to tell her, she won't see the dark path that she must take with him. And she really needed to know.

"Be patient, Sister," Cerise-Renard said. "The journey is about to begin in earnest."

***

Ever since Touran began to fall for Keira, he wanted to tell her about his problems, but it never seemed like the right time. Really, he didn't know why he kept holding off.

Maybe it was because he didn't think she'd go with him. Especially if she knew. That's why it surprised him when Keira came back later that evening and lead him to a private spot in the woods.

"The Seer told me that she thought you needed to say something to me. And I know your holding it back, so I just want to say something first."

"Okay."

"I want to go with you. Because it's my new place," Keira said. She sounded so serious, so sure.

Touran smiled and told her about Lord Piqoud and the village where he met his dead wife. "She was born and raised in a village near where Lord Piqoud has land, so he's in charge of it. Anyway, I tried to stop him from calling a witch hunt on the village and I failed. I'm sure innocent people died."

"So, what do you plan to do?"

"Well, I'm going to the Count of Auvergne, who might just get me out of this mess and then I'm heading toward Marseilles. You want to go with me?"

Keira looked surprised and confused.

"What's wrong?" he said.

"I'm sure it won't be that easy..."

"Which is why it was hard to tell you to go with me."

"You want me to go with you?"

Touran smiled. "Yes."

Keira jumped on him, wrapping her legs around his waist. "I'll go anywhere you want," she whispered into his ear. "I love you."

Touran kissed the side of her hair, smelling her fragrance, which was mixed with some cherry blossom. "And I love you. Will you marry me?"

"As soon as we can," she said.

She leaned back and Touran leaned his face into hers, their lips touching. They kissed softly for a long time in the meadow, under a great oak tree. Birds chirped and the wind whistled through the trees. Touran couldn't help but to feel that there was some good magic in the air this twilight.

The next day they were taking the tent roof off the top of Keira's wagon, which she told him she paid for by dancing in a peasant village not far from Nevers. The horses were a gift from the Rom when she turned sixteen - a very potent time in a girl's life. Of course, Keira explained that the Seer probably had more to do with it than anything.

When they said there goodbyes, Mara gave her a hug and they were off by late morning. Keira pointed to a blanket, wrapped and strapped together in a roll at his feet.

"I went and got that sword that you said you wanted," Keira said. "I had some of the men clean and sharpen it."

Touran smiled and reached for it, pulling the leather straps off and pulling the sword out. It was a flamberge - a gleaming sword with an edge that curved back and forth to the tip like engraved rays of the sun.

"Thank you. It's my lucky sword," he said.

"No thanks needed," Keira said.

The day might have been long and boring, but for two would-be lovers, they had too much to talk about and not enough time to do it in. Touran guided the horses, not pushing them too hard to keep them moving until they were ready to stop. Keira, meanwhile, listened to him talk about what the courts were like and, around lunch, cut bread for them so they didn't have to stop.

But when it was getting close to evening, Touran found a clearing on the side of the road and hopped down.

"If you want to get the fire started and the food prepared, I'll un-bridle the horses and take them down to the river near here," he said.

"Be sure to clean those wounds while your down there," Keira said, hopping off her side of the wagon and moving to the back of the wagon.

As Keira began to use her flint to start a fire, Touran had the horses unbridled and was leading them down to the river. While they drank he did as he was told. The wounds were nearly healed but some of them still bled. He had to laugh at himself, really. He was glad Keira was with him - otherwise he probably wouldn't be taking such good care of himself.

They were near Piqoud's land, but far enough away not to worry about his men. He knew the area well and began thinking about how he was going to make sure Piqoud paid for his crimes. If the Count of Auvergne didn't help him, he'd have to take more drastic measures.

By the time he lead the horses back to the fire, he hitched them to a tree, finding Keira running a pan of meat joints over the dancing flames.

"How are the wounds?" Keira said.

"Fine."

He sat down beside her and she looked sideways up at him, her beautiful light brown eyes smiling at him.

"What?" she said.

"I knew a painter a few years ago," he said. "His work was so good that I couldn't take my eyes off of them. Works of great art."

"Yeah?"

Touran smiled, sheepishly looking away from her.

"You're like one of his paintings. Hard not to look at," he said.

It was her turn to blush, but she said: "Thank you. Nobody has mentioned my looks before. But it's probably your fever. Maybe I should check your brow..."

Touran took her hand before it reached his forehead and kissed it.

"Not the fever. I'm fine. More than fine, in fact. And I'm not lying. You're beautiful and..." He took a deep whiff of her and added: "You smell wonderful."

"Stop it, Touran! You're making me blush."

Touran leaned in and kissed her, wanting to touch her lips again. She relented, eagerly, setting the pan aside to touch the side of his rough face. Keira moaned into his lips and he took as much of her mouth as he could before she finally pulled back.

"I'm glad I came," she said.

"So am I."

They kissed again and Keira held out the pan to him.

"Eat," she said.

Touran picked a joint from the pan and tossed it into his mouth. The juicy flavor a-livened his tongue and made him feel hungrier.

"The rest of the meat is dried," Keira said. "So we won't have to cook it. But we only have three days rations."

"That's okay. In three days we should be talking to the Count."

Keira checked on the horses after eating. By this time night was falling, crickets chittered and the fire was weakening. Touran threw a few more dried branches in that he collected and gathered their skins.

"Can I sleep with you? I'm kind of getting used to it," Keira said, standing beside him as he laid the skins out.

"Sure."

They crawled in together. The night was colder, but their bodies snuggled in each other's warmth. Spooning, Touran behind her with an arm around her. He was happy to feel her body against him, his arm around her. It was exhilarating to have a woman this close to him again, it made him want to ravage her, but his respect for her stayed his libido.

But it didn't stop her from turning toward him, kissing him. He kissed her back and let her kiss his neck. They somehow began to face one another, hands roaming a little over each other's bodies, backsides, through each other's hair. Their kisses only became weak as they began to fall asleep in each other's arms.

And the last thing Touran remembered thinking was,

I'm ready to move on... and I hope she will marry me

.

***

Two days later they reached the border of Auvergne, both tired from the journey and feeling deep in love. As night fell they once again stopped and set up a fire for warmth.

And after awhile they were necking, kissing, hands roaming in a new ritual between them. But each time they're courage grew, hands meeting with lower bellies, breasts, asses..., yet it was still a surprise when Touran realized Keira had reached the point where she dared stroke his cock through his slacks. She gripped and rubbed him, sliding her palms down to feel his balls.

"I've longed to touch a man like this for so long..." she said, her breath getting heavy as she lightly humped at his right thigh, which now rested between her squeezing legs.

"That feels good," Touran whispered.

"Can I milk it?" she said.

Touran couldn't help but moan into her neck as she began to rub his growing shaft through his slacks the proper way, as if by instinct.

"Yessss, please," he said.

As her hand worked him she said: "I have a confession. I couldn't help but peek at it during the nights in the kumpania. I liked seeing it."

"I know. I let you," he said, smiling.

"Ahw!" she gave him a loving punch with her free hand, but her other didn't come close to breaking that wonderful rhythm. "I'm so embarrassed!"

"Oh,

posh

, as the British say."

Keira giggled and bit her lower lip, probably wondering if she was doing it right. She was chaffing him a little, so he decided to say something.

"Raise your hand higher, so it moves over the head of it. That's it, now use the other hand to massage my balls," he said. When her other hand bashfully began squeezing and pulling on his heavy nuts, Touran leaned back in pure pleasure, already feeling the sensations rise in his cock.

"Faster," he said.

And she began to milk him faster and he let go, giving himself to the body-seizuring rapture. He shook a little and he watched Keira's eyes widen and stare at few streams of white seed that spilled onto his stomach.

Then he finally breathed out after holding onto his breath for the duration of the orgasm. Keira was smiling up at him now and wrapping her arms around him as much as she could. After awhile she laid her head on his chest and Touran couldn't help but to fall deep asleep.

But later that night he awoke to see that Keira was not beside him. He got up, his semen dried, and grabbed his flamberge.

"Keira?!" he called, but there was no answer.

Panic-struck, he began to look around the bushes and trees for her, getting further and further away from their dead fire. Relief finally hit when he saw her squatting, pissing, steam rising from the ground as the cool night got cooler.

Sighing, he made his way back to camp and thought to himself:

I must love her to be so worried.

For Touran hadn't felt this way since his first wife, who was slayen' by a 'night creature' - the things he now hunted. And if he felt this way, then how could he sleep at night? To always worry for her... God, it'd be a nightmare getting to sleep every night not knowing she was right there, in arms reach.

That's when he began to think that maybe this was a bad idea...

***

Lord Piqoud paced in the Grand Hall, waiting for his messenger, who a Sentry had just let in through the portcullis. He couldn't take it anymore. He wanted to know who it was who abducted and murdered his daughter, and he wanted to know now.

The Messenger came in, a young boy, breathing unmercifully hard, and Lord Piqoud was tired (too damn tired) to wait. He grabbed the boy by the shirt and shook him, saying: "Tell me! Tell me now! Before I lynch your scrawny neck! What news of you?"

"L-L-Lord! ...I have news of Lord DeVaughn! He is on his way here with the Duke's High Guard!"

Touran? How could that be? He was sure he killed the blasted man!

But he shook that worry from his head and shouted: "Blast DeVaughn, Boy! What news of my daughter's murderer?!"

"S-Sorry, Lord! I h-h-have none!" the Messenger said and one of his sentry tapped on the door, walking in.

"Lord! The Duke's High Guard is at the portcullis and is demanding to be let in. They have Touran..."

Lord Piqoud didn't know what to do. He felt like screaming out all the pain for his lost daughter... The Touran problem now seeming so trivial. Piqoud let the messenger go, slowly and he turned away from the others, trying to think. He focused on gaining his composure before turning back around. To the Sentry, he said: "Allow them access. Have them meet me here. I shall wait for them."

To the Messenger, Piqoud gave him daggers with his eyes, saying: "And you, Boy, fetch me some news that isn't so close to your damn heels! News of my daughter! Go!"

The Messenger ran from Lord Piqoud's sight and Piqoud took a seat at the Hall Table, downing the rest of his strong ale from the wooden cup. The liquor made his mind drift, a falling feather, and before he knew it his nerves rattled as the door began to open again.

In front of the fine-dressed High Guards, Touran stood, face contorted in anger. Beside him was a younger woman, garnished in what looked like a new pink dress. She didn't know him. He could tell by looking in her eyes, but she knew the situation was possibly dangerous.

Piqoud smiled.

"Touran! Look at you," he said, getting up from the table, extending a hand to his old enemy. But Touran didn't even look at it.

"You tried to murder me, Piqoud," Touran said. "Right after you murdered my wife's family!"

"I laid no hand on them!"

"But by the hand of the inquisitors, directed toward her village by your hand!"

Piqoud's smile faded.

"She was torn apart by a wolf, Touran! A night creature. Someone in the village consorted with the Devil for such a form to take. I was merely taking care of the problem, as is my Right and Duty."

"Sure. Your Right. Your Duty," Touran said, walking in a circle around him.

Piqoud wanted to punch the smug bastard, but as he turned around to keep his old enemy in eye's sight, he suddenly felt his face bashed by Touran's thrown fist. Piqoud reeled and grabbed the back of the nearest chair. Warm liquid began to leak out of his left nostril, but he didn't move to touch it. Instead, he looked at the young woman and started walking over to her.

"My, my, you are a lovely one," Piqoud said. As he got closer to her, he realized that she had a wonderful scent of cherry on her. And in getting closer to her, she took a couple step backwards, looking nervous. "Oh, don't be afraid. I merely have a question for you, Milady."