***Author's note: This chapter doesn't have a ton of sex, but it sets up a crazy chapter to come. Here, there's only voyeur/masturbation. Hope you enjoy our hero's new companion and stick with the series as it progresses. Votes and comments are always read and appreciated. Oh, and everyone in this fantastical pseudo-middle ages tale would be of age in our world, naturally.***
Chapter Two: The Horse Thief
Clutching the chestnut brown steed with white-knuckled hand, I careened through the village streets and alleys until I reached the open road. After following it for a moment, I broke off the path, following Ottilie's instructions to avoid the byways and follow less traveled baths on the route to Sicherburg. The thundering sound of hooves against the damp earth blended with the beating of my heart, like two drummers competing to outdo one another.
I had never before ridden, though of course I had seen it done. Fortunately, my purloined horse was a gelding and calmer than most stallions. As much as my life has been ill-fated, I must confess that I have at the very least been granted one lucky trait, a certain knack for quickly picking up skills and abilities. Without this innate aptitude, I would have been thrown from the beast for certain; moreover, had I not learned to read and write quickly, I would never been able to write the chronicle before you, dear reader.
As I sped past empty farms, their inhabitants still at the Harvest revels, I could not help but feel, intermingled with terror, a certain kind of unexpected joy. I had never nourished any hope of leaving the countryside. Now fate had led me to flee for refuge from the swift and savage punishment I could expect from the Baron for assaulting his son. Though my emotions were boiling over, I can confess a certain thoughtlessness; perhaps my horse was galloping too quickly for my brain to keep up.
I had no idea of how long it would take me to reach Sicherburg; I knew that, taking the byways, a laden oxcart took three days to reach the city gates. I had yet to devise a plan to get through those gates, either. The Baron's signet ring certainly wouldn't buy my way inside—I would need to seek out dishonorable men and make a trade first. Hopefully, I could find men with enough honor to trade with me fairly, but not so much that they would be above accepting goods stolen from the Baron's family.
After riding for hours without seeing a single soul, I was exhausted and finally pulled the reins and clambered off Pavel's horse. Though I was, as I said, not an experienced horseman, I certainly knew enough to find it funny that the Baron's son, who should have been born in the saddle, rode a mild-tempered, castrated horse.
I was, by then, powerfully hungry, and feared that it may be some time before I would see food again. I contemplated chasing down some wild creature in the forest and pouncing on it with my dagger, but the prospects of success seemed so remote and the risks of tangling with a wild beast too dire to follow through with such a desperate plan. Once my horse was tied up, I decided that, at the very least, I ought to search for a stream with fresh water. If I was lucky, I might even find wild berries growing along the creekside. Though I knew the danger of eating poison berries in the wild, I had, as a young boy, once run off with a small gang of other children to escape work and to drink some of the apple wine that we made in secret with apples snatched from the Baron's orchards. For a boy of seven, apple wine was quite powerful, and thus my memories were suspect where they were not altogether absent. Nevertheless, I recalled how the little blackberries looked that we ate, and hoped that memory would be enough to help me find something to eat.
It took me twenty minutes or more to find a stream, and, like a man finding an oasis in the desert, I leapt head first towards the clear, swift-moving water to drink. The cool, refreshing water reinvigorated me, and I felt a sudden rush of confidence. I even let myself daydream for a moment about life in the town. Perhaps I could find an apprenticeship and make a life for myself in the town. With so many people so close together, I might even find new women to bed and a wife of my own.
Thinking back on Ottilie, I tried to conjure happy memories of her. Yet all my good memories of her were...similar.
I tried to recall her smile, but in my mind her mouth was stretched around my hard cock. I couldn't recall her laugh, but I remember her moaning as she swallowed my cum. I remembered her crying out as I spanked her bare ass, and I remembered the look of fear mingled with lust when she first laid eyes on my prick. While I was with her, I thought of her as a future wife and piece of property; now that I was away from her, I could only think back on her as a fantastic cocksucker and a wild flower that I never had the chance to pluck.
Missing out on fucking her was ironically made less painful by the knowledge that she wouldn't have been a virgin anyway. Perhaps I should have felt betrayed, but in fact I couldn't begrudge Ottilie for her dalliances. Had I known, we may have even become true friends; in my journeys, one truth I have learned beyond the shadow of a doubt is that men and women can indeed become friends and companions, provided they are fucking other people as well.
Once I had my fill of water, I rose to return to my stolen horse. I had no supplies to make camp, no food, not even a canteen to fill with water. I would have to get by with hopes, memories, and dreams that night, until I could find the scoundrels I desperately needed. I took a long, winding route home, hoping to spot berries I could eat. Unsuccessful and hungry, I was almost back to my horse when I heard rustling that was louder than the sounds of birds or insects. I crouched down and crept towards the clearing.
Shrouded by trees, I could see a small, shadowy figure beside my horse, and I feared the worst: someone was looking for me. I faced a difficult choice: flee now, cry out at the figure, or ready to attack with my dagger drawn. I inched forward, dreading the moment of truth that was soon to come. Needless to say, I had never killed before; it was as likely, I thought, that I would be disarmed and run through with my own dagger as anything else. Fleeing would mean my journey would be even slower, and I was already facing the forbidding prospects of foraging for food on my own. I knew my choice.
"You, over there!" I cried out. "Who are you?"
The figure turned towards me, and for the first time I could see that it was in fact a girl, probably no more than twenty. She froze, and turned to run, though she had barely proceeded twenty paces before her foot caught in a knotty root and she tumbled to the ground. By that time, I had sprung into a race and was on her in only a moment.
"Who are you?" I repeated, towering over the prone girl.
I felt much safer seeing the slight, feminine figure beneath me. There was no chance she could best me in a straightforward physical brawl, and she appeared unarmed.
"Stay back!" she cried out. "You won't take me back to them!"
"Who are you?" I demanded.
The girl, whose hands had been raised in defense, lowered them slowly. With icy blue eyes as large as saucers, she looked into my eyes intensely, as if she was searching for my true nature inside. For a moment, I feared that I had stumbled upon a witch, bent on enthralling me to her nefarious will. Fortunately, she was but an ordinary girl.
"Kali—that's my name. I was taken by bandits. They killed my father and kept me."
"Where are these bandits?"
Kali hesitated.
"I'm not going back! They'll never own me."
Naturally, I had no intention of returning her to the bandits. I was on the hunt for dishonorable men, but bandits were beyond dishonorable. The heart of a thief may yet be red, but a bandit's heart is blacker than coal. I was certain that murder, not trade, would be the result of my coming into contact with such men.
"I don't want to take you anywhere," I told her, "but I can't have you stealing my horse either."
Kali continued to search my face, hoping for signs, I assumed, of my trustworthiness.
"This isn't your horse, farmboy," she replied. "You're as much a thief as they are—but maybe not a killer? Could we deal?"
My spirits rose. While she was occupied trying to determine if I was trustworthy, I elected, perhaps foolishly, to trust Kali implicitly. To be honest, I was trusting my stomach as much as my heart—she seemed to know her way around the forest, and I prayed she might have food with her.
"Let's talk, then. Is it safe to remain here?" I asked her.
She shook her head.
"They move throughout the forest, sometimes at night. They camp near crossroads and wait for travelers to spring their traps. There's a village not far from here, Sameneimer. If we—"
"We can't go there," I interjected. "It's...not safe either."
She scrutinized me further, as if reading my thoughts.
"You know who I am—who are you?"
Of course I couldn't tell her what brought me here. I stalled.
"A name isn't much. Maybe nothing at all. Tell me who you are, not just your name, and I'll tell you my story," I said.
"Like I said," she hissed, "it's not safe here. We should ride away from their camp. They'll be looking for me."
I suddenly regretted the way in which I'd inadvertently agreed to accompany her. Now she was hitching a ride on
my
horse, while I exposed myself to the risk of bandits. As we swiftly rode off, Kali fell silent. It wasn't until almost an hour later, when we stopped to rest, that we resumed our conversation.
"I've changed my mind," she said. "Your story first, before I tell you more of mine. You're the thief after all."
I wasn't happy about that, but I decided a few helpful lies might gain me sympathy.
"I'm an outlaw from the village—the one you wanted to flee to. The Baron...murdered my wife and I...killed his son in revenge. I'm fleeing to Sicherburg. My...uncle has promised me safe harbor there."
Kali drew her shoulders in close.
"You're lying," she said, almost in a whisper, before her brow furrowed. "But we can go to Sicherburg all the same."
She was quiet for a moment before speaking again, with great intent.
"You've never killed anyone," she said with certainty, "but you've got quite a dagger. You robbed the Baron—are you trying to join a Bandit clan?"
I knew nothing of joining bandits; for all I knew, bandits were born and not made. I swore I had no intentions of the sort, and Kali seemed to accept that. The longer she spent in my presence, the more relaxed she appeared to be. I must have seemed so lost and naïve that I wasn't a threat. Now it was my turn to determine what help she might be.
"Kali? Do you...ummm...know how to get there? I mean, without getting too close to the bandits?"
"You're not much of an outlaw, are you?" she asked.
