Cadleigh Fortress

Jannalor Petrie looked at the four mercenaries... sorry, "adventurers for hire"... that had answered the advertisement. They were all humans, not elves like him and his wife, Lyrilyn. However, that wasn't a bad thing. After all, the item they were after was frowned upon by most of elven society.

First there was the Hillridge brothers, Syndryk and Lightfoot. If any two siblings had ever looked more different, Jannalor hadn't met them. Syndryk was a giant of a man. Six foot eight or taller with arm muscles that looked to be as thick as Lightfoot's waist. But there was a gentleness that he could sense between the two of them. Seerta "Falling Viper" Razorthorn, was a female, but not much more could be made out under her robes. She was currently relaxed in her chair next to the bigger brother, cleaning her nails with a dagger. Reyner Guard, the strong, bearded fighter, looked prepared to fight at the first sign of danger. He was dressed in chainmail, and held on to a longsword as if it had been tightly sealed to his hands.

"So, let me get this straight," Lightfoot said, "The two of you say there's a stone in the ruins of Cadleigh Fortress that will help the two of you somehow. Other than that stone, we're allowed to take whatever treasure we happen to find as our reward? That must be some stone."

The elf nodded and patted his wife's leg as he replied "Indeed it is. We have been trying for an heir for decades now. Our parents are getting along in years, and they are considering how best to split up their wealth. We know that without a child to pass the inheritance along to, they will likely leave us out."

"So what does that have to do with a stone?"

"It is called the Fertility stone. Anyone in possession of the stone while having intercourse will become pregnant."

The little man laughed. "So you think there's a fuck stone in there? And lots of treasure? The place has been abandoned for generations. I'm sure it's been looted completely by now."

Lyrilyn leaned forward, and the look in her eyes made Lightfoot's laughter fade slowly. "Ah, but that is where you are wrong," she told him, "It is true, there have been several attempts to recover items from the ruins, but none of them have been heard from again. And none of the items that are known to be in there have ever been seen on the market." She passed a list of items and their current values over to the leader of the group.

Lightfoot had years of practice at keeping his emotions off of his face, but the values that were on the paper in front of him made it difficult. He swallowed, then nodded. "We'll discuss the matter overnight," he said, "and give you an answer first thing in the morning." He stood, and the others joined him.

Once the "adventurers" had left, Jannalor turned to his wife. "What do you think?"

"They will accept our offer. No doubt."

"I meant, what do you think of them?"

"Oh. They seem like they are competent. Their references are reliable."

"Can you believe those two are brothers?" Jannalor asked abruptly, "Do you think they have different fathers?"

He heard his wife's laughter, gentle and melodious as tinkling glass as she said "My darling, they are not brothers."

"But they have the same last name..."

"As do you and I," she whispered in his ear.

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It didn't take much discussion for the group to make up their mind. They had been working together for a few years now, but the size of this score would be enough for them to retire. Lightfoot sat in Syndryk's lap while his big arms enveloped his little lover.

Seerta was the only one who raised an objection. "If there have been several attempts, and none of them have come back, why do you think we'll do better?"

"Because we're better. We have strength, cunning, power. We have your skills in close quarters and my skills with any traps that might still be working. We have nothing to worry about. Besides, those attempts were ages ago. Anything that got them is probably either damaged beyond repair or dead from old age."

Seerta felt a little more comforted, but as she went to sleep that night, the little nagging doubt remained.

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"We're in."

The mercenaries didn't have much to pack and Syndryk had all of their duffles in a bunch over his shoulder. The moment they saw the elven couple at the table, Lightfoot walked over and made the announcement.

Jannalor nodded, then gestured to the open seats. "Please, join us for breakfast, and we shall be off. We have a three day journey ahead."

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Those three days went by quickly. Whether through luck or the size of Syndryk, they encountered no bandits on the route. The days were filled with easy banter between the guards and amused looks from the elves. At night, the watch became used to hearing low moans from the elven sleeping quarters.

Around lunch on the third day, they came across their first difficulty: Trees and bushes had grown up over the path to the old castle. Syndryk and Reyner spent most of the afternoon hacking a path until they finally gave up.

"We're going to have to go on foot from here," the ex-soldier informed the rest of the group, "It's not too bad, and I can see Cadleigh Fortress in the distance from where we ended. We should be able to set up camp outside by nightfall."

The elves had a quick discussion, but agreed that what Reyner said made sense. They gathered the essential supplies and hitched their horses off to the side of the road. The travel was slow, but they managed to fight their way through with only a few scratches.

When they reached the fortress, they saw the remains of a firepit just outside the entrance, as if a campsite had been there.

Tents were set up, a fire was made, and they all rested, not knowing what they would find inside tomorrow.

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Lightfoot always took second shift at night, as his sleep was the most erratic of the group. He usually got a little rest before to make sure he was alert, then a longer rest after to be ready for the day ahead. On the flip side, Syndryk had always preferred first watch because he could get six hours uninterrupted, and he liked to stay up late. Lightfoot smiled. Some nights, he would keep Syndryk "up" long after his shift.

But not tonight. Tonight, Syndryk had woken Lightfoot up, and then had fallen asleep almost immediately.

Lightfoot shook his head as he took a seat with his back to the campfire. He was disappointed, but he also knew it had been a long day for the big man.

After half an hour, he rose to patrol the perimeter of the camp, as was their standard procedures. He had almost finished when he looked at the entrance to the ruins.

There, beckoning under the stars, was Syndryk. The sweet lout stepped in through the doorway, and without a thought, Lightfoot followed.

"Syn?" the spry little man called after his partner as he tried to catch up. Through passageways and up stairs, the smaller man followed, never quite able to get a full view before his lover turned the next corner.

He was starting to breathe heavily when he turned a corner to see a magnificent bedroom. Despite the damage to the rest of the fortress, this room was perfect. The canopy bed shone with new oil on the mahogany frame. Silk sheets draped over the mattress.

And on top of the bed was Syndryk, smiling seductively for Lightfoot to join him. "I found our treasure," he said as he opened his arms.

Lightfoot moved forward, his own arms wide, and crawled up next to him. He kissed Syndryk, then ran his fingers down his chest, where scars from years of battle should have been. But to his surprise, the bigger man's chest was unblemished.

"Syndryk?" he questioned, looking in his lover's eyes... only to see the kind, dark eyes he loved to gaze into turn paler and paler, until they were white.

At the same time, the giant form of Syndryk seemed to shrink down. His hair turned softer and lightened to the same white as his eyes. His rugged features smoothed over, as if a potter was sculpting a figure out of clay before Lightfoot's eyes.

The smaller man tried to let go of the rapidly changing figure, but he found that he couldn't move a muscle. All he could do was watch helplessly as his beloved giant was replaced by a woman.

She was about as tall as he was, with skin the color of polished ivory. Her white hair flowed like a waterfall past her shoulders, and those eyes he was now gazing into held only dark mischief. Thankfully, she was still clothed, though all she seemed to be wearing was a thin white shift.

Then she spoke, and her voice seemed to echo throughout the room, even though her voice was quiet.

"You truly are a gullible one," she told him, laughing, "I hardly needed to put any effort into creating that illusion. Your devotion to him, your love for him... You would truly do anything for him, wouldn't you?"

Lightfoot tried to speak, and found that he could still talk. "Who are you?" he demanded, "What have you done with..."

"Your giant is still back at the camp," the woman interrupted, easily pulling out of Lightfoot's arms and standing up, "As to who I am... I am Eden. But your people may know me as the Sorceress of the Night, the Queen of Terror... or the Shadow Temptress."

As she laughed again, Lightfoot realized he had heard of her. Stories of the witch's cruelty and skills with magic had kept him awake as a child.

But if this was the Sorceress of the Night, then that meant...

"Well, now," Eden said, her words distracting Lightfoot from his frightened thoughts, "what shall I do with you?"

As she spoke, he felt his entire body being stretched out onto the bed, and he saw that his arms and legs were being chained to the bedposts.

"P-please..." he said softly, his courage long gone, "Please release me, and I swear that nobody else will trespass into your home. Please, my lady..."

He stopped when he heard the sorceress laughing, as if his terror was a splendid joke to her.

"Oh, you foolish boy," she said, "it is too late for that. You and your fellow thieves have trespassed onto my territory. Now, all of you will pay, starting with you."

Hearing this, Lightfoot started struggling against the chains binding him. She may have taken him, but he'd be damned if he let her touch Syndryk. And he certainly couldn't let her get to his companions. Who knows what she had in store for any of them, much less himself?

"You may as well cease your struggling, boy," the sorceress told him, "You're not going anywhere unless I say so."

"Go to hell!" Lightfoot spat, but he knew those were empty words. Already, he could feel himself weakening, and he knew he wouldn't last much longer, especially if she used any more of her magic on him.

Then he made the mistake of looking up at her again. What he saw made his eyes widen and his cheeks burn.

During his struggles, Eden had removed her gown. Her pale hair trailed over her body with hints of her skin shining through despite the dim lighting. She reached up and pulled her hair back, revealing her perfectly smooth ivory skin. Despite his preference for males, Lightfoot couldn't stop longing for a taste of her smooth curves, her hard nipples. He wanted to trace his tongue down her flat stomach to her nectar below.

She smirked at him, as if she could read his every thought, and her hands trailed teasingly along the undersides of her breasts and down her stomach to her hips. "Look at me, Lightfoot," she purred softly, "and tell me: Do you desire me?"

He kept his mouth tightly shut, not willing to let the sorceress control him, yet the lust in his eyes gave away his answer.

Chuckling, she walked back over to the bed, her eyes on his. "Your body betrays you, young thief," she said, and she gestured towards...

Lightfoot's eyes widened when he realized that his clothes had vanished while he'd been staring at her earlier. He was now tied up, exposed, and completely at her mercy. And she knew that he knew it.