The Adventures Of Tai Kho Ch 01

CHAPTER ONE: giving a stranger the kiss of life.

Taking a short break from her close-quarters combat training, Tai-Kho, raven-haired warrior of Ero, sat beside the stone fountain dedicated to their god. Already seated there was Han-Xiob, her long-time mentor, and leader of the secretive group. He had been watching her for the last fifteen minutes, studying. He barely blinked.

She dipped cupped hands into the pool of cool, crystal water, studiously avoiding his gaze, testing his patience. He was quite patient. Her rippled reflection showed that some hair had escaped its tight bun. She tucked it behind her ear, washed her hands, splashed her face, before finally running out of things to do. She sighed, and turned to face him.

'You want something.' It wasn't phrased like a question. Respectful, but relaxed; they went way back.

'I have been asked to select an assassin', Han-Xiob said, calmly.

'Agesha seems to be developing some excellent skills in that department.'

'She does, but this needs a more experienced hand.'

'She is keen. She would be disappointed to miss out on an opportunity like this.'

'Like what?' Han-Xiob asked. 'What is this opportunity?'

'I saw the Senate emissary arrive this morning. It can't be a coincidence. This must be a high profile hit.' Tai-Kho let a little smile pull at her lips, knowing she was right.

'Then you'll know that it has to be you.'

Tai-Kho sighed. She knew. She listened, face a mask of impassivity, before resuming her exercises, her mind swimming with thoughts.

Han explained her mission. It seemed relatively simple; to kill Rodhir, the gluttonous, hedonistic Keltian lord. The way of the assassin isn't to ask questions, though it would be a poor assassin that didn't have some idea of the motivations behind their patron's decision. In this instance, perhaps, Rodhir had become too close to the Keltian leader, whispering disturbing untruths, coaxing her away from the alliance that had been in development for years. It was also said that he had made some pact with an evil deity, as he'd hardly aged in over two decades. This seemed less likely a motive, mere superstitious speculation, but not to be discounted.

Whatever, it was a great honour to serve her country, Maran, and if its future depended upon her, then the years of training would stand her in good stead. She returned to her cell for the evening, to contemplate her task, to enjoy a final evening of comfort, and build up her strength and health in the unique way of Ero.

Tai-Kho was tall, athletic, and walked with a purposeful stride. She had been a warrior of Ero for as long as she could remember, though she only joined at the age of 6. The training, the incredible focus required, blocked out all other thoughts except those of her skills. As the acolytes mature, their training centres on combat and meditation. Once eighteen, the most skilled combatants, those with absolute control of their mind and body, advance to be warriors of Ero. Here they develop their minds further, so that they can harness the power of orgasm.

The secret was once widely known, to the benefit of all. Power gained through sex could be used to heal, to injure, to communicate telepathically, even practice thaumaturgy. Nowadays, a time of ignorance, the few remaining skills are passed down through a handful of warriors, in this last enclave of Ero.

So, Tai-Kho, our raven-haired hero, would set out from the remote monastery in the far east, towards Ieboto, port city of Maran, from where she would sail many miles west, to Keltia, land of bards, barbarians and brigands (or so she'd heard). She would be away weeks, possibly months, if she would ever return at all.

She had been on the road all day, her fifth since leaving the monastery, and was looking for somewhere to camp for the evening, when she saw flames flickering through the trees. Hoping to join a fellow traveller, she stumbled across the torn body of a Keltian Warrior. He had obviously started this fire, before becoming the victim of a vicious attack. The Keltian warriors were easily identified by their blue tattoos. Also, usually clothed in wool and cotton, his recent battle with unknown enemies revealed a bare, bruised body. His legs were exposed to the top of his thighs, and covered in trios of thick lacerations. His loincloth, too, was torn, and his large, flaccid cock lay exposed to her gaze. He was very far from home.

The sun was setting, but by the remaining light, and the flames of the camp fire, she identified the claw marks as those of a wolf or wolves. Deep cuts split blue artwork in two. The wounds were fresh. Something must have scared it off. She knelt beside the stranger, listening to his breath, gripped his limp wrist to feel for a pulse. It was weak and slow. He wouldn't survive the night. Around him was a pool of blood, and chunks of flesh had been bitten from his thigh and side. He needed aid, and quickly.

Although the Keltians are feared warriors throughout the world, in near-death his face appeared soft and innocent. She felt compelled to nurse him back to health using the powers that she, and very few others, possessed.

Tai-Kho knew that the only way she could save him now was to share an orgasm with him, but in his terminal state, this was less than straightforward. She looked down at his pale skin, devoid of the rich red liquid of life, and knew there was none to spare for an erection.

Throwing down her baggage and weapon, she proceeded to remove her boots and leggings so that she was naked from the waist down. She knelt by his side and took his limp right hand in hers, and slowly pressed his index and middle finger to her dry vagina lips. She pushed them inside her gently, but there was too much resistance, so she brought them instead up to her mouth, sucked them, lubricated his fingers with her saliva. Now wet, she returned the hand to her vagina, and tried again. They slid in with difficulty, but now they were inside, her mind turned towards the task at hand, and to the energy at her core.

His fingers curled limply inside her, but after nearly a week on the road, a week since her last orgasm, she relished the feeling of flesh inside her, a release of tension, of moisture, energy forming within. She remained kneeling, body forming a strong L, knees apart, allowing her freedom to move his lifeless hands within her. As the pleasure developed, she felt the channel opening, could feel new power forming, and while she enjoyed feeling the orgasm build, a portion of her mind remained alert, focused, controlling the build-up of power.

She fucked herself with his lifeless hands quicker still, wet flesh slapping in the silence of the dusk, until, with a shudder and a sigh, she came, moisture spilling down his fingers and onto his palm. She kept the fingers inside, shifting her energy into him, keeping the channel open, enjoying the force that flowed from within her, a warmth that radiated from her core.

When she sensed that he had sufficient, she withdrew his hand and stood up. He lay still, but his breath had more weight to it, his skin better colour. She bent down to wipe his hand dry, then redressed and left him to come to on his own. She stoked the fire beneath the shelter of a large maple tree, and sat back against it, watching. Eventually she relaxed enough to doze off, drifting into a deep sleep, the sound of the breeze in the leaves, a waterfall nearby.

She wakes before him, the sun yet to conquer the horizon, trees silhouetted against a blood-orange sky. The fire smoulders weakly, giving out a little heat, so she throws on some more wood, before heading in the direction of the waterfall. The sound guides her a little way through the trees, to a clearing with a shallow pool, above which rises a short waterfall, perhaps ten feet high. Birds sing out.

Undressing, she drapes her clothes over a nearby Hyssop bush, its aromatic leaves releases their oils into the air as she crushes one between her fingers. She removes the pin from her hair. It cascades over her shoulders, wisps catching in the breeze.

Naked now, she stepped gingerly into the icy water, many tiny knives stabbing at the skin of her ankles, making their way higher with each step she takes, deeper into the pool. It reaches a little way above her knees by the time she is in the centre. She gradually becomes accustomed to the temperature, and makes her way beneath the tumbling water. Misty spray coats her skin with tiny delicate pearls, droplets of dew on a spider's web.

She bathes quickly under the cold waterfall, brisk movements scrubbing away dirt, using a clump of moss gathered from the rock face behind. His blood coats her knees where she knelt beside him.

Who was he? How had he become so mauled, and what would become of him now that he was free from the permanent grip of death? The trio of marks intrigued her. A wolf usually had four claws. One missing? Or some other creature entirely?

Back by the fire, Caradoc lay still, assessing the damage his body had taken. He was astounded to find that, not only was he still alive, but feeling remarkably well. He watched the dark clothed woman rise from by the fire, throw on a log, before heading off into the bushes. He had no idea who she was, or why she was with him, and what were her intentions? She disappeared into the thicket.

Rising, he readjusted the limited cloth and wool that still covered him, and crept silently after her, into the bushes. The soft murmuring of a stream masked any sound that she made, so he went very carefully forward. Before long he saw her ahead of him, stepping naked into the stream. His heart leapt into his mouth. He turned quickly away, to give her some privacy, before turning quickly back again, to follow her progress beneath the falling water.

He moved stealthily forward, creeping closer so that he would get a better view. He felt his prick stir, twitching awake. Chewed his lower lip, passion warming his cold limbs, energy coursing through him now. He leaned forward onto the tree he was hidden behind, and reached easily into his clothes with his strong sword hand. He gripped his hard cock, squeezed it, pulled the skin back slowly, enjoying the sensation, enjoying the view. She glowed in the early morning sun, rays now penetrated the clearing, the sky shifting from orange to light blue.

Her skin, like his own, is decorated. The water came up to her thighs, the dark triangle of her pubic hair sprouting half a dozen vines of ink up her torso, each one curling out towards bare skin, one curled around her hip, and back down, decorating her bum, another reaching up towards her shoulder and down her arm. Yet another grew and cupped the curve of her left breast, tracing a line and disappearing beneath her arm. On her left wrist was one dark emblem that he did not recognise through the distance. From what he could see, her legs were devoid of tattooing, every bit of ink linked back to her vagina.

The designs of her nation. Although he did not understand their meaning, the beautiful and intricate designs, each one a masterpiece of art, each unique, showed that she had attained the lofty position of master Ero warrior. She had power far beyond his own.

Seeing her naked, though, exposed and vulnerable, gave him renewed confidence in his situation. He didn't perceive her to be a threat now, and had no intention of fleeing. He watched her wash, thrilled to witness this private moment. A spark of adrenaline ignites inside him, apprehension of being caught, but he remains behind the tree, and continues to stroke his cock, harder now than it has been for some time. Passion and excitement build in a way that he hasn't felt before, as though waking from an arousing dream that he couldn't quite recollect, a wet, semi-hard cock the only clue.

He could feel the bark of the tree dig into his left hand as he pressed his weight into it, eyes not leaving the scene ahead of him, the strong, beautiful woman, wet hair slicked down her pale back, coming to a point midway down her spine, leading down to the cleft of her bum; soft curves, full round flesh dimples as she shifts her weight from one leg to the other.

In a very short space of time, and lucky too, as she appears to have finished washing, he ejaculates, hot come falling from him, landing thickly on the leaves ahead. He leans heavily on the tree, exhaling deeply, eyes closed. He stays for a moment, long as he dares. She emerges from the pool, water dripping off her body, so he hurriedly skulks back to the campfire to await her return.

Back at the fire, he watched her appear from the woods, her purposeful stride towards him. Not a sliver of ink was visible now, all hidden beneath her clothing.

But around the fire he struggled to meet her eyes, which Tai-Kho took as a shyness at being saved by a woman. Typical!

She spoke first, her voice was level, calm and controlled, and betrayed absolutely nothing of what she felt, or did for him.

'My name is Tai-Kho', she said. 'You nearly died last night. Do you remember what happened?'

He did not. He gave his body a cursory once-over. He was alive, sound and whole. Though his clothes were in tatters, where once was wound, now white scar tissue was all that remained, as if months, not hours had passed. Either he had been asleep for some time, or some serious magic had taken place.

'Caradoc', he replied, 'pleasure'. His words were thickly accented and sonorous. 'I lit m'fire, then set about skinning a rabbit I traded some way back. Next thing I know I'm looking up at m'star-sign, and bloody freezing.' He stopped there, hoping his new companion might fill in some blanks. She patiently obliged with what she knew herself, substituting 'a powerful balm' for 'orgasm'. After all, the Warriors of Ero didn't kiss and tell.

They broke their fast, sharing food to vary their traveller's diet. He had some hard oat biscuits and cheese that she hadn't had before, she offered him stuffed leaves in oil; delicate but delicious. While he ate he stitched together the tears in his clothes, which were piecemeal enough to begin with.

Their conversation was polite and questioning, typical of people on the road, and so it naturally turned to their immediate future.

'Where will you go now?', she asked, glancing down at what remained of clothes that might one time have passed for rags.

'Off t'see if I can find a ship that'll take me home. Nothing like being set upon by wolves to make you hanker for it'.

'Then you're heading for Ieboto. As am I. We shall travel together, then, in case you need saving again', she said, smile spreading across her face. He watched it push at her cheeks, dimples forming as if invisible fingertips pushed at the corners of her mouth, except that the smile was as natural as the tree behind her.

She was right, he thought, it made sense to walk together. He was glad she had suggested it, though not at all because of a fear of another attack, but because she seemed pleasant company, and partly because it might yield further voyeuristic opportunities. They packed up, shouldered their belongings, and set off south, to the docks of Ieboto.

Two days travel behind, Agesha did the same, whilst some way up ahead, Arkara was already on the move.