Author's note: Well, here we are with the next part of the saga. I tried to give a little bit of insight into Kalliya and Pointer with this part, perhaps with a hint of a story to come. I am also trying to tie the threads of the tale together - hopefully that's working out in an understandable fashion. Also, there's crazy centaur sex and hot elf on orc action, so if that isn't your cup of tea you may not like this one.
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Interlude - Kalliya
The boulder was round and smooth, polished so after countless years of slow tumbling within a glacier before the retreating wave of ice had deposited it and a score of its fellows unceremoniously in the grassy northern tundra. There it had lain, observing innumerous seasons pass until a use had been found for it and its surrounding coterie by small bands of travellers and merchants seeking a landmark on their journeys across the northern plains. Now, a small path ran east-west through the boulder field, crossing another north-south path almost precisely in its centre.
Kalliya didn't spare a thought to the history of the rock she was leaning against. Her skin was shining with sweat, her clothes stained with the dirt of the trail, and her breath escaped her lips in ragged gasps. She was exhausted. Her flight from the Eastern Reaches had taken a toll on the brown-skinned mage. After stealing the Omnigarch Stone from the Redtooth orcs, she had conjured a portal to return to where she had stashed her mount. Never much good with conjuration magic, the mage had mounted up and ridden her horse hard, making her way east out of the jungle before turning north and continuing with all speed across the grasslands. That had been four days ago. Yesterday, her horse had collapsed from sheer exhaustion. She had almost left it there, writhing in pain in the mud, to die slowly while she continued her race northwards - the desire to return to the side of her mistress, Gaermeon, was overwhelming - but something she had almost forgotten existed within her, a small pang of sorrow at the sight of the animal in misery, had caused her to take the briefest of moments to place her finger against the stricken horse's temple and project a beam of concentrated force through its skull, ending its tortured death throes.
She had flown for the rest of her journey - she was much better with arcane kinematics, the use of magic to create fields of force, than any other school. After shedding all but the most essential of her equipment, the mage used her magic to lift herself above the plains and propel herself northwards in staggering leaps. Although the leagues had passed quickly beneath her soaring feet, the effort it had taken was crushing and only the sensation that she was getting closer and closer to Gaermeon had sustained her. Relief was in sight, however.
On her last leap, from her vantage point high in the air, she had spotted a small figure trotting eastwards towards the landmark within which she now rested. From a distance, she had thought the small figure to be a person on horseback and had landed among the boulders planning to ambush the lone traveller and steal their mount. Now on the ground with the figure much closer, she could see that it was no mounted traveller. Instead, she watched as a lone, young centaur stallion ambled towards her concealed position and listened to him sing a sorrowful ballad with a clear, bright voice as she adjusted her plan.
"With mournful eyes, she looked at me.
Against the call of the grass sea,
She begged my heart and called my name,
But the wind's tune had laid its claim.
The siren-song of distant lands,
Of glory held by no-one's hands,
Commanded my hooves to obey
And stole my spirit far away."
"That's a beautiful song," said Kalliya, stepping out from behind a boulder, staff in hand, striving to conceal her tiredness from the youth.
The centaur was clearly very young, only a summer or two into adulthood. Patches of tufty foal-fur still marked his chestnut hide. He was handsome in an untested, innocent fashion; fresh-faced, with bright blue eyes, a square jaw and short, auburn hair that was tousled and mussed by the summer breeze. Despite his youth, the stallion was still a large creature, and well armed; he was holding a long centaur pike and had a longbow wrapped in oilskin on a leather strap over the sleeveless woolen vest he sported. His bare arms revealed well-defined musculature to Kalliya's shrewd gaze.
The young male apparently saw no threat in the mage's bearing and his face broke into a welcoming smile. "Thankyou!" he announced cheerfully. "Can I help you?"
This was going to be too easy, thought Kalliya, levelling her most devastating smile at the youth as she walked over to him. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I think you can. I was hoping you could point me in the direction of the Kolgannis lands."
"Certainly! They're about two days ride that way," said the youth, his hooves stamping the ground as he turned slightly and pointed to the northeast. After a quick glance at Kalliya's well-worn state, he continued. "Four if you're walking, I suppose. You'll want to head down this eastern path until you reach the next crossroads, then take the road north to Kolgan Vale. Although, you might want to turn south at the crossroads and head to Folger's Post for supplies. Looks like you're travelling pretty light for the trip ahead."
"Thanks," said Kalliya, wrapping a leg around her staff as she spoke and seductively leaning against the wooden shaft such that her luscious breasts were displayed lasciviously, "I was hoping maybe you could spare some rations?"
