She gave her first orgasm as well.
Lips locked and tongues speaking the sensual language only lovers know Sigyn could taste her own essence from Asparas’ mouth. Like a pungent stew or heady aroma, she shook with desire to taste more. Even as Asparas transmitted the whereabouts of Prince Lin to her through gentle caresses of fingertips across her skull.
To stay in the arms of this brilliant forest child became a stronger pull than even becoming landlord to half the kingdom. Sigyn buried her head between Asparas’ legs a second time. Nothing else mattered. Nothing…
The bizarre image of two ogresses, naked and drooling over a rich crimson-covered bed assaulted her as she performed cunnilingus. Distracted and more than slightly revolted, Sigyn pulled back. “The ogres have the prince,” she said softly. “And they’re using him sexually.”
Asparas sat up. “Yes.”
“Where is their lair?” Sigyn asked. She wracked her brain, trying to clear the fog caused by the droplet of fairy cider and enchanted sexual release—
what did Asparas impart to me? What was it? A mirror? No…the surface of a lake? There is no lake near here. A puddle, perhaps. A pool of clear water. Yes. A pool of water.
“Where is the stream that fills a basin at which the prince was captured?”
“It is due east of this place. You can reach it in one day if you travel quickly and do not wander astray,” Asparas replied. “You must forgive me for trying to persuade you to stay with me for a while. I cannot help what I am, or what I am compelled to do.”
“I understand. It is your nature. Just as it is mine to follow this quest to its conclusion.”
“Sigyn of the garden corner, beware of the geese and the fog they summon. Should you see a strange mist or hear the trumpet of a wild goose far from a body of water, run as fast as you can in the opposite direction. I will alert all cedar nymphs to give you shelter if you must flee in such a manner,” Asparas said softly. “Now, go. Go quickly before I concoct a plan to keep you from.” She paused. “I enjoyed our time together.”
Sigyn kissed Asparas. “I shall be king someday and I shall make a proclamation that all cedar trees are sacred and should be preserved for the good of my kingdom. I shall build my bed with sacred cedars still rooted in the ground as bedposts so that you can join me in my bed-chamber whenever you like. I could so easily love you, Asparas. And it is not the cider speaking. It is my heart.”
Asparas bowed. “You are most wise, my king.”
Sigyn touched Asparas’ chin lightly. “How do I leave this realm?”
“The way is open, just beyond that curtain. Go with kind spirits and bright nights, Sigyn.”
Sigyn recognized the blessing. She replied accordingly, “May the rain be gentle on your path.”
There was an ache in Sigyn’s gut that she could not diagnose. A knot. A fire. A burning ball of tension that shot from her breastbone to her privates.
Is this what it feels like to desire? To miss terribly warm, soft arms and lips? To mourn the passions lost between crisp linen sheets? Yes…I am experiencing the deep ache over parting ways with my lover. My first lover. I taste her still, on my lips--and my hands still grasp the yielding flesh of her breasts. Her scent lingers on me. I am longing for her.
Sigyn pulled her bag tighter around her shoulders. “Interesting turn of events,” she whispered.
Very interesting and quite unexpected. No matter. When I am king, I shall have no time for such things. Until, perhaps, I have set my counsel in place. With them acting on my behalf I’ll have a bit of free time to pursue matters of the heart. And who’d of believed that my heart lies within the hollow of an old cedar?
Sigyn shook off any fantasies of love and set her mind squarely on her purpose at hand. The woods were dangerous this time of decreasing daylight before evening. Eventide had arrived. And spirits were afoot.
She silently blessed cedars as she passed, hoping the blessing would fall on the ears of any spirits inhabiting them. It was that droplet of fairy cider, and she knew it. That single droplet of cider had warmed her soul to realms of light and air and now, she would forever long to be a part of that world.
The forest grew quite dark as not even a glimmer of moonlight could filter through the thick canopy. Sigyn built a fire and set out a magic grid of white stones to ward off any tricksters.
She took a potato from her sack and roasted it. The purple skin sizzled to a delicate crispiness that would have tasted best served alongside a fat sausage. She ate in silence, hoping her next roasted potato would not be eaten alone, in the dark forest, surrounded by the watchful eyes of woodland creatures wishing she was their potato on a stick.
Nightfall should never be quiet.
But this night was a quiet as a grave.
And from graves come spirits.
A single orb of light appeared between two tall trees, dancing as if on a string hung between them. Sigyn giggled at its antics, but dared not stray from the protection of her fire. “I see you will-o-wisp, but I shall not follow you this night. Go and find yourself another playmate,” she called.
A faint weeping noise swept in on the breeze. Since the forest was devoid of the usual sounds of the night, the sobs sounded all the more clearly and all the more ominously to her ears. “It is a banshee,” Sigyn whispered.
The sobs grew more intense.
Certainly it was not a banshee that wept in the night, for a banshee wept not from pain or fear—but as a warning of impending doom. These cries reaching her ears stemmed from great sadness and the pain of loss.
Sigyn tipped a long branch into the fire to set it alight. Warily, she carried it before her as she traipsed into the darkness toward the ominous sound.
As the glow of her fire revealed a small waterfall filling a pond that made absolutely no sound, she knew she had entered an enchanted region of the forest. Sigyn crossed herself, hoping an invocation of the Holy Trinity would add to her protective forces. Of course, fire was probably stronger in this case. Spirits knew not the God of humankind, but fire, they knew well.
The sobbing became wails and the wails nearly discernible words as Sigyn past the pool. There was a cave hidden behind the falls.
“Please…no more…” came frightened words from the mouth of the cave. “Not again…please. I beg you.”
Sigyn doused her flame and stole into the mouth of the cave. The portal was mossy, damp and fetid-smelling. Worse than a wagon full of corpses on a summer day. As she crept slowly inside, the flickering glow of another’s torch led her way.
Hiding between two large rocks with barely enough room between them for her to peer out with one eye, Sigyn discovered the source of the cries.
She could not see the man, as he was pinioned under a voluptuous beauty who was riding him for all he was worth. Sigyn watched with some interest as the man cried out—no pleaded--for the woman to cease and desist while his body responded to her overtures as any man’s body would.
There was not only one woman, but two. For the moment the rider achieved her pleasure atop the man, she rolled off and was immediately replaced by her twin—save the masks they wore were different metals. Gold mask crawled to a pile of furs and drank wine greedily as Silver mask mounted.
Though she could not tell for certain, Sigyn assumed the sex-slave captive of these two cave witches was the prince.
And now to formulate a plan…
Sigyn crept out of the cave as silently as she had entered it and sought refuge from the night in a rocky alcove to wait out the coming dawn.
As the first light touched the forest floor, raspy voices and heavy footfalls awakened Sigyn in her hidey-hole. She peered out, hoping her scent was not too ripe less she be detected. Their masks cast aside, she could clearly see the prince’s captors were indeed, ogres. Female ogres by the looks of their pendulous breasts and dimpled backsides. The larger of the two turned toward the cave and recited a poem, “Sing, my geese, with strains so deep that Lin, entranced, may fall asleep."
Sigyn pulled back, locking the words to memory.
Sing, my geese, with strains so deep that Lin, entranced, may fall asleep.
They are keeping him bewitched while they have their lascivious ways with him.
The ogresses strolled into the forest. Not knowing their routine, Sigyn stole quickly into their cave to survey the area before their return.
On a bed carved with staves and runes that she could not read, Sigyn found Prince Hlini. Curled up into a fetal position, both hands clasping his privates, he mewed and sobbed like a small child in his sleep. A far cry from the warrior on horseback that bid her good day every morning. He looked thin and weak.
“My prince, do wake up,” she whispered.
At the sound of her voice he curled up tighter.
She shoved him. “Do be a good little prince and wake up. Now!”
“Please, no more,” he wept through his spell-induced sleep.
“Damn,” Sigyn said. She moved closer to the intricate carvings on the bed, trying to memorize them. She had a good memory. If she could study the markings, she was certain she could decipher them.
A sharp poke on her backside alarmed her so greatly she nearly leapt atop the prince’s bed. An old gray goose—a very stealthy beggar at that—had clipped her with her beak. “Shoo!” Sigyn said, swatting the goose away. “Go now or I will ring your neck and eat your for supper.”
The goose shook its head.
“You understand me?” Sigyn asked.
The goose nodded.
Sigyn climbed off the bed to kneel before the goose. “Are you bewitched? A prisoner of the ogresses?”
Again, the goose nodded.
“Can you help me wake the prince?” Sigyn asked.
The goose flapped her large wings and shook her head.
“It calls for a rhyme, doesn’t it? I heard the rhyme used to sedate the prince. Perhaps if I hide I’ll hear the antidote.”
The goose nodded upward.
Sigyn turned and noted a long ledge above the living area of the cave. “Yes. Perfect. I’ll hide there.” She reached out and stroked the goose’s long throat. “There’s a good goose. Thank you.”
The goose shuddered and shifted into a thousand pin-points of twinkling lights. For a very brief moment, a luscious female form appeared. White haired with skin like ebony and eyes a startling lavender blue. Just as quickly, the image faded.
“You are beautiful,” Sigyn cried. “Why have they imprisoned you here?”
The enchanted goose raised her long neck and emitted a long, melodic moan. A gentle mist filled the chamber. Prince Hlini trashed about the bed in obvious fright.
“You can summon the elements. I see. You trap their prey in a thick fog. Beware the fog. Beware the call of the goose. Yes. I understand.” Sigyn turned to face the overhang. “I must find a way up there. Thank you for your help.”
Sigyn followed the cave wall to a rocky outcropping she thought might make a good stairway to the ledge. She picked up a small ball of homemade cheese and some crusty bread stored in the back of the cave and nearly devoured them. Then she remembered how the single drop of cider had affected her—and was continuing to affect her—and replaced the food stuffs. Better to go hungry than become enchanted or beholding to randy ogresses.
Sigyn climbed to the ledge with great care so as not to disturb the living area below. There, she waited. But not for too long.
The ogresses arrived, heavily laden with a young buck. It appeared as though they had tackled the poor beastie and bitten through his throat to dispatch him.
“Say the words, Ama,” Angr said, trussing the deer up to expose its belly.
Ama stabbed the deer, disemboweling it. “Meat for man. Blood for beasts. Partake you in an enchanted feast.”
Angr reached out and grabbed the entrails as they spilled onto the cave floor. Immediately, hundreds of flies swarmed around her. She dropped the guts into a pot and licked the blood from her hands. “Oh, he’s a sweet young buck. Very tasty.”
Ama smiled. “Share the heart with me, sister?” She withdrew her blade. The deer’s steaming heart emerged from the cavity.
“Oh, yes. Please,” Angr replied.
Ama placed the heart between her teeth and offered the free end to her sister.
They devoured the organ greedily until their mouths met in the middle.
Sigyn forced the sensation to vomit away.
Disgusting creatures these ogres.
“Let’s awaken our pet, shall we?” Ama asked. “The warm blood of this potent animal has left me wanting.”
“We must convince him to eat something before he starves to death and then what shall we do? It is so seldom we are able to ensnare such a fine specimen,” Angr replied. “But yes, let’s awaken him. Goose!”
The grey goose shivered and called out the fog. Ama giggled manically. “Sing, my goose, with cheer and glee, that Hlini from sleep aroused may be.”
Prince Hlini awoke with a start, well aware of what was about to befall him.
“My love! How did you rest?” Angr asked.
“Release me. My father will pay handsomely for my return,” Hlini replied.