Version 13

 

By

The Gray_Man

 

Caution! The following is a work of pure fiction I have been thinking about writing for some time.  If there are any similarities between the names, characters, places and actions of this story and those of the 'real' world then it is 100% coincidence.  There is a great deal of violence, and other sensitive subject matters here.  If you are under 18 years of age or this material is considered illegal where you live then do not read any further.  It is not my intention to get anyone in trouble, just to write out and express my free speech rights while I still have them.

 

Synopsis:    Jack Dullman had always had problems.  His girlfriends leave him.  His pets run off.  He is balding, fat, and in a go nowhere job with a pitiful salary and bleak prospects for anything positive.  But one day in the not-too-distant future his luck changes, because Jack Dullman is the winner of a free virtual fantasy, courtesy of Future_Line Virtual Industries INC. 

      But just when things appear to be turning around for him, Jack finds himself stuck in a perverse computer generated world of his own choosing where the lines between pain and pleasure are blurred, and his only escape back to the real world is death. 

 

 

 

       “Hello.”

       Jack’s eyes flew open.  He had been given countless instructions as to what to expect but nothing prepared him for the sharp ‘reality’ of what happened.  One moment he had been swimming in a vast sea of warm white light letting the pulsing waves of energy flow over his flesh and then, without any warning, he was sitting in the middle of an ornate office decorated in warm wood tones with bookshelves and art and a magnificent view of a city skyline from floor-to-ceiling windows that covered half the room.  That, in itself, would have been disconcerting to most but being in this classically beautiful office naked as the day he was born was ridiculous.

       “Woa...what the fuck!” He screamed. “Is this how this shit starts?”

       The person on the other side of the desk, sitting across from him in a plush leather chair, gave him the briefest of smiles.

       “I’m sorry.  I do not understand the query.”

       Jack looked down at all his parts hanging out and winced.  He saw himself getting into the shower every morning and getting dressed and undressed.  He should not have been so shocked at the sight of his own gut, man boobs, hairy chest and tiny pecker lying out there.  But sitting down was different.  All the parts were pushed up together to make his stomach that much more pronounced, his chest saggy and his dick appear even smaller than it usually did.  Damn, but he had let himself go.  Too many late night pizzas.  Hastily, one hand moved to cover his flaccid member and he crossed his legs as he looked around nervously.

       In stark contrast was the man at the desk.  His graying hair was short and well maintained.  His shoulders were broad and his torso appeared solid but fit beneath the navy blue fabric of his custom suit.  His face was strong featured and lean but well tanned and the hair of his goatee was thick but expertly trimmed.  He gave off a powerful, almost menacing presence that set Jack even more off balance that what he already was.

      “Is there a problem?” The man asked calmly.

      “No.  Everything is fine other than me being in the skinny over here.”

      “Skinny?” The man repeated in a quizzical tone. “I do not understand.  Please re-state.”

      “Re-what.”

      “I do not understand.  Please re-state.” He said again in clear, precise English devoid of accent.  In fact, Jack realized, he had asked the same question twice, in the exact same tone, in the exact same manner.

      “Who the hell are you?” Jack demanded warily.

      The man across the desk nodded.  He rose from his chair and offered a hand to Jack.

      “Of course, introductions are in order.  I am Lothor, an avatar.  I am your direct interface with ‘the Core’ for the duration of your virtual fantasy.”

      “What’s up.  I’m naked.” Jack ignored the hand and glanced around the room scratching his bald head. “Hey, Luther.  You wouldn’t happen to have some cloths laying around anywhere, would you?”

      Lothor looked back with a blank stare for a few seconds, his hand still extended.  It was almost like he was listening to something far away.  And then he came to.  “My apologies…there must have been a slight skip in a subroutine in one of ‘the Core’s’ periphery systems.  Most unusual but easily corrected.”  And he snapped his fingers.

      For an instant there seemed to be a subtle shift in everything.  The world lost focus for a mere second and came back just a little clearer.

      And now he was wearing cloths.  Jack jerked with a start.  Tentatively he moved his hands over the fabric of the pale gray shirt and black slacks.  He looked to his feet and....yep...he had shoes too.  A comfortable pair of black loafers had miraculously appeared down there.  And it all felt real.  Almost immediately his mind tried to wrap around the fact that he was not sitting in a corner office of a high-rise.  He was actually in a controlled coma, lying face down in a cold, dark room on a modified massage table with a trio of data-stream cables plugged into the back of his head while Future_Line technicians he could still remember speaking with quietly monitored every vital sign he had; from respiration and heart rate to each fart that passed his ass cheeks.

      The techs and warned him about this.  It was easy to forget that this was not as real as it seemed.  But even if it was not real it could still hurt you.  The techs had patiently tried to explain this to him even though he still barely understood.  What it boiled down to was that all of the five senses, when broken into their base forms, were streams of electrical pulses interpreted by the brain.  The data link Jack now had with ‘the Core’ was capable of overpowering or even suppressing his natural electrical pulses and transplanting different ones directly into his cerebral cortex which coincided with whatever stimulus the program was offering.  So, in other words, the cloth felt real, the room appeared well lit, the air seemed fresh because ‘the Core’ was telling him it was.

      “Nice cloths, Luther.  But you have got to tell me next time you try that shit.  You almost gave me a heart attack.”

      The avatar hesitated, but then nodded. “Understood.  You will now be notified of all further attempts to alter or manipulate the current user package.” 

      “Yeah, great.  Thanks.”

      “You are welcome.” He almost sounded defeated when he spoke.

      Again he leaned over the desk and offered his hand. “I am Lothor, an avatar.  I am your direct interface with ‘the Core’ for the duration of your virtual fantasy.”

      Jack stood and grabbed Lothor’s hand tentatively.  “I’m Jack Dullman.”

      Lothor seemed to ignore him. “I suppose congratulations are in order. You are the winner of the Future_Line Virtual Fantasy Giveaway.”

       Jack was not the best of judges when it came to character but even he could tell the avatar’s congratulations were less than sincere.

      “Oh, really?  You already know about that?”

      “Of course.  I have access to all personal and preference information at ‘the Core’s’ disposal.”

      Jack’s eyebrows rose.  “That was fast.” 

       “As an interface with all client users, it is one of my primary functions.  The download was accomplished while you awaited the current Main Start-gate program to load.”

       He remembered the nearly four hundred question psych test, all the papers, disclaimers, and release forms he had been forced to sign and the various medical probes that he had been subjected to.  All of it loaded in a few seconds.  He wondered why it couldn’t have been that quick for him.

       Jack looked over both shoulders before pulling the avatar close enough to whisper in his ear. Even as he did it he realized the absurdity of the gesture in a computer simulation. 

       “Hey, Luther.  You said all my preference information was downloaded too, right?”

       “Yes.  Your preference information was downloaded as well.” The avatar replied matter-of-factly.

       “So...uh...you know exactly what I want for my fantasy?”

       Lothor nodded.  “All of the data requirements to place you in the proper program have been met.”

       “Well, good.  I...”

       Lothor cut him off quickly.  “However, any further discussion concerning the parameters of your choice program should wait until you can be supported by your Personal Program Assistant.”  The avatar smiled.  It was a cold, machine-like gesture with no warmth at all.  Jack almost shivered.  “You shall meet him shortly...but first we must deal with a few matters of legality.”

       Lothor snapped his fingers again and Jack saw movement in the corner of his eye.  A large set of shelves, covered with various bottles of fine liquor retreated from the center of the wall behind the wet bar he hadn’t even known was there.  Suppose it fit in, though.  In its place emerged a massive TV screen which promptly came to life. 

       “Hey.  I thought you were going to tell me before you did anything like that?”

       “The recessed video monitor was already a facet of the Main Start-gate program.” Lothor replied.  “I am required to only notify you if I attempt to alter or manipulate some aspect of your user package.”

       “Oh...okay.”

       A white background with fine type began to scroll across its surface and he began to speak with all the excitement of a telemarketer on valium.

       “Future_line Virtual Industries Incorporated has an excellent record with its clients.  In the history of the company there have been no reported accidents or injuries associated with the Virtual World Interaction System II.  This is due to the fact our company places a high priority on safety.”

       “Oh yeah?” Jack interjected. “What ‘bout that guy I heard of out in California back when the company was just getting started?  They say he got his brain fried crispy and when they tried to pull him off of the system he went into convulsions and died before they could get him to a hospital.”

       “I am positive that despite whatever rumor you may have heard there have been no reported injuries or deaths with the use of this system.” Lothor responded.

       Jack accepted that...for the most part.  He had heard it from his cousin Benny up in Jersey.  Benny was a moron.

       “Okay.”

       Lothor went on. “Considering the importance of our customer’s safety we have instituted a dormant emergency failsafe which may be activated at any time by the user.”

       “User?”

       “Yes.  User. That would be you.  If at any time during your fantasy you feel endangered or threatened or if you wish to simply end the program you have only to repeat your secret safe word three times in a row and an automatic escape route back to the Main Start-gate program will be enabled.  You can await upload from here.”

       “Upload?  Oh, you mean back to the real world?”

       “Yes.  Your safe word was created, and is only known, by you.  Do you remember it?”

       “Yeah.  I got it.  What if I don’t want to go back to the real world?”

       “I am sorry.  Your time in the choice program is limited even with the Mark V compression filters Future_Line currently uses.  Your session is eight hours long.  You have a minimum program run time of twenty four hours and a maximum run time of twenty six hours, after which you will automatically be removed from the choice program and returned to the program start-gate for upload.”

       “Sounds great.” Jack said, even if most of it had gone clear over his head. “When do we start?”

       Lothor ignored the question.  More writing rolled down across the viewer and the avatar continued.  “There is a privacy disclaimer.  All customers of Future_Line Virtual Industries Incorporated are under the protection of the Virtual Privacy Act which entails that at no time can any aspect of your fantasy or your actions while in your fantasy be reproduced, copied, sold, or in general, used for or against you for any reason unless it is by your consent.  As avatar of ‘the Core’, I and your Personal Program Assistant both fall under the purview of this act.  We are sworn to uphold your personal privacy no matter what your actions are.”

       “Gotcha.  Can we get started now?” Jack said.  He had started to come to grips with his surroundings and the initial shock of this ‘virtual world’ had worn off.  Now he was getting excited.  If the program he went into appeared as ‘real’ as his current surroundings, and there was no reason to think it would not be, then he was going to have some fun.  This was a once in a lifetime license to do whatever he wanted.  These Future_line fantasy getaways were thousands of dollars a session.  There was no way he would ever be able to come back and try this again.  And he had wasted enough time listening to a long-winded simulated person informing him of his right to bail out and go home. 

       He expected Lothor to say no, not yet, and start into another bylaw or legal issue.  But instead the avatar let go of a very human sounding sigh of exacerbation.  He snapped his fingers and the viewer went dead, retreating back into the wall to be replaced by the stocked bar shelves.  He took hold of Jack’s arm and guided him to the office door, talking as they walked across the thick carpet.

       “You have finished the orientation of the Main Start-gate program.  Any future inquiries concerning legal or other issues must be directed to your Personal Program Assistant.” 

       They stopped at the door. “To access the next level of your virtual fantasy you must enter through here.  Good luck, and from all the employees of Future_Line Virtual Industries Incorporated, we hope you enjoy your fantasy. Good day to you.”

      This was it.  The moment he had been waiting for.  Jack went to take the door handle. "Yeah, Luther. Thanks p-"

      There was a blinding flash of light that was gone almost as soon as it hit.  Jack raised his arms up to shield his eyes instinctively.  He blinked several times to disperse the brilliant white spots and his eyes slowly refocused. 

      "Sorry about that."

      Jack nearly jumped out of his skin. "What the fuck are you doing?" He yelled as all his frustrations came out. "First it's poke her and prod there!  Then it's swoosh here and a big flash, then swoosh there!  Snap at this and snap at that!  This is seriously fucked up, Luther!"

      "I must sincerely apologize, my lord."

      "Well this is getting ridiculous.  You can take your apology and st...Holy shit!"

      Jack's eyes had adjusted and he realized he was no longer in the office.  In fact, he seemed pretty far from it.  He was standing in the middle of a cavernous, ancient style, high roofed room with gray stone walls.  Evenly spaced around the perimeter, on both the lower floor and the second floor gallery, were fantastic suites of armor covered with cloth banners of all different colors and beautifully adorned with their own individual sigils.  In the center of the floor was a large table covered in maps, scrolls and books.  "Badass!  Complete badass!" He muttered.

      "I am glad you appreciate it, my lord."

      Jack was so stunned by his change in surroundings that he had forgotten all about the voice he had heard.  It wasn't long before it hit him this was not Lothor.  There was a slight accent to this one and the tone was not nearly as deep.  He turned on his heels and came face to face with a small, almost delicate man with short blond hair and full beard.  The man wore a suit of chain mail armor covered at the shoulders and chest by plates of gray steel.  On his hip was a long, straight sword and under his arm was a steel war helmet with thin grooves for eye slits.

      His free arm went out to his side in a sweeping motion and he bowed with all the grace of someone who had been born to it. "My lord, allow me to name myself.  I am Axel, your Personal Program Assistant."

      Jack stared at him for a minute. "Axel...Axel?"

      But the assistant smiled.  It seemed a truly friendly expression. "A name is but a name, my lord.  I care for it not.  You may call me what you wish."

      Jack waved it off and embarrassment flushed through him for being so rude.  Then he realized he had been rude to a computer program.  All the same, manners were still manners.

        "No...no.  Axel is fine.  It’s just a little unusual, that’s’ all.  I’m Jack Dullman.”

      Axel nodded curtly. “It is an honor to meet you, my lord.   Welcome to the Medieval World Program Start-gate.”

      He took another look around the vast expanse of the room.  “So this is it?  This is my fantasy?  Where is everybody?”

      The blonde man smiled. “Not precisely, my lord.  It is usually the custom of all new users to review their personal preferences before continuing to the actual choice program.”

      “Well, okay, if you say so.  Lothor said all my information was already downloaded.”

      “Yes, my lord.  I already have access to it.  You requested Medieval World, Version 12.  Is that the correct choice?”

      “Yeah.  I think it is.  I’m not exactly sure what all that means.” Jack said.  He remembered choosing exactly what he wanted from the list of possible fantasies.  He thought those were the right picks.

      “Might I give you a brief overview?” Axel asked.

      “Well why not.  I’ve waited this long.” Jack said as calmly as he could even though he was getting slightly perturbed.  It seemed he was doing nothing but wasting time with avatars and personal assistants when what he really wanted to do was go find a chambermaid or some willing tavern wench so he could have his way with her.  But he tried to remember the old saying about all good things going to those who waited. “Whatcha got for me?”

      Axel walked over to the table and Jack followed.  He effortlessly took up a large book bound in leather and opened it, flipping the massive tome to show an illustrated diagram. “As you can see, the choice programs are divided into different worlds.  Medieval World, Western World, Ancient World....they are but a few samples of the available selection.”  Axel’s thin finger traced the outline as he spoke. “You have chosen Medieval World...see here?  Each World program has several different versions.  Medieval World has 12 different versions.  You have chosen Version 12.  It is a most unusual program as it deals more with the sexual fantasy aspect of the era more so than the simulation or the adventure versions”

      “Yeah.  That’s me.  The unusual one.  I’m probably the only one who will ever use it.”

      Axel shook his head. “On a contrary, my lord.  There are actually six other users currently in the same version.”

      Jack was shocked. “There are other people....real people in this version of my program?”

      Axel nodded. “Yes, my lord.  But do not worry.  The size of the program is so large the odds of you meeting and interacting with another user are infinitesimal.” Then he turned the page of the book he was holding.  The title of the page was ‘Lord Jack Dullman’ with a rounded shield of aquamarine blue above it.  In the center of the blue field was a golden eagle with outspread wings. 

      “Hey!  Is that mine?  My banner?” Jack asked excitedly.

      “It is, my lord.  Exactly to your specifications, is it not?”

       Blue and gold were his favorite colors.  The eagle was his favorite animal.  He had thought so many of the questions he had been asked were incidental and their answers would never be used.  He was beginning to realize he was wrong about a lot of things in this virtual world.

       “You are Lord Jack, master of the castle and village of Hargate, in the Duchy of Loranth.  You will find that you have your own retinue and court created specifically to cater to your every need.”

       Axel turned another page, this time opening up to a map.  The land had a jagged coastline and dense forests in the interior bordered on the north side by a mountain range and to the east by a wide plain.  In the center of the western forest was a tiny dot with the name Hargate scrawled above it.  A slender finger pointed it out.

      “This is where you will be, my lord.”

      “Do I have my own women?” He blurted out. “Oooops.  Sorry, Axel.  I got carried away.”

      “I am sure you will find all the provisions you desire within Version 12.  It caters to all different aspects of human sexuality.  Whatever they may be.  And if you do not, then you have only to call me and ask.”

      “You’re gonna be there to help?”

      “Yes, my lord.  I am, after all, your Personal Program Assistant.  I can advise, re-arrange or alter any feature within the program, excluding actually reconfiguring the program itself.  I am sorry to say that is the purview of the ‘Core’ and its avatar.”

      “Okay.  Well, can we get going now?  I’m getting an itch I have had for a long time here.  Can I go get it scratched?”

      Axel smiled warmly.  It was very human-like.

      “By your leave, my lord.  You have only to call if you need me.  Do you have any questions or comments at this point?”

      Jack shrugged. “I guess not.”

      “Do you wish to alter any aspect of your user package at this time?” Axel asked.

      “Well...no.” Jack answered, slightly confused.  He wouldn’t know what to alter.  “I’m okay as is.  I can’t think of anything to change.”

      Even so, Axel hesitated.  “Very well.  Enjoy yourself.” He closed the book and put it down.  His hand came up with thumb and middle finger touching.  He was ready to snap when Jack stopped him. “Wait! Wait...wait...wait.”

      “Yes, my lord?”

      “I did want to say something.” He offered warmly. “Enough of this ‘my lord’ stuff.  If we are going to be working together you can call me Jack.  And just for the record, for a person made by a computer, you’re a damn nice guy.  One hell of a lot nicer than Luther.  Maybe you should get promoted to avatar or something.”

      Axel bowed slightly to the statement. “Why, thank you, m....Jack.”  Then he laughed. “And you are a damned nice person too....for a human.”

      Jack smiled broadly. “I appreciate that.”

       “You’re welcome.  Now, are you ready to begin your fantasy?”

      Jack had learned his lesson.  He tilted his head back and shut his eyes to the blinding flash he knew was probably coming.  He set himself, widening his stance and girding his midsection, like a man expecting to be punched in the gut.

      Two deep breaths and exhale.  “Okay, Axel.  Zap me!”

      He heard the snap of the fingers and felt a sudden shift.

      And then nothing.

      At first, he thought something had gone wrong then Jack opened his eyes and the sun nearly blinded him.  He could feel the warmth of the rays against his skin and a fresh breeze slapped him in the face.  He gazed down to see his new cloths; knee high boots and breeches, a white linen shirt and black vest.  All fit perfectly and far more comfortably than his cloths in the real world.  After a quick inspection of his surroundings he discovered he was standing on a balcony in a stone tower.  Not far below was a curtain wall where armored sentries with spears and bows walked along the battlements.   The slate roofs of countless buildings were packed below into the confines of the great wall.  Beyond the main gate where chimneys belched soot filled smoke he could track tiny people moving about, some walking, some with horses or mules and even some with ox carts.  Beyond the village was a vast emerald green sea of dense forest and cutting through it was a single road.

      “HELL YEAH!! FUCKING SWEEET!” He screamed at the top of his lungs, not caring if any of the computer simulations within earshot of his booming cry heard it. “THIS IS FUCKING SICK!!!”  He cupped both hands to his mouth to amplify his voice.  “WooooooooooooooHoooooooooooooooooooooooo!!”

      Jack shuddered as an earsplitting crack sounded off around his head. “Hey, what the fuck was that?” He uttered as he tried to cover his ears in a belated attempt to protect them.

      “WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?”

      Jack spun around and was faced with the woman of his dreams.  She appeared to be in her mid to late twenties even though Jack had a horrible time with ages.  She had a lovely face framed by long, thick tresses of black hair which hung down loosely to the top of her ample breasts.  She wore a flowing gown of crimson and black with a near bursting bodice scrolled with silver thread.  Even under the heavy hems of her skirts, Jack realized she must have had an amazing body.

      And she had a bullwhip in her hands, idly flicking the tail of the whip back and forth like a cat about to get a bowl of cream as she leaned against the entrance to the dark tower interior.

      “I asked you a question, my lord.  What is the meaning of this?”  Her voice was smoky and strong.  The authority in her tone left no doubt as to a challenge.  Jack’s knees nearly buckled.  This was not what he had been expecting but if this is what he got....then so be it.  Who was he to argue with is very own Fantasy program.

      “You are one hot assed computer person, sweetie.” Jack told her as he placed his hands behind his head in supplication.  “Come and take me, mistress.  I've been a baaaaaad boy.”

      “Then my lord had best prepare for his punishment.”  She walked forward slowly, like a panther stalking its dinner.

      “Oh yeah, devil woman.  Hurt me.”

     

      Jack had always thought himself to be a dominant.  Jack could never remember actually having submissive fantasies.  He had never really thought about submitting to bondage and discipline before.  So he really didn’t know why he went along with the lady in crimson and black.  Perhaps because this was his fantasy and to try something once when no one else would ever know....well what was the harm in that?  Or perhaps because he had always been the type of person to go along with the flow and when the dark haired beauty had blindfolded him, wrapped the bullwhip around his neck and began to lead him down into the bowels of the castle he had simply followed the way of things, assured that at some point he would be able to turn the tables on her.

      Turning the tables no longer seemed like an option with his wrists chained above his head and his legs spread wide on the cold stone floor, ankles chained to opposite walls in the small chamber.  But at least he had gotten his own set of mistresses.  Once the lady in crimson and black had gotten him down to the dungeon she had watched him strip naked, took him into one of the smaller cells and chained him, but then, to his surprise, she had left him to the tender mercies of two lovely blonde women who had appeared out of nowhere.

      For what seemed like forever one of the dungeon helpers, clad only in boots, loincloth, halter and heavy gloves, slowly paced around him, a short leather cat-o-nine tails in her hands, swishing out to thwack him somewhere on his exposed flesh every so often, while the other knelt down in front of him and used her tongue to expertly stroke his cock while her hands gently massaged his ball sack.  He was rock hard and the waves of near orgasmic pleasure she was giving him was in stark contrast of the stinging kiss of the whip and the growing frustration from being held on the verge of ultimate pleasure without getting to release.

      “If I don’t cum soon, I’m gonna go insane.” He muttered between gasps. 

      “Oh, really?” The blond with the whip answered mockingly. “The mistress gave express orders that you were not allowed to let go your seed.  If the pleasure is driving you mad then perhaps we should turn up the pain to take your mind off of it.”

      The blond threw the whip down and roughly tightened the screws on the iron nipple clamps she had placed on him some time ago.  He yelled as a wave of fresh pain washed over every nerve in his body.

      The blond drew away and went over to the wall where various other whips and paddles hung from metal hooks leaving the weighted nipple clamps bobbing up and down in her wake.  She paused briefly and even if Jack was distracted by the mind blowing mixture of pleasure and pain he was receiving he still tried to focus and pay attention to what she was doing.

      The blond reached over and picked up a paddle.  She studied it for a moment then brought it over to him.  Jack’s eyes widened as he took in the monstrous device.  The paddle was nearly two feet long and six inches wide.  Its smooth surface was marred by countless rows of iron studs bored into the wood.

      The blond saw his expression and laughed cruelly. “Should this be sufficient to take your mind off of my companion’s efforts?”

      “That thing looks like it might hurt.”

      The blonde smiled wickedly. “I assure you, my lord, it certainly will.”

      “No, please.” Jack was not sure how much of it was act and how much of it was real anymore.

      The blond walked about him, slapping the paddle lightly into her gloved palm.  Jack followed her with his eyes as growing trepidation filled him.  That paddle was a monster.  It was really going to burn.

      Finally she ducked under one of his outstretched arms and was on his back side where he could no longer watch her.  A moment of panic filled him.  There was no way of knowing what she was doing back there and his mind filled with a helplessness that he had never felt before. 

      “Hey, lady....please be careful with....”

      THWAAACK!

      Jack’s breath exploded from his lungs in an ear splitting scream as searing hot pain spread across his ass.

      “THAT FUCKING HURT!!!” He bellowed as the pain slowly began to recede.   A hand grabbed what little hair he had left and yanked his head backward.  Jack could feel the blonde’s hot breath on the side of his face and her whisper sounded like thunder. “Still too much pleasure?”

      Somebody had definitely turned this up a notch.

      “No!” Jack answered hoarsely.  “Please.  Don’t hit me like that again.”

      But the blond gave his head a hard jerk. “What was that, worm?  Did you say something?”

      Jack answered louder this time. “Please don’t.  Don’t hit me like that again.”

      “Oh?  Don’t like it?  Care to beg now?”  She took the massive paddle and rubbed it up and down his back, the sharp iron studs scraping along his skin like nails.

      “No!  Please put it away.”

      Anger filled her voice. “You shall not tell me what to do, worm.”  She let go of his hair and backed away.

      “Wait, lady! No, stop....oh shit!”

      THWAAACK!

      Jack screamed again as fresh agony infused his already sore ass.  He slumped in his chains briefly but all of his considerable weight was then being supported by his wrists and he was forced to stand on his feet again. 

      “I see your game, worm.” The blond said.  She walked over to one side of the room and Jack noticed a small wheel set into the wall.  The woman began to turn the wheel, her tattooed arms straining with the effort.  Jack heard the clanking of chains and felt himself being pulled up by the wrists.  After only a few turns Jack was forced up on the balls of his feet placing extra strain on his arms shoulders and calves. “Now you have nowhere to go.  No room to relax.”

      Jack hung his head and shut his eyes.  The pain was nearly unbearable.  Years of ideas and fantasies floating around in his head were being called into question and he was beginning to wonder if he had chosen wisely.  This was wrong.  This was all wrong.

      THWAAACK!

      A new sheet of pain spread across the back of his left thigh. 

      THWAAACK!

      Same pain, this time across his right thigh.

      Every muscle in his body tensed and he screamed like a banshee as the bite of the iron studs pierced the flesh and his legs trembled with the effort to keep him up as his hamstrings were turned to jelly by the blows.

      THWAAACK!

       THWAAACK!

       THWAAACK!

       Several more blows fell on his ass and back and thighs and several more screams resounded off the stone walls.  Each hit brought another harder and faster than before and Jack could feel blood trickling down his legs to pool at his aching toes.  Jack could no longer judge time as he once could.  The beating with the paddle, and the never ending blowjob seemed to go on forever.

      “I trust my assistants have kept you interested?”

      With pain filled eyes Jack looked up to see the woman in black standing in the doorway to the chamber.  His eyes widened and he had to admit that even through the suffering he was aroused by her outfit.  She wore only a black loincloth and black linen wrap to cover her ample breasts with knee high boots turned down at the cuff.  Her body was just as magnificent as he had imagined it when he first laid eyes on her. 

      “Please, mistress.” Jack muttered half delirious with pain.  “No more, please.  I can’t take it.”

      The lady in black smiled.

      “Oh, poor Lord Jack.  Can’t take anymore, eh?  Well I should guess you could use a bit of a rest.”

      Relief began to flood over him.

      She stepped forward and placed a loving hand on the head of the blond woman kneeling before him. “That will do nicely, Ayla.  I think his lordship says he has had enough.”

      Ayla gave him one last flick of her tongue along the shaft of his member and backed away leaving his dick hard and wet and with no possibility of relief in sight.  Jack almost broke down and cried as his relief vanished.

      “Please.  Take me down now.  I’m done with this fantasy.” he said.  Things had started off fun enough, but now they had turned disturbing.  Jack had never been more helpless than he was now and it was beginning to scare him.

      The lady in black stepped up to him, leaning in to press her chest against his and Jack could feel the softness of her breasts beneath the cloth which bound them. 

      “Have you really had enough?” She asked him.

      Jack slowly nodded. “Yes, mistress. Please.  I’ll do anything.  I don’t think I want this anymore.”

      “Then why don’t you quit?”

      “Okay I’ll....huh?” 

       It hit him suddenly.  The safe word!  He had forgotten all about it.  Say the safe words and everything would be back to normal except he would be kicked out of his fantasy. 

       But even if his body was throbbing, his mind clouded with agony, he could still tell there was something not quite right.  It seemed all too easy.

      “Quit?  You mean....use my safe word and go back?  I don’t want to quit.  I just want you to stop hurting me.”

       Her dark eyes smiled at him.  It was an evil smile, devoid of any feeling. “It is a simple thing to do, my lord.  You have but to call out your safe word three times and all will be well.  I promise you.”

      “Fuck you.” Jack retorted defiantly, not believing what he was hearing.  Fantasy was gone out the window now and Jack was really scared.

      “Well,” The dark mistress chuckled as she backed away. “If you will not quit for me, will you scream for me?  Is it not the least you could do?”

      For a brief moment fresh strength infused him and Jack strained every muscle in his body to break his bonds but he soon slumped in exhaustion, all the fight in him was gone as he realized the chains were not going to break.

      “This is not real...this is not real...this is not real.” He began to repeat over and over again.

      “It is real enough, my lord.” The lady in black mocked. “Varisa?  Ayla?  I think it is time we used more persuasive methods.”

      “Yes, mistress.” Both answered nearly in unison.

       Jack watched as Ayla stepped over to the wall and retrieved a four foot long leather whip with shining bits of metal entwined in the braid.  The other blond, Varisa, put her monstrous paddle back on its proper set of hooks and picked up a second whip identical to the first.

       The lady in black gave one more look to Jack as he hung helplessly in the dungeon room, his eyes full of desperation and fear. “Continue with your work, my dears, but use the razor whips only sparingly.  I have something much more painful in mind for him and I shall return shortly.”

       Razor whips?  More painful?  She had to be joking.  But if she wasn’t?

       He was near panic.  He had to do something.  Jack filled his lungs with air and screamed.

       “HELP ME!  SOMEBODY HELP ME!  THESE BITCHES HAVE GONE CRAZY!”

       All three women laughed.  “My lord,” The lady in black informed him. “There is no one who will hear your cries for help.  You only waste your strength.  It would be a shame if you did not save some for later.”

       And with that she turned and left.  Ayla and Varisa stepped up and held their whips for him to see.  Jack turned his head away rather than see the instruments they were going to use on him.

       Both women snickered as they stepped to either side, one to his front and the other behind him.  Jack closed his eyes, preparing for the first blows to fall.  He knew this was going to hurt.  Those whips would shred his skin like tissue paper. 

       Using his safe word was starting to look better and better.  But there was an uneasy feeling in his stomach.  If this was supposed to be his fantasy world then why were the computer generated people trying to kick him out of it?  He did not know but whatever reason was behind it, Jack knew it would certainly not be good.  Quickly, and with far more courage than he thought he ever had, Jack decided to try and hold on for as long as he could.  Perhaps this was all scripted and soon his rescuers would come running down the dungeon stairway.

       “Ayla?  Varisa?” The mistress suddenly called from beyond the chamber entrance.  “Come and help me a moment.”

      Jack opened his eyes and saw an expression of sheer disappointment cross the face of Ayla, the blow job tease. 

       “Come on,” She said to her companion. “, lets go see what she wants.”  As Varisa walked by she caressed his flank with her nails, “Why don’t you hang around awhile until we return, my lord.”  And both women walked out the chamber entrance laughing, coiling their whips at their sides. 

       Though he could no longer relax without feeling as if his arms were being ripped from their sockets, he breathed a quick sigh of relief.  He had been given a momentary reprieve but soon they would be back and he did not know how much more he could take.  The paddle had been bad enough.  His ass and the backs of his legs felt bloody and burning.  But those barbed whips horrified him beyond words.  He did not want to be on the receiving end of them but there was soon to be little choice.  Either he could use that safe word and go back to the real world or he could hang there while three crazed women continued to torture him.  He fought through the pain filled haze that was clouding his judgment and searched for any other option that was open.

      “Where the hell is Axel at when I need him?”  Jack muttered absentmindedly.

      “I’m right here, Jack.”

      The familiar voice was a shock to his ears.  His eyes brightened as the small statured man stepped into his view.

      “Axel?” Jack cried out, not fully believing what he was seeing. “Is that really you?”

      “Shhhhhh! It is me.  But you have to be quiet or else they will hear.” 

      “Where have you been you lazy fucker?  Zap ‘em, Axel.  Snap your fingers or somethin’.  Those bitches are evil.”

      Axel took his hand and placed it over Jack’s mouth.

      “MMMMmmmmmmmph?”

      “Jack,” Axel said at barely more than a whisper.  “Listen carefully.  I am here to help you but you must hold on.  I could not come until I was called but I promise I will get you out of this.”

      Jack jerked away from Axel’s hand. “What the hell is going on here?” He returned with a whisper of his own and a quick glance at the entrance to make sure they had not already been heard.   “I thought this was a medieval sex-fest, not a torture session with the wicked witches of the west.”

      “Trust me when I say it was not meant to be so.” His assistant said.

      “Then what the hell happened?”

      Axel looked to the dark entrance of the cell then back to Jack’s abused form. “Something very, very bad has happened.  I will tell you more about it later but for now I must go and get help.”

      “What?” Jack almost shouted, remembering at the last moment they were supposed to be quiet. “You are NOT leaving me chained up here with these psycho women, Axel.”

      “I promise I will be back as soon as I can.” Axel tried to explain.

      “No,no,no,no,no.  You need to find a way to get me down...or better yet; you need to zap my big ass to somewhere nice and safe.”

      He remained undeterred.  He shook his head.  “It is not that simple.  I can’t do that anymore.”

      “Axel,” Jack nearly sobbed in desperation. “, these women have barbed whips they are going to use on me.”

      “I swear to you, Jack,” The assistant said trying to be as reassuring as possible. “I will come back just as soon as I get help.  But in the meantime, and this is extremely important, you must not use your safe word in an attempt to escape.  Do you understand?”

      “Why not?” He asked. “I’m not stupid.  They want me to use them but I’ve been holding out so far cause I know something really fucked up is going to happen when I do.  But I don’t know how much more I can take.”

      “I will explain later.”

      Axel stepped away. “Remember, Jack.  Whatever you do, you cannot use the failsafe.  It is a trap.”

      Jack could not help himself.  His voice called out. “Axel? Axel!  Damn you, don’t leave me here!  You sorry fuck!”

      With one final twist back Axel snapped his fingers and dissolved away just as Ayla and Varisa came back into the cell.  Neither one of them were pleased by the interruption.

      “Who were you talking to, worm?” Ayla asked harshly.

      “Go fuck yourself.”

      Having the cavalry on the way was a great boost to Jack’s morale.  There were only two problems.  (A)How much morale could a man beaten and whipped bloody and chained up in a torture chamber have once his tormentors returned and (B) how long was it going to take the cavalry before they arrived.

      The lady in black returned to the entranceway. “Was he talking with someone?”

      “The mutterings of a fool driven mad, more the like.” Varisa offered in explanation.

      A sadistic smile crossed the face of the other blond. “Soon to be driven even madder, I’ll wager.”

      Jack saw the mistress’s eyes narrow.  Finally she said. “Very well.  Ayla, bind and prepare him.  Varisa come with me.”

      Both women nodded their consent and the lady in black retreated back into the darkness with Varisa.  Jack watched Ayla as she went over to the wall and took down a thin leather thong about eighteen inches in length.  In the corner of the room was a small jar which she also picked up.

       “What are you gonna do with that?”

       “Watch me.” She chuckled.

       She went down on her knees in front of him again and slowly started to stoke his now flaccid penis back to an erection.  Even through the pain it was not long before he began to respond.  Expertly she took the thong and began to tie it tightly around the base of his member so as to keep the blood from flowing out of the erection.  Then she worked the cord down and around his sagging testicles and roughly bound them in such a way as they were not only kept separated from his body but also from each other.  Then she intricately laced it up the shaft and tied the thong off at the head and looked up with a smile.  All the while Jack peered down helplessly, gasping with each yank and squeeze.

       “Did you enjoy my tongue, worm?  I am an expert in its use for all manner of pleasures.” Ayla cupped his ball sack one last time. “I have also been instructed in every manner of cock and ball torture known to womankind.  This is one of my favorites.  Perhaps it will be one of your favorites too.”

       She reached down to the jar at her side and lifted out a liberal amount of an opaque jelly-like substance.

       “Now be prepared.” She said mockingly. “The salve will be cold....but not for long.”

       Ayla took the salve and smeared it over his balls and stiff cock and Jack took in a sharp breath.  Cold was not exactly the word he would have used.  Frigid would have been better.  And despite himself he began to enjoy the sensation of her hand massaging the cold cream onto his tightly bound package.

       From behind, Varisa waddled in, a brazier in her mitten covered hands with tendrils of distorted air shimmering up from its contents.

       “Oh, no fucking way!” Jack exclaimed as he realized what was about to be done to him.

       “HELP ME!  HELP ME SOMEBODY!!” He screamed. “AXEL!  GET YOUR ASS BACK DOWN HERE AND HELP ME!”

       Varisa sat the brazier in the middle of the floor only a couple of feet in front of him.  It stood about two feet off the ground and the coals in the heart of it were glowing red.

       “AXEL!!  YOU SORRY MOTHERFUCKER!  WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?”

       “Don’t waste your lungs, yet, worm.  There is so much screaming left to be done.” Ayla said with a smirk.

       “Of course,” Varisa retorted. “You could always use your safe word and all of this will be over.  What say you?”

       “Drop dead.” He cried out with all the bravado he could muster.

       Varisa laughed derisively.  “Is that really the best you can do?  I should think you would know so many better insults to use on us than that.”

       “I tire of this game.” Ayla said though her eyes watched him with lustful excitement.  Both these women wanted to see him squirm and hear him scream and beg for mercy. “Let us finish him and get our reward.”

       “Very well.” Varisa agreed.  Her booted foot went to the corner of the brazier and gently began to push it ever so slowly toward the apex of his spread legs. 

       Jack’s breathing became labored as he prepared himself for the white hot, soul searing pain that was to come.  He watched as the brazier moved ever closer with each second.  He could not pull his eyes from the sight of it creeping toward his tender parts. 

       And even after Axel had told him not to do it, the safe word started mulling around in his head almost ready to spill out of his lips.

       BLAAAAMMMMM!

      The thundering echo was a tremendous shock to both Jack and his two torturers.  The women whirled on the entrance, the brazier only inches from being directly beneath his exposed crotch.  From out beyond the door there was a commotion going on.  He could hear muffled voices yelling at distance. 

      BLAAAAMMMMM!  BLAAAAAAMMM! BLAAAAAAMMM! 

       There was the gut wrenching screech of wood being torn asunder as one of the heavy dungeon doors was battered and split off its hinges. 

       That was all the incentive Varisa needed to leave.  Without a word she bolted through the door and was gone before Ayla had any time to react.

       “HOLD THERE!!!” Came a booming female voice. “HOLD, I SAY!!!”

       This was the chance he had been waiting for.  The cavalry had arrived.

       “I’M IN HERE!!! HELP ME!!! I’M HERE!!!” Jack blasted as loudly as he could.

       Ayla turned then.  Spite filled her brown eyes. “Burn, you bastard!  Burn and say the words!”

       With one foot she kicked the brazier the final short way between his spread legs.  Jack’s eyes turned wild as the coals were only a few inches from his family jewels and the heat came on immediately with an intensity he had not expected.  He screamed like he had never screamed before as the salve began to melt and bubble on the soft skin of his balls and prick.

       Ayla stood there for another brief second and gave him a final, wicked smile as she made a run for it too.

       Jack did not know how long it took before the first of the guards entered into the room and kicked the brazier over onto the floor.  It seemed like hours, but he knew it could not have been that long.  But still, after the heat was gone, his balls still burned, and he still screamed.  He did not notice as Axel and a beautiful young woman with long, straight red hair and a round face, wearing a cloak of blue and gold entered into the room while guards unfettered his wrists and ankles and laid him gently on the floor.  Jack saw Axel and the woman speak to him.  At least their mouths moved but he could not hear anything.  Then everything started to turn gray.  He wondered if he was starting to go blind.  No, that was silly.  With a sudden, heart thumping, jolt he thought that maybe he had said his safe word and activated the failsafe shutdown or whatever it was they had been trying to force him to do.  But no again.  He had not said anything like that.  At least he didn’t think so.  Maybe he was...just..... passing.............out............

 

 

      “Jack?”

      His mind had been floating near the surface of consciousness for some time waiting for the right reason to wake him.  His name was the trigger it had been looking for.  Jack opened his eyes drowsily but the light was too bright and he had to wait while they adjusted so he could see his surroundings.

      “What happened?”

      “Is it any wonder?  You passed out.”

       “Is it over?” He asked.

      “Is what over?”

      “The fantasy, is it over?”

      “No.  Fortunately for you it is not.”

      “Fortunately for me?”  Jack laughed as he tried to focus and the vague outlines of shapes coalesced into solid objects. “Hello Axel, you sorry bastard.”

      The PPA smiled as he sat down next to him. “Good to have you back, Jack.  And still in proper spirits too, I see.  I was getting worried for a moment.”

      One quick glance around the room and he immediately felt at ease.  He was no longer in the dungeon cell but in a bedroom, tucked into a soft, warm bed with covers up to his chest.  The light of mid morning poured into the room and the windows were open to allow in fresh air.  Rose petals had been tossed onto the bed and the pillow had been scented with sweet oils.  It was all designed to make him feel better. 

      And how did he feel?  He wasn’t really hurting as he thought he should be.  The memories of his experience at the hands of the lady in black and her two companions had come rushing back to him nearly as soon as his senses had come aware.  But still there was no pain.  Not even in his balls.  Even so he was scared to move.   

      “How am I doing, Axel?  Am I burned for life?”

      He was given a most reassuring smile. “No worries.  It is one of the fundamental rules of any of ‘the Core’s’ programs.  If you are harmed in any way, the program is set to heal you with great rapidity.  After all, it would not do for a user to walk into a shower of arrows or under a falling gargoyle and be unable to experience the rest of his fantasy because of a slow recovery time.  You should be perfectly fine.  In fact, as long as you are in the program you are very nearly indestructible.”

      Breathing a sigh of relief, Jack moved his legs.  Even after listening to Axel he still half expected a burst of pain from his abused thighs.  When nothing happened, he slid his hands under the covers and gently brushed his fingertips against his cock and balls.  Everything felt normal, so he felt of the underside of the spongy head of his dick.  He distinctly remembered the feel of that soft tissue blistering as the salve Ayla had so liberally massaged into it boiled from the heat of the red hot coals. 

       It was still slightly tender but nothing out of the ordinary.

      Everything was fine.  Exactly how it should be.  This is how his fantasy was supposed to be.  Except Axel was a beautiful woman ready and willing to pleasure him at the first sign of his waking.  Jack looked at the gruff little man and decided that was not going to happen.

      “Okay, Axel.  I got a few questions for ya’.  First, what the fuck took you so long?  They worked me over for hours!”

      “One hour twenty three minutes to be precise.” The PPA provided matter-of-factly. “I came as soon as I was called.”

      “Oh, so you were watching with a stopwatch?”

      “Jack,” Axel said consolingly, “there was nothing I could do.  I was not released from the program start-gate until you said my name.  I came almost immediately, if you will remember.”

      Jack had to give him that one. “Yeah, well, okay.  But why didn’t you just snap me back to here or something?”

      Axel leaned closer. “Remember when I came to speak with you and I told you I was going for help.  I knew then I could not exhibit the same level of control within the program as I had previously.”

      “You can’t zap anymore?”

      “I have limited mobility for myself within the choice program but that is all.  I am afraid that is not the only control I have lost.  I am also unable to gain access back to the program start-gate.”

      Jack was clueless. “Well....what does that mean?”

      “That means there is no way of going back to the program start-gate.  We are confined to the parameters of this program.”

      “How in the hell a......are you trying to tell me we’re trapped here, in a computer program...is that even possible?”

      Axel shifted uncomfortably. “At this point it would certainly seem so.”

      “I’m a living, breathing person.  I have a body...even if it isn’t much.”

      “Yes, well.  With the program start-gate shut down there was always your emergency access to the failsafe which would get you back to the ‘main’.”

      “Yeah. You told me not to use it, remember?”

      “There was good reason for this.” Axel replied. “While your Personal Program Assistant, I am not only responsible for basic interaction with your user profile I am also charged with monitoring the state of your physical being.”

      “So you keep track of my body just like the technicians back at the lab?”

      “Precisely.  Only...” The PPA hesitated.

      “Spit it out, Axel. It looks like you swallowed a frog.”

      “...well.....Jack, since you were downloaded into the program I have stopped receiving updates of the status of your physical being.”

      Jack’s eyes narrowed. “Wait, wai....wait.  You stopped getting info on the condition of my body?”

      Axel frowned but nodded.

      “Okay...so is that normal?”

      Axel shook his head.

      “So what does that mean...I mean, you say yourself you don’t have as much mojo as you used to have, right?”

      “Agreed,” He was forced to admit. “There are two very distinct possibilities.”

      “Which are?”

      “Either I have lost access to the data, which is, of course, a logical assumption....or your physical being has been removed from the connection.”

      “You mean gone...unplugged.”

      “Yes.  That is why I told you not to enable the emergency failsafe.  There is no more access to the Program start-gate.  Without access I cannot tell if the main start-gate has maintained its integrity.  If there is no main start-gate to return to your user profile would have been sent back to its host form.”

      “And with no body to return to?”

      “Your user profile would have been deleted.”

       That struck him like a fist.  The women who had tortured him had wanted him to activate the failsafe.  If he had broken and said the safe word, he would have been killed.  “How did this happen.” Jack asked, dumbfounded.

      “I do not know, but I believe we must discover the reasons why this has happened, who is behind it and if the current situation can be amended or reversed.”

      “Hey, Axel?”

       “Yes, Jack?”

      “If something has happened to my body, why am I still here?”

      “I do not know.  Perhaps it is some residual effect of your leftover consciousness.” Axel said.  His tone was not reassuring. “This is most extraordinary.”

      “You’re tellin’ me?”

      His blonde assistant smiled then. “It is not all bad news, Jack.  There are some people waiting outside I think you should meet and we also have a surprise for you.”

      “A surprise?  For me?  Axel, you shouldn’t have.”

      “Of course I should have.” He replied.  “You are still lord of the castle until we can figure a way out of this for you.”

      He clapped his hands together loudly and the door to the chamber opened as Jack threw back the covers.  A young girl, no older than fourteen or fifteen, stepped meekly into the room.  She wore breeches and boots and a simple green tunic.  Her hair was a dark red mass of curls and wavy bits someone had clumsily tried to pin back.  Nervously she bowed as he sat up on the side of the bed.

      “M....my lord.  I...”

      “Who the hell is this?” Jack interrupted.

      “M.....my...my lord...”

      “Damn, Axel.  She is worse than you are.  Is this my surprise?”

      The young girl looked up, her eyes wide with fear and Axel laughed. “Most certainly not.  This is your squire.”

      Jack frowned. “I thought squires were boys?”

      “Yes, well.  There are several aspects of this program that are rather a bit different than what they should be.  Consider it yet another strange aspect of this mystery we must solve.”

      Jack shrugged. “Hell, I think I would just settle for getting back to my body.  Hey, girl, what’s your name?”

      “My..my lord, .....K...Ktari, my lord.  I...”

      Jack held up a hand to quiet her.  “Calm down before you have a stroke.”

      “Of course.” She answered, scared nearly beyond words.

      “Okay, whatever.  Axel, what is this girl supposed to do?”  He leaned in a little closer and covered his mouth. “What exactly is she supposed to do for me?”

      “She is supposed to help you in any way she can.”

      “She’s a little too young...”

      “No.” Axel interrupted. “Not that.  Ktari here will dress you, fetch your meals for you, and stand by while you have your morning ablutions....”

      “While I what?”

      “While you bathe.” He answered patiently.  “In short, she is your personal servant.  If you are going to be here for a while then I believe you will need whatever assistance she can offer.”

      “Okay.” Jack stretched out a hand in greeting. “Hi, Ktari.  I’m Jack.  It’s nice to meet you.”

      The girl saw the offered hand and shrank away.

      “Don’t be frightened, child.” Axel told her.  “Step forward and take it.  My lord is a kindly man.  He will not harm you”

      With a hesitant look up to him, she slowly tip toed forward and gently took his hand.  Jack smiled as they shook.  The girl was short and thin, all knees and elbows and not even very pretty.  She was just ordinary, and Jack marveled at the engineering that had gone into this program, into all the programs, into the ‘Core’ itself, to create such a complete world for the mind to wander in.  And, in his case, for the mind to get lost in.  Because as he smiled, he began to realize there was no other place for him to go.  No way to get home.  Not that there was all that much for him to miss or to go back to.  But still, it was his world.

      “It’s nice to meet you, Ktari.”

      “Y...you honor me, my lord.  It is a great honor to make your acquaintance.”

      “Look, I think my friend Axel here has a few people he wants me to say hello to.  Since you are gonna be my helper, can you find me some clothes to wear?”

      “Of course, my lord.  As you wish.” And she scampered off.

      Jack turned to his assistant. “Do you think she knows what she’s doin?”

      Axel smiled and nodded. “If she does not know, I am sure her sister will beat her until she does.”

      “Her sister?” Jack asked.

      “Yes.  Lady Lynette Hunter.  She is the captain of your guard.” Axel answered. “And, I might add, one of the first to find you in the dungeon and save you.  She is awaiting you in the day chamber with other members of the household.”

      Jack breathed deeply, savoring the fresh air. “Well, I guess it would be rude of me to disappoint them.”

 

      Disappoint he did not...and neither did Ktari.  In a flash she returned with black riding boots, buff colored breeches and a blue tunic with the golden eagle of Hargate across its chest.  Disappointment filled him when he discovered he would have to put his clothes on normally.  Apparently Axel had lost the power to dress him with a snap as Lothor had done.  So be it.

      After dressing he stood in front of a hand tempered bronze mirror and hummphed a short approval.  He turned sideways, studying himself from all angles.

      “You know, it looks like I lost some weight in the transition.  What do you think, Axel?”

      “You look fine, Jack.” He answered, sounding more like a husband asked once too often by his wife if she were too fat.

      “Yeah, I do.”  He turned to his companion. “Let’s go.”

      The heavy wooden doors swung open and Axel and Jack strode into the day room, with tiny Ktari bringing up the rear.  The room itself was immense.  There were two distinct levels; the lower level was adorned with a writing desk, a small dining table and chairs, a large globe and map table.  The upper level, separated by banisters and a short set of stairs, was lined with bookshelves and another, even larger table with high backed chairs.  That was where they waited.

      Jack was pure nerves but even he was surprised by how well he handled the meeting.  There were half a dozen men and women waiting for him.  Axel introduced them and in turn they came up and bowed.  Lady Jane Tolway was the first.  She was a delicate but well proportioned brunette in a rather plain dress with striking blue eyes.  She was the Steward of Hargate and therefore, Axel explained, was responsible for keeping the place running properly.  Sir Jeremy Ross was Master of the Horse.  He was short like Axel but built like a bodybuilder, he had short black hair and a black beard which came to a point below his chin which looked sharp enough to spear a wayward hand...or sausage.  Mistress Roslyn was the resident healer.  Though her face was worn with the first signs of age she was still quite pretty.  Her smile was warm and inviting and Jack felt the sudden urge to sit her down and tell her all his troubles.  Next was Sir Alwyn Kessel, he was dressed in full armor, complete with helmet under his arm, just like when Axel had first greeted him.  He was of medium height and weight, with long dark hair and trimmed beard.  His eyes were big and expressive and almost as blue as Lady Tolway’s.  He was the Master of Foot at Hargate.  Sir Robin Beckford was next up.  Slim and pale, it made Jack’s skin crawl just to look at him.  The man looked even more like a snake than some real live snakes he had seen.  Axel named him Master-at-Arms for Hargate.  He was the one responsible for keeping weapons, provisions and also for training of the new recruits into the guards and levy.  And last but not least....Lady Lynette Hunter stepped forward.  He briefly recalled her from his final moments in the dungeon before he passed out.  Now that he had time to concentrate on her he was stunned.  Even in her armor he could tell she was small but lithe.  Her dark red hair was parted in the middle and flowed down about her shoulders.  She had green eyes, a spatter of freckles...and she was one of the most beautiful women Jack had ever seen.  Of course, he had thought the same thing about the woman in black before her, and her little friends, had tried to cook him like a pig over a fire.

      “My lord, it is good to see you up and about.” Lynette said to him and he was forced to smile.

      “After what they did I’m lucky to still be alive.”  And in truth he was.  He was beginning to feel just how close of a thing it had been.  Even now, if he were to burst out with three little words he would probably cease to exist.  It was a scary thought to have your own demise on the tip of your tongue. 

      “I guess I should thank you.” Jack told her with a quick glance back at Axel. “I was told that you were the one who really saved me.”

      “No thanks are necessary, my lord.  I was merely doing what I have sworn to do.”

      “Well, thank you anyway.”

      “I am always at your lordship’s service.” She said with a bow. “But it is with much regret I must tell you we were not able to capture the ones responsible for your suffering.”

      Jack shook his head. “I didn’t think you would be.  She was probably long gone before you arrived.”

      “What does His Lordship remember of the incident?” Slimy Sir Robin asked. “Anything at all would be of the utmost help.”

      Jack knew that he was merely a computer simulation of a person but he still could not stand him.  With a hard tone and a menacing glance he answered. “I remember being taken and almost killed in my own castle.  Does that help?”

      Sir Robin bowed again and slinked away toward the back of the group and out of his line of sight.  But soon his anger cooled and he told everything he remembered, from when he had first met the lady in black all the way up until he was screaming for his life as Lady Lynette and the guards burst through the dungeon door.

      “And does His Lordship know this woman in red and black?” Lady Jane asked him, utterly fascinated by the story he told.

      “Never seen her before in my life.” He answered. “Not a single one of them.”

      Lady Lynette shook her head. “That is something I do not understand.  This woman and her minions were able to enter into the most heavily guarded rooms of the castle and spirit His Lordship away without issue.  They were not even challenged.”

      “They were able to escape our grasp by use of a hidden passage.  Perhaps there were more that allowed their entrance.” Sir Alwyn argued. “There is no other way.”

      “Yes that is possible.” Mistress Roslyn interjected. “But we miss the obvious as well...that they were aided from inside the castle.”

      There was a round of muttering among the group.  Jack stood back and watched with as much confusion as ever.  This was all so absurd.

      Then Axel cleared his throat to gain the attention of everyone. 

       “Good knights and ladies,” He said to them with a quick look to Jack. “, there is no need to argue.  I have but a simple solution.”

      “And pray, sir, what would that solution be?” Sir Jeremy said.

      “Why, sir....if we do not know who this mysterious lady in black was, and where she came from or who sent her, then we have but to ask.”

      Jack frowned. “What is that supposed to mean.”

      Axel smiled.  It was evil and conspiratorial at the same time.  “Remember the surprise I was telling you about, Jack?”

      “Yeah.”

      “Even if the lady in black was able to evade us....one of her minions may not have.”

      There was a sharp intake of breath from several in the group. “We’ve got a prisoner?” Jack asked, heart thundering in his chest.

      “Not quite, but I may know where one of them went to.”

      “Axel,you dramatic fucker, why didn’t you just say so?”

     

     

     

     

     

     

 

 

 

Version 13

By

The Gray_Man

 

Part II

      “Well this certainly beats the hell out of working for a living.”

      Jack leaned back, propping his boots up on the edge of the table and finished off another goblet of honey ale.  It didn’t taste like anything he had ever drank before...not that he was a big drinker in the ‘real world’.  Still, it was an acquired taste that he had spent the last few days trying to gain.  It seemed to the others around the table that he had succeeded.   After the last few drops crossed his lips he let go with a rolling belch that drew everyone’s attention accept for Axel.  He was sitting in the corner of the chamber by himself trying to see if, by sheer practice, he could regain some of the control abilities he had lost.

      “You know, its kinda sad to see you over there snapping your fingers and nothing ever happening.”

      “Patience my friend, it will come to me.  I am sure of it.”

      Jack chuckled. “Yeah.  Whatever. “

      More than a week had passed since he had been trapped in the computer world and nothing had really changed.   Day to day life continued on.  Or what could best be described as day to day life at Hargate Castle.  More like a boring version of life in the real world, medieval style.

       Even the finer details of life, such as bodily needs, were within the boundaries of the simulation.  He got hungry about the same time of day as he usually did so Jack dived right in to Hargate’s cuisine and surprisingly he had to admit, the food was excellent.  A testament to this was the greasy bones of a roasted chicken plated near his propped feet.  It had been served with an herb stuffing, buttered garlic potatoes and a heel of warm bread.  He would pay for eating it later, he knew, when he would have to make a deposit in his own personal waste closet.  For now he was content.  But the newness was wearing off and boredom was quickly setting in.  Lynette was so intent that nothing should happen to him again that she had placed a squad of her best guards at his set of rooms with orders to go with him wherever he went.  This had quickly got annoying and soon Jack abandoned exploring. 

       So if he was a virtual prisoner in his own rooms what was he to do all day?  Jack had wished on more than one occasion for cable but had to settle for reading the books his shelves offered.  He had convinced Ktari to play chess with him but he soon let her go once he realized she was purposely losing.  And Jack had even contemplated asking someone to send him a couple of nubile chambermaids to screw around with. This was, after all, supposed to be a sexual fantasy world.  Why shouldn’t he fuck every piece of ass in sight?  Because, horror of all horrors, he had lost all desire for sex after his run in with the ‘bitch in black’. 

       What was even worse is that he couldn’t even rest well as he waited for his session to end, just as Lothor had told him it would. Every night he would lay awake for hours trying to drift off to sleep, not sure if he would wake up in the Future_Line lab or even not wake up at all.  But eventually he would sleep, and he would come to as Ktari pulled the heavy drapes of his bedroom allowing in the first rays of the dawn.  Every morning Axel could be found in the same place trying to get back the power he had mysteriously lost.  And every morning the search for answers continued in the courtyard, the village, and the surrounding woods.  But nothing had been found yet.  Nothing that would help.

       Jack discovered he had been unconscious for a full day after passing out in the dungeon.  In that time search parties had managed to re-open the passage Lynette and some of the other guards had seen Ayla escape through.  Apparently she had barred the door to stop her pursuers.  By the time they got it open their quarry was gone.  The narrow, winding corridor they found was dark and rat infested and very easy to get stuck but it was empty.  The passage led directly from the dungeon to the outer curtain wall amid an outcropping of rocks near the edge of the forest.  In all likelihood the women were long gone.  At least that was what Sir Alwyn and Mistress Roslyn told him. 

       Axel seemed to think differently. 

       “Was anything found today?” He asked as Ktari approached with a pitcher of ale to refill his goblet.

       “No, my lord.” Sir Alwyn muttered.

       “So why have the guards spent the better part of the week searching the village and castle?”

       “Looking for one of your devil women.” Axel answered without even looking up or breaking his concentration. “We have been over this before.”

       “Yeah, so maybe we have.”

       Axel sighed deeply but deferred to the expert. “Sir Jeremy?”

       The big man straightened in his chair. “My lord, at the egress to the passage that we opened we found two sets of horse tracks leading away from the rocks into the woods.  The trail was followed by our best trackers but unfortunately was lost.  However, a third horse was found, saddled but riderless, wandering in the fields near the rocks.”

       “And that’s what makes you think one of those bitches is still somewhere around here?”

       “Your council is divided on this.” Sir Robin interjected. “, but it is a logical assumption.”

       “Agreed.” Axel said. “The tracks which have been found are not overloaded...say by a horse carrying more than one person.”

       “The guards were summoned and sent to their posts as soon as Sir Axel called upon me.” Lady Lynette added.  “Some were sent out the south and western gates as a matter of routine.  The passage exit is very near the western gate so perhaps the one we search for was unable to make her getaway for risk being seen.”

       Jack shrugged. “That still doesn’t mean she’s hanging round here.”

       “There is no place else for her to go.  The woods are notorious for swallowing people whole.  With no horse, no supplies, her companions gone, she must bide her time until she thinks the moment is right.” Axel said. “Besides, I can’t explain it but...somehow I can feel her presence nearby.  That’s how I can be so sure she is still here.”

       “Okay, Axel, that’s just creepy.”

       “Somewhere on the castle grounds I should wager.”

       “If she’s out there, where could she be?

       “The woodline has been searched well.” Sir Jeremy confided.

       “As have every room in the castle and every house in the village...thrice over.” Lady Lynette muttered.

       Jack threw up his hands in a shrug, spilling ale on his tunic, “Look, guys, we’ve been turning over every stone we can think of for a week looking for this bitch.  So if she’s not in the village and not in the castle and not in the woods, just where the fuck is she?  Hell, do we even know if she made it out of the tunnel?”  

       Jack noticed Axel suddenly look up, Lady Lynette frown, and Sir Jeremy glance at those around the table to see if they had gotten it as well.

      

      

 

 

      There were several things Jack had never thought he would ever do in life.  Ride a horse was one of them.  It just wasn’t one of those experiences which were high on his list of things to accomplish before he died.  But being stuck in a simulation of some twisted medieval world was quickly changing the size and composition of his list.  The horse was a massive destrier called Midnight, its shining black coat of hair giving ample reason as to why.

       Jack was scared at first.  The animal was huge, powerful, and thoughts of it raising up and slamming a hoof right into the middle of his forehead kept circling around in his mind.  But Ktari had told him, in her own halting way, that Midnight was as gentle a horse as she had ever known.  And that was saying a lot for a girl who had worked in the castle stables for the better part of her computer generated life.

      Jack squirmed in the saddle.  It was taking some getting used to.  After only a short time his ass was sore, his back hurt and his thighs were chaffing.  If he stayed on Midnight much longer he would have a blistered backside.  But he forced himself to remain there.  It would look bad if he got off, or complained about his soreness.  And besides, if Ktari’s scrawny little ass could sit on a horse and ride then so could he.  He was not going to be outdone by a fourteen year old girl who couldn’t form a whole sentence without a stutter.

      Of course, the hard part was not sitting on the horse, it was getting the beast to go forward, back and in whatever direction you wanted it to go in exactly when you wanted it to go.  Fortunately for him he had plenty of help.  After some brief instructions from Sir Jeremy, the horse followed along with the rest, nudging out some of the others for head of the pack.  All Jack really had to do was pull left or right on the reigns a bit and hold on as best he could.....which he did by leaning forward and clutching to Midnight’s neck for dear life. 

      At a canter Jack, Axel, Sir Jeremy, and an escort of nearly forty soldiers, rode to the top of a low swell in the grassy plain near the rock outcropping only a stone’s throw from the western gate.  Jack reigned in clumsily but Midnight responded, coming to a halt with only a slight turn to the left and the others followed suit.

      “Can somebody please tell me who came up with this hair brained idea?”

      “You did.” Axel answered. “Or at least you started us on the idea.”

      Jack shook his head. “Who ever heard of a hidden passage with hidden passages.”

      “In truth,” Sir Jeremy confided, “, the passage was only checked to see where it led to.  There was no thought of the tunnel itself being a place to hide.”

      They were within sight of the outcropping.  More than a dozen men were scaling the rocks, some with torches, heading toward the recently discovered mouth of the escape tunnel.  As Jack and the others watched, one by one they slowly disappeared into the dark cavity.

      “Trust me, Jack. “ Axel told him, “She is still here.  I can feel her closer now than ever.  We will find her soon.”

      Jack knew that on the other end, inside the deep recesses of the castle dungeon, there was a similar scene being played out.  Lady Lynette and a group of the Household Guards were moving down the tunnel from the opposite direction. 

      Jack sighed, utterly frustrated. “This could take days.  If there are more tunnels, she could be anywhere in the castle.  Axel, don’t you remember the layout of this place or anything like that?”

      “I am afraid I have found my knowledge of Hargate Castle to be faulty.”

      “Well, that’s no comfort.”

      “As we have said before,” He continued on. “, this is not quite right.  This program is not as it should be.  There are many things....wrong here.  It is but another mys...”

      Jack waved him off. “Oh please.  We have enough mysteries to solve for one lifetime.  I don’t think we need any more.”

      Shouts came from inside the tunnel.  They were faint because the group was so far away but they were incessant.

      Jack’s ears perked up.  What the hell?

      Axel was quick. “Sir Jeremy?” He called and without a word the big man spurred his horse into a slow gallop toward the rocks with many of the mounted soldiers in tow.  The commotion which followed was hard to see but still it was fascinating to watch.  He saw a woman with long blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail break from the tunnel entrance and try to climb down the rocks.  She was an agile little thing, he had to admit, as she bounded from one stone pile to the next until finally jumping down to the ground already at a run.  Men of the search party were erupting from the tunnel but they were all too slow.  The blonde woman was very fast with a huge head start and she might have even had a chance to get away if those on foot were the only ones in pursuit.  But she could not outrun a horse....much less thirty of them.

      She was halfway to the forest edge when Sir Jeremy rode her down.  Expertly he galloped up beside her as she ran, and for an instant it seemed as if the woman put on more speed in a vain attempt to get away.  But then two more riders came up, bracketing her and tossed forth a large hunting net which covered her completely.  She tripped and fell hard, tumbling to a stop as the mounted soldiers rode past.  Others jumped down and even then the woman did not give up, fighting desperately to claw her way out of the net and through the ever growing number of guards that surrounded her. 

      Axel gestured toward their captive with a wide grin. “I told you she was here.  Shall we?”

      He had not expected such quick results.  In fact, he had not expected any results.  “Well, hell yeah.  Let’s go see who we got.” He replied and awkwardly nudged Midnight forward. 

      By the time Jack got to them, the guards had removed the net from their captive, bound her hands behind her back and hobbled her feet to keep her from kicking.  She had already nearly shattered one kneecap and two sets of balls.  As he approached the woman caught sight of him, and almost immediately her struggling ceased.  Her eyes and appearance took on the look of a trapped animal amid her heavy breathing.  He examined her quickly.  Her hair and face were dirty, her clothing filthy from living in the passages for a week but it was the same person he remembered from the dungeon.  There was no mistaking her.

      Jack peered down at her. “Hey, Ayla.  What’s up?”

      She spit at him, the stream striking him in the shoulder.  One of the guards rewarded her with a fist slamming into her gut.  Ayla doubled over and sagged in the arms of her captors. “May you fall through the Great Abyss for all eternity.” She managed to groan.

      He wiped the spittle away from his tunic. “Yeah, its good to see you too, sunshine.  So..uh where are your friends at?  We could all get back together and talk about old times.”

      “Long gone I trust.  You won’t ever find them.” She managed to say.  She was a brave woman.  Jack had to give her credit.     

       Sir Jeremy pranced up on his roan stallion, “My lord, I’ve spoken with the commander of the search party.  She was exactly where we thought she would be, hidden inside a side tunnel no more than two feet high, living with the rats.  What shall be done with her?” He inquired.

      Axel nudged closer to his side. “She must be questioned.”

      Jack shrugged. “But what if she doesn’t want to say anything?” He whispered back.

      “I can assure you.  She will not tell us what we wish to know of her own accord so do not be naďve about what I propose.  This is a medieval simulation...of a fashion.  We must use whatever methods are available to us.”

      “I don’t exactly know how I feel about that.” He said hesitantly.  They were talking about some brutal stuff.

      “Remember,” Axel pushed. “This is one of the same women who tortured and almost killed you.  If the roles were reversed, you know full well what she would do with you.”

      That got his attention...and helped make up his mind.  He paused for a moment.  Then, “Okay....Jerry?”

      “Yes, my lord?” Sir Jeremy answered.

      “Take her to the dungeon.”

      Sir Jeremy nodded. “As you wish, my lord.”

      Ayla was dragged away roughly but in silence.  She knew what was coming and so did the others who carried her toward her fate.

      “I don’t want anything to do with it.” Jack finally said once the others were out of earshot.

      “Very well.” Axel conceded. “I shall handle the matter if you wish.  But you know it is for the best.”

      “Yeah...I know.” He replied, deflated.

 

     

 

       Some time later Jack finished another cup of ale.  His fifth in the last hour.  The sweet liquid washed down his throat and a buzz filled his ears.  He had never been the type to drown his problems with alcohol but the events of the day were pressing on his mind uncomfortably and a little numbing was welcome.  Ktari came out of nowhere and tried to refill the cup but he held up his hand. “No, that’s okay, Nibblet.  I’m fine.”

      “A..as you wish.” She stammered and fled.

      The sun was setting and the sky outside overhanging the battlements was an extraordinary display of clouds and color.  Absentmindedly he wondered what time it was in the real world.  Was the sun setting or rising on a new day there?  How much time had even passed?  Would he ever get back?  He didn’t know.  It was confusing to him and it made his head hurt worse than it already did.  Inevitably his thoughts returned to one thing. 

      Ayla

      He shook his head.  There was no telling what was being done to her.  Axel and the others didn’t seem to have the same qualms about torture as he did.  He always thought he was a product of a normal, civilized world where torture was a bad thing....something the bad guys did to the good guys.  It didn’t matter what she and the other two women had done to him, it was still wrong.  They were all a product of this medieval simulation.  Except for Axel.  He was all by himself in this.  But Jack guessed that personal program assistants didn’t have any more moral issues regarding the subject as anyone else.  Yet even with his supposed moral high ground it had taken him less than a minute to condemn Ayla to the dungeon. 

      “Oh fuck it.” He muttered angrily and got up from his seat.  Who was he to argue about moral issues when he had ordered the woman interrogated in the first place.  If she was tortured, then so be it.  Better her than him this time.  But if these things were being done in his name, right or wrong, then at least he should have the balls to witness them.

      He staggered once, then went for the door.  Sentries were posted outside and he ordered them to take him to the dungeon.

      Soon they came to the winding staircase which led down into the stone pit of a chamber.  A place he had not visited since he had been a prisoner of its walls.  He took each step slowly, regretting all the honey ale he had taken on board.  About halfway down there was the audible crack of a whip followed by a woman’s piercing scream.  Jack stopped, suddenly wondering if he could continue on.  Quickly he found he had no choice, not so much because of any moral issue, but because he was curious.

      The small torture chambers lined the wall.  Some were open and empty, others with their doors bolted.  The sounds of the whip and the screams got louder and louder until finally Jack came to the right cell.

      Ayla hung from the ceiling, her wrists bound behind her, her body hoisted up by her wrists in a cruel strappado.  Her feet dangled limply above the floor, and a thin sheen of sweat covered every inch of her naked body.  Her flesh was crisscrossed with countless angry lash wounds and her long blonde hair was matted to her forehead and sides of her face.  Her head rolled and she looked up with agony in her eyes.  She saw him.

       “You came to watch.” She rasped deliriously between ragged breaths.  Despite every fiber in his being wanting to turn away he was fascinated with the sight of her.

       “Jack?” Axel called. He was standing in one corner of the small cell overseeing the interrogation.  Quickly he pulled him to the side. “What are you doing here?  I though..”

       He nodded, “I know.  But I had to see for myself.  Any progress?”

       Axel frowned. “Not yet.  She is proving very stubborn, but you are just in time.  I think Sir Robin believes she is near to breaking.”

       “Robin?” Jack asked. He had thought Sir Robin Beckford to be distasteful as master-at-arms.  Now he was inquisitor too?  Somehow, Jack thought that fit better.

       The whip cracked again and he watched as the leather thong wrapped across her back, around her torso and struck against her ample breasts.  A fresh line of red formed and began to weep crimson tears as Ayla jerked in her bonds and uttered another earsplitting scream.  

      From another corner of the cell, Sir Robin, clad in a bloody leather smock and as creepy as ever stepped forward and with a thin, cadaverous hand, brushed a few strands of yellow hair away from Ayla’s face as she cried.

      “My dear child,” He said soothingly, “, you have suffered so much.  Is it not time to end this.  You have only to tell me the things I wish to know and we can make your pain go away.”

      A shiver went down Jack’s spine as he saw the look in his eyes.  Sir Robin was not only a good interrogator.  He was enjoying this.

      “MAY THE GODDESS DAMN YOU!” She retorted with a screech of pain.

      “Very well.” Sir Robin nodded to someone in the background and two big men, sweaty and stripped to the waist, appeared.  One held a rope and the other a large stone ball which Jack judged to weigh about twenty pounds.  As he watched, one man grabbed Ayla’s ankles.  She tried to resist but every movement was agony to her strained shoulders and before long they were tied tightly together.  The other man then hooked the twenty pound stone to her bound ankles and with a shove, pushed it out of his lap.  The ball fell to within inches of the ground before the line caught sending Ayla swinging.  The extra weight was a shock on her arms and she screamed and cursed wildly.

      “I’LL SEE YOU ALL DIE FOR THIS!” She exclaimed between screams.  “MY...MISTRESS....WILL SEE YOU ALL....BEG FOR DEATH!”

      Another session with the whip followed.  More screams and more blood.  The men helping Sir Robin spun Ayla around so Jack could see her backside as well.  In the same manner as her front side, bloody wounds marked the flesh of her back, ass, and legs.  The weight of the stone attached to her ankles made her toes point to the floor and Jack could even see marks on the soles of her feet.  After what seemed like a lifetime Sir Robin finally asked her the questions again.

      She was out of her head mad with pain and she was beginning to utter things which they had been searching for without even realizing it.

      “YOU WILL ALL....DIE LIKE DOGS...WHEN MY MISTRESS COMES!  HER ARMY..WILL SWEEP YOU ALL...AWAY TO THE ABYSS!”

      “We are not afraid of your mistress.” Sir Robin told her.

      “YOU...WILL...BE!”  Her breath was coming shallow and hard now, sweat and blood pooled at her feet.  Ayla looked exhausted, like all her energy was gone.  And just then, Jack could see into her eyes, and it looked as if hope was leaving her as well.  Her spirit was failing, her bravado gone.

      “Tell me my dear,” Sir Robin cajoled softly. “, tell me what we wish to know and all of this will be over.  Don’t you wish for me to stop?”

      “Y...YES!” She screamed.

      “Then tell us.  Tell us so we may help you.  Do you wish to tell us?”

       Ayla started to cry then, openly sobbing and Sir Robin and one of his assistants moved in to support her.  “GODDESS FORGIVE ME!” She bawled. “IT HURTS SO MUCH.”

      Jack watched Ayla break like a twig in front of him.

      Axel went over and knelt down next to Sir Robin as the stone ball was removed from her ankles and she was gently lowered to the ground.  Jack could hear her sobbing but occasionally she would mutter a few words to her tormentors.  Jack paced back and forth, watching and waiting. 

      Finally Axel stood, and so did Sir Robin.  They both peered over their shoulders with worried expressions.  After a brief conversation Sir Robin ordered his helpers to carry Ayla’s limp body into her cell.  They did so and Jack noticed, after putting up with so much for so long, she had passed out....just as he had done. 

      His assistant walked over and Jack could see the expression on his face.

      “What’s wrong?” He asked.

      Axel sighed. “We have a problem.”

      Jack threw up a stomach full of ale across the dungeon floor.

 

 

      In the darkness Hargate Castle was usually a quiet place.  Only the guards and a scattering of servants were up at all hours.  The fires along the battlements would have been lit to mark the castle’s line and to keep the sentries who manned the walls warm.  The gates would be open for easy access by returning patrols from the dark wood, along the roads and inside the town.  The villagers would be soundly asleep, under their covers, warding off the damp chill.

       But tonight was different.  The fires along the walls were extinguished so as not to blind the night vision of the sentries.  The castle gates were up and barred and the servants and guards were all turned out.  The village watch went from door to door waking every family and calling out those of the levy.  The household was in an uproar and no one really knew why....except for a few in the master’s tower.

       “So who was this queen bitch?” Jack asked.

       “Lady Cora Golwyn.” Axel answered. “Your woman in black.”

       “The Countess of Sharford .” Lady Lynette supplied like Jack was supposed to know what the hell she was talking about.

       Axel saw his confusion and drew him over to the map table where a local scroll was laid out. “Here.  A large tract of land and holdings about seventy leagues to our south.”

       “Oh.” Jack said.

      “I should have known from your description, my lord.” Mistress Roslyn lamented. “She adopted the sigil of a silver scorpion on a red and black field after her husband died mysteriously not long after their marriage.  It has always been said she put scorpions on him in her own wedding bed.”

      “Well that makes sense.”

      “Indeed, my lord.”

      “So if she is gone and she lives so far away, why all the extra precautions?” Jack demanded.  The guards at many of the doors and gates had been doubled.  The echoing footfalls of people resounded everywhere.  The place was alive with activity.

       “Ayla supplied us with much information about the Countess of Sharford.” Axel told him.

       “For instance?”

       “For instance,” Axel rejoined. “The countess has made a bargain with someone who wants you dead.”

       “Me? Dead?  No kidding.”

       ”Precisely...though who and to what purpose we do not know.  Neither does Ayla apparently.  She only knows she was sent here with her companion and the countess to take you with womanly guile and force you to enable the failsafe as quickly as possible.”

       “Well, I could have told you that.” Jack said sarcastically. “Anything else?”

       “That she may be marshalling her forces and preparing to march on us.”

       Jack was dumbfounded. “Huh?”

      Axel clued him in. “It would seem that the countess, after having failed at her clandestine approach to kill you could now be trying a more conventional method.”

      Jack shrank down to his chair.  His head fell into the palms of his hands. This was just a never ending nightmare.  At one point Jack had wanted nothing more than to stay in this fantastic computer world.  That had been his first five minutes here.  Now he wanted nothing more than to go home.  He had been here a week and already there was another attempt on his life brewing.  Things were so much simpler in the real world.  He wished Future_Line had their free giveaway stuck up their asses sideways.

      “Any idea if what Ayla told you is even true?” Jack said, grasping at straws. “The girl would have told you anything to stop what was being done to her.”

      “True.” Axel agreed. “But there is a way we may know for certain.  Sir Jeremy’s scouts are already well on their way to the River Nyder.  It is the border between Golwyn and Dullman lands.”

      “It could take days for scouts to get back.” He whined. “What are we supposed to do around her until then?”

      “Prepare for the worst.” Sir Alwyn told him. “The Scorpion, if she comes, will be a hard match for anything we may put in her way.”

      “Maybe we could talk to her...try and work things out.”

      Axel smiled, as a father would to a child. “Jack, my dear friend, this is deadly serious.  If they come then they are coming for you.”

      “Yeah, but....”

      “If she comes for you then she will settle for nothing less than your capture.  And if you think what was done to you before was harsh....then you have no idea what suffering truly is.”

      “I don’t know.”  He said, suddenly remembering the smell of his own flesh cooking over a fire. “I think I have a pretty good idea.”

      “Do you?” Axel asked, suddenly harsh.  “You think you may escape whatever fate awaits you because you have your safe words?  Instant suicide once the going gets too hard?  Suppose the words don’t work.  We really don’t know if they do.  So many other things have gone wrong that I cannot say.  Then you will be trapped here and you will be completely at the Countess’s mercy.  I wonder how long she could keep you alive?...a few months perhaps?  A year or more?  You heal so quickly.  Do you understand if you are captured you face what we did to Ayla only ten times worse?”

      Jack exhaled sharply, and ran a hand across the top of his bald head. 

      “I didn’t think like that.” He said apologetically, but his companion was not finished.

      “And what do you think will happen to them?” Axel pointed to the others in the room, Lady Lynette, Lady Jane, Sir Jeremy, Sir Alwyn, Sir Robin, Mistress Roslyn and Ktari.  “They are risking their lives too...and for all I know I may be as well.”

      Jack shrugged. “What do you mean by ‘risking their lives’?  They’re all computer programs.”

      Axel’s mouth nearly dropped open.

      “Computer programs?” Axel repeated finally. “Do I seem real to you?”

      “Well yeah.” Jack said dejectedly.

      Axel pointed to the others who stood around uncomfortably silent. “And how about them?  Do they seem real enough for you?”

      He nodded reluctantly. 

       “Let me tell you something you may not know.  Each one of them is a sentient program like me.  They eat and sleep and reproduce, feel pain and pleasure, are happy and sad.  These computer worlds were built to be as authentic as possible and in this world we are just as real as any human.  After witnessing what we did to Ayla is there any doubt still left in you.”

       After a moment’s silence Jack cleared his throat.  “Hey, I’m sorry, Axel.”

       “Then wake up.  This is life and death for the lot of us.”

      “My fault, big guy.” Jack consoled. “I should have known better.”

      “Yes, you should have.” Axel told him, rubbing it in. “But things could be much worse.”

      Jack snorted as the tension eased a bit. “And just how is that?”

      “At least we were given some warning.” Axel reminded him. “If Ayla’s information is right and the Scorpion is on the move, had we not questioned our young captive then the first we would have known of it would have been when the van of her army came thundering up the south road.”

      “What would we have done?”

      “Nothing,” Axel answered simply.  “It would have been too late.”

 

 

     

 

       That night Jack could not sleep.  About midnight a light rain began to fall and the temperature dropped causing a damp mist to form along the ground.  Jack stood at one of his bedroom windows and watched it roll and billow and creep through the streets of Hargate as his mind wandered.  There was so much going on he couldn’t comprehend it all.  Imminent death approaching from every turn.  The lives of people he was starting to think of as his friends, especially Axel, hanging in the balance.  It was all too much to deal with.  So much to grasp.  His mind refused to work.  He tried to concentrate on the problem but he kept drawing a blank.

      “Time to take a walk, I think.” He muttered to himself and headed straight for the door.

 

     

 

 

       The heavy door opened with a squeal of rusted hinges.  The guard stepped in with his guttering candle and held it forth so Jack could see where he was going.  He eyed the cold stone walls warily, the flickering light providing little comfort and even less warmth.

      “There, my lord.” The man pointed. “Against the back wall.”

      Jack took the candle. “Thanks, man.”

      The guardsman bowed. “My lord is too kind.”  And he was off.

      The cell was as damp and cool as the outside and despite the clothing he wore he shivered. 

      “So you’ve come back.” A frail voice called out to him, still, after everything that had happened, taunting in its tone. “Going to finish the job?”

      Jack held the candle out until the light hit her.  Ayla winced at the brightness.

      She was laying in the floor, curled up on her side in an effort to keep warm.  Her arms were pinned back behind her in a leather arm binder, her ankles chained to a large ring in the floor.  Her naked body had been whipped bloody, her shoulders were dislocated, and her eyes betrayed a person dealing with constant pain.

      “Go ahead...I won’t stop you.”

      “I ya...I came down here to ask you some questions.” Jack said.

      Ayla managed a lame smile though she did not move a muscle. “More questions?  Haven’t I already told your people everything they wish to know.”

      “Maybe.  Maybe not.” Jack told her. “There are things I wanna know and right now you are the only one who can tell me.”

      “Why should I say anything to you?”

      “Because your answers will decide exactly what happens to you.” Jack explained.

      “I am a dead woman anyway.  It makes no difference to me.”

      “Oh I don’t know.  There seems to be a lot of really horrible ways to die in this world.”

      This time Ayla managed a laugh, but it was cut short as it seized into a caugh which racked her already agony filled body.  She groaned and made a soft cry out, almost like the mewl of a wounded animal.  A tear caught in the candle light but there was no sob with it.  Jack thought about brushing it away but thought better of it.

      “If you have come to threaten me, you should find someone else.”

      “No threats...just answers.”

      Her eyes looked up to where he stood and stared for a moment.  She fought through the pain and focused on him silently.  It was as much an unspoken consent as he was going to get.

      “Who sent you?”

      “The Countess of Sharford.  I was in her employ.”

      “How did you get into the castle?”

      “The same way we got out.”

      “But you three were waiting from the very moment I got here.”

      “Yes.” She answered.

      “How?  How did you know I was coming?”

      “I don’t know.  I only know we left from Nordale more than two weeks ago.  We stayed in Hargate Village until the Countess said you were about to arrive and then we made our way into the tunnels and prepared while she went to bring you to us...like a spider enticing a fly into its web.”

      “You said us.  You mean you and the other girl?  Varisa?”

      “Yes.  Varisa.”

       “Why did you want me to say the safe words and activate the emergency failsafe?”

      “So you would die.  The Countess said you would die if you said the words.” She answered that one just as she had done with the others.  She did not flinch as she told him.

      “Why did you want me dead?”

      “So we could collect on our reward.” 

      “What was the reward?” Jack asked, shifting uncomfortable as the answers became more and more personal.

      “A gift beyond imagining.”

      “That doesn’t tell me much.” He commented.

      “It wasn’t meant to.”

      “Who is the Countess working with?”

      “I don’t know.  That is a question you must ask her when she gets here.”

      “Is she really coming back with an army?”

      “I suppose so.” She said coyly.  “It was her plan to do so if we failed.”

      He shook his head. “Why didn’t you just finish me off the moment you had the chance?”

      Ayla smiled. “The countess wanted to play with you for a while.  She found you fat and amusing.  She watched in the darkness for all of your punishment while...well I think I have said enough.”

      “One more question.”

      “Enough questions.” Ayla mumbled. “Leave me be.”

      “One more,” Jack demanded. “What would you do if you had a second chance?”

      Her brown eyes made contact with his. “I would have brought out the hot coals first.” She said without hesitation.  “I would have gagged you so you couldn’t end your suffering and pushed the fire between your legs and let your cock and balls roast.  Then I would have made love to my darling Varisa while you screamed.”

      Jack started to feel queasy. 

      “You don’t remember, do you.  You screamed so prettily....just as your friends soon will.”

      That did it.  Those last six words.  He stood there for a moment watching her and despite the pain coursing through her she managed a wicked smile.  It was the same wicked smile she had given him after she kicked the brazier between his spread legs.

      Finally, Jack nodded.

      “Thank you.” He said. “You’ve been a big help.”

      And he turned and left. 

     

 

 

      By the next morning the rain had stopped, the clouds were gone and the sun was burning away the last vestiges of fog that still clung to the land.  Jack went down into the courtyard, his guards scurrying behind him, and found Axel talking with Sir Alwyn while a scattering of knights and squires huddled around.  At a distance he called to him.  “Hey, big guy, can I see you for a sec?”

      Axel looked up, gave a brief acknowledgement to the Master of Foot, and came over.

      “Yes, Jack?  I’m a bit busy.  May I help you with something?”

      “Actually I was wondering if I could help you?”

      Axel gave him a curious expression. “I don’t know.  I’m just a computer program.”

      Jack chuckled.  “Okay...I know at times I’ve been an ass so far.  But I did some soul searching last night and I think I can help.”

      “In what way?”

      “Well, for one thing, you seem to be taking all this on your own shoulders and that’s not fair.  This is my fantasy, I should be doing something too.”

      Axel nodded.  “Ideally, yes, but let us be frank.  I am responsible for you and your safety while a part of this program.  If I were you I would try and not worry about it so much.”

      “Not worry?” Jack responded incredulously. “If psycho bitch is headed this way then its because of me and she won’t be satisfied until I am dead and gone.  That puts everyone that helps me in danger.  That means you too, my friend.”

      “Yes, but...”

      “So I’m supposed to sit up in my tower and wait for my best pal to rescue me?  I don’t think so.”

      “Just how can you help then?”

      “Well, actually I need something from you first.”

      Axel arched his eyebrows in an unspoken question.  Jack smiled sheepishly.  “I need someone to help me train.”

      “Train?”

      Jack slumped, looking both ways to make sure no one would hear him.  “Axel, I’m a janitor.  I clean floors for a living.  I don’t know how to fight with a sword, I don’t know how to shoot an arrow....I’m damn near helpless if you think about it.”

      Axel frowned. “Wait..a janitor?  You’re bio-file said you were a maintenance engineer at a prominent local university.”

      “Yeah,” Jack answered.  “What do you think a janitor is?  Look, bottom line is that I need some help and soon you will need every able bodied person you can get.  I know you’re getting ready for war here, but can you spare somebody?”

      He stood there, brow furrowed in concentration. “I tell you Jack, I can’t think of anyone.  Everyone is busy with something...Lady Jane and Mistress Roslyn with the castle, Sir Robin with the armories, Sir Alwyn with organizing the levy....”

      Jack threw his hands up. “Except me.  I’m not doing a damn thing but sitting around waiting to die.  I’ve tried talking with these idiots.” Jack pointed out his guards with a sweeping gesture. “But they’re so busy guarding me I can’t learn a damn thing.”

      “Well there is someone...” Axel explained.

      He jumped at it. “Who?  I’ll take anybody.”

      “Well Ktari is available.”

      “Aw, come on!  Nibblet?” Jack said. “She couldn’t hit her ass with both hands much less teach me how to defend myself.”

      Axel shrugged. “Jack, what do you want from me?  We are preparing for a fight to the death.  I can’t spare anyone else.”

      “I’ll tell you what.  Throw in her sister for at least a few hours a day and I’ll promise to stay out of your hair.” He suggested.

      “Very well, Jack, you drive a hard bargain.”

      “Same to ya.” Jack said as he shook hands on the deal.  “Well, I gotta go track down Ktari so...”

      “Good luck.” Axel told him.

      “Yeah, Axel.  Peace and hair grease, pal.”

 

 

 

      Jack tracked down Ktari, and willingly or not, she began his first lessons in the art of self defense.  She was a squire and thus a potential knight in training.  Unfortunately he soon found out that Ktari had a better grasp of books and songs than swordplay.  She knew the histories and lineages of all the great lords and ladies of the land, she could sing any song he wished to hear as long as it was not too bawdy, and Jack was surprised to find that the little thing had a powerful set of lungs on her.  She even rode better than he did, which was not a shocker.  So he studied with her every day from sunup to sundown and beyond with the occasional riding lesson thrown in from time to time.  But Jack was just as interested in learning how to fight.  His life might soon depend on what he learned.  And knowing the things that might await him if captured spurred on his determination to fight it out...even if it was to the bitter end.

      That was where Lady Lynette came in. 

      For three special hours a day the redheaded guard captain kicked the Master of Hargate’s overweight ass up one side of the training arena and back down the other.  Even though they were using practice wooden swords, Jack went back to his studies with Ktari every day with countless bruises and scrapes which, by the time he got up the next morning, had healed.

      If only his ego healed as quickly as his physical wounds he would have been fine.

      

 

 

       Jack sat up, pulled off his iron cage practice helmet, and brushed the sand from his coat.  The heavy leather was thickly padded to avoid serious sparring injuries but the pain of every strike she had landed pulsed angrily.  He laid the wooden sword at his side and slowly picked himself off of the ground, purposely ignoring the worried attentions of Lady Lynette.  “Oh dear, I didn’t mean to!  My lord, are you alright?”

      He nodded and held up a hand, silently smarting in pain.  “I’m fine, Lynn.  I’m just tired of getting knocked down.  How many times have I hit the dirt today?  Fifteen?  Sixteen?”

      “Thirty one, my lord!”  Ktari yelled out happily from her vantage point on the lip of the arena pit.  She had gotten better with the stuttering speech and he was actually beginning to warm up to the child as she came out of her shell around him and began to show the true imp that she was. 

      “What?” Jack focused on her and called back playfully.  “Keeping score now, Nibblet?  Shouldn’t you be off doing something official, like polishing my armor?  Yeah, that’s right!  Run along!  Go empty a chamber pot!”

      Jack turned back to his tutor. “Your sister is a little shit sometimes.  You know that?”

      “My lord, if you wish to replace her...” Lynette stammered.

      “No.  I was just kidding.  She’s actually not that bad when you get down to it.  She’s certainly been helping me out with some stuff. I....”

      “My lord!”

      A messenger with a blue and gold sash across his chest came running out onto the arena floor.  He stopped and knelt before them, his head bowed as he spoke. “Sir Axel’s compliments, my lord.  He has called the council in your private chambers.  He bids me inform you that the scouts have returned from the south.”

      Jack looked to Lynette and without another word they were both heading out of the sand pit, shedding their heavy coats.  Ten minutes later Jack came into his chambers with Lady Lynette directly behind him.

       “So what’s up?  Can somebody fix me a drink?  I might need it before this is over.”

       “We may all need one before this is over.” Axel replied somberly.

       Ktari had already poured a cup of honey ale and handed it off to him as he approached the map table on the lower level of the main room.  Sir Alwyn and Sir Jeremy were there as well.

       “That bad, huh?” Jack asked after gulping down half the cup.

       “Well it’s certainly not good.” Axel said.  Across the table was a parchment map already laid out and held down by weights at its four corners.  Jack studied it for a brief moment.  There was a dense forest in the center with a mountain range to the north and a wide plain to the east.  A long river ran from the mountains down the length of the plain and hooked to the west to run parallel, and in some cases, butt up against the edge of the forest.  He immediately recognized it. 

       “Our scouts have confirmed what the girl Ayla told us.  The Scorpion has not only called together an army but they are already on the move.  They have crossed the Nyder here,” Axel pointed. “, and are fast approaching the village of Raven’s Forge from the south.”

       “How many?”

       “Seventeen hundred foot and near a thousand horse.”

       “What about us?” Jack asked. “What do we have now?”

       “The levy is nearly complete.” Sir Alwyn supplied. “We’ve twelve hundred infantry.”

       “And eight hundred cavalry.” Sir Jeremy interjected.

       Jack whistled.  This was going to get real nasty. “So what do we do now?”

      “We do not dare risk open battle, my lord.” Sir Alwyn told him.  “We are outnumbered and with few options.  I feel we should stay and strengthen the castle for siege.”

      “Nay, sir.” Sir Jeremy retorted hotly. “We should go forth and offer battle.  A siege here would be a disaster.  It is spring at Hargate and we have not the food to last a month after so long a winter.”

      Jack turned to his friend. “Axel?”

      The blond man nodded. “Both their arguments hold merit.  The Scorpion has moved fast so she may not have planned for a long siege.  But on the other hand, if she has, we would indeed be doomed if we stayed behind these walls.  So after careful consideration I think this is what we will do.  We shall...”

      “Who’s closer to Raven’s Forge,” Jack calmly interrupted. “,us or the ‘Bitch in Black?’”

      Those around the table glanced at one another.  Sir Jeremy’s eyes shot over to Axel then back to him. “The Scorpion, my lord, but only just.” 

      “So we could reach the ‘Forge’ first if we really pushed it?”

      Axel shifted uncomfortably but nodded. “Yes, Jack.  What are you getting at?”

      “This is what I’m getting at.” He stated as he pulled a chart from its slot and unrolled it, spreading it out to replace the one already on the table.  The others studied the field the new map showed with puzzled expressions. 

       Jack smiled as he saw their confusion.  “While everyone else was off prepping for the big fight, I was actually stuck in here for the last two weeks studying maps and reading books and I tell ya, I still may not be able to beat anybody in single combat but I can damn sure plan a battle.”

       “Jack,” Axel cajoled. “I understand you wish to help but perhaps you should leave this to us.”

      “Look” Jack said with a shrug. “Give me a few minutes to tell you what I propose and if you still don’t believe in this then you can go along with your own plans.  How is that?”

      There were no objections.

      Jack laid out his idea over the next five minutes.

      “And that’s about it.” Jack finished proudly as he stabbed a finger in the center of the map. “That’s what I think we should do.”   

      “There was silence around the table.  Axel finally looked up, his eyes surprised. “Well, I’ll be damned.” He muttered.

      Jack laughed sharply. “Axel, did you just curse?”

      Lady Lynette cleared her throat. “It is certainly an....audacious plan, my lord.”

      “Audacious.  Yes.” Sir Alwyn commented. “But perilous too.  If things go badly then we will be slaughtered.”

      “If we lose under any circumstances I fear we will be slaughtered.” Sir Jeremy said, stroking his pointed beard. “But this plan just might work, especially if her scouting forces are as thin as my people tell me they are.”

      “This may very well work.” Axel agreed, studying the map closer. “Of course the Scorpion would have to go exactly where you want her to go.”

      Jack threw up his hands. “Look at the terrain.  Where else can they go?”

      “Is this map even accurate?” Axel asked, trying to find a point Jack had overlooked.

      “It is, my lord.” Lady Lynette answered. “I was raised in this area.”

      “See, that’s even better.” Jack offered. “We have our very own local guide.”

      Axel exhaled slowly.  His eyes focused on Sir Jeremy in unspoken question.  The Master of the Horse gazed back and nodded firmly.  Sir Alwyn was next and reluctantly he nodded as well.  Finally came Lady Lynette and she nodded too.

      “Jack, are you sure about this?  If we lose...”

      “I know, Axel.  If we lose we’re all dead.  Or worse.  But we have to do something and this is as good a plan as any.  Do you have a better suggestion?”

      “I thought I did.”

      Jack patted his program assistant on the shoulder.  “If we fail then so be it.  We tried, right?  But if we win....we can kick the ‘Bitch in Black’s’ sorry ass all the way back across the River Nyder.”

 

 

 

      Lady Cora Golwyn, the Countess of Sharford, stretched her naked body across her luxurious fur covered bed, and yanked playfully on the cord attached to the slave’s gold adorned collar.  The young man caught the hint and sank down as easily as he could while both his hands and elbows remained tied behind him.  He squirmed briefly and situated himself between her spread legs, his face moving to her groin.

      “Oh, yes, Noran.” Lady Cora uttered breathlessly as the slave’s moist tongue moved straight for her clit. “That feels ever so good.”

      Noran was one of her newest acquisitions and thus she had chosen him to come along on campaign with her specifically so he could be properly trained...and also because of his tongue.  He was not as well gifted in other areas.  Her personal slave quarters held male slaves with longer pricks and more toned bodies.  But Noran was a novelty.  He was the best male she had ever seen with his tongue.  And what a tongue it was.  Three inches in length.  Pink and soft as silk. 

      Waves of pleasure washed over her and her fingers entwined in his curly dark hair.  She moaned as she slowly built toward orgasm but suddenly she pushed him away roughly. “Not yet, fool, you’re going too fast.  I’m not ready yet.” 

      “Yes, mistress.” The slave said and returned to his work more carefully.

      There was a call from outside the tent entrance.  Lady Cora yelled back her consent between gasps and a slim blonde woman clad in armor came into the tent.

      “Mistress, the prisoners who begged to petition you are here.” The blond informed her sourly.  She had not been the same since they had been forced to leave her companion behind.  They had neither heard nor seen anything of her for many weeks and privately Lady Cora thought she was already dead.  If she was, then so be it.  Their mission had been not only extremely risky but far bolder than anyone would have suspected someone of her stature and rank to attempt.  But the rewards would have been worth it had they only succeeded.  They had both known the risks .   The woman who stood before her would simply have to get over it.

      Very well, Varisa.” Lady Cora said as Noran’s head bobbed in her lap. “Bring them in.”

      The two prisoners were pushed in by a pair of guards wearing the black armor of her personal watch.  They were a man and woman, both in their mid thirties, their hands bound in front of them.  The man’s clothes were dirt covered, his face streaked with mud.  The woman’s dress was torn, her auburn curls a tangled mess.  They were but two of a growing number of refugees which had been taken prisoner as the Golwyn army advanced toward Raven’s Forge.  They both sank to their knees in front of the bed, their heads bowed in fear and shock of what was happening in front of them.

      Lady Cora pushed up on her elbows to get a better view of the pair, watching them intently as Noran continued to pleasure her. 

      Finally she said angrily. “Well, does one of you know how to speak?  I must assume you have disturbed my pleasures for a very good reason.”

      Both man and woman smarted as if stuck physically but kept silent.

      “Well speak up, damn you!” She yelled.

      “If it please, Your Ladyship,” The man spoke shakily without looking up. “, we had thought to come before you with a plea for our children.”

      “Your children?” Lady Cora repeated. “What about them?”

      “Your Ladyship’s soldiers came to the pen where we have been kept and took them away this morning.  To where, we do not know.” The woman said.  She lifted her gaze briefly and the look in her eyes told of a person nearing hysteria.

      Lady Cora’s brows furrowed. “Truly?”

      “Yes, Your Ladyship.” The man answered. “They are young and innocent and have done no harm to anyone.”

      “We beg of you.” The woman started to cry, her bound hands clasped in front of her ample bosom. “We ask only they be returned.  We fear for their safety.”

      “I forget who you are.  We have captured so many prisoners lately.  How many children do you have?” Lady Cora asked, fighing to maintain control as the pleasure between her legs built.

      “Three girls, Your Ladyship.” The woman answered frantically. “Please, we meant no harm in comin’ here.”

      “Most unfortunate you were trying to travel with your entire family at such a time to begin with.” She commented as she thought. “Varisa, do you remember anything about the children of these peasants?”

      The blond concentrated for a moment then nodded. “I believe they mean the three young girls who volunteered for service today.”

      “Ah, yes.” Lady Cora purred as she fought back moans of pleasure. “Now I know of who you speak.  I had them brought here so I could give them their tasks myself.”

      Both man and woman looked up.  “Y....Your Ladyship,” The man stuttered. “, we did not know it was done on your orders.  We thought they had been taken by the guards to....”  He trailed off, leaving his darkest fears unspoken.

      “They are safe?” The woman asked.

      “I am sure my men are taking good care of them.” Lady Cora told her. “They could not wait to offer their services to my men.”

      The woman started to cry what sounded like tears of joy.  The man was not nearly so moved.  Immediately he looked more wary. 

      “My lady, we are farming folk.” The man told her in a pleading voice. “We have very little but whatever we have we will give for the return of our daughters.  They are everything to us.”

      “Really?”

      “Please.  We harbor no allegiance to the Lord of Hargate.  We have no quarrel with you.  We place ourselves at your mercy and ask that you please give our children back to us.”

      A shudder washed over her. “Ah yes...right there, right there, Noran.  That’s the spot.”  After a moment she focused on the two kneeling before her. “It would seem that your daughters have taken to serving under my banner.  Why should I take them away from their duties and simply give them back to you?”

      By now tears were streaming down the woman’s face.  “Please, my lady.  We only want our children.   They are so precious to us.  As a woman, you carry the heart of a mother as well.  Can you not see your way to letting them go.” She managed to say between sobs. 

      Lady Cora’s eyes turned cold just before they rolled into the back of her head and her breathing came hard.  Waves of pleasure washed over her as her muscles tightened and flexed.  “Yes, Noran, fuck yes!..now!...now!...now!...YESSSSS!”  Her back arched and her breath came out in a long moan. 

      Once it was done she fell back on the furs, her respiration settled, and her fingers grabbed Noran by his hair.  “Wonderful, my slave.  So good of you.  Remember to take it slowly next time.”

      Noran finally came up for air and flicked his obscenely long tongue at her. “Whatever your pleasure, mistress.”  He was rewarded with a harsh slap across the face for his brief insolence.

       “Get away from me, dog, before I have you whipped!”   She commanded menacingly and slowly he slinked backward.  Lady Cora threw her leg over him and rolled onto her stomach.  She propped her head up on her forearm and gazed down at the prisoners.  They had cast their eyes down again so they would not see what was happening on the bed. 

      She asked them.  “When were you captured?”

      “T..two days ago, Your Ladyship.”

      “And where were you taken?”

      “Along the road, Ladyship.”

      “Why?  Where were you going?”

      The two looked up, their eyes growing wide. “M...my lady, we...we were...”

      “I shall ask again.  What were poor farm folk doing traveling the South Road headed toward Raven’s Forge when they should be working on their lands?”

      They both tried to utter a nervous answer at the same time but the Countess held up her hand to silence them.  “Let me venture a guess.” She remarked coldly. “You were fleeing from me.  Running as fast as you could to the north and the safety of that great, fat pigeon at Hargate.  But in your own stupidity you and your family stumbled into our lines and were taken.”  She looked to Varisa. “Does that about cover it?”

      “I should think it does, mistress.”

      “You thought to come and petition me for the safe return of your daughters as if you were my own subjects.  But you are nothing more than spoils of war taken on enemy lands.  I will therefore use you as such...just as I have done with your daughters.”

      The woman turned frantic again.  The man was looking trapped.  Lady Cora waved a hand to the guards who grabbed the hapless couple amid shouts, sobs and protests.  She then told Varisa. “Take these two fools to the common grounds where I had their daughters pilloried.  Strip the woman and place her next to her daughters.  I suspect they have been well used by now and my men will appreciate a fresh set of holes to poke.  Then take the man and have him impaled on a pike.  Make sure they are facing him so they may witness him die as they continue servicing the lust of my troops.”

      Varisa bowed. “As you command, mistress.”

      She left the tent amid screams of panic and horror.  And then there was silence for a time.  She leaned back onto the soft, decadent fur covering her bed and nearly drifted off to sleep.

      “My lady!” The call came from Lorri, another one of her slaves.  Lorri was a beautiful brunette with a voluptuous body.  She, like Noran, had also been selected for the campaign because of a special talent.  She was Lady Cora’s personal servant.

       “What is it, Lorri?” She demanded irritably.

       “I was sent by Sir Olric.” She said in a soft voice.  “He bids me tell you that the Lord Commander has urgent news and wishes to see you.”

       Lady Cora sighed heavily. “Very well.  Get me some cloths.”

       Lorri quickly came back with a sheer black sleeping gown.  The countess stretched her muscles lazily then stood while her servant dressed her in the simple garb.  Then she took the Countess’s long black hair and bound it in a quick ponytail.  One final touch was the silver scorpion necklace she wore every night to sleep.  She turned briefly to a mirror and once she was satisfied told Lorri to bring him in.

       As Lady Cora stretched out along her bed once again, Sir Ansyl Wellock, the Lord Commander of the Golwyn army entered into the tent and stood before her.  He was a tall, strong man, with graying hair at the temples and a full, salt and pepper beard.  His face was square and handsome with the faint pucker of a scar across his left check.  He wore the obsidian black armor of personal Golwyn service with a red cape and silver scrollwork on his breastplate.

       “Yes, Sir Ansyl, I must assume you have very important news otherwise you would not be standing in my tent at such an hour.”

       “It is indeed, Your Ladyship.” He said gruffly. “Our scouts have made contact with an army to the north of Raven’s Forge.  They fly the blue and gold of Hargate.” 

       Lady Cora’s eyes widened in surprise then she chuckled. “Really?  The pigeon has found his balls, has he?”

       “It would seem so, Your Ladyship,” Sir Ansyl told her. “, he is encamped for the night with a force of what looks to be near two thousand men.”

       The countess stopped chuckling.  “How far from the Forge is he?”

       “Only five leagues, my lady.”

       Her scouts had informed her the terrain just to the north of Raven’s Forge offered excellent high ground and easily defended positions with thick forest close in to either flank.  It was, in essence, a bottleneck.  The first of many in the area.  If the Pigeon of Hargate could reach that ground before her army he would have a distinct advantage.  That pudgy little shit was closer but if she could force a march during the night she could probably still beat him to it.  It was a race now.  One she was determined to win.

      “Strike the camp,” Lady Cora said decisively.  “I want our vanguard moving within the hour.  You shall make for the heights to the north of the Forge and capture them before that fat pig gets there even if you have to march all night to do it.  Understood?”

       “As you wish, Your Ladyship.”

      “As usual I shall stay here a while longer.”

       “Verywell, Your Ladyship.”

       “Make no mistake, Ansyl,” The countess said with an icy tone. “, as the Goddess is my witness, tomorrow evening I want the Pigeon of Hargate brought before me in chains...and before the week is out he will wish he had never been born.”

      “Praise be to the Goddess.” Sir Ansyl said.

 

 

     

      A light rain had been falling for hours and it looked as if it would continue through his first battle.  Jack had passed the point of being simply nervous.  Now he was closing in on being terrified and was probably fast approaching being catatonic.  But Axel was as cool as ever, sitting atop his horse in his gray armor.  It was both annoying and re-assuring that someone could be that confident.

      Jack pulled back on Midnight’s reigns and stopped at his side.  He had gotten used to sitting on a horse but what still bothered him was the odd feeling of being encased in wet cloth and steel.  His stomach was held in by his breastplate and his posture was held perfectly straight.  His boots felt funny too.  They were stiff and unforgiving.  His helmet fit a little too tightly for him, it made him feel claustrophobic, and he had decided he wouldn’t put it on until it was absolutely necessary.  It all felt weird to a guy who had usually lounged on a couch all day in sweatpants and a t-shirt.

      “So,” Jack whispered to his companion. “Do you think this is gonna work?”

      Axel leaned his head over to him, peering out from under his steel helmet. “It’s a little late to be asking me, don’t you think?”

      Jack winced. “Well...maybe.  I’m just worried, I guess.”

      “It’s too far gone to worry.  Everything will either be fine or it won’t.  We will know soon enough.”

      Jack looked to the left and the right.  There was enough morning light now to unmask the ethereal forms which only moments ago had danced in the dark mists.  He could make out rows of horsemen, armor clad and at the ready, standing vigil in complete silence for as far as the eyes could see in the poor visibility, their blue and gold sashes worn proudly across their chests.

      “I think these guys look ready.” Jack commented.

      “They are ready.  They are confident.  They are yours.”

      “Okay so what does that mean?”

      He nodded to both sides at the lines and beads of rain water streamed down his helmet.  He whispered. “These people are not here today because of me.  They are not here because Sir Jeremy and Sir Alwyn ordered them to be here.  They are here because of you.”

      “Me?”

      “They are more than simple vassels required to do whatever you order them to.  Over the weeks you have talked to many of them where one of their own lords would not have.  You have been kind to them as many of their own would not be.  And they have all watched you struggle to learn and adapt.  In many ways they respect that most of all.  You may be a stranger in a strange land here but you have fit in main well.  You are their leader.  You may not see it but I do.”

      “Me...a leader?  I’m not a leader, I’m scared shitless.” Jack chuckled quietly.

      “So are all of them.” Axel countered. “They are not blind.  They see the threat the Scor...”

      Jack wagged a finger up in front of him. “Alright, the ‘Bitch in Black’...they see her threat and understand what it would mean if she wins this fight.  Hargate would be destroyed...and their homes and families with it.  They would rather die than let that happen.”

      For a moment there was an uncomfortable silence broken only by the faint whinny of a horse.

      “Axel, there’s something I have to tell you.”

      “Yes?”

      “Whether we win or lose today, despite everything that has happened...I think its been a pretty good run.  Don’t you?”

      He saw Axel turn to him and smile. “It’s only been little more than a month...but yes.  It has been.”

      They offered a steel covered hand to one another and there was a barely audible clank as they shook.  Then it was back to sitting and waiting while the fog swirled and the rain came down amid the pale dawn.

      In the distance, along the tree line, a shape formed in the mist.  It grew in clarity as it came closer.  It was one of the scouts on foot.  Jack watched as he ran up to Lady Lynette and knuckled a salute.  He spoke briefly then Lady Lynette came over to where he and Axel waited. 

      “The vanguard has passed.” The beautiful redhead told them.  “The main body is before us.  Now is the time to strike.”

      Jack took a deep breath and gave Axel one last look. “Well, here goes nothing.”

      “See you on the other side, my friend.” He responded as he drew his sword.

      Jack removed his hat quickly and put on his helmet.  He had a sword but also two crossbows, holstered on the flanks of his horse, as many of the cavalry had.  They were light, easily handled with one hand and even easier to use, though tricky to reload in a fight.  He drew one of them as Lady Lynette and her guard detachment pulled their swords as well.  Others followed suit and soon the action was being repeated up and down the lines.  Then, in a great tide everyone seemed to move forward to the edge of the forest until there were no more woods to hide in and the empty ground that marked the South Road seemed to go on forever.  Bannermen came up and unfurled their flags, the golden eagles of Hargate rampant on their aquamarine fields.

      Swords dropped to point the way forward and the army began to move out at a walk then a slow trot.  Jack’s frightened eyes searched the mists as he rode among the others.  As they moved through the thick fog a long dark shape appeared in front of them which seemed to be crawling along the road.  The shape turned into a column of infantry, unarmored and unsuspecting.  Then the shouts arose and many spurred their horses forward into a full gallop to close the distance in an instant.  The shouts grew in an ever increasing wave until it hurt his ears.  Jack’s heals dug into Midnight’s side and the big destrier surged.

      It was then that he yelled at the top of his lungs. “This is so fucked up!”

      He lowered the crossbow at a surprised target and pulled the trigger.

 

 

      There were several factors which helped determine the Battle of Raven’s Forge, as it became known.  The terrain was one.  The topography to the south of the village was flat land along the road with large stretches of thick forest nearby for the attackers to hide in.  Another factor was the weather.  If it had not been so poor on that day, as some would say later, then things may have come out differently.  And yet another factor, and purely the fault of the Lord Commander, was the lack of any significant scouts on the flanks of the Countess of Sharford’s forces.  They had been virtually non-existent.  This oversight on his part was perhaps because he had not suspected an attack or believed one was possible at such a time and place.  Another reason could have been that he was in a headlong rush, driven by Lady Cora, to reach and engage his enemies on ground which would have favored him.  Whatever the case for his failures were, there would always be speculation about them.  Sir Ansyl Wellock, the Lord Commander of the Golwyn army was killed in the opening moments of the battle by a crossbow bolt through the eye.  He was identified later due to his distinctive armor and facial scar.  With him lay eight hundred of his men.  Many were captured, others fled.  With those who escaped were Lady Cora and her Household Guard.  She had stayed behind at the previous night’s encampment to watch the torment of her wayward victims.  Once she heard of the disaster that had befallen her army, she lapsed into a state of shock that remained unbroken until they crossed the river Nyder and back into Golwyn lands a week later.  Among those who crossed with her were Varisa, Noran, Lorri, a half dozen other slaves and only two hundred soldiers.  The rest were gone.

      There were many who reviewed the battle and simply discounted the fact that the plan the Lord of Hargate had come up with had been brilliant.  Sir Alwyn Kessel had led a force of only two hundred infantry and barely fifty cavalry to the north of Raven’s Forge and encamped there, waiting for the enemy scouts to come, purposely putting up enough tents and keeping enough fires burning at night for ten times as many.  They had been the bait which had drawn the forces of the Scorpion in.  Meanwhile, with cold camps and barely fed soldiers and horses Jack and the greater part of his army had watched for the right moment in the dense thickets and dark woods bordering on the road to the south of Raven’s Forge.

 

 

      Jack sat on the ground beneath the shade of an oak tree only a stone’s throw from the river.  It was mid spring now and quickly growing hot in the noon hours so a bit of cool rest was welcome after a long ride.  At least he thought so.  They had ridden hard to reach the Nyder.  Now the horses drank from it and the soldiers filled their skins along its banks.  They had all earned their brief rest. 

       He took his hat off, dropped it on his lap and wiped a tunic sleeve across his sweaty brow.  Axel sank down next to him, offering him a fresh cup of honey ale to wash away the dust from his dry throat.

      Wordlessly Jack took the cup and with one flip drank it all down in a few gulps.  He handed the cup back.

      “Feel better now?”

      Jack smiled. “Not much.  I’m worn out.  This campaigning shit is harsh.  How are you holding up?”

      “I’m doing well as always.  Thank you for asking.”

      “You’re a sorry bastard, Axel.  The least you could do as my personal program assistant is have some sympathy exhaustion.”

      “Not in my programming, I’m afraid.” Axel retorted smugly.

      “It figures.” He pulled a parchment from his waist sash and opened it on the top of his hat.  It was a map of the surrounding area and he began to study it closely.  Axel watched him and laughed.

      “What’s so funny?”

      “For someone who thinks campaigning is so harsh, you certainly have become good at it.”

      The Lord of Hargate leaned back against the oak’s massive trunk.  He looked around to the perimeter guards and over to where Lady Lynette and Sir Jeremy stood in full battle armor talking beneath the blue and gold flag of his house.  Satisfied there was no one else around he leaned in close to his companion.  “You remember I told you I was a janitor at a local university?” He said softly.

      “Yes.”

      “I worked in the History Department.”

      “Well, that explains something.”

      “What can I say.  I learned a few things while I was on the job.”

      “You learned how to run a campaign?”

      “Naw.  Not exactly.” Jack told him. “But I did learn enough to know this is one fucked up place.”

      “On that we agree.” Axel said.  “There are many things not right about this world.”

      “That’s an understatement.  Look at those poor bastards crossing the river.”  Jack pointed to the ford not far from where they sat.

      The Nyder, due to the spring runoff from the mountains where it started, was running a little deep but the ford was still manageable for horses and those on foot.  It was the same place where Cora Golwyn had fled, heading south with those few who remained to her.  It was the place his army would soon cross in pursuit.  And it was now where a long straggling line of men, women and children, both old and young, barefoot and disheveled worked their way tentatively through the waist deep waters.  Some wore plain shifts of different colors, others simple loincloths.  While a lucky few drew two wheeled carts others carried small bundles which seemed all they owned in the world and many carried nothing at all. 

      “I don’t remember this being in the brochure when I picked this damned program.” Jack told him as he watched a group of cavalry cross to the south bank.  Most of the refugees shied away from them, running for the nearest cover or keeping their distance.  Some, a brave few, flocked to them like vultures with arms reached out for any handouts they could get.  “Where the hell are they all coming from?”

      “Nordale and the surrounding farms I should guess.” Axel said. “Our advanced scouts have already reached the town and have found many peasants left behind while their masters have fled.”

      Jack shook his head. 

       They started to appear two days earlier.  Sir Jeremy Ross’s vanguard of cavalry began coming across first one, then another, then entire groups of them.  At first Jack had thought they were simply fleeing from the path of the fighting but they were moving to the north from Golwyn lands, not south.  Then he discovered the truth.  They were trying to escape from Golwyn lands.

      Jack had taken the time to ask about them and Lady Lynette answered. “They come across the river to find an easier life for themselves and their children.  There are many lords and ladies of the land who are ruthless toward their own people.  The Countess of Sharford is one.  It is even rumored she keeps an unfortunate few in perpetual bondage.”

      “You mean like tied up?”

      “No, my lord.  I mean slavery.”

      Jack had let that go, unsure of what to make of it.  Later that night, as he went to his tent, he asked Ktari if she knew anything about the slaves the Countess was said to keep.  She was sitting on the ground doing her nightly cleaning when she looked up.  She nodded happily.

      “It is said she keeps two classes of slaves.  The lowest wear a plain collar.  They are the workers and servants.  And the ones who wear the collars with the gold bands...” Suddenly she trailed off.

       “Yeah?  What about the ones who wear the gold band?” Jack pressed.

      “...they are the pleasure slaves, my lord.” She said finally.

      He thought about it for a moment.  “Oh!  You mean the sex slaves.”  Then he had a sudden wicked idea enter his mind.  He pictured Lady Lynette Hunter wearing a collar with a gold band and nothing else, her long, flowing red hair reaching nearly to her full breasts as she went down onto her knees and....then he saw her sister sitting on the ground polishing the grime off of his kit, eyes level with his rock solid hard on.  It had been his first boner since Ayla had...well...

      “Talk about an awkward moment to get your groove back.”

      “What was that, Jack?”

      “Oh. Sorry, Axel.  I was just talking to myself.”

      “Perhaps you were talking yourself into a solution for these people.  They are choking the roads we will have to use to advance and could become a strain on our resources.”

      Jack held up his hands and shut his eyes. “One disaster at a time, please.”

      He had no idea how he was going to deal with the potential flood he was facing.  But for the time being things would not be as bad as Axel made them sound.  Odds were the majority of them had stayed where they lived anyway and were waiting either on him or on the return of their masters and mistresses.   It was the safe bet considering the things that could happen to those who were caught escaping. 

      Jack did not know what their punishments would have been but he had seen firsthand what happened to people who had unexpectedly fallen into the hands of the Countess.

      The day after the fight at the Forge they had come across the campground where the Countess of Sharford had spent the night before the battle.  His scouts had found an entire family who had been taken; a father, mother and their three daughters.  The mother and three daughters had been stripped naked, bent over at the waist with their heads and wrists fitted into sets of wooden stocks and their ankles spread wide and tied to stakes in the hard ground.  It appeared as if they had died there after having endured rape after rape until they simply collapsed from exhaustion and were strangled by the cruel pillories.   But before they died they had watched their father and husband as he was impaled on a greased pike and suspended in mid air in front of them.  He had ordered them buried on the side of the road.  It was the least he could do. 

       But the grisly discovery was not an aberration.  Day after day they stumbled across other campsites as they advanced, where pillories had been set into the ground, and nearby to each of them were freshly dug graves.  

      “We have to press on.” Jack muttered as he fought with the memory of the young girls’ blue faces and violated bodies laid out on the earth side by side.  He pushed against the tree and gained his feet.

      Axel looked up, perplexed.  “I thought you were worn out?”

      Jack shrugged as he walked over to his horse with renewed purpose. “I am....but it doesn’t mean I can rest yet.  We started on this mission because we thought the ‘Bitch in Black’ was out to get us.  Now I’m out to get her before she can do any more damage.  She is one evil woman, Axel.”

      Axel stood, brushing himself off as Jack climbed up onto Midnight. “You have a long road ahead if you are going after every evil person in this world.”

      “Hey man, I’m not trying to change the world.” Jack said as Midnight pranced and pawed the earth beneath his hooves. “But I can at least do some good until we can figure out how to get me home.  And getting rid of her would be a big start.  Besides, if we get to Nordale tonight I might actually get to sleep in a real bed again.  If that’s not a good enough reason to keep moving, I don’t know what is.”  He lifted a hand in farewell. “See ya there.”       

       Jack pulled on the reigns and Midnight galloped away.  Axel watched as Lady Lynette and Sir Jeremy mounted and rode with him, ringed by a detachment of Jack’s personal guards.  Axel shook his head as they turned down the main road and hit the ford at a steady trot, crossing to the south bank amid splashing water and scattering refugees. 

      “You may well do some good, my friend.”  He said after Jack shrank out of view. “I only hope once you are done you will have a home to go back to.”  He went over to his own horse in silence, climbed into the saddle and crossed the River Nyder alone.  The invasion of Sharford had begun.

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

 

 

 

Version 13 

 

By

 

The Gray Man

 

Part III

 

      Lady Cora Golwyn, the Countess of Sharford, known to her enemies as ‘the Scorpion’, was stunningly beautiful as she dismounted her horse and approached the gathering.  Her long hair was combed, oiled and braided into an intricate design.  She wore leather boots, buff colored linen riding breeches so tight they seemed molded to her skin, and a short, waist length tunic.  Her dress, as always, was designed to compliment her figure and distract those men whom she chose to speak with on anything close to equal terms.  She could feel the attention on her and she did not mind.  Her appearance placed so many people off balance.  And being off balance around a scorpion could be deadly. 

       With her audience assembled Lady Cora gave a nod to Varisa.  She, in turn, motioned for the guards to bring the prisoner forward.  Four of her black armored guards brought forth a naked man between them.  He was middle-aged, of medium height and heavy with arms and legs powerfully built.  His head and face was covered in dark hair and his green eyes were fixed on the woman who had ordered him brought there.  Lady Cora was not shy as she stared back at his hatred.  When she moved out of his way it was because she was standing on the site where she wanted him placed, not because of any fear of or deference to the condemned.    The man stumbled and nearly fell but the guards held him firm.  The Countess stood at his feet as the guards forced the man down onto the ground and tied him spread eagled to the stakes already pounded into the dense earth.  The man tried to fight back at that point but there was very little fight left in him.  Varisa had already used many of her considerable talents on him and his body showed the evidence of her treatment.  Soon enough the guards finished their task and stepped away.  Lady Cora pondered the man one more time.  He was fairly handsome in a rugged sort of way and his long, flaccid member and hefty set of balls were impressive.  He had a decent body as well...or at least before Varisa had taken a set of branding irons and hot pincers to his chest, abdomen and thighs.  The man winced in pain as he struggled to pull up the stakes but Lady Cora knew they were too well placed, too deep for that. 

      She faced the group of officers and smiled icily as she motioned to the man on the ground. “I imagine,” She began. “That many of you know Sir Bryndin Bayne quite well.”

      No one dared say a word lest they end in his position.

      The countess continued on wistfully. “I should think so because Sir Bryndin has served me and even my late husband with distinction.”  She turned sharply on her booted heels and stepped around the bound man until she stopped at his head.   “On many raids Sir Bryndin rode forth and killed my enemies, stole their treasures, and brought me back those who would make the choicest slaves and for his service I rewarded him well with lands and servants and anything a good and loyal vassal would want.  But was it enough for Sir Bryndin?”

      She shook her head slowly.  Sir Bryndin remained silent.  His jaw was set and his breathing was heavy.  The cordlike muscles in his body flexed to the limit his bonds would allow despite his injuries.  He was preparing himself for what was to come. 

      “Once, Sir Bryndin was one of my most loyal officers, worthy of my highest trust.  He was even close to becoming Lord Commander of my army instead of Sir Ansyl.”  She spit the last words as if they were a curse.  “But now look upon him.  He lays before you a trait......”

      “Lies!”  The man screamed.  He had heard enough. “All lies!  I am no traitor!”  His eyes focused on the band of men in front of him, many he had once called friends.  They stood silently watching.  “Do not listen to her!  I withdrew!  Any of you would have done the same!  She li...auuuugggppphhhh!”

      Two of the guards grabbed a handful of hair and lifted Sir Bryndin’s head into position as Varisa fitted a heavy leather gag into the man’s mouth and strapped it on.  When they moved away Lady Cora placed a foot on the man’s shoulder and dug a heel into one of his fresh burn wounds.  The man’s eyes became wide with the pain and a grunting scream emerged from his throat.  “I shall thank you not to interrupt me again.” She told him with a sneer and a final twist to her boot. 

      Once she was done she stepped back glaring at all those around her.  “Did you not hear him?  He dares to call me a liar when he has uttered so many lies to us all....such as the lie about Nordale.  Sir Bryndin was in command there.  He was supposed to hold the town but was forced to withdraw...or so he said.” 

       With an angry jerk of her head she commanded a scribe to step forward.  The scribe did so.  He unraveled a scroll and cleared his throat as he began to speak.  “Sir Bryndin Bayne, Knight and Officer, formerly in the service of Her Ladyship, the Countess of Sharford, you have been charged with treason against your Lady and Mistress, for purposely having subverted and disobeyed her direct orders to hold the village of Nordale and the surrounding area from enemy hands.    Having been accused and arrested you were put to the question and confessed to abandoning the village without a fight and attempting to flee back to your home.  After being given a fair trial in all manners of the law you have been found guilty.”

       Sir Bryndin shook his head violently, claiming his innocence from behind his gag.  The scribe continued reading, oblivious to the outburst.

      “And so, as is the law of the land, the sentence for treason is death.  The sentence shall be carried out at Her Ladyship, the Countess of Sharford’s discretion and in the manner of her choosing.”

      The scribe bowed gracefully and was gone.   

      Lady Cora stood at Sir Bryndin’s head and purposely stood on his hair so he could not lift his head from the ground.  She looked down at him, her eyes filled with evil intent.  “And so how does one best kill a traitor?”  She asked him.  His only answer was a wild grunt of anger and frustration.  She quickly lifted her gaze to the others. “Hmmm?  Sir Olric?  Do you know?”  That worthy shook his head in silence.  “No?  How about you, Sir Marin?  Do you know?”  Again no answer came.

      Lady Cora sighed.  “Well, if no one knows, I shall tell you.” Her eyes turned to glaciers as they watched. “You kill them as slowly as you can......Varisa?”

      Varisa came forward and Lady Cora turned her attention to Sir Bryndin.  “I have contemplated your fate ever since Nordale fell.  I ordered you to stay and fight but you ran instead, saving your own skin.  Your actions have eaten away at me for some time but soon the tables will turn.  It is you who will be eaten.  Let me tell you of your predicament.  You have been staked out near a fire mite mound.  I shall have your wounds and...oh yes...your privates covered in sweet oil.”  Sir Bryndin’s eyes widened and the first traces of fear wear apparent.  It was like a fresh breeze to the countess.  “Ah, yes.  You understand, don’t you?  You must have seen fire mites when stimulated with sweet oil.  The bite of one or two is horrid.”  She paused then for ultimate effect. “But shortly you will be covered with hundreds.”  Servants with jars of oil knelt at the condemned man’s side and began to rub handfuls of the sticky fluid onto his body at Varisa’s direction. 

       “You shall die here, Sir Bryndin.  You shall die in agony as you are de-fleshed one layer at a time.  And what’s more, you shall remain here as a lesson to others who doubt if they should obey my commands.  But have no fear.  I would have you know that your wife and son, who you were so desperate to get back to, are safely in my care, awaiting my pleasure in the dungeon of Sharford Castle.  Perhaps I shall pay the soon-to-be widow and that strapping young bastard of yours a visit to offer my condolences on your demise.” 

      Sir Bryndin’s eyes bulged in horror.  He screamed into his gag and struggled in vain against his bonds.  The servants soon moved away leaving tendrils of oil on the sandy soil as paths for the fire mites to follow. 

      Lady Cora went over to where the group of officers stood in hushed silence.  “Remember what has happened here today.” She told them.  “Tell your men to remember as well.  Such will be the end for any who fail me.  You may go....all accept you, Sir Olric.  I shall have a word with my new Lord Commander.”

      The group of officers, some with faces as pale as death, scattered as quickly as they could.  Sir Olric Dunsan waited patiently, showing no sign of his feelings and paying no attention to Sir Bryndin writhing and screaming into his gag.  

      Lady Cora grabbed him gently by the arm and guided him away from the horrible scene.  “Sir Olric, I must return to the castle soon but I wanted to speak with you about how matters are progressing.”

      Sir Olric dropped his voice so no one else could hear.  “You ladyship, I feel I must tell you in all honesty we are in a bad way.”

      “Really?  How bad?”

      Sir Olric came on guard as soon as she spoke.  It was sometimes dangerous to tell the countess the truth.  In her best mood she could be accepting.  But after the past few weeks, Sir Olric just didn’t know.  However, he surmised, if she found out he had lied or not told her the complete truth....he could end up next to Sir Bryndin.  It sent a shiver down his spine to think of it.

      “Ladyship, the enemy has taken near half of your lands and is twenty leagues away from Sharford as we speak.  Only three day’s hard march.”

       “What of the army?” She asked with a hint of a cold smile. 

       Sir Olric nodded.  “We have managed to put together a small force.  But those we have are little more than boys in plate and mail.  Too many good men were lost in the Western Wood.  They were the hardened veterans of countless raids and other actions.”

       “Do you have any plans?”

       “My first thought would have been to fall back on the castle and wait the enemy out from behind the safety of its stone walls.” He commented hopefully but she shook her head.

       “You know well I have forbidden such a course.” She told him sourly. “I will not be trapped behind Sharford’s walls while this fat toad roams freely throughout my lands.  I demand you offer open battle.”

       “Then, your ladyship, we find ourselves in a position,” He expressed himself with brutal honesty. “, where we cannot maneuver without opening up the castle to assault and we cannot attack for we do not have enough men and it would surely fail.  Lord Dullman will strike soon.  He has moved fast so far and there is no reason to think he will stop.  I fear our only hope is to fight him to a standstill.  If we can keep him at bay then this could well last into the summer.  By then the vast resources of Sharford will begin to show.  Our numbers will grow while his will decline.  He will tire of this war and could very well take an offering of peace.  But above all, no matter what happens, we must keep the army together.”

       Lady Cora’s dark mood eased a bit as she ran a hand down the front of his breastplate. “If that is what you think is the wisest course.  For years you have served me well as the captain of my guard.  I trust your judgment to be sound.”

       Sir Olric bowed. “I shall do my best, your ladyship.”  What else could he say?

       “Of that I have no doubt.” The countess said. “But even so I have some plans of my own.  I should think they will work quite well.”

       Lady Cora looked over her shoulder where Varisa stood sullenly in plain dark breaches, tunic and breastplate.  She motioned for her to come over.

       “I am sure you know of my dear Varisa.” Lady Cora purred as the woman approached, her sword swinging at her hip, her long golden ponytail bobbing. 

      “Of course, ladyship.”  He did not mention he had not been able to stomach her presence ever since her and that other woman, Ayla, had come to the castle.  At least the other one was gone.

      “She carries with her a set of orders, Sir Olric.  She will accompany you on campaign to make sure they are followed to the letter.”

      The lord commander nodded with barely concealed apprehension. “As you wish, your ladyship.”

      Lady Cora reached up to run the back of her hand gently across his cheek.  “I must leave now but my prayers go with you.  Be sure you do not fail me as others have done.” 

      The black haired beauty bit her lower lip softly and left, giving one final glance at Sir Bryndin Bayne.

      He screamed and thrashed about as the first tiny insects swarmed over his oil covered skin.  Not far from where he lay a post had been set.  A plaque covered in large white letters was nailed to the top.

      It had a simple message.  

      HERE LIES A TRAITOR

     

 

 

      Sharford village had never been the happiest of places.  In the best of times it was a dreary, overcrowded warren within the shadow of Sharford Castle, the seat of power for the region.  With an invading force so near, the town was a ghostly ruin.  The sun bleached wood and plaster homes were empty or shuttered.  The markets and shops closed.  Many were gone, pressed into service or fled.  Those who stayed remained locked in their homes.  There were few who milled about.  Only the dregs who begged any passersby for whatever handout they could get.  Lady Cora paid them no mind as they cantered down the eerily desolate cobblestone street toward the castle’s central gate.  The trip back from the camp had been quiet.  Sir Aiden Thorne, her new captain of the guard, did not wish to speak or draw attention to himself.  He rode silently beside her, never once looking in her direction.  Her mood could change so quickly and he had yet to find any rhyme or reason to the shifts.  If she had needed him she could have called...which she didn’t.  So much the better.  He did not want to end up like Sir Bryndin after only a few days on the job.

      They ran along in column through the raised gate and into the bailey.  In the days of not so long ago Sharford Castle had been an armed camp.  A place where no one in their right mind would have dared to attack.  But there were so few defenders left.  So many had died at Raven’s Forge, and despite the training groups being full of recruits, there weren’t enough to even man the walls in case of a sudden assault.

      At the entrance to the main tower stood a greeting party headed by Sir Jaylin Foster, the Steward of Sharford.  He was a healthy looking man, clean shaven with solid white hair and the flashing smile of an obedient lackey.  He bowed with a flourish as a black collared slave ran forward and dropped down on his hands and knees.  Lady Cora slipped down from the horse using the slave’s back as a stepping stool. 

      “Ladyship, I trust your vis....”

      Sir Jaylin stuttered to a stop as the countess brushed past him headed into the tower without so much as a word.  He stood up straight and ran behind her, struggling to catch up.

      “Your Ladyship!” He called out as she walked away. “Wait please!”

      She whirled on him at the door to her apartments, stopping him cold with a backhand across his face.  “Why am I surrounded by fools?”

      “Your Ladyship?” Sir Jaylin was aghast as he skittered to a stop.

      “Ansyl Wellock was a brute but he was no fool.” Lady Cora told him.  “He was one of the few Sharford men I have ever met that was worthy of being called a man.”

      “But, your ladyship, Sir Ansyl is dead.”

      She struck him again, this time with the other hand. “You state the obvious to me as if I did not know.”

      Sir Jaylin’s eyes widened, then he dropped to his knees. “Your Ladyship, I did not wish to imply....”

      Lady Cora waved him off angrily.  “Stop whimpering, you spineless pig!”

      “My apologies, your ladyship.  I did not mean to anger you.”

      “Is it any wonder that I am angry?  This was supposed to be over.  The lord of Hargate should be long dead and I should have received my reward as I was promised.  But instead that fat worm is now threatening to overwhelm me.  Do you hear, Jaylin?”

      “Surely not, your ladyship.  The lord commander has an army well placed to stop the enemy.”

      “The Lord Commander is a fool with an army of farmers and street sweeps.” Lady Cora huffed.  “His only plan is to wait and see what ‘the pigeon’ does and then try to block him until he tires himself out.  He will never hold.  The enemy will be besieging this castle within the week unless I miss my guess.”

      She turned and proceeded into her apartments, shedding her riding gloves while Lorri brought forth a glass of wine on a silver tray.  Lady Cora downed it all in a few gulps.  She motioned for the beautiful young slave to return and demanded another.  Sir Jaylin regained himself and stepped inside the door.

      “If your ladyship believes there is no hope, then perhaps arrangements should be made to leave Sharford Castle and go elsewhere.”

      “I did not say there was no hope.  I said Sir Olric is a fool who will never hold.  But I have other plans.  I trust they will soon come to a successful conclusion.”

      “I pray to the Goddess that they will, your ladyship.”

      “Do not speak to me of prayer.” Lady Cora chided after she downed half of the wine Lorri brought to her. “I have prayed to the Goddess for guidance for weeks to no avail.  The Goddess used to talk to me.  Now when I pray I hear only silence in return.  So be gone.  Leave me to rest.”

      “But your ladyship, there is a matter I must discuss with you.”

      “I’m listening.”

      “Lady Trista Bayne begs you to give her an audience.”

      Lady Cora’s eyes glinted with a malevolent playfulness.  “Does she beg?  Really?”

      “Most pitifully, your ladyship.”

      “Good.  Is she unharmed?”

      “Physically?  Yes, your ladyship.  I had her placed in a cell next to her son, as you ordered.”

      “Can she here what is happening to him?”

      “She can, your ladyship.  And she is most distraught.”

      The countess tossed her head back and laughed heartily.  It was the first time she had done so in a long while.

       “Lorri, you must remind me to visit the poor widow when I have a chance.” She told her personal servant after regaining her composure.

      “Sir Bryndin is dead?” The steward asked.

      “No, but he will be soon.  Where is Sir Lanart?”

      “He is resting in his apartment, your ladyship.”

       “Good.” She replied. “Send him my compliments and bid him dine with me on the evening.  We have much to discuss.”

 

 

     

 

       Jack Dullman, former janitor, now Lord of Hargate, threw back another cup of honey ale and looked to his friend across the campfire.

      “I gotta tell ya’, Axel.  This honey ale is some good shit.  If I ever get back I wonder if I could sell the recipe to this stuff?”

      “As with every program, it is most likely a simulation of a real beverage used in your world.” Axel replied matter-of-factly. “I don’t think it would be legal or ethical for you to try to sell a recipe to something someone else owns.”

      “Well shit.” Jack said with a frown. “You know, big guy, I miss the real world.”

      “I’m sure you do.”

      “Now don’t get me wrong.” He quickly added, mainly for the benefit of the others who were also by the fire as the sun sank below the horizon. “There are a lot of things about this world that I really love.” His eyes locked onto Lady Lynette Hunter for a long moment. “Like peace and quiet.  My old apartment was near a railroad track and there were freight trains going through my back yard every couple of hours every damn night.  Oh yeah, and there’s the air.  No smog or pollution.  Just crisp and clean.  And the food?  It’s all awesome.  The roasted chickens and the beefsteaks are great....but there are a few things I really, really miss.”

      Axel smiled thinly.  “And pray tell us what they would be?”

      “Yes, my lord.  Tell us so perhaps we may provide them for you.” Lady Lynette added earnestly.

      “Well,” Jack continued. “I haven’t found anybody who has figured out the concept of pizza and cheeseburgers yet.”

      “I tried, my lord.” Ktari said as she refilled his cup. “You had one of those cheese-things only last night.”

      “Yeah, I know you did, sweetie.  But somehow I think whoever fixed it didn’t understand what I meant by ground beef.  It was a little too...chunky for me.  Sorry, nibblet.  So anyway....oh toilet paper.  I almost forgot toilet paper.” Everyone stared at him as if he were speaking in a foreign language.  And in a certain way, he was.

      “Television, radio, ranch dressing and hot wings, but I think we might be able to fix that, and, last but not least, air conditioning.  It’s getting hotter than a motherfucker around here.”

      “Yes.” Sir Alwyn agreed in his typical short manner. “It has been a hot spring.”

      “And it will get hotter still.” Axel added seriously.

      Jack knew his friend had a point and he was not talking about the temperature.  Earlier in the day Sir Jeremy’s scouts had confirmed the rumors they had been hearing about another Golwyn army gathering to the south to stand in their way.

      “It’s the last gasp of a defeated enemy.” Sir Jeremy Ross offered his opinion when the subject changed. “The Scorpion is all but beaten and she knows it.  They’ve barely a thousand men left.  Her lands are taken.  Her people are broken.  Mark my words, my lord.  They will try to parley.”  He leaned in a little closer over the fire as if to impart some special secret. “We should take advantage.  Move ahead and attack as soon as possible.  Hit them now before they can prepare.”

      “The Scorpion may be wounded.” Sir Alwyn Kessel countered. “But a wounded animal is often times the most dangerous.  Perhaps we should hold here, my lord.  Even send out envoys of our own.  What we have done is most unusual among the great houses.”

      Axel nodded vigorously. “Sir Alwyn is right.  Most of the warfare on this scale is conducted by raids and counter raids.  A burned village here or there is the worst thing done.  We are on uncharted ground.  If we continue on as we are we may well anger the other local houses into joining forces against us.”

       “If this is my lesson in Medieval World politics, it’s coming at a bad time.  We’re asshole deep in enemy territory with an army big enough to pull down the ‘Bitch in Black’ before the week is out and NOW you are worried about what the neighbors might think?”

       Axel shrugged. “It is a consideration.”

      Jack threw up a hand as if swatting a fly away. “Fuck considerations.  She started it.  I wonder how many of these other nobles were almost murdered in their own castles by the woman next door?”

      There was silence to answer because he had a point.  Everyone knew it.

      Finally Axel cleared his throat. “It’s whatever you decide to do, Jack.  We’re all with you.”

      “Do you even remember why we are here, Axel?”

      He chuckled. “Of course I do.  Do you?”

      Jack snorted and rolled his eyes.  “Yeah.  I remember.  And I think somewhere down the line we lost focus.”

      “This is not a game, Jack.” Axel warned. “There will be serious consequences to whatever we do.  We must be cautious.”

      “What if this is a game?” Jack countered as the others around the fire squirmed uncomfortably. “This certainly isn’t the medieval fuck-fest I was promised when I signed up for this shit.”

      “Nor is it any gaming program I ever recall.”

      “Well, what if we ain’t in the known database anymore, Toto?”

      “Jack, I think it highly unlikely...”

      “Unlikely?” Jack interrupted. “Everything that’s happened to us for the past three months has been unlikely!  You really wanna know what I think?  I think somewhere along the lines we got stuck, somehow, someway, in a bastard version of Medieval World.  One that wasn’t listed.  Like...hell...let’s call it Version 13.  How we got into Version 13 I don’t know.  Maybe it’s some sorta’ lost program running on its own.  Maybe it’s a failsafe where the users get sent if the mainframe goes down.  I don’t pretend to understand it.  But whatever it is, it’s all fucked up.  So now we have to find our way out.  And the only way I know of doing that is to go forward and see where it leads us.  Do you have a better idea?”

      Axel studied his companion for a long moment. “You have thought about this for a long time, haven’t you?”

      “What else did I have to do?”

      The Personal Program Assistant started counting off on his fingers. “Plan a campaign.  Fight for your life.  Drink massive amounts of honey ale....”

      Jack laughed dryly. “Very funny, Axel.  You’re getting pretty good with the jokes.”

      “....eat too much.  Get your arse knackered by Lady Hunter every afternoon.....”

      “Okay!  Okay!  You made your point.”

      Axel smiled briefly but stopped teasing his companion. “Truly I had not considered it in such terms.  Version 13, you say?  I suppose it’s as good an explanation as any...for now.”

      “Yeah.  It’s an idea we can build on.  But the only way to find out for sure might be to get a hold of this crazy, psycho-bitch countess and ask her ourselves.”

      “Then to do so we must take the castle.” Axel reasoned.

      “My thinking exactly.” Jack said. “We’ve come too far to slow down or stop, dude.”

      “Yet caution may still be in order.”

      Jack raised his hands in resignation. “I’ll tell ya what, we advance as quick as possible and try to catch this bitch.  But if we are called to a truce.....and you all think it’s a good idea.....I’ll agree to talks.  But that’s it.  That’s as far as I’m goin.  No promises.  If the other lords and ladies get pissed at me for what we’re about to do then so be it.  I’ll fight them too.”

      There was iron in his last words and he saw the spines of those who served him straighten ever so slightly with pride.

      “Then it’s agreed.  We continue the march on Sharford Castle on the ‘morrow.” Axel announced.

      There was a chorus of affirmation from around the fire.  The course was settled.

 

 

 

 

      Lady Cora placed the guest’s hand on top her own and walked with him down the long corridor.  She looked into his eyes with a smile.  “I trust dinner was to your satisfaction, Sir Lanart?”

      “As always, your ladyship.” The man replied.  “All of your dinners are so well done.  I should think I will not see a meal of their like until I reach home.”

      Sir Lanart Brassey was a huge man, over twenty five stone; almost as big around the waist as he was tall.  His hands were fat with large, sausage-like fingers, his beard was greasy and his breath smelled of garlic.  The countess knew him to have but two loves.  Food was one of them.  The man had eaten like the cow he was and nearly drank her cellar dry during his extended stay.

      “I must compliment you on setting a most satisfactory table for someone so far from civilization.”

      She bowed her head, ignoring the insult. “At such times as these one does the best one can.”

      “I’m sure it must be horrid.  No theater.  No court.  Only poor wines to sample.” He said with a cultured sniff. “I will be sure to tell my brother of how you suffer out here.  Such a lovely creature as yourself deserves better.”

      Lady Cora’s smiled deepened despite her revulsion at being so close to him. “You are too kind, Sir.”

      “Nonsense.” Sir Lanart told her. “Silvan shall know of what is going on here.”

       “Do you mean the fighting?”

       The big man nodded. “He shall know of the heinous acts this Lord Dullman is committing against your people and he shall be put down and brought to justice.  I give you my word.”

      Lady Cora stopped and turned to him.  She placed a hand on her cleavage to steady her heart, suddenly fawning with emotion. “Oh, may the goddess bless you, Sir Lanart.  I’ve hoped for someone to answer my plea for aid.  This Lord Dullman is evil incarnate.  The things he has done.....”

      The countess paused and tried to catch her breath.

      “Do not fret, your ladyship.” Sir Lanart told her, openly concerned. “We shall see this man destroyed soon enough.”

      “This very night would not be soon enough, Sir.” She said, sounding as if she were ready to faint.

      Lanart’s confidence vanished and he stammered apologetically. “Un...unfortunately it is a long journey back to Knightsbridge.  It would be still longer to consult with my brother and return.”

      “Then there is no hope for me.  Am I to be abandoned to fight alone?” She asked, a tear forming in her soft blue eyes.

      “Nay, your ladyship, but there is scant help I can offer you for now.  Have matters truly come to such a sorry state?”

      Lady Cora started to walk again amid a swish of skirts.  For the months Sir Lanart had been a guest at the castle he had been in the dark about almost every aspect of the conflict between Hargate and Sharford.  Fortunately he was a blind fool and keeping him miss-informed had not been too difficult.  But it was now time to come clean. 

      “I had thought not to worry you, Sir Lanart, but the situation is desperate at best.  Lord Dullman is within three days march of the castle and, unless the Goddess grants us a miracle, we will not be able to stop him.”

      Sir Lanart was dumbfounded by the confession. “My dear, I had no idea!  This is a most grave situation indeed!”

      “I do not mean to be an unkind host,” She continued on hesitantly. “, but as it stands, it may be best if you were to leave the castle and return home as swiftly as possible.  My men still control the roads east...some of them, at any rate.  But I do not know for how much longer.  It would seem I cannot guarantee your safety anymore.”

      The envoy bristled. “Your ladyship, I would be remiss if I did not stay and see to your well being.”

      “No, Sir Lanart.  Please.  It is so brave of you but I would not have you fall into the hands of such a fiend as he.” Lady Cora begged. “He would do things, unspeakable things which...” She stopped to calm herself, again a hand went to her ample chest.

      Sir Lanart made a poor attempt to hide his nervousness beneath a blanket of bravado. “I shall not leave you to such a horrible fate.  Perhaps you will come with me.  The roads are long and I am poor company but I believe my brother would be most taken with you.”

      The countess tuned up to cry, pulling out a silk cloth to dab at her eyes. “And leave Sharford behind?”

      “Only for now.” Sir Lanart added quickly. “My brother is a powerful man.  Once he hears of how you went to this villain in peace and barely escaped with your life he will be enraged.  You could petition him in person.”

      “I don’t know if I could.  I feel responsible for Ayla’s death.  She was one of His Grace’s favorites, was she not?”

      “Indeed she was.  Both Varisa and Ayla have served my family well.”

      “Just as Varisa continues to serve me at your bequest.” Lady Cora said with forced gratitude. “For which I thank you.”

      “Pity about the girl.” Sir Lanart sniffed. “Are you sure of her death?”

      “One can only hope poor Ayla has found some final release.” She remarked sadly. “I shudder to think what could be happening to her if she were still alive.”

      Sir Lanart sighed. “My brother will be most inconsolable.”

      “That is why I think it best if you were to speak for me.  He may focus upon me as the reason for the girl’s loss.”

      “Very well.” He answered. “But you should still come with me.  Events here sound dreadfully dangerous.  There is much life and culture to partake at Knightsbridge.  You would be my guest, under my protection until I have shown my brother what is happening out here and we can decide on a course of action which will correct this little problem once and for all.”

      She turned to him and shuddered with released emotion. “Truly?  The favor of the Goddess be upon you, sir.  I have prayed for weeks to find someone who would help. You have answered those prayers.  But...but perhaps I should stay to await the coming battle.  It would be unseemly of me to flee the castle while my brave men are still fighting in the field.”  

      He smiled yet deep down in his belly there was a queasiness growing as his own safety hung in the balance. “We shall wait for word of your coming battle.  If matters should turn then we will go.”

      She curtsied to him, a sign of far more respect than she felt.  But it was something she had to do.  “You are too kind by far.”

      They continued to walk until they reached the guest rooms set aside for Sir Lanart.

      “I must rest now, your ladyship,” He told her before going in. “, but it has been a delightful evening.  I thank you for your hospitality.”

      Lady Cora nodded with a slight twinkle in her eye.  “I wish you a good night, Sir Lanart.  I hope you do not mind but I have provided you with some entertainment I am sure you will enjoy.”

      Sir Lanart’s smile grew ever wider.  He opened the door and found a dark haired youth face down on his bed, bound hand and foot to the four corner posts, wearing only a golden collar around his neck.  “Oh my dear.” He muttered, barely able to control himself.

      “He is yours.  Consider him a gift.” She supplied though she didn’t even know if he was listening.

      “Is he broken?” He asked.  His skin appeared smooth except where he had struggled against his bonds and rubbed his wrists and ankles raw.  And there were several pinkish lines crossing the two fleshy orbs of his ass, the sign of a caning.

      “Nothing that won’t heal.  He has been handled roughly but remains untouched.” She assured him. “You will find him most pliable.”

      “Pliable?  Are you sure?  There can be such fire and tenacity in one so young.” He told her, salivating.

      “His slave training was, of a necessity, short and brutal....but it was complete.  He will give you no trouble.  You have my word.”

      “Thank you, your ladyship.” He bowed his head to her. “I shall not forget you for this.”

      Lady Cora began to back out of the room.  When she got to the door she stopped and gave the son of Sir Bryndin one final glance. “His name is Nicholus.  Have joy of him.” 

      “Thank you.  I will.”

      She closed the door when Sir Lanart began to remove his cloths.

 

 

 

 

      With the towers of Sharford Castle barely visible off in the distant haze the two armies met in a large clearing.  A two story wood framed structure loosely called an inn and a set of crossroads were on the edge of that clearing.  White Tavern was the name of the place.  The Golwyn army, a ragtag force of only eight hundred infantry and a handful of cavalry, sat over the intersection guarding the route to Sharford with their lives.  On the other end of the field, with Axel and Lynette at his side, Jack watched his own men deploy from a nearby hill. 

       He was burning up in his armor.  He had put his helmet aside, so he wore the wide brimmed beige hat he usually preferred.  The breastplate was heating up and the greaves and shoulder pauldrons were like ovens.  But even if he was roasting in the scorching heat he was awestruck by the sight before him.  Sunlight glinted off countless pikes and spears.  The steel helmets and breastplates of cavalrymen shown with the brilliance of tiny stars beneath flapping banners of blue and gold.  A low but continuous rumble filled the air as his men moved forward; seven hundred cavalrymen to the left and right of a massive line of heavy infantry.  He had never seen such a display.

      He had been in the thick of the fighting at Raven’s Forge but that had been different.  He could remember only snippets here and there.  People screaming and being hacked to pieces or shot with crossbows.  He had only seen a small section of the field amidst the fog.  Here he could witness everything.

      “Those guys over there are so screwed.” He muttered.

      “Aptly put.” Axel agreed dryly. “We’ve have over a two to one numerical superiority with the initiative, training and experience to boot.”

      The rumbling stopped.  The army reached its set lines.  Only an eerie quiet hung in the air, accompanied by the flutter of his banners snapping over his head and the occasional courier riding back and forth.

      Lady Lynette observed the lines for a time.  “I believe we are ready, my lord.  Sir Alwyn awaits your signal.”

       Someone on the field yelled out.  It sounded strange as it was carried by the wind.  A half dozen riders struck out from the Golwyn army for the center of the field.  Jack noticed each one wore black armor from head to toe, with one carrying a rectangle of stark white cloth on a pole.  A pair of riders rode out from his own lines and met them there.

      “Okay, what’s happening?” Jack asked and Lady Lynette nodded.

       “It is as we suspected. They wish to talk.”

      “About what?”

      “Remember what you said, Jack.” Axel chided.  He was in full armor as he had been at Raven’s Forge and the heat didn’t appear to bother him at all.

      Jack suddenly felt cornered. “What is that supposed to mean?  What did I promise?”

      Lady Hunter refreshed his memory. “I believe you said you would talk if a truce were called and we all agreed it was for the best.”

      Jack shook his head, giving her a disgusted glance. “Thanks, Lyn.  How could I forget.”

      The Hargate men broke off from the group and returned to their lines while the black clad Sharford men waited.  It wasn’t long before a messenger came up the hill and informed him of what was going on.

      “Sir Alwyn Kessel’s compliments, my lord, but the enemy wishes to parley a truce.”

      Jack tilted his head over to Axel who nodded. “At least see what they have to say, Jack.  They may be ready to surrender.”

      “I agree it is for the best but you must go well protected.” Lady Lynette added. “Take the Eagle Guards with you, my lord.”

      “The Eagle Guards?” Jack asked with consternation.  “Who the hell are they?”

       Axel chuckled deep within the recesses of his helmet and Lynette grinned.  “The same men who have been guarding you ever since you were rescued...oh sorry, my lord.  I did not wish to bring back bad memories.”

      “No, no, it’s okay.”  The Eagle Guards?”  They were the same annoying bastards who had followed him around at Hargate Castle like a group of wayward geese and been at his side during the attack at Raven’s Forge.

       “If they’ve been protectin’ my fat ass since I got here they deserve a nickname if it’s what they want.”  He sighed heavily.  He had a really weird feeling about this.  A sudden thought flashed through his mind.  Maybe he could order the advance anyway.  Maybe he should order it.  Crush the enemy before they would even have a chance to react.  But, no.  Just as quickly he dismissed the idea.  They were under a flag of truce.  The white banner.  It was sacred even in his own world.

       “Okay.  Let’s do this.  Get ‘em ready to ride, Lyn.”

       “As you command, my lord.”

      Jack and Axel, accompanied by eight guards wearing gold chains with pendants of a rampant eagle around their necks trotted out to meet those who waited under the flag of truce.  They were joined by Sir Alwyn as they went out into the empty field.  Jack pulled back on the reigns and Midnight pranced to a halt fifteen feet away from them.  The Eagle Guards fanned out behind him and Axel and the Master-of-Foot came up to his sides.

      A lone knight walked his horse forward.  His armor was dinged and dented, the breastplate embossed with the emblem of a silver scorpion.  A single plumed feather, dyed crimson, protruded from the back of his helmet.  He stopped, raised his visor.  Inside was a face which at one time may have been young, but responsibility had taken its toll.  Yet his back was straight and his voice strong. 

      “I am Sir Olric Dunsan, Lord Commander of the Golwyn army.” He said to them. “I am here at the order of Her Ladyship, the Countess of Sharford.  I demand parley by the rights of warfare as sanctioned by all the great houses of the land.”

      Jack nodded stiffly. “I’m Jack Dullman, the Lord of Hargate.  If you wanna talk, then talk.  Don’t waste my time.”

      “My lord,” He began, removing his helmet, revealing a head covered by a silver chain mail hood.  “, it is the wish of the Countess that a message be delivered to you.”

      Jack humphed. “And what would she want to tell me?”

      “She says that everything which has happened so far has been a grave mistake.”

      “I’ll say.” Jack snorted.

      “A misunderstanding, if you will.”

      “I’m listening.”

      “She says that in many respects Her Ladyship and you are much alike.  More alike than you know.  She says she has merely been a pawn in a much larger game.  A game you know nothing about.”

      Jack smiled coldly. “It might surprise her what I know.”

      “Did you know it is no accident you are here?”

      “Really?  How did I get here then?” Jack asked, more than a bit curious but trying to sound as sarcastic as he could.

       “Perhaps we could arrange another meeting.  You could discuss it with her personally.  She knows many of the answers to which you seek.”

       Jack chuckled. “I don’t think so.  The last meeting we had together didn’t go too well.”

       “Yes.  She told me what happened.  Yet she still offers you a hand in friendship.” Sir Olric said. “You would refuse it?  We could end this conflict here and now.”

      “What the hell are you talking about?  What did she tell you?” 

       “This is not the time or place for recriminations.  Despite all the offenses you have given her she is willing to set them aside and offer you peace.”

       “The offenses I’ve given her?” Jack snapped. “That bitch tried to kill me!”

       Axel’s hand on his arm came too late.  It was already said.  Sir Olric gritted his teeth and his eyes narrowed in anger.

      “My lord, we came to you in good faith under a flag of truce.” The lord commander exclaimed.  “There was no need to give insult.”

      “You wanna talk about insult?” Jack retorted angrily, his blood was starting to boil. “Bite my ass, you prick!  How’s that for a insult?”

      “Jack!” Axel leaned into him and groaned underneath his breath. “What are you doing?”

       Sir Alwyn rode up between the two sides, his hands raised. “Perhaps we should calm ourselves, my lords.”

      “I am calm, Al.” Jack snarled. “Now get your ass back into line!”

      Sensing the rising tensions, Sir Olric’s warhorse began to jostle about, whinnying.

      “Very well, then!” Sir Olric rumbled icily as he tried to maintain control of the horse and his temper. “If you do not wish to take the hand of the Countess in friendship then she gives these demands!  You will disband your army and leave the lands to the south of the River Nyder!  You will pay the Countess of Sharford the sum of one hundred thousand crowns for damages done to her holdings and lives lost!  You will submit yourself to the justice of a tribunal council formed from lords and ladies of neutral houses who will determine fault for this war!   And finally, if found to be guilty by the council you shall renounce all rights and claims to be lord and master of Hargate!”

      Jack raised a hand, extended his middle finger and yelled back at him. “FUCK...YOU!”

      THUNK!

      Something hit Jack square in the breastplate.  He looked down and his eyes widened.  A crossbow bolt was protruding from his chest.  He looked around, surprised.  They were supposed to be under a flag of truce!  You didn’t shoot people under a flag of truce!  There was a scream.  Sir Olric was yelling something, he couldn’t tell what.  His ears were ringing and everything was moving in slow motion.  One of the black armored knights was throwing down a crossbow.  It wasn’t one of the smaller, one handed types.  This was a heavy, double handed crossbow with a wooden shoulder stock.  He picked up another and shot Sir Alwyn in the neck while he fought with a rearing horse.  He fell backward in a heap, a fountain of blood spurting from his wound.  Jack saw several other bolts fly by.  One of his Eagle Guards fell from his saddle but the others were drawing their own weapons.  People on both sides began to tumble to the ground.  The black knight drew his sword and charged at him.  One of the Eagle Guards placed himself between Jack and the knight.  Steel rang on steel and the Eagle Guard screamed as the black knight sliced downward into his shoulder shredding armor, bone and muscle alike.  Jack slumped forward holding onto Midnight’s neck as a hand came from nowhere and grabbed the reigns. 

      Jack shut his eyes.  He didn’t know what happened next.  He must have blacked out but when he came to he was staring up at the sky.  He was lying down but could feel the strange sensation of motion.  Soon he realized he was being carried.  He tried to clutch the bolt in his chest.  There wasn’t much pain.  More pressure than anything.  He felt if he could just get it out he would feel better.  Not so tingly.

      Axel appeared over him as he was put down on the ground.  Someone was holding his head.  It was Lady Lynette.  There were tears in her eyes as her hands ran a cool, damp cloth across his forehead.  There was a sudden sense of urgency.  Something they had left undone.  Then he remembered.

      “Axel!” He sputtered. “Axel, the battle.”

      He couldn’t hear what he was saying but he saw his mouth form the words. “Don’t worry, Jack.”

      But there was an expression on his companion’s face he had rarely seen before.  It was concern, but for what.  Jack suddenly had the feeling this was not going to be good.  Damn but he wished he was back home.

      Someone reached in and pulled the bolt out of his chest and a wave of white hot pain seared across his torso.  Jack screamed and coughed which sent even more agony into him.  The cough was wet and a sticky liquid filled his mouth.  Be brought a hand up to wipe at his lips.  It came away bloody.  He was coughing up blood.  People hovered over him.  Some screaming and yelling, others took off his armor and tried to hold him.  His head started to swim and he could feel his body jerk.  A dark haze filled the air and the last thing he saw was lovely Lynette crying, calling his name.

 

     

 

 

 

      Lady Cora decided she did not like having her fate in the hands of others.  It was a helpless feeling, one she did not much care for.  The two armies had met, she knew.  Reports had already reached the castle.  But what was happening was still a mystery.  She had tried to concentrate on other things unsuccessfully.  She tried to read but failed.  She paced the rooms of her apartments and tried to eat but found she had little appetite.  Even sex with Noran, her favorite slave, had not taken the edge off her anxiety. 

      Finally she gave up and decided it would be best to burn off her frustrations.  She dressed in black boots, a black pleated kilt, and a dark gray corset decorated with intricate gold embroidery.  Then she went down to the dungeon.

      Once there she quickly found the person she wanted to torment.  She picked up a whip and examined the braided cord leading from the wood and leather handle.  It was thick yet supple.  Just the thing she had been looking for.  She spun back to her victim, striking at mid air and was rewarded with the satisfying crack of the steel headed tip.  Lady Trista sobbed behind her teeth but there was little she could do.  She was tied to a short stake, only about three feet tall, her elbows were hooked behind iron pegs on the back side of the square post, her wrists bolted to the sides at her waist.  Her ankles had been pulled up and bolted just below her wrists, forcing all of her body weight down onto her throbbing kneecaps.  Her head had been wrenched back over the top of the post and leather straps across her chin and forehead kept it secure, forcing her mouth closed and her eyes to the ceiling.  There were two iron spikes on the front side of the post, the first sharpened point pressing between her shoulder blades, the second, and longer of the two, driving into the small of her back.  Her breasts were exposed, her throat bare.  A thin sheen of sweat covered her from head to toe.  Her breathing was slow and shallow.  In such a position every rise and fall of her chest was agony.

      The countess layed the cord of the whip across her breasts and heard her groan in response.  Her skin was smooth and unblemished.  Her perfectly shaped breasts still firm and perky.  Lady Trista was a beautiful young woman.  Bryndin Bayne’s second wife.

      “You poor thing,” Lady Cora said, enticing a shiver from her victim. “You look positively miserable.  How long have you been bound to the post like this?  Two days?”

      She brushed a hand over her forehead gently.  Trista followed her with pleading eyes.  They were swollen and red rimmed, blood shot from lack of sleep.  The suffering in them was apparent.  She groaned plaintively and tried to whisper something back.

      Surprised by the effort, Lady Cora bent down to her. “Yes, dear.  Is there something I can get for you?”

      Through dry, cracked lips she mouthed. “Wa....water.”

      Then it dawned on her. “Water?  You haven’t had any water since you were placed here.  Have you, dear?”

      Lady Trista’s grunted. “Water, pleeeese.”

      The countess nodded to one of the guards at the cell door.  The guard left but shortly came back with a ladle full of fresh water.  She took the ladle, had a gulp for herself then held it above Lady Trista’s head so she could see it clearly.

      “Is this what you want?” Lady Cora gestured toward the water bringing it closer and closer to her mouth.

      The young brunette squirmed.  Her eyes became desperate.  The water was so close to her lips she could taste it.

      “Pleeeese!” She begged weakly through clenched teeth.

      At the last minute, when the ladle was only an inch from her, Lady Cora laughed mockingly and pulled it away, pouring the cool liquid out onto the stone floor.

      “Stupid girl.” She gloated. “I’m the same woman who left your husband to be eaten alive and had your stepson turned into a boy lover’s sex slave.  Why would you think I would give you any water?”

      She bent down to speak directly into her ear. “You are going to die here.  Didn’t you know that?  But first I’m going to whip you raw.”

      Lady Trista sobbed openly, her eyes pinched shut.  Lady Cora stepped back to give herself plenty of room.  She cracked the whip once more in promise of what was to come.

      From behind, at the entrance, someone called with urgency. “Your ladyship!...Your ladyship!”

      The Countess of Sharford whirled about and caught sight of Sir Jaylin Foster entering into the chamber, pushing the guards at the door aside.

      “Your ladyship, word has arrived from the lord commander!”  He caught sight of Lady Trista’s body, naked and twisted, and quickly dropped his gaze to the ground.

      “What is it?” Lady Cora demanded hotly, Lady Trista was all but forgotten.

      “He sent word by courier.” Sir Jaylin stammered, barely able to keep his composure.  “There has been a battle at the White Tavern.  The fighting was said to be fierce.”

      “Yes, yes.  Go on, imbecile.” The countess pressed eagerly.

      “There was a truce called, your ladyship.  Lord Dullman was there...and...and things were said.  The truce was broken and Lord Dullman was killed.”

      Lady Cora’s eyes flashed and a smile etched itself across her face. “Are you sure, Jaylin?  Is Sir Olric positive?”

      “The lord commander witnessed the strike himself.”  Sir Jaylin’s hands shook as he spoke.  “A bolt hit him in the chest which went in four fingers deep.”

      The Countess’s smile slowly began to recede. “He was not beheaded?”

      “No, your ladyship.  He was led off of the field before he could be finished.  But the Lord Commander said there is very little chance of his survival.”

      Lady Cora’s face darkened. “The lord commander is a fool.  As long as there is life in him, the worm is a threat.  What of the battle?”

      The steward was taken aback by his liege’s abrupt mood swing.  “Your...your ladyship, perhaps the courier would be the best to ask.  He was a witness to the day.”

      She handed her whip to one of the guards and moved into the central chamber.  There she waited as Sir Jaylin had the courier brought forward.  He was a man lightly armored and covered in dust.  On his head was a blood soaked white bandage.

       He went to one knee before her.

      “What did you see happen after the truce?”

      “Your ladyship, there was much confusion.” The man drawled amidst heavy breaths.  “Men began ta’ fall from their horses as we watched.  Sir Marin Canmore thought to take advantage and ordered the line ta’ advance.  We took the enemy unawares and drove ‘em back.  The fighting was hard, your ladyship.  Very hard.  Sir Marin held the line together until the Lord Commander returned....but there were too many of ‘em and we were out in the open.  Their cavalry scattered ours ta’ the four winds and turned on our flanks.  But even so we managed to hold ‘em off an’ withdraw from the field.”

      Lady Cora observed the courier with a callous eye. “So you were defeated.”

      Her words seemed to confuse the soldier. “Nay, your ladyship.  Twas’ a draw, I’d say.  The lord commander is retreatin’ in good order t’ward the castle an’ the Eagle o’ Hargate is all but dead.”

      She paused, giving the man an evil glance, then reached out a hand to one of her guards.  She gestured wordlessly to his crossbow which he handed over in due course.  “Why do you presume to lecture me on what a defeat is?  Are you one of my commanders?”

       “Nay, your ladyship.” He answered nervously watching as she drew back the string and set it.

       “Are you one of my advisors?”

       “Nay, your ladyship.” He tried to stand as Lady Cora took a razor tipped bolt from the guard and loaded the weapon.

       “Good,” She said. “, then you won’t be missed.” She raised the crossbow to her shoulder and pulled the trigger.  The bolt struck him in the middle of his forehead.  The courier went backward with a grunt to sprawl across the floor.  His body twitched then was still.

       She stood overtop the soldier for a moment amid the quiet of the chamber.  Then she calmly handed back the weapon and focused on Sir Jaylin. “Inform Sir Lanart I will accept his offer of travel to Knightsbridge as his companion but if we are to leave we must leave within the hour.”

      The steward was shocked to silence but he nodded.

      “Find Sir Aiden and have him assemble my guards in the courtyard.” She continued on, resignedly.  “And ready the coaches.  Lorri should have already made certain they were packed.”

      “What about this one” One of the guards asked, pointing into the cell at the helpless Lady Trista.

      “Leave her as she is.” She replied. “Bar and seal the door.  Let her cell become her tomb.”

      There was one final, whimpering cry as the door clanged shut but the Countess of Sharford was too troubled to enjoy it.

 

 

 

 

     

      Jack woke up covered in sweat.

      “Okay,” He exclaimed drowsily as he threw off the blankets. “Which genius decided to wrap me up in wool during a heat wave?”

      There was a laugh.  It was full and genuine, tinged with a great deal of relief.

      “I think that was Ktari, my lord.” A familiar voice answered. “How do you feel?”

      “Like shit.  How do I look?”

      “You have regained much of your color.  With any luck you shall be ready for another lesson with the sword in a few days.” Lady Lynette leaned over him, dabbing a fresh cloth on his forehead.

      Jack opened his eyes and looked at his surroundings.

      “Where the hell are we?”

      “The White Tavern, my lord.” She explained.

      “Oh yeah?  I hope we didn’t pay too much for it.”  The walls were filthy, the sparse furniture barely usable.  The floor was covered in grime.

      “This is one of the better rooms, my lord.”

       His hand reached up to his chest where the bolt had struck him.  He rubbed it gently.  It was very sore but much better than he had expected.  The quick healing the program provided him was hard to get used to but he was not about to complain.  By all rights, if he had been in the real world he would probably be dead.

      “How long was I out this time?”

      “The better part of two days.”

      His eyes widened. “Huh?”

       Jack tried to get up but the guard captain stood and pressed down gently on his shoulders. “Wait, my lord, you’ve not yet fully healed!  You could re-injure yourself.”

       She called to one of the men at the door. “Go find Sir Axel.  Tell him his lordship has regained consciousness.” 

       “Right away, my lady.” The man said excitedly and was gone.

       Jack grabbed on to Lynette’s arms.  “What’s happened?  Is everything okay?”

       She nodded her head and a few strands of dark red hair spilled out to dangle above his face.  It smelled of jasmine.

       “All is well.  There was a battle but that is all I will say.  I shall let Sir Axel explain the details to you.”

       Jack fell back on the feather bed.  He rested a little easier then...until he realized had an erection fighting to free itself from the sleeping shirt he was wearing.  Despite the pool of sweat he was laying in, Jack quickly pulled the covers back up hoping Lynette hadn’t noticed.  If there had ever been any doubt of his survival, it was now at an end.

       Jack and Lynette talked for a few moments.  Then she left him alone.  Not long after she walked out the door there was a shimmer in the air and Axel appeared out of nowhere.  He was dressed in full armor, his helmet under his arm looking almost exactly like the day they had first met.

       Jack nearly jumped out of his own skin. “Fuck! I forgot you could do that shit!”

       “Hello, Jack.” He greeted with a broad smile, extending a hand to his friend. “How do you feel?”

       Jack took it. “Like I got run over by an ox cart.  What the fuck happened out there?”

       The blond man chuckled, pulling up a stool and sitting by the bed. “One of Lady Golwyn’s knights shot you while under a flag of truce.  Don’t you remember?”

       “Yeah.  Kinda.”

       “Do you recall me pulling you to safety?”

       Jack’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, man.  That was you?”

       Axel grinned.

       Jack quickly became solemn. “So you saved me again.  I guess I owe you another one, don’t I?”

       “You owe me nothing, Jack.  I did exactly as I am supposed to.  Protecting you is, after all, one of my primary purposes.”

       “How’s Midnight?  Is he okay?”

       “He’s in better shape than you.” Axel teased.

       There was a flashing image, something he had seen during the fight right after being hit.  Jack frowned.

       “What about Sir Alwyn?”

       Axel’s grin faded. “Sir Alwyn Kessel is dead.”

       Jack cursed. 

       “You very nearly died yourself.” He added. “We were all worried.”

       “I thought you told me I was nearly invincible.” Jack demanded, unable to understand.  “Lyn said I’ve been out for two days and my chest still hurts.  I haven’t healed nearly as quick as I did before.”

       “Up to now your worst injury was a severe burn.” Axel patiently tried to explain.  “This was different.  You were shot at point blank range by a heavy crossbow.”

        “A heavy crossbow?  One of those big ones with the winch on the end?”

       “Yes.  They were most serious about ending your life with this attempt.”

       “Can you tell me when they haven’t been serious?”

        Axel chuckled. “At any rate, this wound was very deep with a large amount of tissue damage and blood loss.  You may be nearly invincible, but you are not immortal.”

       “So now you tell me?”

       “The choice program is designed to heal almost all injuries, even purge your system of poisons.  However, there are some wounds which, if incurred, will default the user back to a preset area.”

       “Such as?”

       “Catastrophic injuries to the brain and heart.” Axel told him. “The bolt you were shot with punctured one of your lungs.  If it had pierced your heart, which it very nearly did, you would have automatically been sent to the Program Start-gate.”

       “And with no program start-gate....” Jack had finally caught on.

       “Precisely.”

       Jack thought about that for a while.  It didn’t take long before he was ready to switch subjects. “So after I got shot, what happened?”

       “A battle happened.”

       “How’d we do?”

       “Not as well as you might think although the situation now is most agreeable.  The men were disheartened to see you and Sir Alwyn fall, Jack.  It nearly took the fight from them but myself and Sir Jeremy were able to rally and drive what was left of the Golwyn army back to Sharford Castle.”

       Jack nodded proudly. “Good job, big guy.  You won your first battle.”

       Axel bowed his head. “Thank you.  It was not easy but we did it.  At any rate, Sharford Castle has been invested since yesterday and we are laying siege.”

       “Yessssss!” Jack whispered, pumping his fist in the air in triumph. 

       Axel cleared his throat.

      “What?”

      A strange smirk came across his bearded face. “There is one thing I have yet to tell you....and I hesitate to even mention it because I know the reaction I am going to get but....”

      Jack was resigned. “Go ahead.  You may as well say it.”

       “Well....” He continued shyly. “It would seem that since this morning the red and black banner flying above the castle has been supplanted.”

       “Huh?”

       “...by a flag of truce.”

       Jack nearly jumped up from the bed. “Oh no fucking way!”

       Axel raised his hands to soothe is anger. “Now, Jack.  Please.  Calm yourself.  Under the circumstances of what has already happened I would probably agree with you.”

       “Why do I feel a ‘but’ coming?”

       “But...I believe something has been happening behind the castle walls.  Something is not right.”

       “Do you have one of those feelings again?” Jack huffed.

       “Yes.  And do you recall the last time I had one of those?”

       “Ayla.” They both said the name in unison.

       There was a long silence.  Jack lay in the bed staring up at the ceiling.

       Finally he said. “We really need to get you and these feelings of yours checked out.  I can’t believe you actually want me to talk with that asshole again.  He killed Al and almost got me too.”

      “It was not Dunsan who shot you and Sir Alwyn.  It was one of his knights.” Axel argued.

      “That’s a shaky distinction, pal.”

      “Agreed.  However, I do not believe he is fully responsible for what happened.”

      “Why not?”

      “Because I saw his face.  He was as shocked as anyone when you were hit.  He cursed his own men and ordered them to stop.”

      “Oh yeah?  Well they didn’t listen.” Jack snipped.

      “Matters were too far gone by then.”

      Jack’s eyes narrowed. “So what?  Am I supposed to forgive him and invite him down for a second chance at killing me?”

      “There will be little risk this time.” He confided. “If Sir Olric or whoever is in command truly wishes to talk with us he can refuse no demand we place on him.  This is what I would propose as conditions....”

       Axel went on to explain his thoughts and when he was done, Jack grimaced.

       “Those are some pretty heavy conditions.  I don’t think I would go through with it if I was in his boots.”

       “You would if you were sincere and trusted the honor of those who you wished to talk with.” Axel countered.

       “So, in other words,” Jack drew it out. “If the commander doesn’t really want to talk then he’ll drop the truce flag and keep fighting.”

       “Exactly.” Axel said. “And if he wishes to talk in earnest he will have no choice.”

       “Are you sure about this?  Are you sure your feelings are leading you right?”

       “I’m certain, Jack.” His friend replied soberly. “I would not ask you to do this if I were not.”

       Jack took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.  He couldn’t believe he was actually contemplating doing this.

      “Okay.  Set it up.”

     

      

      

     

      Sir Olric Dunsan had chosen to put on his finest suit of armor.  It was polished to perfection, the shining silver emblem of a scorpion on his lacquered breastplate standing in stark contrast to the obsidian black surrounding it.  He was, after all, Lord Commander of all Golwyn forces remaining in the lands of Sharford.  He should at least look the part in front of the enemy. 

      He dismounted cautiously amid a group of soldiers wearing sashes of blue and gold and followed his escort to the entrance of the White Tavern.  The two men he had been allowed to bring with him followed but were stopped by the guards.

      “They must stay here.” The escort told him coldly and Sir Olric gave them the signal to hold.

      Sentries were at the door wearing eagle pendants around their necks, hands on the hilts of their swords.  He started up the steps to the door but was stopped.

       “Arms up, sir.” The escorting knight ordered and hesitantly he complied.  The sentries moved in to search him for weapons.  They relieved him of his sword, sword belt and a knife he had carried since he had become a member of the countess’s guard.  Finally, once satisfied, they passed him through.

       “You may go in.”

       He entered, not knowing what he would find or what type of reception he would get.

      It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dark but when they did he found himself standing in a large common room.  A place where, in better times, travelers and guests and drank and supped.  Men bearing weapons at the ready stood at every corner and nearly every window.  The floor had been cleared accept for a single table.  It had been placed in the center.  And seated at the end of the table in the only chair was......

      Sir Olric’s eyes widened in surprise.  He had seen him hit and all but killed by a crossbow bolt.  And two days later here he was again, very much alive.  The man wore a plain buff colored tunic and white shirt beneath.  His wide brimmed hat lay on the table.  By his side stood a small man with short blond hair and a beautiful young woman with thick red hair pulled back in a ponytail.

      He had always heard the countess call him names like fat pigeon and worm.  He could not say such a thing as he studied him without the bulky gear war required.  He was broad in shoulder and solid, but not as fat as he had been led to believe.  Once again the countess had lied.  He was bald with only a slight tuft of dark brown hair on the sides of his head.  On his face he bore a thick mustache curved downward at the corners of his mouth and grown long, nearly to his chin.

      Lord Dullman eyed him cautiously as he relaxed in his chair.  To his credit the lord commander recovered quickly and bowed to him feeling the powerful stare of everyone in the room.

      “We meet again, my lord.” He said, slowly moving to the area at the opposite end of the table a good distance from the Lord and Master of Hargate so as not to appear a threat. 

      “Yeah, we do.” Lord Dullman answered simply.

      “I compliment you.  You have shown great forbearance in allowing me to come here after the events of our first parley.”

      “Yes I have.” Was all he would say. 

      “I must tell you what happened was not of my sanction.”

      “I’m sure it wasn’t.” There was heavy sarcasm in his voice.  Sir Olric realized then he was standing on very dangerous ground.

      “Believe what you will.  Countess Golwyn gave me orders to make a truce with you if it were possible.  Failing that I was given instruction as to the only demands she would accept.  I had nothing to do with her plan to murder you under a flag of truce.”

      “So now it’s her fault?” Lord Dullman’s brow furrowed. “Does she know you’re blaming her for everything?  Why in the hell did she send you back out here?”

      “I am not here on the authority of the Countess of Sharford.”

      “Truly,” The blond man spoke up. “On who’s authority have you come to us?”

      He lifted his chin as a shot of pride ran through him. “My own as Lord Commander.”

      “And the Countess does not know you are here?  I find that hard to fathom.”

      “Her Ladyship fled after news reached her I was withdrawing to Sharford Castle.  She is not within its walls.” Sir Olric informed him.

      Lord Dullman and the blond man gave each other a short glance.

      “Why are you here then?”

      “To negotiate as best I may.  It is my aim to end this conflict.  Enough have already died.”

      “Then put down your arms and surrender the castle.” The blond man demanded.

      “I would gladly do so...but first we must discuss the terms of the surrender.”

      “After all that has happened, you come here and ask for terms?  You are besieged.  You are in no position to ask for anything.”

      A thin smile crossed Sir Olric’s face though there was no humor in it.  “A siege is a curious thing.  Some work.  Some do not.  There is no guarantee.  If possible, I believe it best to avoid such a long, drawn out hardship.”

      “Perhaps we will attack.  You are outnumbered near three to one.  All your men would be put to the sword.”

      “Then do so.” He fired back sharply. “You would bleed yourselves white in the attempt.”

      Lord Dullman cocked his head to one side and appraised him with a sly look. “You got a set of balls coming back, I’ll give ya’ that.”

      “Thank you.” Sir Olric replied with a nod.

      “Put down your weapons and surrender the castle and your men can go free.” Lord Dullman told him.

      “There will be no harm to them?”

      He shook his head. “They can go wherever they want.  I won’t bother them.  If any wants to stay in my service they can take an oath and join up.”

      “The officers too?”

      “Most of them can go too.  But no more black armor and no more scorpions.”

       “Most of them” Dunsan repeated.  “But not all.”

      “Some will face a trial for crimes against the people of Hargate.”

      “My lord, this has been a hard fought campaign.  Things were done on our advance north.  It is the nature of war.” Sir Olric tried to explain.

      Lord Dullman’s eyes suddenly became hard and cold. “Do you know how many bodies we buried on our way here?  How many victims we found of your ‘hard fought campaign?’”

      “All done by the order of the Countess and by the hand of Sir Ansyl Wellock.”

      The blond man spoke up. “Of those, one is dead and the other is gone.  How convenient for you.”

      “It is the truth.  I swear to it.”

      “You swear your oaths all too easily.” The red haired woman finally spoke with much bitterness in her soft voice. “Did you not also swear an oath to maintain the sacredness of the white flag when my lord was almost killed?”

      Sir Olric leveled an angry glare in her direction but held his temper. “Tis’ true, lady.  What was done was against all laws of good conduct and tradition.  That is why I offer to you, as a token to redeem my honor, the one who was responsible for the attack.”

      “You got the guy that shot me?” Lord Dullman prodded.

      “Aye, my lord.  I have the woman in my care.”

      “Woman?”  There was a note of disbelief in his tone.  He had naturally assumed the knight who had shot him had been a man.  But the more he thought on it the more he realized it could have been a woman.  A suit of armor with a visor pulled down was the perfect cover on a battlefield.

      Sir Olric nodded.  “She has been a companion of the countess ever since our little war began and was given a position of some authority.  Fortunately, such authority was lost when Her Ladyship decided to run away.”

      There was a long pause.

      “Her name wouldn’t happen to be Varisa, would it?”

      The Lord Commander tried not to show the shock he felt when the Lord of Hargate called the woman’s name.

      “You remember her?  She was one of the escorts for her ladyship during her embassy to Hargate.”

      “Let’s just say Varisa and I have a history.  You’re gonna give her to us?”

      “I also offer you myself.”

      The redhead snorted with derision. “You?  What possible use would you be?”

      “I offer my knowledge of the Countess and her schemes.”

      “Maybe I already know enough about her.” Lord Dullman bated.

      “Oh?  I should think there is much you would want to know.  The two of you are so much alike.”

      Lord Dullman pointed a finger at him, a fierce anger seeping into his voice.  “I am nothing like that bitch.”

      “My apologies, my lord.” Sir Olric said.  He dropped his blue eyes to the chest where a crossbow bolt had been. “I had thought since you both can heal wounds so quickly....and you both have, at times, spoken in the same strange manner, there could be a connection.”

      His words had the desired effect.  Lord Dullman’s mouth dropped open.  The blond man’s eyes flared beneath brows arched in surprise.  Seeing both her companions in such a state the red headed woman recovered her wits. 

      “What price would you put on such information?”

      “A parole.” He quickly stated while they were off balance. “I would become my lord’s prisoner.  I would tell him all of what I know and have discovered about the Countess over the years I was with her.  I assure you, I have the most fascinating stories.  Once I have told everything I would be allowed to take my leave and return home like my men.  It is all I ask for myself and my second in command, Sir Marin Canmore.”

      There was a brief hush over the room, then the chair scraped across the floor as Lord Dullman slowly stood.  He placed a hand on his chest as he did so while the blond man and red headed woman helped him to his feet.

      “Freedom for the men who want it....only a handful of officers put on trial for war crimes....you get paroled....I get Varisa.  Anything I forgot?”

      Sir Olric shrugged. “I think it shall do nicely.”

      “Shake on it.”

       Lord Dullman offered out an empty sword hand across the table.  Sir Olric felt the apprehension in the room.  He heard hands tighten on weapons.  He stepped forward cautiously and took the offered hand.  They shook.

       “My lord, Sharford Castle and all the lands of its domain are now yours.”  Sir Olric Dunsan took a quick step back and bowed formally to Jack Dullman. 

 

 

 

 

 

      For months, ever since Lady Cora had given the order to summon her levy in plans of moving north, Sharford Castle had been adorned with banners of crimson and black hanging from the high walls.  Those banners were now tumbling to the ground, their tethers being hacked through by Hargate axes.  The massive flag bearing the Golwyn sigil which had once flown proudly from the spire of the central tower was gone, replaced by aquamarine blue and shining gold.  A procession of men, haggard and defeated, stumbled out of the main gate headed back to their peacetime lives. 

       Axel sat on his warhorse watching them, silently contemplating whether it had all been worth it.  So many had died.  Sir Alwyn Kessel, Hargate’s Master-of-Foot, would be buried under the shade of an oak tree not far from the place where he fell and Axel had very nearly had to bury Jack too.  Sharford had been conquered.  But the Countess had gotten away despite their best efforts to stop her.  Sir Jeremy believed her to be somewhere to the south or south east, headed toward the border regions.  The Master-of-Horse had sent out scouts and detachments to search but Axel believed they had little hope of success.  The countess had a two day head start.

      Lady Hunter rode up to him, giving him a brief nod. “The last of the defenders are disarmed and my men are searching the castle room by room.”

      “Is everything in order?” He asked.

      “There has been some looting but that was expected.” Lynette replied. “Sir Olric Dunsan has been given a suite of rooms with the company of my best guards and the woman known as Varisa has been secured and remains in the dungeon to await Lord Dullman’s pleasure though she seems none too happy about her new living quarters.”

      “Excellent.”

      “There were many prisoners in the dungeon.” She continued on. “Some in rather poor shape.  What shall be done with them?”

      Axel thought for a moment. “If they were imprisoned by the countess, they may not be all bad.  Keep them where they are but see to their needs.  There will be time for them soon enough.”

      “My lord continues to recover?”

      “He does.  He should be well enough to ride on the morrow.”

      “It is hard to kill one of the Chosen.” She said with a smile of relief. “Thanks be to the Makers.”

      “Thanks be to the Makers, indeed.” Axel agreed. “But be mindful of yourself.  Such talk is fine with me but there are things which must not be said where His Lordship can hear.”

      “As you wish.”

      For a long moment Lynette sat by his side not saying a word but all the while she studied him closely.

      “Sir Axel, why do you seem unhappy?

      “What is there to be happy about.” He snorted in return.

      “We have been victorious.  Is that not enough?”

      He turned to her solemnly as a wagon laden with wounded Sharford men trundled by.  “A victory you say?  Perhaps it is.  But it is nothing to be happy about.  There are dark clouds over the horizon.  There is much danger in them.”

      “Are you certain?”

      “I can sense we are standing on the edge of a great conflict...one which will drench the land in blood.”

      “Perhaps we should tell his lordship.” Lynette pondered but Axel shook his head.

      “For now Lord Dullman should rest.  I will tell him in due time.  You see, there is an innocence about him this world has not yet destroyed.  If I were to inform him of what I suspect he would think there is something he can do about it.  He is still new to this world, Lady Hunter, and does not yet realize there is much which goes on in this place that is beyond his control.”

      The sun was setting in the west, bathing the world in its crimson glow.  Somehow it seemed fitting.