FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Book III – Return to Earth

Chapter 6 – The Road to Camelot

Annie and the rest of the females came back to the top of the volcano with Merlin in tow to find James dragging what was left of the orcas into a pile near the portal. Before they got there he used the ruby on his sword to set the pile on fire. The wind was blowing the smoke away from them and the portal.

Annie went to join James by the pyre. She noticed a wet streak on his cheek that cut through the dust of the morning’s battle.

“Have you been crying?” She asked quietly.

“No.” He replied. “It’s just smoke that got in my eyes.”

She leaned against him and put her arm around his waist. “Yeah, gotcha.”

They watched the bodies of the sharks burn while Coyotka, Junafir and Kisha held back.

Coyotka wrinkled her nose. “How can they stand the smell?”

“Insensitive noses.” Junafir answered as she pinched her shut and breathed through her mouth.

Kisha turned her back to the scene. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

Junafir turned and rubbed the shark-girl’s back. “Even if it’s your enemies burning?”

“They are still aquatics, and sentient … somewhat. I just wish that all the killing had not been necessary.”

“Killing is never necessary.” Merlin said from where he was tied up nearby.

“Oh, no?” Kisha asked with hope in her voice.

“Sure. You can always run away and hide. After all, no one appointed you savior of the world.”

Coyotka, who previously counted herself among the pacifists, frowned and turned on the cowardly con artist. “But someone did appoint you guardian of the passageways between worlds, didn’t they Merlin? You seem to have done a pretty piss-poor job of it.”

“I only did it to please my family, but since were on the subject, isn’t it called slavery when you aren’t allowed to quit your job when you don’t want to do it anymore?”

Coyotka snarled and leaned over the wizened wizard wannabe. “You are a disloyal, dishonest, disingenuous …” She sputtered in search for more words to describe the oath breaker. “… ASSHAT!”

“The quality of the vocabulary of the professors at the University of Cognitionis has certainly gone downhill since my day.”

“This will be your last day if you don’t shut your gob.”

“Coyotka, honey.” Junafir said, placing a hand on the coyote’s shoulder. “Calm down.”

“You are a nasty man.” Kisha said as she loomed over Merlin. “I’m going to tell the sharks that it’s okay to eat you if you ever come back to Hawaiki.”

“Yeah? Well, that’s not likely to happen. I was brought here by force in the first place.” He mumbled. “Built ‘em a boat, navigated across dangerous seas … and what thanks do I get? Phaggh!”

Chris, Gael and Magnus returned as the fire was burning down. They reported that the remaining three orcas had run straight to the beach and dived into the sea when they saw the three Terrans chasing them with swords and knives.

“We saw several shark fins follow them out to sea.” Gael added. Looks like Fin Biter let them live.”

“Yes, Kisha said that he could be counted on to be compassionate in victory.” James mused before turning to the shark-girl. “Kisha, we have to leave soon. Are you sure that you don’t want to come with us?”

Kisha looked to Annie and Gael and blushed a bit, but shook her head no. “Sorry, but I’d just be a fish out of water there.”

“Well thank you for all your help and pass on our thanks to Fin Biter too when you see him.” Then James turned to face his companions. “Let’s get our medieval England disguises on.” He ordered. “No telling what we’ll run into on the other side of that portal.”

After donning in their concealing robes Magnus again volunteered to go through first, and this time no one argued with him.

“It comes out in a cave behind a small waterfall.” The stag reported when he stuck his head back through. “There is room for all of us in the cave, and a faint path leading out where we won’t get wet.”

“What time of day is it there?” James asked.

“Early morning if I reckon correctly.”

“Okay, let’s move out people.”

“I love it when you talk like G.I. Joe.” Annie snickered as she followed magnus though the portal.

“Who’s that?” Junafir asked, but James just shook his head and pushed Merlin through ahead of him.

It was much cooler and damper in the cave and he was glad that he had put on his shirt and tunic before crossing over. He doubted that it would be any warmer or dryer in the forest he could see through the waterfall either.

“Which way, Merlin?” He asked when they were clear of the river.

“Hmmm … that way.” The grey beard said, pointing to what looked like a game trail.

“Doesn’t look very well travelled.”

“If it was the portal would hardly remain secret, would it?”

“Right. Lead away.”

Merlin had promised them that it would only take two or three days to get to Camelot. “And once we present ourselves at the gates we will get an immediate audience with the High King, Arthur.” He assured them.

“You do realize that we are not releasing you until we all see the King?” James reminded him. “You don’t get to go see him alone, no matter how much the guards might insist. Our gems have enough magic to ensure that.”

“Yeah, well … they are used to people showing up with me in chains demanding to see the King, so they have a sort of protocol for dealing with it.”

“Which is?”

“If the debt is less than ten silver pennies the guards pay it off and escort me to the King. Anything more than that and they have to bring the claimant with me.”

“Good, because your debt to the archbishop was a dozen gold coins, as I recall.”

“Plus the cost of a good hemorrhoidectomy.” Coyotka mumbled. “To remove a gigantic pain in the ass.”

“Oh, har-har.” Merlin scoffed, but he fell sullenly silent afterwards.

The day was overcast and cool, with banks of fog in the low-laying areas, but the trail was easy enough to follow. As they went they gathered dry moss, lichen and birch bark for the supper fire. James could have used his ruby but thought it was best if they cut back on the magic until they really needed it. “Just in case Ross has some means of tracking us through it.” He explained.

As evening drew near they started looking for a good campsite. Just as they were getting desperate they came upon what looked like a deserted cottage.

“Looks good.” Chris, who had been scouting ahead, reported. “No fresh tracks leading to it. The roof is mostly intact, the shutters have fallen but we can prop the door back up.”

Merlin was obviously agitated by the sight of the cottage though. “No.” He insisted. “We can’t stay here.”

James was puzzled, and suspicious. “Why not?”

“Bad magic vibes.” Merlin sputtered.

“You couldn’t tell a magic vibe from a natural ‘A’.” Magnus observed. He was surprised when Merlin turned on him.

“You of all people don’t want to spend the night there, deer-boy. There are hunters in these woods and the place stinks of death.”

Coyotka wrinkled her nose and sampled the air. “He’s right, someone or something has died here, but it’s a very old death, not recent.”

“Then it should be safe enough.” James decided.

“No, really, I demand that we move on, find another place.” The agitated con man insisted. “For the good our group.”

“You are not in the group.” Gael reminded the old human as he hefted his sword and advanced on the cottage. He peered in through a window and then the door before entering. He was back out after just a moment.

“James,” he called, “you should see this.”

James motioned for the rest to wait and went to join the big horse. Behind him the others crowded into the clearing. Most had their hands on their weapons, except Magnus, who had a hand on his chest and a wide-eyed expression on his face.

Gael stepped into the cottage as James reached the door and then pointed to something by the hearth. James gave his eyes a few seconds to adjust and then leaned over to see better.

It was a pile of bones covered by some rotting material. The bones had begun to rot and crumble. He was no expert but the corpse must have been here for years at least, he supposed. The skull, which was still mostly intact, except for some missing teeth, was a human skull.

He turned and half-drew his sword at a noise behind him. Magnus was standing in the doorway, looking down at the bones and clutching something through his tunic.

“I thought I asked you to wait with the others?” James scolded.

Magnus released his grip and reached inside his tunic to retrieve the tooth with the golden crown that had belonged to his father.

“It started tingling as soon as we entered the clearing.” He explained. “Now it’s vibrating like a fire alarm triangle.”

As if in a daze the stag walked across the dirt floor and kneeled beside the skull. He took the tooth off its thong and brought it close to the bones. Gael and James could hear the buzz coming off it as it neared the skull. Magnus reached over and set it into the lower jaw, between two intact molars. It was a perfect fit.

As if to confirm it was where it belonged the gold tooth abruptly stopped vibrating.

“My father.” Magnus confirmed. I recognize the robe too.”

The sound of breathing came from behind them. The three turned to see the rest huddled by the cottage door.

“We couldn’t stay behind after Magnus went in.” Chris explained.

“Magnus, I am so sorry.” Junafir exclaimed, confirming that they had been there long enough to hear his pronouncement.

“Yeah.” Annie said. “I knew you wanted to find him but … this sucks.”

Magnus let their expressions of compassion wash over him. Then he saw Merlin, cowering at the back of the group, trying to hide but not able to get too far away because of his restraints.

“You!” Magnus said as his eyes went black. “This is why you didn’t want us to go in here, because you knew he was here. You killed him!”

The deer-man lunged at the door but James and Gael managed to restrain him. Annie pushed Merlin forward but stopped him just out of Magnus’ reach.

“Did you kill his father, Merlin?” she demanded as she brought her emerald inlaid spear to the old man’s throat. “Speak the truth or I’ll let him play with your guts before I kill you.”

“No! No. Not directly, at least.”

“Explain yourself.”

Merlin slumped to the floor across from Magnus, who also sank to his knees.

“I didn’t kill Dewin, your father, but I knew him. I hired him, in fact.” Merlin dropped his head and stared at the floor. “Years ago, I was commissioned to lead an expedition to recover the spear of destiny from the great dragon Aldreda on Medioterrae. I tried to have a magic weapon made there but the craft-dwarf was counting on me to enchant it properly, which I could not do.”

“Yup’s blunderbuss.” Coyotka muttered.

“Yes,” Merlin admitted, “that was his name. I realized that I would need a real wizard and some equally holy weapons if we were to have any chance of defeating the dragon, so I recruited Dewin and brought him back to this earth to help me ‘acquire’ some relics to use against the dragon.”

“So, you put my father’s life at risk on a dangerous quest.” Magnus said. His eyes were turning from black to red.

“No, I swear! I knew how valuable he was so I insisted that he stay here while the mercenaries my employer supplied got the relics and brought them back here for Dewin to check out for authenticity. But then that asshole Ross showed up …”

“Ross!” James exclaimed. His eyes had turned red at the mention of the name and his big hands were clenching unconsciously. “Were you working for Ross?”

Merlin cowered. “Not … not really. He was more like … a supervisor.”

James loomed over the wizened old man. His anger was almost palpable. “You were working for my Uncle Rory, and Ross was checking up on you. What did you do to upset him? WHAT?”

“I didn’t do anything! I mean … his men reported that we were not making progress, so I may have exaggerated a little when I told him we had found some significant artifacts. I … I might have erroneously mentioned a spear … but I never thought …”

“You never though that he would come to the place where his mercenaries were bringing all the relics to snatch the spear before it could slip though his fingers again. And when the man you left here … alone … could not produce the spear, Ross took his anger out on him.”

“See? Not my fault.”

Magnus lunged forward quicker than Gael or James could react and got his hands on the charlatan’s neck. With the two pulling from one side and Annie prying his fingers open while Chris pulled the con man away they were eventually able to free Merlin.

“Now, Magnus, lad …” Merlin wheezed, “I had forgotten that this cottage was on this path, but I did try to shield you from this shock. I understand that you may be upset at how things turned out but believe me, after I found your father dead I gave up the search for the spear and concentrated on accumulating enough wealth to retire on some pleasant planet where no one can do magic and the only treasure is in the abundance of womenfolk. Obviously, it didn’t work out.”

Magnus sprang at the fake wizard again and James briefly considered letting him go, but they still needed the High King’s mentor alive.

“Come Magnus.” He said as he gestured for Chris to make Merlin disappear for a while. “Let’s give your father a proper burial. Are there any particular rites we should observe?”

“He was a Christian, before he met my mother. I’m not sure how his church would view a marriage with a Terran doe.”

“The new Pope is very tolerant.” Annie assured him. “In the absence of clergy I’m sure he wouldn’t mind us give your father the last rites so he can rest in peace.”

Chris and Coyotka took Merlin out of sight while James and Gael dug a grave and Annie and Junafir collected flowers for a makeshift funeral. James was notionally Scotch Presbyterian but neither he nor his father had attended church regularly. Annie, a Catholic, had and she had also been to enough funerals to know how they generally went. At the end of the service Magnus played a few songs that his father had liked on his harp while his magic lute accompanied him as the sun set.

When the service was done they found that Chris and Coyotka had managed to fix up the cottage in their absence, making it a fit shelter for the night. There was even a roaring fire in the hearth.

“We made Merlin chop and carry the wood.” Coyotka told them.

“Speaking of which, where is he?” James asked.

“Tied to a tree in the woods.” Chris answered. “We thought it best to keep him out of sight until we had settled in for the night.”

“Good idea.” James agreed. “Why don’t you two take a break? Junafir is taking the first watch and she can bring Merlin in once Magnus falls asleep.” He indicated a spot by the fire.

“I feel like a walk.” Coyotka said. “While the moon is up. Do you think it’s safe enough?”

“If enemies were near Gael’s diamond would have put up a fog to conceal us, but don’t go to far, okay?”

“Sure.” She turned to Chris. “Join me?”

He detected a strange note in her voice. It was not demanding or commanding or harsh, as it usually was when she spoke to him.

“Sure.” He answered. He grabbed his pack then followed as she strode off though the clearing under the light of a three-quarter moon.

She led him a ways down the path they had arrived on, to a spot overlooking a valley that was out of earshot of the cottage. It was pretty in the moonlight, Chris thought, and as there was no evidence of other dwellings in the valley they could make all the noise they wanted.

“Do you want me to break out the harness and paddles.” He asked as he dropped his pack.

“No, just hold me.”

“Hold you?”

Her snout flared a bit, but she controlled it. “Yes, hold me ... like James holds Junafir and Gael holds Annie.”

“Oh, okay.” He sat down beside her and awkwardly put an arm around her shoulders. It didn’t feel natural though, so he dropped it to her waist. As soon as he did she leaned her head on his. It was the only option as even sitting down she was taller than him.

Chris was wondering where this was going when he felt a drop of moisture on his snout. Yet the sky was clear and the tree they were sitting under was dry.

“Coyotka ... are you ... crying?”

She sniffed, removed her glasses and wiped her eyes. “Maybe.”

“Why?”

“Just thinking of Magnus. He was so hopeful about finding his father alive, and now he’s shattered. If I lost my father I don’t know what I’d do.”

“You have a father? I mean ... of course you have a father ... but he’s still alive?”

“Yes. He’s an archeologist. He spends most of his time in the field digging up ancient Terran habitats. He’s not often around, but when he is we spend all our time together, talking about his finds and the theories they help support or disprove, going over the latest books I’d found for the university. Just thinking of getting back to Cognitionis to find that he had died while I was away playing adventurer ... I don’t think I could take it.”

“Don’t wish bad luck on yourself.” Chris cautioned. “Your absence or presence in Cognitionis won’t matter a fig if a band of raiders attacks his site or a brick falls off an old building he is walking by. Everyone dies. Everyone loses someone, sometimes tragically. Just be happy that your tragedy hasn’t happened yet.”

Something in his tone at the end made her ask, “Who was it you lost, Chris?”

He reached into his robe and brought out a strip of woven cloth. “You’ve seen this headband?”

“Yes, you wear it when you’re fighting.”

“It belonged to my little brother. He died helping me provide for our family.”

“Was he an assassin too?”

“No. I wasn’t an assassin then either. We lived in the slums and like most slum kids we stole whatever we could to eat. I was a good thief, better than most. I could break into a manse and sneak around unseen, taking out as much as I could carry, but that was not much if I was going to squeeze out again unheard. The boosters paid less and less for the goods I pilfered, but they demanded more and more. When my little brother asked to come along to help, I said okay.”

Chris looked out at the moonlit countryside for a few moments before continuing. “It was just the second time he came along when he got nabbed. I had climbed out the window and turned to help him through when the owner, who had gotten up to piss, grabbed him by the leg and jerked him back in. I grabbed for him but all I got was his headband. I wasn’t worried though, not yet.”

“Child thieves were normally turned over to the Watch and consigned to the workhouse for a few months for a first offence. I waited by the workhouse entrance so I could pass a message and some food to him when he arrived, but he never showed. I bribed a Watchdog to find out what had happened to him.”

It was Chris’ turn to wipe the tears from his eyes. “He told me that the homeowner beat him to death before calling the Watch. The prick claimed that my brother had attacked him, but he was too small to ever think about taking on an adult, even a fat old fuck like that. It was murder, plain and simple, but the Watch didn’t care. What’s one less slum kid? So I took care of it myself.”

“What did you do?”

“I got a knife and waited for the next festival day, when everyone with enough money is passed out drunk by midnight. I snuck in again, through a kitchen vent because all the windows had new locks, and into his bedroom, where I slit his throat.”

“And that’s when you decided to become an assassin?”

“No, actually. I was going to leave the city before morning but as I left the house I was jumped by two figures in black that had been watching it. They were assassins with a contract on the homeowner and they were pissed to find that I had cancelled their contract. They took me to the city’s Chief assassin, who was more amused than angry. He offered to take me in as an apprentice if I promised not to kill anyone on my own accord anymore.”

“And you agreed.”

Chris shrugged. “It was a way out of the slums, and I would have been killed if I refused, so it really wasn’t a difficult decision.”

“I guess I have been lucky.” Coyotka said as she leaned against him again. “A good home, loving parents, a good job ...”

They sat in silence for several minutes before she spoke again. “Do you like me, Chris?”

“Like you?” Chris suspected a trap. “You’re my Mistress.”

Coyotka sighed. “Besides that. Do you like me for me? Do you like talking to me? Do you like the way I look?”

Now Chris knew it was some sort of trap. Coyotka never talked with him, just at him … at least until lately, when he had started to teach her how to stalk. Now she was full of questions about the theory behind camouflage and how to read tracks. She was becoming a good listener too, he realized. When he explained about picking locks or how best to carry concealed weapons she was attentive and allowed him to correct her when she did something wrong. That never happened before.

But the warning lights were still bright in his head with regard to the ‘do you like how I look?’ question. Chris had not had much experience with females prior to meeting her but those assassins that did had warned him about such trick questions.

“For example,” old ‘Deadeye’ Dick, a one-eyed badger who had with phenomenal aim with a crossbow, recounted one night after several cups of wine in the Assassins’ Guild Lounge, “if a wench ever asks, ‘does this make me look fat?’ the answer is always ‘no’, never ‘yes’, never ‘maybe’, just ‘no’.”

“Even if it does?” a young apprentice at a nearby table had asked.

“Even if she outweighs ‘Pork-barrel’ Jones.” Deadeye had replied, pointing to a painting of a boar who from shoulders to hips resembled a cask of wine. “How he ever managed to sneak into any castle on Terra is a mystery to me.”

“What about me, Sweetie?” Molly the sow had asked as she slapped six more tankards of ale down on the table. Her white blouse and black vest could barely contain the mountains of flesh that only the most senior assassins were allowed to roll around in. “Does me bar-girl outfit make me look fat?”

“Of course not lass.” Deadeye had replied, which made her smile until he continued, “It’s being fat that makes you look fat.”

Chris recalled how the junior and apprentice assassins had laughed as Molly chassed Deadeye three times around the table, cursing the whole time, before she had to give up and catch her breath. But he also remembered how she refused to serve or speak with the one-eyed assassin for almost a year after that, and he did not want to alienate Coyotka now that she was becoming more amicable.

Chris was also aware that Coyotka was a bit self-conscious about her appearance. He had seen her glancing jealously at Junafir’s large bust then looking down at her own modest swell. She regarded Annie’s thick muscles with envy, and resented when the bulky human made comments about how easy it was for the slim coyote to slip through the narrow gaps in the hedges and rocks along the path. She had even grumbled about Netyu’s superior eyesight when James had asked the half-eagle to scout ahead from on high, readjusting her pince-nez glasses constantly on her snout the whole time they were with the avian.

Caught between an issue he knew she was sensitive about and what was probably bad advice from a one-eyed assassin Chris was forced to resort to honesty.

“What’s not to like?” He said. “You are lean and lithe like the best assassins, with more stamina than most, and stronger than you think. There is no excess fat on you and everything is in proportion.”

“How romantic.” She replied, her voice dripping sarcasm.

“Hey, give me a break I’m new at this. I’ve never read the great romantic poets of the thousand realms like you have, I’ve never read anything more complicated than the street signs of Norumbega, but I know what I like.”

He turned where he sat and took her hands between his. “I love to watch you when you bathe, when your fur is wet and clingy, and I can see all the muscles and tendons flex and stretch when you bend over to wring out your tail. I like the way your jaw turns up to your cheek so cleanly, and the line of your snout. And I particularly like the way the setting sun turns your light brown eyes to gold and how big they look through the lenses of your glasses. And your breasts when they are in my hands …” he faltered.

“Like two timid doves?” She suggested.

“No, like the meat pies I used to steal from the baker. They were warm and firm and just fit perfectly into my palm.”

“And that’s a good thing?”

“Sure, every street thief knows that taking anything too big to fit into your hand is bad for you.”

Coyotka threw back her head and laughed. “Well, meat pies, that’s a new one. If we run into Shakespeare while we flit back and forth across the time-lines I’ll have to suggest that to him.”

“Who’s Shakespeare?”

“Never mind, a minor earth poet. She looked back at him, where the moonlight etched his features in black and white. “You are not so bad looking yourself.”

“Really?” He said, fingering the stump of his left ear and them letting the hand drift down along the deep scar in his snout and chin.

“Yes. Your ashen-silver fur is quite striking, and the scars make you look dangerous, in a sexy kind of way.

His yellow eyes glowed. “I never thought of that.”

“Don’t kid me. I’m sure there were plenty of assassin groupies hanging around the guild hall admiring your wounds.”

“Not really. Most senior assassins are missing a lot more flesh and appendages than me, stuff you can notice even when they are wearing the standard black robe. They are the ones that get all the assassin-addicts, as we call them. You’ve seen more of my fur than any … female … body … anybody, anybody at all.

Coyotka leaned forward and hugged him again. This time his arms went around her as if they belonged there.

“Funny,” she said as she rested her muzzle on his shoulder, “ a couple of months ago all I wanted was to add more books to the university library and learn more about the wanderers. Now I’m learning to stalk and kill people.”

“We’re still on stalking. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to move on to actual killing techniques.”

“Oh shush. Kiss me.” She said, leaning back so her snout was just in front of his.

“Uh, okay, Coyotka.”

“Constance.”

“Pardon?”

“Constance. It’s my name, Constance Jotkowska. Tonight, I want you to call me Constance.”

“Alright … Constance.”

Chris tilted his head slightly and brought his lips to hers. Their mouths parted in unison and canine lips sealed against vulpine ones in a perfect match. Inside the cavern their melded muzzles made two tongues slowly explored.

As tongues swam and wrestled hands began to wander. His moved up and down her back, going as far down as where her tail emerged and up to where the fur was thick on her shoulders. One of hers went to the back of his head where she dug her fingers into the silvery fur while the other traced the bumps of his spine.

Chris had to admit that it felt good, her pressed against him without so much as a slap or a pinch. Encouraged, he let his hands explore farther.

She had taken off her shape-concealing robe when they had sat down and was dressed in a light undergarment that resembled a nightdress. There was a hole at the back for her tail and laces at the front to hold it closed. He slid one hand down to the globe of firm flesh behind her hip and squeezed it through the thin material. She did nothing to stop him so he rubbed it, traced the contours and pressed the linen into the gap below her tail. There was a slight gasp when his digits touched something sensitive down there, but she only pressed his head harder against his in response.

Next he took his other hand and slid it between them. Without breaking contact with her lips she puled her chest back away from his to make room. Without looking his hand found the knot at the top of her garment and undid it instinctively. After a gentle pull it was open enough for him to get his hand inside, and it went immediately to her breast, cradling it, kneading it, relishing in the warmth of it.

He had also managed to pull her skirt up enough to get the other hand under it to massage her buttocks and the spaces between. He revelled in the feel of her furry butt cheeks under his palm, and the way they clenched down on it when digits dove to brush against the bottom of her mound. He did not press on though; instead, he ran his fingers up and under her tail, and felt her twitch as they brushed over her bare anus. He circled his digits around her thick tail and stoked its length before exploring the dampening cleft again.

She was moaning now as the scent of desire began to rise between them and her nipple hardened against his palm. Something hard and stiff had grown up between them and she dropped a hand to squeeze it through the rough material of his trousers. The thick cotton robbed him of most of the sensation, but at this point that was a good thing.

Not good enough for her though. She broke away from his face and used both hands to undo the buttons on his shirt before throwing it back over his shoulders. He had to abandon his quest to shake it off while she leaned down to lick his nipples one after the other. Then she sucked one ingot her mouth between her pursed lips and traced it with her tongue before gently closing her teeth around it.

Chris though that she would bite down hard, as she had before, but she released it before the nibble became painful and switched to the other breast. Then she shuffled back a bit to expose the rising bulge in his lap.

One hook and two buttons later his cock was standing straight up through the opening in the front of his trousers, and she was stroking it, lubricating it with spittle that dripped from her lips.

“Coy- … Constance … I …”

“Shush.” She said, placing a finger on his nose. “I know what you want.” She pushed him back against the slope that had been sitting on and slid between his legs.

Her mouth was on him before he could realize what was going on. She had worked up a goodly amount of saliva and it was wet as well as warm inside her muzzle. She rolled her head and nodded it to draw him in and out as her tongue spread that sticky goo all over his shaft, from the pointed tip of his fox cock to the base where his knot was just starting to swell.

He was no match for Gael or even James in the size department, but his prick felt thicker and longer and harder than it had ever been before as she sucked and slobbered on it. His knot also felt like it had attained record size, and she was forced to use one hand on it while she concentrated her mouth on the rest. Her other hand was under her, working between her legs, and his sensitive nose knew that her maw was not the only warm damp hole available to him.

She lifted her head off his cock just as he was beginning to wonder if she was going to suck him until he came in her mouth. The cool evening air on his shaft felt deliciously good even as it dampened his passion. She began to crawl up to him, shedding her undergarment as she came. He prepared to help lift her over and onto him, assuming that she would want to be on top as usual, but she lay on the hill beside him and started kissing him again while slowly stroking his cock to keep it hard.

“I want you on top of me.” She whispered as she rolled onto her back. “I want you to love me like a lover would, with passion and without restraint.”

Chris followed her over and took his weight on his arms and knees as his cock twitched in eager anticipation a hair’s breadth away from paradise.

“Constance, are you sure? If I go all the way I might …”

“Knot me? Yes, I’m sure.” She was practically wiggling in anticipation, reaching between them to help guide his prick home.

“But what if you ... we … what if we can breed on this world?”

“There are ways to deal with that later. For now, just love me.”

“Constance I do l- …”

She stopped him with a firm grip around his muzzle. “Not now. We can deal with that later too.”

He nodded and surrendered. Relaxing his arms, his let his hips swung forward and she was able to get a hand around his aching cock. He continued forward as she placed the tip between the fleshy pink pedals that dripped with thick, slick, sweet nectar.

A slight push and it was in, its tapered tip helping to ease its passage. After pulling out a bit another push drove it halfway in, and the third time he felt his knot press against the platform of her pelvis, and the hard bump of flesh that stood out from it. He arched his back and pulled it almost all the way out again before driving it in again all the way. This time there was a satisfying ‘smack’ as knot met clitoris.

“That’s it, baby.” Constance crooned. “Drive it into me,”

She bent her knees and brought them up to his hips as he pistoned in and out of her slowly but forcefully. As he came down her hips rolled to meet him, matching his rhythm. He lowered his head to kiss her and was even able to flick his tongue across the two mounds of pale pink flesh that stood up from the fur of her breasts.

“Harder, Chris. Harder.” She urged him as her clit stood out farther and became more sensitive. Meanwhile the inside of her twat was swelling too, clamping cozily down on his tapered prick as he pumped in and out.

Chris was feeling the pressure as well, but weeks of enforced orgasm denial had provided him with greater endurance, and he was able to speed up his thrusts without fear of cumming too early and ruining the mood. He felt he could go on forever at this rate.

But Constance was not satisfied to keep things at that pace. She began thrusting her hips at him aggressively as he descended, wrapping her legs around his waist and locking her ankles just above his tail to bring him down into her faster and harder. Chris had to lower himself to his elbows and clutch her shoulders to stabilize himself as his hips sped up.

Now his head was buried in the thick fur of her ruff, as thick as a fox’s, he thought. Her mouth was beside his ear and she gasped out words of tender encouragement as he dug his toes into the grass of the slope to get better purchase.

It felt to him like she was getting close. Her breathing had increased and her heart was racing against his chest. But there was one more thing she wanted before she was done.

“Go all the way in, Chris, my love, my lover. Put it all the way in … knot and all.”

Chris had a flash of a memory of a warning about doing this without a condom, but then remembered that she said she could take care of it later. Trusting her knowledge of medicine and herbs and the supply of the weed that could prevent pregnancy he began pounding her with all his might.

“Ah … yes … that’s it … get it in there … oh my maker … right there, yes … yess … yesssss!”

Her cunt stretched a little bit more with each thrust, and on the tenth one he felt it pop in. He could feel her twat close in around it. Instinctively he tried to avoid the pussy prison by rocking and rolling his hips while jerking back to get it out, but he could not break free.

She felt it too, and she began incoherently babbling as the hard knot of flesh twisted and turned inside her, rubbing the soft patch of swollen flesh inside while he his pelvis ground against her clit.

“Aw, Maker YES!” she screamed as all at once swollen tissues turned molten. She squeezed him with her arms around his back and her legs around his waist as her open mouth tried to add to the yelp that had driven a dozen sleeping grouse from their nearby nest, but she could hardly draw a breath. It felt like someone was sucking her insides out, and it was better than anything she had experienced while punishing a penitent with a paddle or pegging a partner with a fake phallus.

Chis felt her insides turn into liquid fire, felt the pressure grow until jets of watery cum shot out the seal around his knot. At the same time muscles inside that she likely was not aware of rippled along his shaft, trying to force the cum out of him.

They were successful. His balls, trapped outside against her ass heaved and fired. There was a split second of agony as the wad forced its way past the tight seal of her twat but from then on it was pure relief. He added his liquid warmth to hers, and then his balls fired again, and again.

He was not sure when it stopped, and it seemed like she was still cumming when he was reduced to a trickle, but eventually, exhausted, he dropped down on top of her. He was no heavyweight, and her frame, while slim, was solid, so she bore his weight with no problem. After a few more moments of pleasure her limbs went slack also, and she lay on her back with her arms and legs spread out with Chris hugging her limp torso.

As they lay there panting Chris whispered in her ear, “Constance, I lied. I don’t like you.”

He felt her stiffen under him, the reaction of someone who has been teased and bullied often but who thought they could place their trust in this person, this time, only to be fooled again.

“I don’t like you, Constance Jotkowska,” he continued, “I love you. And I love what we do, even when it involves straps and masks and paddles.”

She melted under him again.

“There is just one thing though.”

“What’s that?” She murmured.

“Can I be the one doing the paddling occasionally?”

“You’ll have to earn it.”

* * * * * * * * *

The trail leading to Camelot from the cottage was wider than the one they had followed from to portal. It was more suitable for a man on horseback, James suspected, but Merlin assured him that no one ever came that way, and that they would be at the High King’s castle in less than two days if they stuck with it. James agreed, but before an hour had passed they could hear the pounding of hooves coming toward them.

“Could he be on a parallel route?” James asked the old con artist.

Merlin frowned. “Unfortunately, no. There is not a road of any size near this track.”

“Alright.” James said, turning to the rest. “We’re about to have company, get your hoods on.”

The Terrans had been wearing their concealing robes open and loose as the day was warm and the forest humid, but they pulled them together quickly, donning their disguise as travelling pilgrims again.

James stopped on a straight bit of trail where they could see what they were up against before engaging in conversation or sword play as the need might be. Before the rider emerged he caught the clank of armour and signalled to Annie to have her spear ready; it would be more effective against an armoured, mounted knight than his katana.

A moment latter the rider came into view. It was indeed a knight in armour, as James had suspected. He was riding a black horse as big as Gael with tufts of white fur on its hocks and a white blaze on its nose. His armour was shiny, more than just crude steel. His surcoat was light blue with golden Fleur-de-lis and cinched with a silver belt. This was no common knight, James suspected.

Seeing the path blocked by a group of robed figures and two armed men, for it seemed that Annie was too big to be a maiden to his knowledge, the knight brought his war horse to a skidding halt.

“Hie thee, you are hindering a knight of the round table on a holy mission. Make way!”

“Prithee, good sir.” Merlin called before James could respond. “My fellow supplicants and I were merely making for your King’s castle to prostrate ourselves before his holy sword before continuing on our pilgrimage. We would have news of Camelot, and you look to have ridden hard through the night. You are like to enknowledge yourself of the road ahead, which we are familiar with. We know of a warm cottage nearby where you can rest your horse and your heels, should you care to do so while we trade news. What say you?”

The knight, assuming he had chanced upon a group of devout Christians, raised his visor and replied, “Well met, brother. I am Sir Percival, recently come from the Frankish kingdom to serve the round table. And you, good sir?”

“I’m called Emrys.” Merlin said, indicating that all was well behind his back to the others. “I am familiar with the company of companions, so you must be a very recent addition to the High King’s side.”

“Indeed. Only a fortnight past did I prove my prowess and humility by duelling to a draw with Sir Gawain.”

“Well met, then.” Merlin went on to introduce the rest of the ‘pilgrims’, referring to James and Annie as “foreign brutes hired to protect us from bandits” and the rest as part of a “remote Christian sect that still adheres to the old ways”.

After introductions Merlin accepted a ride behind Percival back to the cottage while the rest trotted behind.

“I’m going to kill him if he blabs about our mission.” Chris snarled under his breath as they ran to keep up with the trotting horse.

“Get in line.” Gael said coldly. “But don’t hurt the horse. He is a dumb, innocent beast.”

“Like you.” Annie quipped as she jogged beside them. Gael would have taken her over his knee then and there, but it would look unseemly in front of the young French knight.

They returned to the cottage where James quickly got the fire going again and Annie prepared a hot meal for the knight. She added some herbs that were still illegal to possess on parts of her home world, but would relax the knight’s tongue, Coyotka had assured her.

Merlin relaxed in his role as leader of the pilgrims while the rest waited outside. “They eschew human comforts.” Merlin assured Percival. “Part of their penance.”

The knight nodded as he ate. Such things were common on holy pilgrimages. “I once climbed Montmartre on my knees wearing nothing but a straw cape and a pig’s bladder for a hat.” He told them.

“Very pious.” Merlin noted while nodding solemnly. “But what brings you this way on such a gloomy day?”

“Trouble in Camelot.” Percival confided, the drugs already working on him. “Arthur is sick, and the land is troubled.”

“How so?”

“A black knight came to Camelot three days past. He wore no visible armour but not even Excalibur could wound him. He did not seek to harm the King nor any of the knights, but moved to the inner sanctum, where the holy portal used to send troops to the Viking kingdom when their raids become too bold stands. Arthur fought like one possessed to prevent him from entering but the scoundrel stabbed the King with a poisoned blade before throwing a handful of jewels at the portal, which exploded, destroying it. Before he left the black-clad one said that only a holy relic could cure the King, and that one was on its way, the spear of destiny! He described the party of warriors and demonic beasts that bore it. They thought it best to send out knights to intercept the party with the holy spear and rush it back to Arthur.”

Merlin’s brows bunched up with concern. “Verily?”

“Verily.”

“What were they to do with the group that carried it?” James asked.

Percival looked a little peeved to be addressed by a commoner, but the glow the drugs were giving him overcame his snobbery.

“They were to be killed as enemies of the one holy church.” He replied before reciting as if by rote, “The tiger with breasts of a woman, the horse that walks upright, the coyote and the fox, the stag with the lute, and especially the red-haired Gaelic barbarian and his brutish, scarred female companion.”

“Brutish?” Annie exclaimed.

James tried to shush her, but Percival was already swinging his head back and forth between the two.

“Wait … the one with horns … the way my horse whinnied at the big one … you … you …”

“You are going for a long nap.” Merlin said as Percival tried to stand up but toppled backwards in a clatter of armour and weapons.

“How long will he be out?” James asked Coyotka as the rest rushed in to see what the commotion was about.

“Given his exhausted state, one and a half to two days maybe, and he won’t remember anything about this encounter when he wakes up either.”

“Did you roofie him?” Annie asked.

“I have no idea what that means.”

James ignored them and asked if the rest had overheard what the knight had told him. They had.

“Ross.” Gael said.

James concurred. “Obviously, and he used gems and a pearl to cut off our next move.”

“Not necessarily.” Merlin offered.

James turned to regard the old con man. He did not trust him, but he had seen the look of genuine concern when Percival told them that Arthur had been hurt. The old cad had practically raised the boy, after all.

“Is there another way?”

“There is only one possible portal that will get you back where you want to be. It is not known to many, but I have used it to, uh, evade certain outcomes.”

“Does Ross know about it?”

“I can only suppose that if he came to Camelot without passing through Hawaiki or the Norse portal that he used the one I mentioned.”

“In that case, it is probably a trap.” Gael fumed.

“Yes,” James mused, “but if we avoid it he will just move ahead of us to the next likely world and try again. In fact, the closer we get the more likely it is that he will ambush us, and if that is on a world without magic, where our weapons are just swords and cleavers against his superior strength and invulnerability …” his voice trailed off.

“We have to use the holy lance to kill him.” Annie insisted. “It must work because it’s the only weapon he avoids.”

“That’s the problem.” Chis said, frustrated. “When he sees it in the hands of a competent warrior he runs away, but he is sure to take it away from anyone less skilled. How can we get him close enough to use it?”

“Maybe we can lure him in with another spear, like Annie’s?” Junafir suggested.

“No, he’d recognize it as a fake.” James noted. “It was his spear for centuries after he used it to stab Christ.”

Coyotka frowned. “Not necessarily.” She said, parroting Merlin. “Legend has it that he lost his robe and his spear in a game of chance before he realized that they, and he, had been enchanted. He hasn’t seen the real thing in a couple of thousand years. Now, I’m not suggesting that some shiny, jewel encrusted replica would fool him … but a reasonable facsimile?”

A sly smile curled James lips. “Tell me how to get to this portal you talk about, Merlin, and the lay of the land around it. Meanwhile,” he said, turning to Gael, “I have a job for our resident blacksmith.”

Gael Tholkes © MarcusXLight

Junafir Pawstone © Frostlupus

Kisha © Frostlupus

Chris Cinereo © Kyroo Echos

Constance “Coyotka” Jotkowska © Coyotek

Magnus © Thwaitesy