The Saga of Tallia the Unwilling

Disclaimer: Everyone is over eighteen. If you are not deeply into fantasy pulp fiction, gender fluidity and pansexuality, you are in the wrong place. Gals, guys and those who flit gleefully between will eventually fornicate freely in every foreseeable formation. Also, though I name drop actual mythological and historical terms to give the story the most vapid veneer of verisimilitude, understand this tale is rooted firmly in fantasy land. I did try to set it somewhere other than your typical faux Western Europe. But don’t confuse any culture or persons herein as real. Monsters, mystic swords and magicians abound. It’s all ultimately make believe.

BEHOLD! I, Thutmose-Neferkare, royal scribe, chief librarian and high priest of the divine Ra who lights the whole world with the blessed sun (that modern science hath proven is actually a big fiery sky-boat), do attest to the accuracy and worthiness of this scroll. Also I pray that immortal Lord Thoth, the great god whose head is sometimes a bird but also sometimes a baboon but nonetheless did not let this disability prevent him from inventing writing, will bless this endeavor. And may the big scary Crocodile-Hippo-Lion eat the hearts and souls of any who taketh forth this scroll from its proper place but returns it not hence or, worse, returns it hence but puttest it back in the wrong spot for, lo, I doth hate that shit.

The age between the destruction of the so-called Undying King Kereth’Uul and the rise of the great house of Uruk between the two rivers can only accurately be called a dark age. What few sources exist are scant, fragmentary and often written down only centuries after this mythic span of years. One source that claims to record an epic of that age is “The Saga of Tallia the Unwilling” as penned by the poet-adventurer Hilarius the Swift. Truth told, this document is like unto the droppings of donkeys in both plausibility and historicity. Hilarius himself is obviously an inserted character likely invented by some later author of dubious literary talent and boundless perversion. But if you can get past all the raunchy sex, juvenile humor and blatant wish fulfillment, the Saga remains revealing of the character of this lost age and even (the translator hopes) entertaining. I particularly like the parts with the gender-swapping priest of love in later scrolls. Forsooth, by sacred Thoth, that shit is most hot.

Thus I, the exalted Thutmose-Neferkare, have commanded my sub-priests (verily, who usually riseth only to relieve their bladders and to acquire snacks) to copy the whole damn thing into the Pharaonic Library (yay, even the naughty bits). So, since only like twenty people in this whole blasted sand-choked kingdom are literate enough to actually readeth this bitch, yay, I pray thee enjoy “The Saga of Tallia the Unwilling”. And know that any critic who carves less than five heavenly stars upon the sacred Wall of Thoth regarding this most accurate and correct translation shall be swallowed eternally by the big god-snake who is only kept at bay by the mighty Ra in his awesome fiery sky-boat.

Yay, let it be written! Yay, let it be done!

Chapter One: Coming Together

Tallus the Grim for years to come never forgot this day, even though it was the last day of his life.

The grey-eyed killer crept quietly towards the wide crack in the rock, spear in hand, certain at last that this was the beast’s lair. The heavy six-footed tracks, flecked with blood from recent kills, led straight to the riven face of this imposing grey slate wall. And now, Tallus pressed against that same wall of natural stone, keeping to the deep shadows and stepping slowly and purposefully trying to ensure that his leather sandals did not unsettle even the smallest pebble. His plan was one of ambush and a quick kill. It had to be. He had seen the results of prolonged battle against this monster and had no desire to recreate such a massacre.

Alas, he was not alone.

“Is this it?” whispered his small, slight red-headed companion not nearly quietly enough for the grim Tallus. The warrior turned his head and gave no audible answer save a scowl that conveyed angrily and succinctly, ‘one more damned word and the first thing I’m going to slaughter today is you.’ Hilarius called the Swift, uncharacteristically, got the message and shut up. For now.

Tallus peaked carefully into the deep darkness of the cave, patient as a stalking panther, silent as grim death. There was good news and bad news. The good news was that the great six-legged horned bear slumbered, no doubted sated on the meat of man and mutton, and deep low breathy snores reverberated thunderously through the entire cave. The bad news was that the den was deeper and larger than he hoped. It went back at least sixty steps. And the floor was strewn with debris — broken stone, gnawed bone, bent metal shards and shattered shields doubtless from others stupid enough to disturb this murder machine.

The lair reeked of old death, fresh blood and rotted viscera. Inside, the faint sunlight of the dying day revealed that the grey stone was not as natural as the entrance appeared. Some of the stone was worked tile and even a single great pillar stood, worn and weary, still supporting the vaulted ceiling of this chamber. Who had built this great hall of stone into the living rock and when, Tallus neither knew nor cared. All that mattered to the hunter was his quarry and the kill to come.

Grim Tallus took stock of his chances. The creature was in there, yes, and asleep, yes, but also distant and shrouded in total darkness. Could he close the distance without awakening the monster? Probably. But failure meant a painful death and he couldn’t be sure. Nothing about this abattoir conveyed anything to Tallus’ senses that made him want to enter. And yet, if he wanted the silver promised for slaying the beast, in he must go.

The wary warrior looked over his shoulder, then pointed at Hilarius and then emphatically pointed at the ground where the rogue stood. Tallus hoped this conveyed, ‘stay here, shut up and don’t move a damn muscle until I say otherwise, you worthless little git.’ Hilarius nodded back sagaciously, sporting his usual sly grin. It was difficult to be entirely sure exactly what that meant, at least not without the exchange of speech, and once you got Hilarius talking, there would be no end of it. Gods on high and in hell, why had he brought the man with him? Oh, right. Tallus had discovered, since they both escaped the gladiatorial pits together, no way to be rid of him.

He took one tentative step forward into the cave. He shifted his weight carefully, silently, deliberately and crept closer to the teeth of the monster. He took a deep breath near the entrance so he could breathe spare and shallow in the moments to come. He just had to get close and drive his razor sharp war spear deep into the horror’s head. This beast may have crawled out of hell but twelve inches of sharpened bronze shoved into its brainpan would send it right back. ‘Yes,’ Tallus thought, ‘one good thrust, the job is done and the silver is yours.’

He closed the distance, patient and purposeful, profoundly aware of the nervous sweat steaming on his brow beneath his bronze great helm. His heart pounded within his battered and battle-scarred bronze breastplate. One false move and a ton of angry hell-beast was going to wake and charge. One mistake and the all too brief legend of Tallus the Grim ended here.

He eased ever closer towards the sound of the great snoring beast. His eyes adjusted to the twilight gloom of the den and he finally saw the full glory and horror of the abomination itself. It was more massive than the largest oxen or auroch he’d ever seen. Its fur was thick and clotted with blood and viscera from its many kills and yet still in many patches shock white. It had six legs with met beneath its powerfully built, stout frame each terminating in a paw of wicked dagger-claws. And in the center of its massive ursine head was a single, sharp curving ivory horn longer than Tallus’ arm.

Around its neck, revealing its unnational origin, was a great black iron collar graven with jagged letters doubtless invoking blasphemous sorceries in some ancient, demonic script. The beast was scarred and old and the heavy collar now bit into its flesh. The great fetter told Tallus only one thing — sometime in the past, this beast had been conjured forth by the dark sorceries of the Undying King himself or one of his surviving damned disciples. It was no beast of the natural world, but a hate from an elder time, bred for slaughter by the most wicked of wizardry. It had to die.

Closer and closer, he halved the distance between himself and his monstrous quarry. Each step was an opportunity for calamity, to slip on the uneven stone and awaken the great beast. But this was instinct for the grim warrior. From his days stealing bread as an orphan on the uncaring streets of Yaath’Xin to surviving in the brutal gladiator school and arena to becoming a monster hunting free-man, his life was a straight line to this kill. He pictured the moment of monster murder, savored it, lusted after it. The kill was only seconds from him now. Soon, the beast would be dead and he’d be guzzling wine and fucking whores, flush with silver, back in Zhang Zhen. His grip tightened on the heavy ash shaft of his broad-headed war spear. Closer and closer. ‘Now, Tallus… Now!’

His focus was briefly distracted by the sound of falling stone near the cavern’s entrance. The clatter of slate hitting slate emitted a high pitched, sharp noise almost like a bell. And he saw then what he had hoped to never see — the huge open dark eyes of the massive beast looking straight at him. Its roar ripped forth like the voice of a demon — cacophonous, full of ancient primal fury and unnatural eldritch anger. It wasn’t like a bear or a lion or any natural beast. No, it had its own horrid voice impossible to describe but equally impossible to forget.

The mass of muscle and fur shifted and Tallus did not hesitate. He struck hard with his war spear. But instead of hitting it in squarely in the head, the spear point instead drove deep into the shoulder of the beast and as it rose, the spear shaft bent and splintered like a twig snapping under the tremendous strain of the beast clawing at the weeping wound.

A massive paw lashed out and only luck or maybe instinct saved Tallus from instant death. Instead of breaking his neck or clawing his face off, his helm took the brunt of the blow. Claws scrapes against bronze, gouging deep furroughs into the metal. Two more paws followed the first and impacted upon the warrior’s great round bronze shield. The stout shield bent like a child’s toy and Tallus felt his left arm twist unnaturally and sing out in pain as the bone broke. The two paws had strength enough to also toss the powerfully built Tallus like a discarded doll almost ten paces. He slammed against the slate wall, slid down its smooth face and roughly landed in a pile of gravel, bone and discarded cast offs from the beast’s many victims. He had no weapon now save for a broken spear shaft and his long knife at his belt. Staggered, bleeding with his left arm broken and with half the life knocked out him, he knew that death and the beast would soon be upon him.

He heard screaming from the entrance. “Watch out, Tallus! Watch out! It’s awake!”

‘Thank you, Hilarius, I hadn’t noticed,’ he thought groggily, still reeling from the force of the beast’s blow, adrift on a sea of his own agony.

The shrill cries of Hilarius, while telling him nothing, did serve him. The beast, likely assuming him dead (near enough the truth), charged not the short sprint to his dazed and battered self, but instead towards his companion — the little red-headed snack cake yelling at the entrance. Tallus paused. All he had to do was rest here for a few seconds and his Hilarius problem would be solved forever. This bone pile was actually rather comfortable, all things considered…

No, damn it. Time to face the undefeatable horror in its own lair with only his lucky long knife in hand. Time to die, Tallus, not on your ass but with a blade in your hand. Maybe the mad priests of the gods of war were right and this would earn him eternity in a warrior’s paradise. But they were probably just larcenous liars like every other priest he’d ever met. He would know soon enough if any of the gods were real and whether he was in their favor or had somehow pissed them off.

Then fate granted him a moment of a rare fortune. Lying beside him amongst all the other litter of this den of death was a heavy blade still gripped by the bony severed hand of its former luckless master. It was a broad sword, naked and filthy, but still sharp. It resembled, he thought, the heavy broad blades of the northern tribal peoples and was long-handled in ivory to be wielded either one or two handed. It was also covered in strange and unreadable writing along the befouled blade. It was not his preferred weapon but it was better than a broken spear or a knife that could barely tickle so massive a beast. He hefted the weapon and staggered to his feet.

His head still rung from the force of the blow and for a moment he thought he heard some weird, feminine voice say something like: “Know this worthy warrior, if you wield the Sword of Celaeno in battle, forever will you be bound to the blade by blood.” Tallus took no heed of these strange, half-heard words unsure if they were even real or simply his pain-addled imagination. Besides, what did it matter? He was likely seconds away from dying in the jaws of a hell-beast.

Sword in hand, he saw the mad beast charge towards his companion and away from him, towards the lighted entrance. Hilarius was not completely harmless and threw a volley of sharp daggers at the creature. These little knives could be deadly against men but against so massive a beast only profoundly pissed it off. The creature roared in now blood-blind fury, still bleeding from the spear point imbedded in its shoulder and scrambled across the gravel and bone floor. For so great a beast, it galloped with stunning alacrity.

Hilarius screamed another shrill and high-pitched scream and leapt an impressive distance straight up, scrambling up the slate rock face like a desperate monkey. He was then out of Tallus’ sight and trying to be out of the beast’s reach. The beast slammed through the stone crack and pounced upon its prey who much to its surprise was no longer there. It roared in frustration and then turned to see its prey ascending straight up the rock face. Hilarius was scrambling upwards at an impressive rate but it mattered not. The great beast reared upon it hind legs standing its full height, well over twice the height of the tallest man. It blocked almost the entire cave entrance and blotted out the sun. Of course, it utterly dwarfed the delicious little rogue.

It was moments away, doubtless, from grabbing its prey with either paw or jaw, pulling him down to the ground and thoroughly eviscerating him when it paused as if deep in thought. It did not roar but instead made a low gurgling noise. And then its belly opened and its guts spilled out in a truly impressive torrent of gore. Tallus, wielding the sword one-handed, had crossed the cave in a determined charge and in one stroke made a cut nearly eight feet long from just below the neck almost all the way down to its nether regions. The cut was masterfully deep and murderously quick. The great beast teetered and fell back. Still not entirely satisfied that the beast was bereft of life, Tallus leaped forward upon its still twitching carcass and did exactly what he had meant to do before everything went terribly wrong. He drove his weapon through its maw and deep into its brain. The blood-adorned blade pushed with surprising ease through flesh and bone and quickly did its grisly work.

Tallus angrily turned to his still climbing companion. “You woke the damned thing up!”

“I woke it up? It was waking up on its own! I warned you!”

Tallus was about to angrily explain that this was, in fact, bullshit when he suddenly felt extremely strange. His world began to spin and weave. He touched his neck and he was still bleeding from the beast’s earlier blow. His head began to spin and he could no longer feel his broken left arm at all.

‘Ah,’ he suddenly understood, ‘I’m dying. It was a mortal wound after all and only fear and fury has afforded me a few more moments.’

He staggered forward a few steps and then passed out falling onto the blood-stained loose slate piled at the cave mouth. The strange sword fell from his hand and its bright metal clattered against the broken stone. He thought, perhaps for a moment, he heard that strange woman’s voice once more.

“Well done, worthy warrior. Behold, the bond is made.”

Then darkness took him.

 

***

 

Tallus awoke with a start. Where? When? There were no answers in this hazy, half-formed world.

His vision then slowly came into focus and fixed upon a dark star-swarmed sky and the faint crescent of the diminishing spring moon. The warrior felt strange beyond easy description but at least he did not feel in pain. His head swam and spun, but he was alive and for that he felt vastly fortunate. He was also completely parched, as thirsty as he could remember ever being. Still he possessed an even deeper thirst for answers.

“Where am I? What happened?” Tallus managed. His own voice sounded very strange, maybe a little unusually high pitched and hoarse. He needed water.

“By the seven gods of fortune, you’re awake!” said the very familiar voice of Hilarius. “How do you feel?”

“The bear?” Tallus croaked hoarse and uncertain.

“Quite dead, my friend!” said Hilarius. “Do you not remember?”

“I remember… You… you bastard, you woke up the damned bear,” he hissed.

“You’re not still going on about that, are you?” said Hilarius more than little defensively. “Listen, if I hadn’t distracted the beast with my knives, you’d be dead right now. Not that you weren’t amazing. What a charge! What a strike! Real hero stuff there, my friend! Anyways, we’re past the hell-born murder-bear and on to a brand new calamity. Or maybe it’s not a calamity. It’s definitely… a development. Yes, not a calamity — a development. Yes.”

There was more prattling chatter from Hilarius, but Tallus could no longer endure it and interrupted. “Water…” said Tallus again in a voice that remained not entirely his.

Hilarius obliged and tossed Tallus a well-travelled leather water skin that he quickly and entirely drained. The water, cooled by the night air, tasted almost sweet. He sat up… wait, he was naked beneath his grey cloak that had so often served as his blanket. The cloak also seemed somehow smaller. He looked around blearily, still dazed and delirious, unsteady and uncertain why he felt so… weird. They were in camp beneath a small tree, yes. There was a small crackling fire, yes. And Hilarius was staring at him intently like he had grown a second head.

“What? What are you looking at?” What was wrong with his voice? Even the water had helped little.

“Well, my friend, you. That beast must have hit you harder in the head than I thought. I mean just look at yourself!”

Tallus did exactly that. He looked first at his left hand. There had been a long scar down his left hand and onto his upper arm where that scary fellow with the two scimitars had cut him almost mortally years ago in the arena. He had almost bled to death before he cut that guy’s head off and used his turban to staunch the bleeding. That scar was gone. And the arm, it seemed no longer broken. Maybe it had just been sprained after all by the bear’s mighty strike. And his hand seemed different also in a way he was having trouble exactly figuring out. It did not seem to be his hand, though it clearly was. He could feel it and move it and… then he looked down. Oh, yes, there were the tits.

He… or rather more accurately… she leapt to her feet, startled, naked and lit by the flickering campfire light. The warriors hands roamed across his own body like he was exploring an entirely new landscape. Everything… everything had changed! Gods on high and in hell, was he still asleep? What weird dream was this? Yet Tallus could find no way to wake.

The truth came upon the warrior suddenly, trampling over him like a great bull and forcing him to face a new reality. Tallus was no longer himself. Tallus was entirely transformed. He had once been a tall, lean, muscular but definitely male warrior covered in hard-earned scars. Now, Tallus was a woman. And not just any woman, but a tall perfectly sculpted figure of unmarred womanhood maybe two or even three hands greater in height than he used to be.

Every scar was gone, every injury healed and instead Tallus now looked very much like a marble statue of some goddess breathed with life. She was powerfully built, broad shouldered but curvaceous; beautiful and yet strong; feminine and yet imposing. Long black lustrous hair blew loose in the night breeze and Tallus’ eyes, once a grim grey, now shown like brilliant burning emeralds. And his dick… yeah, that was gone.

“Wow,” Hilarius managed clearly somewhere between shock and arousal.

The transformed Tallus stopped inspecting this new and utterly unfamiliar form and instead turned towards Hilarius. Her eyes burned with jade fury at this… this CURSE! Yes, it was most definitely a curse! “Where is the damned sword?”

“That’s the other weird thing…” chattered Hilarius. “When I dragged you to camp… I mean you were so heavy I could only barely move you let alone your gear.. but it sort of followed you. I mean, it didn’t exactly follow you, it just appeared next to you when I was gathering firewood. Anyways, I cleaned it up a little.” Hilarius presented the still unsheathed sword, bright shining in the flickering firelight to the warrior goddess now standing before him.

Tallus took hold of the sword. As she held the weapon, Tallus was now stunned to realize that the strange runes across the blade were now clear in their meaning: “Know this worthy warrior, if you wield the Sword of Celaeno in battle, forever will you be bound to the blade by blood.”

And then the sword spoke. The words were not uttered aloud but instead seemed to echo inside Tallus’ head. The voice that spoke them sounded at once both proud and regal, but definitely feminine. “Behold, the bond is made, sword-sister. Long has it been since I have been held by thee, my beloved.”

“Bond?!” said Tallus aloud. “What bond? Change me back, devil!”

Hilarius could hear nothing the sword spoke but seemed to immediately understand. “Wait! Don’t change back! This is a real opportunity…”

“Shut up, Hilarius. Who are you? What are you? What have you done to me?” Tallus demanded of the blade.

“My beloved, Celaeno, I am the sword which was made for you. I am the rune blade born in the heart of the mountain by the god of the forge, who to fulfill his sacred oath to your grandfather, crafted me of star metal mingled with your blood so that you would never die but instead be reborn eternally.”

“I am not this person… this Celaeno. I am Tallus!” the warrior proclaimed angrily to the blade.

“Of course you are. It is not in my power to destroy what came before, but instead to transform you into the visage of the immortal Celaeno, called the dark one, last of the twelve. I give to you, sword-sister, her strength and resilience, her power and beauty. But it is for you, my beloved, to decide what shall be our purpose. Know this, the blood of the ancient Amazons now flows in your veins and to be one of the twelve is to walk the road of heroes.”

“What are you talking about? Amazons? The twelve? I care nothing for this madness! Change me back, you damned piece of junk!”

“You are angry, beloved, and overwhelmed,” said the sword. “This too shall pass. In time you will understand. Find peace for there is no undoing the bond as long as you walk amongst the living. The bond was told to you and you accepted this mighty gift in the only way that truly matters — through blood and battle. But fear not, beloved, you shall not walk this road alone, for I shall be forever with thee.”

“Told?!” cried Tallus, “I was told nothing! I had no idea what I was being offered! I still don’t understand!”

“We shall speak again when the time is right. Until that time, walk the road of heroes, my beloved.”

And then sword was silent. Tallus shook it violently. “Wake up, you son of a bitch. Wake up! I reject the bond! Turn me back! Turn me back or I’ll shatter you into a thousand fucking pieces! TURN ME BACK, YOU SON OF A BITCH!” The warrior was screaming now, less and less coherently.

She swung the sword as hard as she could at a nearby fieldstone as if to somehow punish the blade. But all that did was shatter the rock with an impressive shower of spark and stone. She stumbled backward wildly off balance and fell on the grass beneath the tree. Not dissuaded by this ungainly foundering, she leapt to her feet and yelled again, but all this yelling yielded no answer from god, man nor beast.

“Shit!” screamed Tallus finally only to the dark and open sky. She returned to the campfire, sat down and tossed the sword aside with great disdain.

“So, how did yelling at the sword go?” asked Hilarius, watching all of this with interest as he snacked on an apple.

Tallus scowled. She looked at the grinning rogue across the fire and seriously considered using the devil-haunted sword to separate Hilarius’ head from his shoulders. Instead, she just glowered silently. She wrapped herself once more in the grey, thread-bare blanket near the fire.

“I’m cursed,” she muttered. “Gods on high and in hell, I’m cursed! I’ve touched some sorcerous witch-blade and now I’m doomed.” She stared into the fire and for a ridiculously long period of time, there was only silence save for the crackling of the burning wood. Hilarius, predictably, disrupted her brooding by yammering.

“Can I make a few practical points?”

Tallus said nothing.

“First, that sword (which saved both of our lives by the way) is obviously magical and thus very valuable. I have heard stories of a wizard back in Yaath’Xin who may be able to help us… I mean, you… change back. But that wizard is going to want payment. So, let’s not do anything hasty with destroying the most valuable thing we currently own.”

Silence still from Tallus. ‘Oh, yes,’ she thought, ‘that’s what we need… to get a second wizard or witch or whatever involved. I’ll likely end up a female toad before this all over.’

“Second, let us consider… is this really a curse? I mean you were handsome enough before. I was totally into you, certainly. But now… wow. I mean no disrespect here, but you are totally hot. Like goddess-level hot. Take it from me. I’m something of an expert. On a scale of one to…” Hilarius took a breath and got back on topic. “Anyways, all I’m saying… is this the worse thing in the world?” Tallus was now deep into fantasizing about a dozen way to kill Hilarius slowly if only to gain a reprieve from his ramblings.

“Third, we killed the monster!” Tallus glanced at Hilarius angrily. “You killed the monster! Nobody ever survives encountering that hell-beast, but we did, which means there is a tidy pile of silver waiting for us back at Zhang Zhen. None of your current clothes or armor fit anymore. We could use that money to get you something better than a tattered blanket to wear.”

Tallus cocked an eye brow at that. This was actually a good point. She needed clothes. Even her sandals didn’t really fit right anymore being both too wide and too short.

“But there is the matter that they know you, the old you, back in town and you are not going to pass for Tallus the Grim, famed monster hunter, anymore. No way. You need a new name, at least temporarily, until we get this curse-opportunity-thing sorted out. What did the sword call you? Kelly something…”

“I’m not using that name,” she growled.

“Ok, yeah, obviously not that name. That’s a terrible name. So, pick something else.”

She stared into the fire and made a quick decision. “Tallia. Tallia will do.”

“Tall-ya? That’s just the feminine form of Tallus. Surely we can come up with something better than…”

Tallus, now Tallia, gave him that ‘I’m-having-a-bad-day-don’t-fuck-with-me-Hilarius’ look. She had a lot a practice making that look.

“Tallia! I like it!” proclaimed Hillarius enthusiastically.

The newly transformed Amazon said nothing else. She had finally reached her daily tolerance for chatter. She balled up in the grey cloak and went to sleep. Hilarius, undaunted, continued talking anyway.

“Yeah, you look exhausted. You should get some sleep. Don’t worry… I’ll keep watch… and tomorrow, we’ll get back to town and get our reward and then….”

That was the last Tallia heard as she collapsed into exhausted darkness once more.

 

***

 

The journey back to Zhang Zhen thankfully proved a simple matter. Despite Hilarius being the worst watchman ever and immediately falling asleep on duty, no one robbed them or murdered them during the night. That, Tallia decided, probably had more to do with the horned bear killing everything near its lair rather than either luck (which had clearly abandoned him…her) or Hilarius (who seemed likely only able to talk attackers to death).

They recovered the dray horse they had left tied near a stream well away from the beast’s lair. Tallia managed to jury-rig a crude but functional tunic from the cloak and some other bedding. It was itchy and one good yank away from complete collapse, but it served well enough. Her ill-fitting sandals hurt her feet but she could tolerate that for this short trek. They even managed to recover the slain beast’s head, horn and most of its pelt which they dragged bleeding back into town.

When they got back to the farming community, it was obvious by all the gasps and shocked looks that no one there ever expected to see the monster hunters alive again. Hilarius began loudly proclaiming that the pair of them were the greatest monster hunters in the land and that at last the dread beast was slain.

Tallia cared not all for these theatrics and trumpeting. To her it was all empty noise and worthless bluster. She wrapped herself in her tattered ill-fitting blanket and staggered past the throng, her feet throbbing from the ill-fitting footwear. She spoke to no one, not the cheering farmers nor the stunned looking headman. Flowers fell upon her but she felt nothing but deep melancholy.

She retreated quickly back to their room in the one and only inn in this tiny settlement. The chamber was intended for the visiting emissaries of the peasants’ overlords in Yaath’Xin, but it had been a long time since they had received any communication from their uncaring, distant masters other than the occasional scroll that used a vast quantity of unintelligible legal gibberish to say ‘Pay taxes now or we’ll burn everything to the ground’. So now the room was being used to shelter monster hunters.

Hilarius served as a functional enough liaison and managed to have wine and food sent up to the room. And for nearly three days, Tallia slept a lot, ate a little and drank herself into wine-soft oblivion again and again. She sheltered within this little redoubt content to ignore the world and sulk about her cursed condition. The road of heroes indeed.

Finally, on the morning of the fourth day, Hilarius braved the room and interrupted Tallia’s deep and durable funk. “I bring presents, oh bright and beautiful one. Presents upon presents!”

Tallia, feeling neither bright nor beautiful, shifted in her filthy bed. She was distressingly sober this morning. That had to be remedied. “Just bring me more wine, you damned pest.”

“Nope, no more of that. You drank it all. Sorry,” said the chipper little rogue.

“Then what good are you?” she cursed.

“Is that anyway to talk to your best friend? Besides, do you want your new clothes or not?”

That actually got her attention. Her current makeshift garments had gone from threadbare to genuinely foul in the past three days. Even the fleas were starting to complain about their working conditions. In truth, she was eager to be rid of the whole kit — clothes and fleas alike.

“Show them to me,” she demanded.

“Oh no, most mighty and mopey one! Not until you’ve had your first present. I’ve paid for a hot bath to be drawn. Once you are bathed and not completely gross, only then you can have your new clothes.”

Tallia sat up in bed, still bleary eyed and Hilarius continued chattering.

“I’ve had a local tailor make you a most beauteous set of scarlet raiment, but no bath… no clothes. Unless of course, oh Queen of Smells, you desire to continue to revel in your filth.”

“A bath…” she muttered. “Not the worst idea you’ve ever had, you scurrilous scoundrel.”

“Hilarius lives to serve, my lady,” said the rogue with a mocking bow.

Tallia considered throwing a very heavy, very empty clay wine bottle at the thief’s head for calling him… her a lady, like somehow acknowledging the curse made it more permanent and powerful. But, she instead paused. What good would it do? Tallus… Tallia… ME!… had always taken pride in her own clear minded practicality amidst an often crazy world. It had kept him… her alive on the streets of that damned city of devils and in the so-called gladiator school which was more like a prison and even in the arena of the mad princes.

What did she know? The curse was clearly not going to just dissipate on its own here in this rice-farming dump of a town. The sword had said not a word in days, despite her drunken ravings. When she threw it out the window two nights earlier, it appeared right next to her only a few minutes later. And no doubt between this room, his presents and Hilarius’ raft of other vices — their monster-slaying money must be either entirely or very nearly gone.

‘So, what was it going to be, Lady Tallia?’ the Amazon thought to herself. ‘Are you going to force some poor pitiful posse of peasants to oust you out of this increasingly disgusting room or are you get off your ass and do what you’ve always done — solve your own damned problems?’

‘Gods on high and in hell,’ she thought, ‘the worst part of this personal epiphany shit was that it meant acknowledging that Hilarius was, this one solitary time, briefly (and likely somehow accidentally) right.’

And so she rose. She stretched out, popped her neck and rinsed out her mouth (where something had clearly died) with a great draught of water. She tossed the foul make-shift clothing into the pile of rubbish and shattered wine jugs that had accumulated in a corner of the chamber and spoke to Hilarius in a clear, powerful almost musical Amazonian voice.

“Lead me to this bath!” she proclaimed.

The baths it turned out were on the level just below the emissary’s chamber. Tallia strode through the inn gloriously naked. The few serving girls and the innkeeper that saw her, gasped and stared in wonder. One stable boy sweeping the floors nearly exploded. And how could they not be taken back by her? The people of Zhang Zhen were not a tall people. Industrious, honorable, even learned by the standards of this dark age — yes. But short. And now a nearly six and half foot tall vision of divine beauty strode (let’s be honest… more ducked) through their halls. It was like a goddess had come down to visit them from some distant empyreal dominion, granted a goddess that was currently filthy, flea-bitten and utterly disheveled.

The baths themselves proved to be most splendid. The inn was built over a small, natural hot springs, both containing and concealing the fount. The so-called baths were actually a pool, square and almost fifteen feet on a side. The stone that framed the pool was wide enough to serve as a bench and obviously ancient — worn marble cut in some bygone age, smooth and snow white on the main but here and there veined with rough ebon stone.

The pool was shallow for someone of Tallia’s height but still deep enough to sit within. The water was intensely hot and delightfully cleansing. “Drawing a bath” actually meant paying for both a modicum of privacy and for the old cold dirty water to be drawn out in buckets and for new clean piping-hot spring water straight from the source to be allowed to flow in via a small bamboo gate of cunning construction.

Tallia submerged immediately and eagerly in the shallow pool, sliding down almost prone. She rose up, leaned against the marble and then soaked in the wonderfully hot water. All the filth and exhaustion floated away and for a few seconds all seemed right with the world. Hilarius stripped and joined her in the pool leaning against the opposite side, keeping a respectful distance but sporting his usual wicked and self-satisfied smile. Tallia had seen him naked before, of course, but now appraised him with new eyes.

Hilarius was a handsome enough fellow with a raffish charm, once you got past the incessant chatter. He was slight, yes, but compact and muscular. His hair was fire red, streaked with the odd wisp of yellow. His tresses were unusually long and lustrous for a man and when untied his fire-locks well-framed his almost elfin face. His eyes were amber and keen. He seemed utterly incapable of growing even the hint of a beard or moustache even though Tallia had never seen him shave.

Hilarius was obviously a mixed-breed for his skin was too dark (being a lovely even bronze, like a permanent suntan) for the northern origins his reddish hair demanded. His teeth were remarkably clean and white for this age, and Tallia knew he was unusually vain about them, tending them with picks and brush both morning and night. But his best feature, if Tallia was being honest was his butt. It was a splendid bottom, full of graces both feminine and masculine — muscular from a life of constant toil and travel and yet still shapely and soft, ready to be grabbed and…

Tallia shook her head, breaking off this train of thought. She was spending far too much time focusing on her traveling companion’s posterior. She instead just closed her eyes, leaned back and amidst the steaming hot water, scented she now noticed with jasmine, drifted away for a few precious moments lost in silent reverie. Of course, it did not take long for Hilarius to ruin everything by talking.

“Second present!” he announced and he clapped his hands.

Tallia assumed this was the aforementioned clothing. “I’m going to soak for a bit longer before…” Dressing. She was going to say ‘dressing’. But as she opened her eyes and gazed through the dreamlike haze of the hot-springs, she instead saw a beautiful little porcelain doll of a young woman, disrobe and enter the pool. She drew close, smiling wantonly, at the naked Amazon.

“This is Jia! You have her for an hour! She is most highly regarded and does not mind that you are a… well, you know.”

Tallia rolled her eyes. Hilarius had hired her a whore. Of course he had. What most pissed Tallia off was that she hadn’t seen this incredibly predictable event coming and could have saved some money by commanding the rogue not to do it. But then, when had commanding Hilarius anything ever worked? What was certain is that the coin was now gone. The seas might boil away, the wind might grind every mountain to dust and all the stars might fall from the sky — but even then, no one will have ever managed to get a refund from a working girl.

“Hello, Jia,” said Tallia with a resigned sigh.

“Greetings, Nu Shen,” she said softly in heavily accented Imperial. ‘Nu Shen’ — that was the farmer’s tongue for something like goddess.

Tallia glanced about the edge of the pool, finding one of the heavy wooden brushes scattered about. “Please scrub my back,” Tallia said handing her the implement. The girl only smiled, nodded and accepted the brush.

Jia obediently began to slowly scrub away in soft but insistent circles. Tallia had meant this to be a non-sexual service, at first utterly not in the mood. But as the little concubine began to touch and cleanse her broad expansive back, it became an increasingly sensual act. The skin, awakened by bristle and finger, glowed with sensation. In the hot water, nerves awakened and Tallia became suddenly aware of a familiar and yet new feeling. She was getting a hard-on. No… no that wasn’t the right word for it. She had entirely different gear to contend with now. No… she was instead opening. A tiny nub of unfamiliar flesh tingled and her nipples stiffened. And she felt… gods, how to describe it… gushy.

Unbidden, after a few minutes of thoroughly cleaning her back, Jia slipped the brush around to Tallia’s front and began to scrub the line beneath her breasts where they met her muscular torso. It proved a sensitive spot and one Tallia has little explored. The truth had been over the last three days, Tallia had barely even looked at herself, let alone touched her new body like if somehow she did not acknowledge her own transformation somehow this would keep it from being real. Denial — that was the word.

But now as the brush teased the bottom of her impressive bosom, there was no denying this — her entire body began to tingle and glow with desire and want. She could pretend it wasn’t real and waste the money Jia had already been paid, or she could embrace it and enjoy it. Really, the choice seemed barely a choice at all.

“Hao,” said Tallia in a low breathy whisper, a half-smile creeping across her face for the first time in several days. It mean, she thought, something like ‘good’ in the local tongue. Jia simply smiled and continued her brush work. Shoulder, arms, legs and feet — the brush went everywhere and everywhere it felt amazing, scrubbing away the last traces of the last few days grime and grousing. Then Jia started to use her tongue.

It was slightly rough, almost like a cat’s tongue. She started near the top with a few soft but strategic kisses here and there. She nipped and nibbled at the Amazon’s ear-lobes and then slowly traced down the line of her neck. She whispered into Tallia’s ear honied words, low and sultry, a half understood tangle of Imperial and Daoish and yet perfectly clear. She spoke something like, “So beautiful, goddess. So divine. It is my pleasure to serve you.”

Downward, the concubine continued her service, shifting in the warm water to be in front of Tallia. Naked, she suckled gently on Tallia’s now fully attentive nipples. Teeth and tongue worked together in skillful unison to arouse the Amazon further. Tallia did little at first, simply reclining back and watching the naked little porcelain doll, with her shining amber-brown eyes and long wet black hair, do her work.

The Amazon also took a moment to really observe her new bosom. Tallia’s new tits were, in truth, a miracle. They were sizeable and yet perfectly proportionate to her frame. They were impossibly firm and yet playfully pliable. They were a balance of graces — sensitive and subtle, soft and firm. It was as if they were created by some wicked god to make sculptors, singers, painters and poets weep with the certainty that they could never be perfectly reproduced nor precisely described. They were damn near a super-power all their own.

Finally, the Amazon did more than sit passively and savor the courtesan’s ministrations. Jia had continued her downward kissing, sucking and nibbling her way down the powerful torso of Tallia. The beautiful little nymph of the hot springs had finally reached the water line near the navel and so, Tallia rose and sat her bare bottom upon the warm white marble of the pool’s edge.

The Amazon slowly spread her legs, fully revealing her dripping sex. Her pussy, which was now warm and open revealing its vibrantly pink interior, was adorned only with a patch of fine, downy soft hair as dark as the deep lustrous raven-black locks atop Tallia’s head. Tallus had always had long black hair which he usually tied back, but it was a rough wiry briar compared to Tallia’s soft silken locks and her fine fleece down below.

Jia needed no command nor encouragement, taking only a moment to gaze longingly upon Tallia’s sex. “I have never seen one so perfect, so beautiful, my goddess.”

Whores are all liars. Tallia… Tallus knew this all too well, having spent his younger years being raised in a brothel. Though the warrior had an affection for sex workers, respecting their often decried, despised and yet valuable craft, Tallia was not so naïve as to actually believe their playtime praise. And yet, through all that, it seemed now that Jia’s whispered and almost reverent words might very well be the truth. Oh, she was good.

Tallia gasped as Jia’s tongue made first contact with her nether-flesh. The courtesan started slow — long languid licks as much around her feminine sex as upon it. But soon enough, she quickened her pace pressing deeper into the blossoming folds of Tallia’s new womanhood. And then she began to suckle softly upon the Amazon’s clit and the sensations became far more intense. Tallia became lost in a haze of rising jasmine-scented steam and sensual overload.

Tallia’s first feminine orgasm of her life was quick and strong. Her body was ready after days of denial for this release. At first, Tallia began to breathe deep, heavy and rhythmically. Her entire frame shuttered for a brief moment. Tremors thundered through every inch and nerve of her body. And then, for the first time in days, every muscle relaxed and it seemed to her for a minute that all the world was warm, wet and wonderful. She might just drift away with the flower-scented steam. Orgasmic bliss overtook her for a few treasured moments.

Soon though it passed. She opened her eyes again and her strength and ardor rapidly returned to her. This was different than the orgasms of grim Tallus. Tallus was a one and done sort of man. Tallia was definitely not done and one orgasm was not going to cut it. She snapped out of the ecstatic delirium and took stock of her situation. Jia was still kissing softly at her sex and Hilarius was also sitting up out of the water on the pool’s edge, slowly stroking his cock, watching appreciatively.

She rose, took charge and leaning down seized Jia by the waist. She gently raised up the tiny porcelain doll of a girl into a kiss, lifting her high enough that Jia’s feet no longer touched the ground. Even though Tallia supported Jia’s full weight, the Amazon found her light as a feather. For a moment, Tallia was startled by the ease of this. She was strong! Tallus had always been stronger than most men. The hard life he had been handed required nothing less. But now, her strength seemed at least doubled. It was difficult to be sure!

Without a word of warning, Tallia decided to test her newfound gift and push herself just a little. She easily, quickly but gently inverted the tiny woman, holding the courtesan as easily as she might lift a cup of tea. Jia let out a little cry in surprise at the maneuver but then quickly adapted. Tallia held Jia’s hips firmly but gently and brought the concubine’s trimmed and scented sex to her lips. The Amazon goddess drank from this fine little chalice like she was taking a deep draught of honey mead. Tallia plunged her tongue deep into Jia’s soft and secret folds while positioning the girl so she could just reach the Amazon’s own sex. Tallia devoured Jia’s musky pussy, nibbling, nipping and licking with almost desperate abandon while still supporting her effortlessly.

Even the veteran courtesan was surprised by this new technique, her new position and the intensity of the stimulation. Jia gasped with a genuine exhalation of pleasure. “Goddess!” was the only intelligible word she managed. Tallia, for her part, did not relent. She drank deep from this cup of pleasure and soon enough the whore was spasming and kicking her legs into the air, enjoying an orgasm of her own.

The powerful Amazon gave the courtesan a moment to enjoy this spasm of pleasure and then, untaxed, laid Jia down gently. Tallia arranged the beauty on her back, placing her upon the wide stone edge of the pool, like one might position a treasured possession or a delicate porcelain doll. She then turned to look at Hilarius and, with eyes ablaze with emerald lust, spoke perhaps one of the finest sentences the rogue had ever heard uttered.

“Are you going to sit there and stroke your cock all day, Hi, or you going to come help me fuck her?”

Hilarius startled at the request but not for long. He quickly answered the call of this Amazon goddess. This was not Hilarius’ first time dallying with his travel companion after all, though it had been some time. Tallus had always made clear he preferred the company of women, but back in the Ludus when they had first met and were confined together in a cell, they had had their moments of passion and release. How could they not? Every night before entering the arena, they both knew they were staring death straight in the face.

Tallus, so powerful and so much taller than the little rogue, had always been the initiator. And Hilarius did not resist him. Far from it. But even though Tallus was a trained, merciless killer in the arena, he had always been — in a fashion — gentle with his companion. Now memories of those late night encounters flooded Hilarius’ mind. For the first time in some days, Hilarius was unsure what to say.

Tallia filled that void. “Her pussy tastes amazing. Care to give it a try while she helps you with that hard on?”

It was the old days all over again for the little rogue. Even though her voice and form were transfigured, Tallus was once more the senior partner, choreographing this dance of sex. Hilarius for his part was eager to dance along and soon he and the concubine were locked into a sixty nine position with him above and her below. She eagerly suckled at his already hard member and nibbled at his soft sack while he joyously attended to her dewy sex.

For a time, Tallia was not directly involved in the carnal festivities. She simply leaned back on the pool’s edge, her feet still soaking in the hot spring water, watching all aglow. The pair of willing and wanton lovers both knew what they were doing and they both knew why they were doing it. As important as their own pleasure might be, they were performing for HER, the goddess overseeing their orchestrated passion play.

Jia was a veteran practitioner of the oral arts and found Hilarius’ cock to be of pleasing length. His member was not ridiculously long nor disproportionate to the slight rogue, but instead wonderfully firm and responsive to her touch. She used her hands and mouth harmoniously. She gripped him firm at his root with her sinister hand while the dexter teased across his length. Her mouth worked in unison with the strokes, keeping everything delightfully wet and applying a sucking pressure all its own.

But Hilarius gave as good as he got. In truth, the little rogue was also a master of everything involving the mouth. Before Tallus and he had become a team, Hilarius had survived in the company of courtiers and killers because they all valued his oral expertise. And of course he had made his own private study of the female form every chance he could. He wanted to do his best today. He had two women to please here.

Jia again, and much to her own surprise, had a second orgasm. This genuinely startled the veteran sex worker. She was so used to faking orgasms as part of the theater of pleasing clients, that even one genuine orgasm was a great rarity. She could count on one hand how many of those she’d experienced in the course of her long career. A second — this was the first time that had ever happened.

This intensity threw Jia for a loop and for a moment, her own head swam lost in the jasmine haze and orgiastic splendor of this fleeting moment. She lost track of what her clients were doing and Jia never NEVER did that. And so she was genuinely startled as a cock thrust into her sex and the magnificent pussy of the goddess came to hover right over her face. The game of love had shifted once more. Now they were using her together, facing one another. Jia was happy to play along.

Hilarius began pumping into the girl, slow steady strokes at first. “Amazing! She’s wet at this spring!” cried the rogue. “I’m close.”

“No,” spoke Tallia forcefully. “Don’t come! Not yet! You can’t come,” commanded the Amazon in a growling voice like a lioness in heat, “until you admit you woke up the bear!”

Hilarius smiled at this obvious jest. He chuckled even. He liked this new sexy Tallus. She was funny. Tallus was almost never funny. “Tallia, this is ridiculous. We’ll talk about this later…” said the little rogue who did not stop fucking the concubine. If anything, the speed of his thrusts increased. It was work now for him of the most pleasant sort. Sweat sheened across his warm, bath-wet skin. The heat of the concubine’s sex and the spring-hot water seemed to be making his blood boil.

“Not later. Now. Just say it,” said the Amazon firmly. “Say it and you can come.” Jia had no idea what this was all about and honestly did not even understand every word of this surprising exchange. She pondered, ‘Is this what barbarian foreplay looked like?’ Regardless, it did not change what was before her and what she saw as her clear duty. She went crazy licking that Amazonian pussy even as she got vigorously fucked. Somehow the fact that this pair were perhaps sparring verbally only made the sex hotter.

“I warned you…” sputtered the rogue, who despite the heat and sex, was surprised that he could find no release. Gods, he was ready for his own orgasm. He had been ready for some time.

“Bullshit!” cried the Amazon in a voice that nearly shook the entire inn. Jia too was a bit surprised how much of a turn on she found this goddess’ obvious power on display. She kept eagerly, hungrily at her appointed task. The subtleties of technique had vanished in a furor of lust that the jaded Jia had never known. She worshipped the Amazonian sex before her.

“I…” Hilarius could now barely speak at all. He kept fucking furiously, faster and faster, and yet there was something about the Amazon’s intensity, the power of her voice. Gods, he realized, he couldn’t come. Not until she let him. Was this some sort of Amazonian sorcery? What their magic in her thunderous voice? Or did she just scare him deep down to his core and, even it would seem, into his balls.

“Tell me the truth!” she demanded once more. “You woke it up! Just tell me and then you can fill this little flower up. Keep lying and you are never going to come!”

“Tallia, I would never…” His fucking was desperate now. Almost as desperate as his pleading.

“SPEAK THE FUCKING TRUTH!” she demanded yet again.

“I…”

“TELL ME!”

“I CAN’T!”

“YOU CAN!”

“SEVEN GODS OF FORTUNE AND FUCKING, YES, I WOKE UP THE DAMN BEAR!”

And then everyone came together, and not some sort of gentle sensual quiet romantic climax. Oh no. This was a mad riot of sexual release that was not heard just throughout the inn but even managed to echo across the street, through a window and into the nearby noodle shop where it scandalized two old ladies having almond cookies and mid-morning tea.

Jia much to her eternal surprise came a third time. She could see nothing but sex and steam and feel only warmth fill her willing pussy. Hilarius, at last receiving permission, came like a cannon. Weeks of pent up release from sexless travel and now, the power this Amazonian goddess had over him caused him to hilt himself deep into the concubine and blast everything he had into her. And finally, Tallia herself came, whether from Jia’s skilled tongue or the incredible sensation of having verbally cornered Hilarius, who can say?

Then they all collapsed into a pile of flesh and fluids on the edge of the bath.

Hilarius, predictably, spoke first. “I’m sorry, alright? I… I just had to watch. You know how I love to watch you work. Ever since the arena,” he panted, “I am and always have been… I’m your biggest fan.”

“I guess heroics aren’t near as much fun without an audience,” said Tallia breathing deeply and desperately, still riding out her final orgasm of the encounter. “I forgive you, my dear Hilarius.”

And Tallia kissed him only once. And not a we-are-just-good-friends-would-you-like-to-have-tea-sometime kiss. No. This was a full, passionate I-loved-furiously-fucking-this-whore-with-you kiss. With quite a bit of tongue as well.

Hilarius startled at the single kiss and then, as it broke, whispered, “Wow. Can I be your girlfriend?”

“Maybe,” said Tallia with her first true laugh in days.

 

***

 

By lunch, Jia was gone, no doubt on to other clients or duties about town. The Amazon was only half-dressed but decent and fully revived and refreshed. She enjoyed a midday meal of rice noodles in a salty, steaming hot broth served with some kind of root that was delicious, spicy and utterly unknown to her. After the meal she retired back to her room one final time to fully kit up and pack her last few things. She was already wearing her tunic of course and was no longer traversing the inn stark naked. This seem to please the madame of the house greatly and utterly distress the squadron of stable boys who were peeking through each and every window and door frame.

In her room, she now fully adorned herself and inspected her new set of garments approvingly. Hilarius, she decided, had done a fine job even if he had bankrupted them doing it. Really, that was her fault as much as his. In her disinterest and depression, she had let Hilarius handle money. That was like handing a child a bottle of strong wine, a lit torch and a bucket of pitch and then being surprised the kid burned the house down.

The dark scarlet tunic of ramie cloth hung attractively across her frame. It was a little stiffer than she liked but breathed well (important in the often stifling heat of the Rice Lands). It was also quite durable and little loved by the local insecta. It was not silk certainly but had an almost silken luster to it. Her small beaten metal mirror confirmed that the deep rich red color (almost as dark as wine) complemented her new emerald green eyes well.

The leather girdle that gathered the tunic at her waste was at once beautifully tooled and practical, a burnished brown with sparse studs of silver. The lucky long knife she had owned longer than any other possession tucked easily within. Her feet were clad in perfectly fitted sandals that laced all the way up her calves.

Then there was her new armor. In truth there was nothing new about it, made of reforged pieces of older stock. But, they had been lucky to acquire even this in so small a village as Zhang Zhen. Fortunately, the town smith had once served in the legions of the old emperor. Between the bronze of Tallus’ armor and the smith’s small stock, there was enough metal to make the set, but it had cost the pair dearly. There was, though, no arguing with the results.

Bronze greaves protected her legs. Matching bronze bracers were strapped to her arms. The breastplate had also been repaired and rehammered into one that now fit her new physique. This was no ridiculous boob-mail but instead a practical protective plate that still allowed her sufficient space to contain her ample Amazonian endowments. Her old great helm and round shield, both patched and polished, completed the kit. Altogether nothing fancy, and almost completely devoid of device or adornment, but far less battered than her old set and ready for action. Alas, she lacked the cash or access to a good ashen haft (such trees did not grow in this country) to replace her beloved splintered and ruined war spear.