The Sword of Black Flame
Chapter 1: The Questor is born

Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Romantic, Heterosexual, Fiction, DomSub, MaleDom, FemaleDom, Oriental Female,

Desc: Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 1: The Questor is born - He is torn from his indifferent existence as a mere Page as he receives the Call in a dream. Setting out on a quest to combat the evil that threatens to engulf all the lands, he is aided by a magical sword and a beautiful woman with long hair.

I grew up in troubled times. These were the days of Magria, the ancient and evil sorcerer-priest of Foul Kash, Lord of Nightmares. From the rocky island of Elsevi, where the strange and potent gases rose from the hellish maws of the earth did Magria spread terror and war across all of the Yellow Sea. Even to the great river Rawon did his captains come with their bands of pirates and brigands.

The Lords of Cador, that northern city situated at the joining of Doira and the Rawon, made a drastic decision after the city barely resisted the Onslaught of the fifth Coming of the Raven. For the first time in the history of the Legion the Peers of the Silver Dome accepted the sons of common men into their ranks.

My father was a tailor, a good tailor, and his spouse a good tailor's wife and mother. They were proud people, and the large sum of money necessary to enter their second son into the Legion was as nothing compared to the standing they would get amongst their friends and in their neighborhood.

And that second son, that was me. My name is Logarth, I have seen twenty-two winters, and for the last six of them I have been doing grueling exercises, getting beaten up with an innumerable variety of weapons by cranky old arms masters, and trying to understand things called tactics and strategy. There was a lot of talk about something called pincer movements, but I never really grasped it.

My parents, and those of my masters who did not detest commoners, wanted me to become a Peer of the Silver Dome. I, on the other hand, wanted to enjoy good gambling, strong wine, and beautiful women. And for six years that conflict persisted. I was an indifferent student, as indifferent as they allowed me to be, and no-one really expected me to amount to much. Usually one would be made a Peer after five years of training, but I and a few other were still Pages with no hope of receiving our Swords anytime soon. I ignored the sneers of the masters, I proudly admit, but I am also ashamed that I made lightly of my parents' desire that I finish.

It was not until that one night at the beginning of those short, bright summers we have up in the High North when I had that dream, that dream that changed my life forever. I was standing at the brink of an abyss, an abyss I knew contained all the worst terrors of the world. Behind me were all that is good, everything I loved. In my hand I held a sword. Of dark, polished bronze it was, and along its blade there flickered black flames. The experience left me with a mixture of anger, determination, and wonder, but most of all I felt a dreadful urgency. An urgency that compelled me to give up my life of sloth and pettiness and go out and face the abyss.

The next day, just after the morning meal in the great hall, I approached my Law master - a thin, tall, bitter man who detested me more than most others. I do not know why I spoke to him, or why I was so glaringly rude as to give him the short bow of an equal, but my mouth formed, almost unbidden, the words: "I have been Called. I must depart."

The man looked at me, and his anger drained away to be replaced by surprise, and something almost akin to respect. He exchanged looks with the masters sitting next to him, and who had heard my words.

"So be it, Questor," he replied formally.

"So be it," and that was that. "So be it," and I packed my gear and travel ling clothes in my rucksack. "So be it," and I left the Keep of the Peers behind. "So be it," and I said goodbye to my father and my mother, my brother and my sisters.

Three days after I had the dream I stood at the southern gates of the city. The landscape was one of shrubs and low hills, a country populated by sheep and their herders. The whole world lay ahead of me. It was merely a question of stepping out of the shadow of the arch.

I had been outside before of course, on short trips with my family and later on exercises with the other Pages. But this time I was alone, and this time I might not return. Not for a long time...

Following the path, wide enough for ox-carts, that wound between the hills and clutching the course of Rawon that (to my knowledge at least) mightiest of rivers I soon lost sight of the city. The tall spire of the Dome was the last thing that sank behind a small grove of trees that clung to the top of a hill.

I might have returned to the drink and the dice and the women, like I so often told me self to, but the urgency was buried deep within my soul. An urgency not just to confront the abyss before me, but for myself as well. This, I somehow knew, was my hour, and if I missed it...

When evening came I found myself feeling grateful towards my masters for the first time. They had taught me how to find berries and those small, but tasty, apples that grew in these hills, so I would not starve. They had also taught me where and how to pitch my tent, and reminded me to bring a warm blanket. As I sat and watched the sun die on the first day of my new life I felt oddly content. I was on my way. Yes maybe I knew not where and why, but I was on my way.

Four days later, halfway between Cador and Ewood at the great fords of the Rawon, I stopped dead in my tracks. Suddenly the urgency prodded me to leave the path and strike out westwards into the wilderness. I turned right and stared. Hills, broken rocks and wildflowers and shrubs. There was nothing I could see out there that was worth leaving the path for. Well, I thought, if I could leave my home just from the nudge of an urge, I might as well turn from the path at its call as well.

The going was tough, with climbing up hillsides and falling down them again, wading through thick grass, mires, and bushes. I got sweaty and I got dirty, and I got angry. Then, as it was getting late, I saw the woman. She was sitting on a flat stone in the middle of nowhere a hundred yards or so in front of me.

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