Chapter 5: The Orc's Wife

Thrak – Red Eye Tribal Lands, Larg Federation

"Which woman is it?" I asked my dead wife.

"I do not know," Serisia answered as she slipped to the ground before me. "But one of them will rescue your grieving heart."

"Never," I answered as I stared down at her pale face framed by light-brown hair. The bone piercings adorning her ears, eyebrows, and nose made her seem more orcish than her human heritage. "I will never stop grieving you."

Her eyes were sad as she slid her hand up my swarthy legs beneath my kilt. I groaned as her cool grip seized my cock, stroking me. I responded to her need. She was a phantasm, manifesting her presence in this world by ingesting my seed.

"You will never forget me," she smiled, "but you deserve to be happy again. I want it. She is down there. I know it."

"How?" I growled, anger in my voice. I didn't want to give Serisia up. Ten years she had been mine before the Ghost Wolves stole her. She was more orc than all the females of my tribe.

"Something is happening," she answered, her hand sliding up and down my cock. "Whispers trickle through the Astral Realm. Prophecies are being fulfilled. One of those women will change the world, and you are meant to help her."

"Is she the one I'll love?"

"I don't know." Serisia shook her head as she pushed up my kilt with her left hand, exposing my thick cock, the tip pierced by a ring of white bone. I groaned as her tongue swirled around the tip of my dick, warmer than her hand.

"Serisia," I groaned as her tongue played with the ring, tugging on the tip of my cock. "Tell me who approaches. Describe them." Her mouth engulfed my cock. Her hand stroked my thick shaft as she sucked.

I stared out at the approaching women. Three were humans on horseback, the fourth a naked elf, a bow gripped in her hand. She was busty and graceful, taller than a human, the height of an orc female, but she was far slimmer.

She seemed too fragile, like my Serisia had been.

Two of the women were robed, one in white of a priestess and the other in red—a Journeyman Mage of the Collegiate Tower. My eyes settled on the last woman. She was a warrior. A knight of Deute or Voizu, her red hair burning as it spilled across the shiny pauldrons of her armor. She rode a massive charger, a horse bred for war.

"One is magnificent," I groaned, my hips thrusting my cock in and out of my wife's hot mouth. My hand ran through her soft hair. "A warrior. Strong, proud, her sword drawn as she leads her party."

Serisia moaned about my cock. Her hand stroked the base of my shaft faster. Her other hand gripped my thick balls, massaging them. My large hand gripped her head, sliding her mouth up and down my cock.

"She is a woman like you."

Serisia's blowjob grew louder, a wet, sloppy sound. Her brown eyes stared up at me, hope in them. My heart beat faster. My grip tightened on her head as I forced my cock deeper into her mouth. She didn't fight it, letting my cock slid down her throat.

Her moans caressed my dick as she swallowed. I snarled, my balls churning, massaged by her hands. She squeezed hard, adding a splash of pain to the bliss humming around my cock. My hips drew back and slammed my dick into her throat, pressing her lips into my black pubic hair. I stared at the human warrior.

"I have never seen hair that color," I growled. "It burns with passion."

Her hand let go of my balls. She wrapped her arms around my waist, gripping my ass, pulling me in harder. She moaned her delight as I roughly fucked her throat. My Serisia only looked delicate. She could be fucked as hard as an orc female.

Could this knight?

My fingers tightened in Serisia's hair. Her moans hummed around my cock. Her fingernails dug deep into my ass while my balls thwacked against her chin. They boiled. I growled and threw back my head, roaring out my pleasure for all to hear as my cum burst into Serisia's mouth.

My wife moaned as she drank, her cool fingers becoming a little warmer. She shuddered, her eyes squeezing shut and soft mewls moaned around my cock as the spirit orgasmed. I sucked in deep breaths as I studied the knight drawing ever closer.

Her eyes were hard. I smiled.

Serisia slid her mouth off my cock and rose. She pressed against my side and leaned up to nuzzle in my ear. "The knight might be the one. I can hear life in your voice again."

My eyebrows furrowed. "How long until you leave me?"

"I can't stay forever." Tears burned in her eyes. "As much as I would love to. But I will be on the other side watching you, being happy for you, and waiting for you and your new love. Remember what the shamans say, 'Life is merely a dream we all must wake from.' I'm already half awake. I can't keep drowsing. But I'll be eager for you to wake up and join me."

She kissed my lips. I closed my eyes and held her until her body vanished. I took a deep breath. She was still around, her scent lingered in my nose. I gazed down at the approaching women as they reached the base of the hill.

Journeyman Mage Faoril

"The spirit has vanished," Xera reported.

The orc was a dark figure atop the hill. The corpses Xera had spotted lay butchered down the slopes, blood matting the thick grass, birds pecking at the corpses. I covered my nose against the stench with my left hand, the right gripping a vial of cum, ready to down it if I needed my magic.

"And the spirit really gave him a blowjob?" Sophia asked, her delicate face twisting in disgust. Like me, she held her hand over her nose. It did not help.

Xera nodded. "Now he waits for us, arms crossed. I think he killed all these orcs."

"By himself?" Angela asked as she rode Midnight up the slope before us. The knight's sword gripped in her hand, her knuckles white.

"Yes. I see an ax on him. And these wounds..." Xera shuddered. "These orcs were all hewn with the same weapon. They attacked the hill, firing arrows as they came up the slope, and one trail came down and killed them all."

"Berserker," Angela groaned. "I have heard some orcs can become consumed by battle lust and will fight with a reckless strength, not fearing wounds or death, only caring about killing."

"Great," Sophia muttered. "There's our raging warrior. And he has a spirit. His lost love?"

I had heard the Lesbius Oracle's prophecy given to Angela several times. I was: "The Grieving Mage who commands the elements." An apt description. After failing my test to be a master mage, I had definitely grieved.

It still pained my heart how I had ruined my chance to achieve the august rank through sheer carelessness. But that was why I was on the quest. I would restore the High King's broken sword and prove I was worthy of retesting. One day, I would wear the black robes and stand high amongst my peers.

"We might still have to fight him," Angela cautioned. "Be on your guard."

"I hope not," Sophia shuddered as we rode past an orc sheared in half.

The strength to do that astounded me. This orc on the hill would have to hew through a thick torso, organs, fat, and the spinal column in a single blow. It was easy to ram a thin dagger or a pointed sword through someone, the surface area at the end of the blade was small, but a broad ax's head...

Who was this barbarian?

As we drew closer, his features resolved. His skin was a swarthy red-brown, his shoulders thick, his body powerful. He made even the brawniest human look small. He easily towered a head or more over the tallest man I met. Thick, woolly hair covered his head and scars adorned his naked chest. A dirty kilt clad his waist and legs to his knees, and he had a large ax hanging from his belt.

But it was his face that proved his barbarism. Fierce, glowering, bone piercings thrust through his nose and eyebrows. Thick piercings had elongated his earlobes, stretching them out with tapered bone plugs. They made him hideous and terrifying.

Uncultured and barbaric.

Like all the orcs. They all lived out on the tundra, killing and hunting, not living in proper cities. They dwelt always in hide tents, forever roaming the plains following the herds. They were known as the Larg Federation, but never appeared to cooperate with each other. The ever changing tribes of orcs always warred with their neighbors.

Which was good. Orc hordes were dangerous when a particularly brutal orc united the tribes into one cohesion and turned their aggression outward on the human lands.

And we had to travel with him?

"I am Thrak of the Red Eye Tribe," the orc growled in clear Hamiltish, the language spoken in human lands. "I have kept vigil for nine nights waiting for your arrival. Destiny and omens have decried we shall travel together."

Destiny and omens? What superstitious dribble.

"How?" Angela asked. "Why?"

"The spirit of my dead wife has seen beyond life," he answered.

"The woman that was, um..." Sophia trailed off, her cheeks growing red.

"Serisia." He said the word like a prayer. It was a Thosian name. I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. He shook his head and fixed his eyes on Angela. "Knight, your Quest has taken you into perilous lands."

"And it will take me into more dangers before it is completed," Angela answered.

"You will never survive," he declared in a blunt rumble.

"We will be fine," I snapped. "I am a mage of the council. I command the elements. With a thought, I could hang you in the air and leave you stuck while we continue on."

His eyes fell on me, his jaw tightened. "You will not survive, Mage. But I can lead you through. I can guide you. It is why I have waited here."

Angela looked down at the slope. "And the dead?"

"Enemies."

Angela turned around and looked at Sophia. The acolyte's face was pale. She shook her head. "I..."

"You are our leader, Angela," Xera said. "His words are blunt but honest. We do not even know exactly where we are going."

"It is on the peninsula," Angela answered. "We keep heading north and we shall find it."

"You seek holy Murathi?" Thrak's eyes were wide, his voice full of reverence. "You go on pilgrimage."

"I seek the piece of the High King's sword," Angela answered.

Thrak closed his eyes. "I will come with you. The piece was given to Larg to be protected until the High King's heir came for it."

"Who entrusted Larg?" I asked. "I was taught the orcs looted the piece of the king's sword and carried it off to Murathi as a trophy."

"The woman with hair of fire," Thrak said, his eyes narrowing on Angela and her bright-red hair. "She gave it to Larg. So all the stories tell. It was placed in Holy Murathi. I will lead you. Without me, you shall never live to reach it."

"And how do we know you won't kill us in our sleep?" I demanded. "My magic can win us through, Angela."

"And the prophecy?" Angela asked. She turned to Thrak. "You are haunted by your wife?"

"Ever since I failed to protect her." His voice grew hoarse, his eyes distant. "She wants me to accompany you, so I shall. I give you my word, on my honor as a Red Eye and upon my ax that I shall not betray you, Angela of the Redhair. I shall bleed and battle at your side. I shall lead you to Holy Murathi."

"An orc's word is worthless," I hissed.

Thrak snorted, "I am talking to your leader. Be silent, woman. I do not care if you can wield the elements like a shaman, hurtle another childish insult at me and I shall discipline you across my knee."

My mouth worked. His eyes were hard. He meant it. He would spank me. That was ridiculous. I drew myself up but Sophia laid a hand on mine and shook my head.

"Thrak of the Red Eye," Angela said, "I accept your pledge, and I shall hold it to you. Know that I am Angela, Knight-Errant of Deute, and my sword will pierce your heart if you prove fickle."

Thrak nodded, his grin widening. "I would expect nothing else, Angela Redhair." His eyes flicked to my companions.

"Xerathalasia, but you can call me Xera."

"Well met, Xerathalasia," Thrak said, his jaw popping. "What a mouthful your name is. What does it mean?"

"Born beneath a sweet, spring shower," Xera answered with a smile. "And what does Thrak mean."

"Mighty cock," laughed Thrak. "My father had high hopes for me. And my Serisia savored my girth stretching her open."

My cheeks warmed and Sophia gagged.

"Sophia ev'Tith, Acolyte of Saphique. I am, uh, pleased to meet you." Her words did not sound certain. "Faoril Lesibourne," I answered. "And how did you get a wife with a Thosian name? Kidnapping?"

"I showed her what a real male was like. She found her other suitors quite lacking." Thrak smiled. "She was an orc born in a human body." His smile faded and he closed his eyes. He fought against the pain. "There is still plenty of day. Shall we depart. We are still in the Red Eye lands. It will be safe travel."

Angela glanced down the slope. "Yes, I can see that."

I sighed. We were really taking an uncouth orc with us. He would probably try to rape us all thinking we wanted his thick, muscular body heaving over us. Orcs saw females as chattel. I had no doubts this Serisia was stolen on a raid and had no choice but to submit to his brutish lusts.

I shifted on my saddle, ignoring the hot itch as I gazed at Thrak's muscular back, his swarthy skin crisscrossed with scars.

Uncouth indeed.

Knight-Errant Angela

Thrak led us across the featureless plains. There was only grass with the occasional stunted trees. The land was folded, every hill looking the same as the last. If it wasn't for the sun sinking towards my right, I would have no idea how to tell which way was north or how to keep us going in a straight line.

Thrak didn't have that problem. He walked with purpose, a silent gait before us eating up the miles. Like Xera, he was at ease in the wilderness. The elf had unlimbered her bow, actually trusting Thrak and his claim of safety.

The elf seemed to like him. Xera had keen eyes. The orc's words were forthright. He wasn't the brutal animal the stories claim. Orcs rarely crossed the Rheyn Mountains to raid the Kingdom of Secare. But no mountains separated the orc lands from the Principalities of Zeutch, and an orc raider who slipped past the border forts could find himself inside the Magery of Thosi in merely a day or two.

Faoril rode stiffed-back, her eyes locked on the orc, her face twisted in anger and disgust. I sighed. Bickering between companions would grow tiresome fast.

As the sun sank lower, Thrak stopped us in a glade. "This will shelter us from the wind at night," he said. "And I see plenty of dung for fire."

"Dung?" Sophia groaned.

"Do you see anything else to burn?" Thrak asked.

"Uncouth," muttered Faoril.

Thrak glanced at my sword. "After supper, I would enjoy sparring with you."

A smile crossed my lips. He was muscular. Bigger than any human man. His scars were sexy. A hot itch had kept me aware of every step of my horse, my hot pussy rubbing on the leather saddle. I hadn't sparred with anyone since ... Kevin.

Did I ever really love him? I could remember sparring and ... there were holes in my recollections like an apple gnawed on by a worm. I knew sparring made me horny. We must have fucked or made love afterwards, and yet I could only remember crossing blades with him.

What had Kevin done to hurt me? What made me so angry I would want to forget our relationship? Was my relationship with Sophia equally doomed? Could I really love anyone if I could excise them out of my mind?

I pushed aside my doubts. I loved Sophia. I had to believe I wouldn't sabotage our relationship.

"I would enjoy that," I nodded, glancing at Sophia.

Her delicate face was tight and her green eyes squeezed shut. I moved to her as she dismounted from purity and pulled her close, her small breasts pressing against her white robes. "You know what's going to happen tonight?"

Sophia sighed and nodded.

I lifted her chin. "It doesn't change how I feel."

"I just don't have a real cock," Sophia muttered, "or strong muscles that make you wet."

"You make me wet in other ways, slave," I purred before capturing her lips in a kiss.

Sophia clung to me as we kissed, her arms tight about me as her tongue thrust into my mouth. A hot excitement rippled through me. Sophia did make me wet in other ways. I caressed her tongue as I held her tight.

I was breathless when we broke the kiss. "Come ... on. Let's get ... camp set up."

Sophia nodded, a smile on her lips. "Yes, Mistress."

I slid down and gave her ass a squeeze. I could never imagine a man saying those two words. They were just for me and Sophia.

The horses grazed on the grass, hobbled to keep from wandering off, while we searched through the grass to gather dried dung. It didn't have much smell, but I was glad for the small creek that ran through to wash my hands after we finished.

The fire had a ... pungent aroma. Thrak added an herb to the fire and the smoke became bitter, but far more pleasant. Sophia nodded her head in approval as she spread out her bedroll by the fire and chatted with Faoril. We ate our trail rations while the smoke kept back the growing swarms of insects. I had never seen so many mosquitoes in my life.

And they were so big.

"Is that the point of the herb?" Xera asked as she sat atop a hilltop, her head swiveling as she kept watch.

"Yes," Thrak growled. He turned to me. "Are you ready?"

I grinned at him. "Yes. I've been itching to spar for weeks."

Thrak glanced at Sophia and Faoril, the two women talking as they lay on their bedrolls. "Yes. You have wanted for proper companionship."

"Hey," Sophia gasped, "I give her plenty of companionship."

A smile grew on Thrak's lips. "I have heard of the cult of lesbianism You and her... ?"

"Sophia finds her way into any woman's bedroll," I laughed as we walked up to the hill, the sun painting orange across the grass.

"Orc females do not engage. They think it is demeaning. My Serisia's one compliant was her urge to indulge with another woman from time to time went unfulfilled. I would have loved to watch that."

"Every guy does," I grinned. "A pity your orc females are too consumed with fucking men to realize that."

I fell into my fight stance as I faced him. He swung his ax in deadly, sweeping arcs. It was a masterful weapon, made of Valyan steel. The twin ax blades gleamed orange as he swung his weapon, his swarthy skin rippling about his muscles.

Damn, he was sexy. My pussy clenched and a hot trickle ran down my thigh. I shifted my hips, my chainmail loin cloth jingling as it swayed between my legs. His eyes crossed my body, a noticeable bulge forming in his loincloth.

"Other orcs thought me weak for loving a human," Thrak grinned. "But your kind does have their charms."

"I'm seeing your appeal, too," I grinned as I moved forward and swung my blade.

Our attacks were slow, sparring, moving through the forms more than trying to hit each other. We were fighting with live steel instead of blunted training weapons. This was dangerous. My heart beat with exhilaration as we traded blows and circled each other.

Thrak's swings were with purpose, not wild or uncoordinated. He knew how to fight with an ax. Stories may paint orcs as uncivilized, but they must have weapon masters who had figured out sophisticated techniques.

"You have skill," Thrak nodded.

"You sound surprised. Don't female orcs fight?"

"Our females disdain manly weapons," he growled. "They fight with magic and knives. Men protect them."

"Pity," I grinned. "I bet there are amazing fighters being overlooked."

"Perhaps." He swung at me and I parried, our weapons clinging. I repost and drove him back. "Life is cheap out here. Females are too important for the tribe's future to be squandered in foolishness."

"Foolishness? I thought orcs lived for battle."

"Foolishness," he repeated as he slashed his ax at me, driving me back.

Our weapons rang as we danced around each other. The sun sank lower, twilight deepening the sky while we fought. My heart raced. It was wonderful to train with another warrior, to match my skill against his where our lives were not at stake.

"You are good," he said again. "Swift and nimble. You have been trained to fight a larger, stronger opponent."

"I sparred with men all the time." My smile grew. "Sparring has always made my blood pound. Forfeit games were not uncommon in the chapterhouse."

"Forfeit?"

"If you lose, you forfeit something."

"A wager," he nodded. "What?"

"Well, if I win, I will make you fall to your knees and devour my pussy." I swung my sword in hard, his ax raising to block.

"And if I win?"

"Well, I'll fall to my knees and worship that cock tenting your kilt." I licked my lips. "I'm always such a slut after sparring."

Thrak laughed and threw his arms wide. "I think we shall be sparring a lot, Angela Redhair."

I nodded my head in agreement.

Our sparring became serious. There were stakes. I gasped and he growled as our weapons rang across the plain. Night settled on the world, our steel flashing with starlight. His strength was impressive. I found myself forced back into retreat.

The footing grew treacherous in the dark. I was losing anyways when I tripped, but it hastened the end of the fight. I landed on my back with a gasp, the grass tickling my thighs. Thrak stood over me, his ax raised.