Prologue: Womb's Bond

Note: Thanks to b0b for beta reading this!

Knight Kevin – The Free City of Hargone

The splashing, gurgling fountain cooled the inn’s common room. It was an aptly named establishment, though the innkeeper was not happy we had commandeered his entire main room despite the gold we paid him. The twelve of us sat around a circular table, reclining on tasseled pillows. My fellow knights and I had doffed our armor, wearing cool robes while the six priestesses of Slata wore their pink vestments, gold rings glinting on each of their noses.

“She has definitely passed through here,” Priestess Helena reported. She had a delicate face, her nose slender, and her nose piercing made of delicate wire. It signified she was a Sister of Slata, a priestess capable of performing the Mother of All’s magic despite her youth. “We found traces of her presence and Sophia’s.”

The other five priestesses nodded. “She went into the desert and has not returned,” reported Esmerelda. She had short, dark-brown hair, the ends of her locks curling in to brush her slender neck. “We have caught up to her, Sir Kevin.”

“Yes, as we figured,” Mary said. The knight sat to my right, her light-brown hair falling in waves to her black, silk robe filigreed with gold thread. It clung to her body, her nipples hard against the thin material. “They stayed in this inn nine days past. They left on a caravan owned by a merchant named Aswunt.”

“I am glad you knights weren’t wasting your time as we cast our divinations,” Helena said, her voice cool. “We are in a fortuitous spot. We must merely wait for her to return and then arrest the miscreant. We should plan, Sir Kevin.”

I nodded, my stomach twisting. Emotions swirled through me. I loved Angela. I had been heartsick when she agreed to the foolishness of her quest instead of abandoning it and preserving her life. I would not have loved her less for resigning from the Knights Deute. I wanted to marry her. But she was stubborn. My redheaded warrior always was. She would never give up a fight if she thought there was a chance.

Even if that enemy was the dreaded dragon Dominari.

And she had found her slim chance by reforging the High King’s sword. It was a bold move, something she would do. It made me love and admire her more. But to reforge what had been shattered in the wake of High King Peter’s death, and the collapse of his empire, was rank folly. The sword was a threat to the sovereign rule of every king and prince, the Magery Council of Thosi, and even the Doge’s and the councils who ruled the free cities of the League of Seven. The High King had ruled the lands west of the Deorc Mountains out to the island kingdom of Althos, controlled the Halanian desert, and boarded against the foul Queendom of Naith.

To reforge the sword, Angela had robbed the Doge of Raratha, perhaps the richest man in the known world. She and her companions had assaulted his person and stolen the piece of the High King’s sword in his possession. A death warrant hung over Angela’s head. Worse, she had blighted the honor of the Knights Deute. I had volunteered to lead the party to arrest her in hopes I could save her life, to find a way to get her to surrender and return the Doge’s property. Then, perhaps, we could shift the blame of the theft onto one of her companions.

Like the thief or the orc barbarian. Even the elf would suffice.

“Her companions are skilled,” Priestess Esmeralda said.

“So?” grunted Philip, a pretty-faced knight who all the maidens of Shesax prayed would find their bed, or so Philip himself boasted. “Are we not six Knights Deute with the support of six full priestess of Slata? What does Angela have? A single rogue mage. And an acolyte who won’t even have use of her magic yet. We shall sweep them aside.”

I shook my head. I hoped it wouldn’t come to fighting. I hoped Angela would be reasonable, but I would bring her to justice even if it meant tearing out my heart. “The orc will be a savage fighter. Angela would not travel with him if he was not skilled, and we all know how dangerous orcs can be.”

The other knights nodded. The orcs of the Ice Bear Clan often crossed the Rehyn Mountains to raid Northern Secare. Defending against their deprecations was one of our order’s duties. “As long as he’s not a berserker, we can handle him,” Mary said. She leaned back on her hands, which only stretched the silken material tighter over her breasts, making her hard nipples thrust up before her. “And the bard is of no consequence.”

“Their songs have magic,” the quiet voice of Priestess Ruth added, speaking barely more than a whisper. “He graduated from Az. We should be prepared for that, too.”

“Don’t forget the elf,” Danielle, a knight sitting across from me, said. “An elf hunter could feather us with arrows from a distance. They never miss.”

“And an avian joined them in Baraconia,” pink-cheeked Lisa said. She was the youngest knight and had only completed her Quest a fortnight before volunteering for the mission. “Perhaps she’s a shaman. More magic the priestesses need to deal with.”

“Can you handle a shaman, a bard, and a mage?” I asked, glancing at Priestess Helena who led the priestesses.

“Our magics are for divination, healing, and protection. They are not offensive, as you well know, Sir Knight.” Helena wrinkled her button nose. “But there are ways we can make us more effective in working together. To unite us and share our essence and knowledge.”

“The Ritual of the Womb?” gasped Priestess Olivia, her green eyes shooting wide.

“Ritual of the Womb?” Philip asked, giving the priestess a smoky look. Philip had bedded all six of the priestesses on our voyage from Shesax. Not that it was much of an accomplishment. Priestesses of Slata were open and inviting. They worshiped their goddess by lying with her children, whether male or female—though they preferred male, probably in defiance of their rivals, the Church of Saphique.

“What does the ritual do?” I asked.

“It will unite us into almost one being. We will know each other so well we can move and react simultaneously. We will be a cohesive unit. In the metaphorical womb of our goddess, we would become, in a spiritual sense, fraternal siblings—three sets of quadruplets.”

“Three?” I asked.

“Only up to five individuals can be bonded,” answered Priestess Esmerelda, her impressive bosom swelling the front of her robes as she leaned back on her arms, mimicking Mary’s pose. When the priestess did it, it seemed far more natural and at ease than a deliberate act to draw the eye to her lush mounds. “And since there are twelve, we should split evenly. One male knight, one female knight, two priestesses.”

“The ritual is very sexual,” purred Priestess Olivia, her green eyes flashing to Philip. “I think I shall choose to be in your group, Sir Knight.”

“Well,” Mary purred, her hand sliding over to touch my thigh through my robe, sending a flush of heat through me, her eyes smoldering. “I think it would be wonderful to unite with you, Kevin.”

Heat rushed up my thigh to my cock. It throbbed hard. It had been months since I was with a woman. Since Angela left. The regret of my harsh words, driven by my fear of her death, had left a hollow guilt in me. I never should have let those words out. They might have been my last words to her.

Mary’s hand slid higher, fanning the heat. “And this will give us an edge in confronting Angela and her companions?”

“Yes,” Priestess Helena smiled. She licked her lips, her doll-like face transforming into something hungry. “Yes, it will. I think I will be with you, Sir Kevin.”

“Oh, yes,” agreed Priestess Esmerelda, her short curls swaying as she put a languorous roll to her shoulders as she straightened. “I think we should retire to our rooms and perform the ritual immediately. Angela maybe days longer in the desert. It will give us time to ... acclimate to our new union.”

“As spiritual siblings,” added Priestess Helena. She stroked her braid of black hair.

“How wicked,” laughed Mary, her hand rising higher still, almost brushing the bulge my hard cock created.

My cheeks burned. My cock throbbed. Mary was a beautiful knight, and the two priestesses were ravishing. Lusts bottled up the last four months since Angela’s departure almost made my dick erupt right on the spot as our group broke apart. Philip went off with Priestess Olivia, Priestess Ruth, and Danielle while Lisa, Priestess Belinda, and Priestess Caroline pulled Richard to his feet and swept around him.

“When you volunteered,” Mary whispered in my ear, her body pressed tight to my right as Helena and Esmeralda took my left, “did you think you would end up with your own harem of women?”

“Harem?” I frowned. “What?”

Mary laughed. “You really are hung up on that redhead. What will you do when you have to arrest her?”

“Appeal to her emotions and hope she surrenders.”

“How noble.” Mary’s hand slid into my robe and grasped my hard cock. I groaned as she stroked me. “And if she doesn’t?”

“Then I will do my duty,” I groaned, closing my eyes as the hand stroked up and down my length. My balls boiled as her hand reached the tip, her thumb caressing it.

“Now, now, don’t make him pop yet,” purred Esmerelda. “We all want to enjoy him.”

“But I thought you Priestesses of Slata knew how to rejuvenate a man,” Mary grinned. “Your cunts possessed of a power that could raise an erection from even the oldest corpse.”

“Eww,” Helena grimaced.

“Oh, we could,” Esmerelda answered. “But why waste him in here?”

“Ladies,” I groaned as they pulled me along, Mary’s hand still stroking my cock.

“Hush,” Mary whispered. “You’ve kept me waiting for this cock too long. I am going to enjoy it tonight.”

“What?” I blinked, glancing at her face.

She kissed me. Her tongue thrust into my mouth as I stumbled along, pulled by the two priestesses. I almost tripped on the stairs up to our rooms, my cock so hard. My mind whirled with sensations and emotions. Angela’s blue eyes and lush body flashed through my mind. I remembered her kneeling on the training sands, sucking my cock because she lost our duel, her red hair spilling in a waterfall of fire about her face.

We burst into the room. The bed was a mattress on the floor covered in silk sheets. The women pushed me down. The pink robes of the priestesses came off in a flash, unveiling two different and delicious bodies. Esmerelda was busty, her breasts as large as Angela, fat, dusky nipples beading with her mother’s milk. Helena was petite with a girlish body, her breasts small, nipples a pale pink, little pebbles rising from her upswept tits. Her legs were long and sleek.

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