Chapter 11

Since mid-morning, Ponkert had been with the King of Lindakar, Rololf. Jan, after her own discussion with her husband, had been with them for two hours, then had left them alone. That had been four hours ago. And despite his preconceived hate of the bastard that had kidnapped Elf, the Earthman had to admit he liked the man.

Rololf's stature was somewhere between his and Tomar's. He was very definitely a man with an air that commanded. It was easy to see Jan's attraction for the Kellerian. Jan was one woman that grooved on being commanded. Likewise, he could see how this near- barbarian would find Jan to his tastes. He was a man, a real man that cared more for nature than ruling a kingdom. His world was the outdoors, not the administrative duties of a ruler. His want to improve Lindakar, and Jan's ability to do so, were well- matched. Not to mention the fact that Jan's sexual appetite equalled, if not surpassed, his. Not a bad attribute to seek in one's wife, the Earthman thought.

For the past four hours they had shared tales and adventures, each feeling the other out without fencing for a dominant position over the other. Ponkert realized that, given the time, Rololf could grow to be a trusted and valuable friend to have on a planet such as Keller. But the Lindakarian king had artfully maneuvered the conversation from any mention of either Elf or her home city of Hort. Ponkert's attempts to bring up the subject had been skilfully avoided and replaced by other topics. So when Rololf abruptly began to explain his position concerning the captive princess, Ponkert was taken so off guard that he could do little but listen as the king spoke.

"Throughout our history, Lindakar and Hort have been enemies. How or why the feud began has been long lost to the memories of men. But that does not alter the fact that hatred exists and has long dwelled in the hearts of both Lindakarians and Hortians," Rololf explained.

His eyes searched Ponkert's face, and finding he had the Earthman's full attention continued, "But just because it has always been so, does not mean it is right. Nor does it mean that I have any wish for such events as useless battles that rob my kingdom of young men. If there has ever been a time for a play for peace it is now. There have been no warring encounters between Hort and Lindakar since Tomar assumed the throne."

"While I can not speak for Tomar," Ponkert interjected, "I know the man. He, too, is peaceful and with the release of his daughter, I am sure I can negotiate a treaty between your two cities... "

Rololf waved him into silence. "Do not put words in my mouth. A treaty would be good. It would open up trade between our sister realms and increase our strength from outside attack... "

He paused momentarily, then began again, "... but it is not that simple a matter. I cannot just release the Princess Elfgwynne into your custody."

"Why!" Ponkert demanded, perplexed by the ruler's words.

"Are you deaf, man!" Rololf half-shouted with irritation. "Haven't you listened to my words? You can't wipe out centuries of blood and hate just like that. I have grown to enjoy my seat upon the Lindakarian throne. If I turned Elfgwynne over to you, my head would hang from the highest tower in the palace by the morrow's morn."

"Then what are you proposing?" Ponkert urged him to proceed.

Rololf's dark eyes peered into his; there was a sad determination about them. "There are two courses to take. First, you, like my queen, are not of our world, as hard as that is to believe. I know it to be true. Since that is the situation you should leave Lindakar and Kellerian problems to the men of Keller." Ponkert suppressed the urge to plant his fist in the middle of Rololf's face. He didn't like the idea of being told to leave the woman he had helped place in a bad situation in that position. And he damn sure didn't like being told he didn't belong on Keller. He had always found a spot for himself no matter what world he was on. Keller was no exception!

"Out of the question" he granted, knowing his face flushed with his anger at the suggestion. "What's the other alternative you spoke of?"

"A duel... " the words rolled from Rololf's lips with hesitancy, "... a duel between a champion of Hort and a champion of Lindakar. The winner takes Elfgwynne. Freedom on one hand, slavery on the other. It is the only way my people will accept the release of the princess without revolting against me."

"Agreed," the Earthman nearly shouted.

"Good. Jan said there would be no denying you. Your decision increases the respect I have found for you," Rololf nodded. "I do not like having to place one of my queen's friends in such a position, but there is no other way. If you win, I expect that you will take my message of peace to Tomar."

Ponkert now nodded, "Yes, I have no wish to leave Jan in a kingdom that could be torn by war without notice. But as to the duel. What are the weapons?"

"None," the ruler replied. "Bare hands and to the death!"

Bare except for his home-made jock strap, Ponkert stood inside a dirt-floored arena. The battle area was within a large domed building. He was alone except for Rololf and Jan, who sat above in the royal box. With them were ten witnesses to his and the Lindakarian king's agreement. If he won, there would be no doubt as to the legitimacy of the victory. Likewise, there would be no shadow over his death. He shivered at the last thought and began to put himself through some warm-up exercises.

As he flexed his muscles and tried to drive some of the tenseness away, he attempted to imagine the champion Rololf had selected. As a whole, Rololf excepted, Kellerian men were slightly smaller than the men of Earth, but they were stocky and their strength equalled that of their not so distant cousins back home.

He had no more than a minute to let his imagination wander. A camouflaged gate in the opposite end of the arena swung in, and Lindakar's champion loomed out. Ponkert blanched.

This wasn't a man, it was a monster! Standing an easy seven feet, complete with shaven scalp, his opponent looked as if he were a henchman for the insidious Dr. Fu Manchu. The Earthman swallowed hard as he estimated the man to outweigh him by at least a hundred pounds. He watched as the giant's muscles rippled like thick steel cables under his sunbronzed skin. But he was far-- very far--from being muscle-bound. As if to prove the point, he did a couple of handsprings as his version of warms. Ponkert immediately recognized the show of agility for what it was--a ploy to unnerve him.

In his next breath, the Earthman admitted to himself it worked! He was scared shitless!

As the man-mountain began to approach, two tree-trunk arms extended in a deadly embrace toward him, Ponkert tried to find the calmness that had been drilled into his head during all those hours of hand-to-hand combat training back on Earth. Visions of his two hundred pound instructor being tossed around like a sack of corn meal by a one hundred and five pound woman with a fifth degree black belt flashed in his mind's eye. Size meant nothing. Ability was everything. This giant was undoubtedly stronger. But Ponkert had the element of surprise on his side. Surprise in the form of fists of death.

Cautiously, the Earthman crouched in a defensive stance and waited as his opponent charged. When in doubt, let your attacker make the first move. Let him make the first mistake. The first mistake would come quickly--he hoped-- as he stood before the gargantua barreling down on him.

Then Ponkert struck! So fast and skillful were his movements, that few actually saw, with the exception of Jan who often sparred with him aboard the Werewolf, or understood what actually occurred.

Before the bronze giant's clutching bands could ensnarl him in their massive grip, Ponkert locked out and connected his heel with the opponent's kneecap. Catching an out-flung arm, he twisted violently. The mountainous man screamed as he somersaulted through the air, landing with a definitely fleshy thud on his back, clouds of dust rising under the impact.

It was here the Lindakarian's agility came into play. Before the Earthman could administer the coup de grace in the form of a slashing kick to the temple, the golden-skinned monster had rolled to his feet and stood facing Ponkert.

Although his teeth gnashed and he growled, Ponkert could detect the glimmering of doubt on the behemoth's face. Never before had anyone hurt him so easily. From the manner in which he slid his right leg, his kneecap might be broken.

Again the man charged with bull-like determination to quickly do away with his opponent. Ponkert grabbed, turned, and smoothly went into a perfectly executed tai-otoshi, the aptly named body drop. The Lindakarian once more sailed through the air to land heavily at Ponkert's feet.

This time, Ponkert couldn't allow the man to escape him. The bronze giant's thick neck was quickly locked in Ponkert's powerful arms. Applied properly, a choke lock, such as Ponkert held his opponent in, takes only seconds to bring unconsciousness. The bull-necked Lindakarian was no exception--only five seconds passed before Rololf's champion was at the Earthman's feet, lying there without moving.

Ponkert released his hold the instant he was sure the man had been knocked out. He had no, desire to kill the Lindakarian. He carried no malice toward him. True, the man would cheerfully have killed him--and had tried very hard to do just that--but this meant nothing to the Earthman. He had won! That was all that mattered.

"Your champion is defeated," he called out, turning to Rololf. "Need I kill him to prove it?"

"Nay!" the ruler answered. "Never has anyone bested Ort. "There is no need to go on. You have fairly won the Princess Elfgwynne."

Somewhere, he could hear Jan's voice, but paid little attention to it as two servants led him from the arena. They walked quickly down a torch-lit corridor to a large stone pool where Ponkert was allowed to wash the sweat and dirt from the fight from his body.

As he climbed from the water and dried, one of the servants spoke, "Our queen has directed us to take you to the princess."

He nodded to them to lead on as he slipped into his Hortian robes of royalty that Jan had apparently ordered for him from the inn. His weapons, including his precious laser, were there also.

It took only moments to wind their way back to the palace. Another few seconds, and his servant companions opened another massive wooden door, not unlike those he was becoming accustomed to finding in Kellerian palaces. He stepped into a room that would've made a sultan's harem envious with its luxury. But he gave little notice to the opulence that surrounded him. His eyes saw only one thing. A very beautiful, short-haired redhead who stood in long velvet robes in the middle of the chamber--Elf!

"Chad!" she exclaimed as her eyes settled on him then she rushed forward, as did he.

When they met, there was no stopping the flurry of wet, warm kisses as they desperately tried to cover any and all skin left exposed by their garments. When their lips at last met in a long, loving joining, they communicated more than hours of conversation could've achieved.

Remaining in the girl's clinging arms, he maneuvered her to the edge of a large oval bed on one side of the room. As their lips continued to meet and their tongues continued to delve in and out of each other's mouth, they somehow managed to seat themselves. Eventually, Ponkert gently eased the girl from him. Tears of happiness flowed from her hazel eyes.

Somewhere finding the strength to resist the urge to pull her back into his arms, he started his tale. Beginning with the Werewolf and ending it with the battle for her freedom and a peace treaty between the two cities, he told her everything. Everything! He left no detail of his Kellerian adventures unmentioned.

"Then that means we're safe and in the hands of friends," Elf finally commented, almost irritating him with her easy acceptance of his explanation.

"Do you understand everything I've said?" he questioned, perplexed by her attitude.

"Yes, everything," she smiled, as her hands lovingly caressed the sides of his face. "But all that is in the past. And the treaty is in the future. All that matters now is that we, together, are safe and in no danger."

He laughed at her crazy, wonderful logic and enwrapped her in his arms. His tongue once more plunged into the warm sweetness of her mouth. Her lips parted willingly and her own tongue played and teased at his.

"Take me, my lord," she whispered as their lips parted. "Please, it's all that I want for now. Everything else can wait."

Despite the bulkiness of their clothing and the intricate clasps and catches that held the garments together, they managed to strip with little interrupting of their demanding embraces. He groaned long and low when at last he felt the summery touch of her body pressed against him. Skin to skin, man to woman.

Lowering her to the bed once again under his pressing weight, his hands hungrily raced over the enticing smoothness of her young supple body. His tongue flicked out against her fleshy little earlobe, easily bringing delighted pleasure-moans from her lips. As he increased his taunting, his teeth nibbled at the lobe, eventually capturing it. In turn, his tongue whipped at the sensitive flesh until she writhed beneath him, rolling the bulging mounds of her breasts across his chest.

The yearning call of her pillowy tits summoned his hands. Answering the invitation, he rolled to his side and slightly off the soft body under him. Dancing his fingertips in swirling little patterns, beginning at the ear opposing the one he busied with his mouth, he teased down the long freckle-sprinkled arch of her graceful neck, arriving with tantalizing slowness at the base of one of the fleshy mountains.

Shivery little trembles shot through her body at the contact of breast and hand. She groaned and wedged a warm thigh between his yielding legs. Her thigh eased up, finding the thickness of man-meat swelling from his loins. Her body quaked with excitement as she felt the throbbing virility coursing through his cock.

With a definite languor, she rolled the thick shaft, teasing him into soft aroused moans. She shivered as the first flow of preseminal juices oozed to the sleek surface of her thigh. Warm and wet, it slicked over the supple roundness of her leg as she moved against him.

As he gave up the pleasure-tortured earlobe and moved his lips and tongue to her neck, his fingers gently traced the large circumference of her billowy breast. Having traversed the complete base, he raced his fingertips around it once again, delighting at the series of flesh tremors he ignited in the girl.

Spiralling and circling in the aroused heaving mound, he climbed up the alluring cone. Quivering and warm, the flesh beneath his fingertips trembled with increasing alacrity as he ascended. Her breathing deepened and quickened as she readily foresaw the ultimate goal of his climbing touch.

Jolts of electric excitement volted through her body as he probed the quiescent nipple seated atop the fleshy crest. Lightly, he tapped at the little button bringing it to glowing life. His fingers swirled over the rubbery nubbin stiffening it to a jutting bud that stood erect and hard. Likewise her breathing was sharp and her chest heaved hard.

Simultaneously, he tweaked at the one nipple possessed by his hand with his forefinger and thumb, while his mouth unexpectedly leaped from the softness of her sensitive, pleasure-arched throat to the opposing nipple perched sleepily on her unattended tit. Her moans came as abrupt, piteous little cries at his sudden oral attack. Her thigh eagerly pressed at his swollen prick and lasciviously rubbed its length.