Chapter 8

The Mask

Asiara's eyes fluttered open briefly, then immediately squinted shut as the sunlight threatened to blind her. Turning her face away from the open sky, she blinked a few times before sitting up, enjoying how her body still hummed with the afterglow of the climax she had just experienced. A bit dazed, she looked around her.

She was lying on a single large animal fur, surrounded by wounded soldiers in various states of distress. Some, she could see, were recovering from only minor wounds while others probably wouldn't see the night. A course robe had been draped over her naked body, but seemed somehow superfluous to her now. After all, her troops had to be pretty used to seeing her naked.

Surrounding this small, makeshift medical area was a great deal of bustle as the remaining troops worked to pile the dead into two piles - the pile of Annol warriors who would be honored, and the pile of Maurials who would be left to the crows. Despite the size of both piles, Asiara felt a wave of elation – her army had somehow survived the fight that had appeared so hopeless the night before.

But had they merely survived the combat, or had they won a major victory over their fiercest rivals? And how many of her troops were left? Thinking back to the battle that had taken place the night before, she remembered that Calean had fallen, leaving her with no experienced mage. And the size of the pile suggested that her warriors were severely depleted. What about Partheon? Had he survived? Asiara was ready to find out.

Rising, Asiara spoke to the first soldier that she found.

"Is Partheon around somewhere?"

The young soldier stood at attention upon seeing her, his eyes wide with surprise.

"Y-yes, Captain," the young man was clearly startled, whether by her nakedness or her authority she wasn't sure. "He's on the north side of the camp, sorting through the remaining provisions."

"Thank you." Asiara strode through the camp, drawing astonished stares from her men as they noticed her. As she made her way through the camp, she saw the wreckage that it had become. Most of the tents had burned to the ground, leaving only charred remains of the weapons and food, and in some cases people, that had once been inside.

When she reached the northern edge she saw Partheon standing next to a small pile of food and water skins. Three soldiers were helping to load these onto a couple of battered carts while Partheon watched and seemed to be taking stock of what was available. When Asiara approached, he looked up and his expression immediately became a battle ground of conflicting emotions.

"Damn you, Asiara! I ... Look, what you did last night was amazing ... I mean, we never should have been here ... I told you we were vulnerable ... But, we won ... We beat the bastards, left them scrambling for the hills. But look what's left ... If you had only..."

He continued to stare at her for a few more moments, his look stern. Then, slowly, his expression softened.

"Ah, hell, I'm glad to see you're alright."

"Thanks, I guess. So the Maurials are gone?"

"Gone, dead, fleeing. Our losses were heavy, but theirs were off the charts. Once you took down their Captain and their strongest mage, they sort of fell apart. It was strange. They had been so completely organized and united when the fighting started, but once those two were gone they seemed to panic – any sense of fighting together seemed to disappear."

"Well, thankfully we still had you to keep it all together once I passed out."

"Indeed. Although I didn't do much. Most of the credit belongs to the soldiers. Our guys seemed to band together like they never had before. It was quite a sight to behold."

"I wish I had been able to see it. So how are we doing now?"

"That's what I was just figuring out when you arrived. We're pretty low on provisions, I'm afraid. Not that we'll need that many ... with how few men are left."

"Well, let's take a look." Asiara walked towards the carts to glance at what her soldiers had managed to salvage. Partheon continued to give her an odd look.

"Um, Asiara?"

"Yes?"

"I've gotten pretty used to you being naked, but are you going to wear that strange mask all day?"

The mask! Asiara had forgotten all about it. Somehow, it didn't feel like she was wearing anything on her face. No wonder she had gotten such strange looks from her troops. Reaching up, she could feel its cool silver surface under her fingers. With the slightest of pulls, it came away from her face, but oddly, her skin felt no different. She turned the mask over in her hands, looking at the magical item that had saved her life the night before. This mask, she remembered, had protected her from the mage's spells and allowed her to end his life.

As she stared at the metal mask, though, she noticed something odd. She distinctly remembered that when she had reached for the mask in the heat of battle, it had been completely plain – a simple oval with holes for the eyes and mouth. But now, it's shape had changed slightly. The cheeks had sunk in just a bit, giving the mask a bit of definition. The mouth hole had closed slightly, and the beginning of a pair of lips seemed to be rising out of the metal.

Puzzling over this, Asiara set the mask on the ground and began helping Partheon take stock of what was left of the army's supplies.

There wasn't much left. When they were finished, Asiara realized that they would have to be on a very tight rationing system for the rest of their journey. More importantly, she realized that that journey would have to be a return trek to the Queen's palace. The Maurial army was defeated, but there was no hope of pressing their advantage and invading the southern kingdom, as they would likely starve in the process. Besides, according to Partheon's rough head count, they didn't have enough soldiers to launch any full scale assault.

Asiara discussed with Partheon the plans of their march back to the Queen and then took her leave. He would organize the troops and get them on the move. Meanwhile, she had to get her own things together and take a moment to collect herself after everything that had happened in the last few days.

Before she walked away, though, she picked up the mask and, finding it slightly awkward to hold in her hands, placed it back on her face as she walked. This would elicit more strange looks, but it might also add to her mystique. Her days of fitting in with the troops were clearly long gone, but if she could supplement her recent prowess on the battle field with an eccentric and intimidating presence off of it, she was sure she would still command their respect, and their loyalty.

And this loyalty might be put to the test slightly, given the outcome of this campaign. Asiara was supposed to be a military genius and nearly unbeatable warrior. But this campaign had not gone at all according to plan. The battle with the Persiphi had been far more costly than anyone would have anticipated, and then she had left her army extremely vulnerable to the Maurial's assault.

Still there were some positives. The victory over the Maurials had been a significant one, and if they did return to the Queen, they would be able to restock and get some reinforcements. Then, the march through the southern kingdom would be easy. They would have fresh supplies and new troops, and a Captain fortified with a host of new abilities.

Yes, you will be unstoppable.

There was that voice again, although it seemed ever so slightly different than it had during the battle. Then, it had been oddly monotonic, with a strange sort of metallic ring to it. Now, she noticed an ever so subtle femininity to the voice.

After all of the strange things that had been happening to her lately, though, this one seemed somewhat tame, and she decided to ignore it for the time being. Instead, began to walk through the area where the battle had taken place. Her soldiers had already cleared the area of most of the dead bodies, and were now starting to sort through the weapons that were still strewn over the area, searching for what was salvageable.

Asiara did the same, but she was only looking for two specific blades. It wasn't long before she found them. Moments after procuring a belt from a nearby officer, she strapped Phyxilir and Finisher around her waist. Armed once again, Asiara felt complete.

And powerful.

She had the speed, agility, and swordsmanship of a goddess. Her body was impervious to physical attacks – they simply passed through her as if her body were made of water. And now, as long as she wore this mask, magic would have no effect on her.

You are the ultimate power in the realm.

She grinned beneath the mask, which she suspected was the source of the voice. What it spoke was true, so she had no reason to be alarmed.

But there was another new truth that Asiara found herself perpetually wrestling with. Her sexual appetite had grown right along with her powers. Even now, as she focused on the very real tasks before her, she could already feel the familiar throbbing in her loins that seemed to be perpetually with her.

The day continued, and the troops continued to work hard. By the time evening had arrived, the dead had been collected in piles, the munitions carts were packed and ready to move, and the troops had organized into new units of command. Everything was ready for them to set out first thing in the morning. For now, they would burn the massive funeral pyre of their dead, and then try to rest before beginning their journey back to the palace.

When Asiara finally laid down under the open sky to rest, she pulled the mask off of her face. The night air was cool, but she still slept uncovered. The cool air, she reasoned, might help to douse her desires, which were once again building within her. Unfortunately, the brisk air and cooling breeze weren't enough. The cold only further tightened her already hard nipples, and the heat that seemed to radiate from her sex was impervious to the night's chill.

Still, the exhaustion resulting from everything that happened recently eventually caught up with her, and she drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, she woke early. The sun had just risen over the hilly countryside, and only a few of her soldiers were already awake. Asiara felt her sex quiver slightly, but decided to ignore it. Sitting up, she reached for the mask, but found that it wasn't there. She looked around, but it was nowhere to be found.

Had someone stolen it!

No one would dare steal from you.

Asiara's hands flew to her face, and sure enough, there it was. But she was sure that she had taken it off before going to sleep. She pulled it off now, and looked at the strange object.

Once again, it had changed. The plain oval shape was now a thing of the past – the mask had clearly become more defined. Instead of a simple hole, the mask had a set of lips, and the center of the mask had begun to shape itself into a slender, delicate nose. The eyes had recessed slightly, creating a discernable brow, and a set of cheek bones seemed to be emerging as well.

After everything that happened recently, Asiara was immediately wary of the mask. She certainly valued its power, but she wasn't in the mood to trust a power that she didn't understand, especially one that seemed capable of entering her mind. Suddenly feeling quite resolute, Asiara became determined to regain some sense of her former self; some sense of normalcy.

Still holding the mask, she walked to a nearby cart and pulled out a few articles of clothing: a pair of sandals, a light shirt, and some simple breeches. Using Finisher, she cut most of the legs off of the breeches, as they were designed for someone taller than she. It was going to be a warm day anyway. Then, she pulled a piece of cloth from the cart's canopy and looped it through one of the mask's eye holes. She then tied the cloth to her belt. This way she could keep the mask close to her without having to wear it.

Shortly thereafter, her soldiers were all up, and ready to be on the move. Asiara mounted one of the few remaining horses, and the remains of her army started the long march back to the Queen's palace: about a five day trek.

Asiara felt good riding at the front of her army once again. It felt as though she were back in control, which was something she hadn't felt for the past several days. But she was done with strange goddesses and mysterious water nymphs. She was back in her element. She had defeated her foes on the battlefield, and now would return to get the forces she needed to make her victory complete.

As good as her return to her usual behaviors felt, though, there was still one nagging problem that preyed constantly on her mind. With each step that her horse took, the saddle moved beneath her, creating subtle friction on the sensitive skin between her legs. Her sex tingled incessantly, driving her to distraction.

The warmth of the weather wasn't helping, either. She had begun to sweat, causing her black curls to plaster themselves to her skin, and her white shirt to cling to her body, exposing her hard, aroused nipples. She had hoped to convince her remaining troops that the old Asiara was back, but realized that right now, with her cut-off pants and clinging shirt, she was probably a more erotic sight than she would have been had she still been completely naked.

As frustrating as this thought was, though, it was also a huge turn-on.

By evening Asiara was beside herself. Yet, after they had made camp and she was lying alone, once again under the stars, she refused to touch herself. She was sleeping in her clothes, with the mask still tied to her side, and trying her hardest not to succumb to her desires. She couldn't keep letting this constant need control her. She was determined to learn to live in this state of arousal and only give in to her passions when she chose. For now, it meant a fitful, sleepless night, but, eventually it would surely allow her to feel in control of her body once again.

The next day the weather hadn't changed. Not wanting her army to be lead by the sweaty vision of eroticism that she had been the day before, Asiara found a baggy pair of pants and a long-sleeved shirt that was slightly big on her as well. Then, she placed a helm over her head. With these instruments on, there would be no way that her troops would be able to think of her in an erotic manner.

The outfit had the added benefit of being stiflingly hot. The discomfort that this heavy attire caused was welcome because it helped to distract Asiara from the heat between her legs. Though the throbbing in her sex never let up, the dense sweat coating her body and the high temperature beneath her helm somehow diffused her passions and made it far easier for her to keep her mind off of her desire for sexual release.

That night was equally positive, in Asiara's mind. She had removed her helm, but otherwise kept the same clothes on that she had worn all day. The mask remained tied to her belt – it was becoming a constant weight as familiar to her as her two swords, which also never left her side. As the night wore on, Asiara found that she was able to sleep quite well, ignoring the ache in her sex as she finally claimed the rest that she needed so badly.

The third day of the march, the weather changed. The air was still hot and filled with a dense humidity, but clouds loomed in the distance, and the threat of storm was imminent. Still, the army plodded on – their supplies wouldn't allow for delay, they had to press on even if the storm bore down on them directly.

As they followed a path around a tall outcropping of rock, Asiara began to feel the first warning drops of rain. In the distance, she could hear the deep rolling of thunder. She trained her ears in the direction of the sound, trying to gauge how far away the storm might be. Listening intently as she was, her ears also picked up another sound: soft, magical chanting.

"Take cover!" Asiara screamed. But it was too late. From atop the rock outcropping a ball of fire streaked down, only to burst right in the middle of the line of Annol troops. Before the soldiers could react, another spell struck – this one a bolt of magical energy that reduced a group of young warriors to ashes immediately.

Asiara frantically tugged at the strings holding the mask to her belt. Once she had freed it, she placed the mask over her face. Feeling utterly invincible, she jumped off her horse and began scaling the rock as quickly as her powerful body would allow. The mage that was casting these spells was clearly quite powerful - to cast two such powerful spells in quick succession would be something only the most adept spell casters in the realm could do.

But you have no reason to fear. No spell can harm you.

Asiara grinned to hear the voice again – a voice that was now clearly feminine in nature, and also strangely familiar. But Asiara had other things to think about at the moment.