An Unlikely Bride 4

(Well fair warning this one is also NSFW at one part, I specifically included this based on the positive responses)

(Don't expect much more of that, if I don't feel it's necessary to the story I won't include it)

They had somehow managed to arrive at Trygvegate proper without hostile incident, the first of several hamlets that clustered around the important landscape features on the road east. They weren't out of the ordinary, Anor was full of towns that grew up around ancient bridges, canyon mouths, hills, or whatever else made that spot a useful place for travelers to congregate. They were often vulnerable and tended to be wary of bandits, so kobolds were not a welcome sight at all. When Thonvar tried to use his meager credentials to smooth things over, the locals were sympathetic only to his sad fate and nothing more. Thanks to him they didn't run the group off, but aside from that small mercy they were forced to make camp at the far edge of the town.

Getting there before dark was tough, so nearly everyone went to sleep that night tired and exhausted with the exception of the elves who refused to help. Disgusted by this, Thonvar refused to vouch for the knife-ears to the townsfolk who trusted highborn elves as much as they trusted the kobolds they were with.

Even so, waking up next to Anza's petite figure snuggled against him put the human's mood back to it's usual mellowness and he didn't dare stir while she still slumbered. Instead he thought about their situation and tried to make sense of it, why his father had entrusted them with the mysterious gift and his comment about the elves... That didn't sit right, it didn't feel like the usual remark about their kind. Something was afoot, it made him question the reasons for his marriage and the motives of all those foreigners involved in this odd nonsense.

That wasn't entirely true, he didn't question Anza's motives. He didn't know her yet, not as a person, lover, or wife, but he knew her motives.

For an arranged marriage it wasn't bad at all to have somebody like her, she wasn't interested in the money or titles that he didn't have and that just left him. As he was. He couldn't figure out why the kobolds had wanted a human to wed one of theirs, even their usual delusional quest for the fantasy their race had woven for themselves wasn't enough of a reason. Or maybe it was, he didn't know. Perhaps making the other kingdoms agree to terms that left a human, any human, marrying a kobold was their way of declaring they're just as important as everyone else.

Something about that complete nonsense was distinctly kobold in nature.

He would need to find out, but it would mean being tactful and sociable which were two things he was not and probably couldn't ever be. An alternative was to beat it out of people, but that wasn't his style and he probably didn't have the stomach for it anyway. What he needed was friends, the kinds of friends that honest men stayed away from. Until then he resigned himself to be careful about what he said and did, he had a responsibility to his wife to not put them in unfavorable situations.

That thought must have been relayed to her somehow, she squirmed under the covers and pulled her chilly feet up high. Unfortunately the wagon had a few holes in the bottom, missing knots, cracks, that sort of thing, and the wind had made it's presence known over the night. They had put down a rough quilt that didn't seem to stay put for long on her side.

Maybe he did need to move after all, she kept fidgeting.

With care he reached down and tried to flatten their "bedding" out, but after a few moments he gave up and pulled the kobold up on top of him. While that did wake her, she trilled happily at his affectionate gesture and nuzzled her face next to his neck for a tender kiss.

"Wind cold for Anza," she murmured.

He nodded and replied, "we need to think of something better. Kobolds do not survive long in cold winds."

She sat up and looked at him, only laying back down when he smiled at her. Maybe she wanted to ask about the comment?

"I was joking, but it is true," Thonvar admitted.

"How husband know this?" she said, the emotion in her voice sounded fearful.

Answering her directly would mean a hard conversation, he was sure of it, but he wouldn't lie to his wife and pretend it was only speculation. Life out in the Reach was hard and people died in the cold if they didn't work together, but nobody worked with kobolds and kobolds were stubborn.

"I want us to be at the mountains before the first snows."

His hope that she would remain quiet was not wasted as she chose to reply with a kiss, her small head resting on his shoulder for comfort as his fingers caressed her bare scales. Again she insisted on it, the nudity, he wondered if it was a subtle way to encourage his physical affection. That would be a strange way to do it because it had been demonstrated that she could will him to be ready, he would desire her if she provoked it, so perhaps she just preferred it that way. Maybe he did too?

Not on the road, if he needed to respond to something quickly it was best he at least remain somewhat dressed. She could stay in the wagon where it was safe, if he needed to kill a sabercat or ward off cutpurses then knowing she was in a sturdy wooden box would make it easier. One swipe and both threats could end her, he... He felt a pang of concern about that, and it wasn't his sense of honor or duty making it come to him. Threats in the wilderness, out on the road, they were dangerous and... That wouldn't be good, if they found her. Best a naked kobold spend her time struggling her wide hips and chubby tail into clothes rather than giving into that temper, that was his thoughts on the matter.

Thonvar's eyes closed as he thought about his decision, it would seem like her idea to appeal to him anyway. Maybe it was best for that reason alone, it would make his wife happy if she knew her efforts were appreciated.

Yes, he could forgive himself for that small amount of trickery.

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When he woke again the day had dragged on a bit longer than he had liked, but it was still quite early in the morning. Anza had already dressed and brought him a bowl of simple beef stew and some nice bread to go with it, she insisted that she had already eaten. That might not have been true, but he wouldn't argue with her over the one meal and she didn't seem envious as she watched him eat. After dressing and thankful for the food, he made sure to indulge her in some affection before leaving her to head into the village. Of course since she was his wife she could come, it would be dishonorable for the locals to turn her away, but he thought it best not to bring her.

Instead he brought a fat sack of gold, it would be enough to pay for some better things at their small market. They didn't have much there, trinkets and road supplies mostly, but they did have a trader who dealt in weapons. His selection was decent and made Thonvar regret bringing only his sword and an ornate broad knife, fighting brigands in close combat without armor or a shield was foolish. His feelings could be easily corrected, a nice horseback bow and full quiver of arrows were on display. From what he could tell it had a good, strong pull!

However the arrows were a problem. When he pulled one out it was obvious right away that he wouldn't be able to afford it, dwarven black steel was said to be quite good and therefore extremely expensive. There weren't any other arrows, but he bought the bow and one of the empty quivers just in case he found somewhere that sold cheaper arrows. Preferably iron or low steel, it was good enough for game.

He also found a few small spear heads, nothing incredible, but since they didn't have handles he managed to pick them up for a relatively cheap price.

Satisfied with his purchases he left and walked over to the stall selling rugs, some quite large, and didn't even need to browse at all to make a purchase. There was a large one that looked a lot like it would fit in the wagon and then some, made of yarn and hair rope dyed white and blue, that immediately caught his eye. While he had never done it, he knew that the people he came from stuffed the cracks of their rocky homes with yarn and rope to keep the wind and weather out so obviously a rug could do for a wagon.

Getting it to the wagon would be another story.

At first carrying the bow and quiver on his back was fine, the gigantic rug slung over his shoulder like a log of wool didn't start to really get heavy until he had walked about an acre. Then it got worse. And worse. And worse. He needed to switch shoulders, but his bow was in the way! Ahead though, ahead was a nice rock, he huffed a cloud of effort into the cold air and steeled himself for the arduous journey probably twenty whole feet away. Or was it thirty? Forty? He didn't know, it felt like a mile.

Didn't matter, Thonvar set out for it and he made it, the end of the rug planted firm against the rock and safe from contamination.

Switching shoulders by lifting it up and over the bow, he heaved his prize up again and marched forward once more; his eyes scanning for another rock oasis.

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His body ached fiercely at the end of the day, his battle with the rug and the struggle to get it ever so perfect for inspection by his wife was just the start of it. Unfortunately she was more interested in and annoyed with his other purchases, but when he asked why she didn't, or couldn't, explain to him her feelings. He didn't understand. Why was she angry?

At least the rug did it's job well, when his face planted against the quilt sprawled over it's tough construction he didn't feel an uncomfortable chill from the fabric like before. Pain told him not to reach for the wool blanket rolled tight to serve as a pillow, but he fought through it with a gentle groan and got himself situated for the night. Yet he had forgotten something, two things actually, three if he...

Thonvar grunted into the wool and forced himself up.

Holding his hand up to the horizon, the back of it toward the sun, he squinted and measured the remainder of the day in fingers and not in palms. Daylight would be gone soon, but his stomach grumbled loudly to remind him of the fourth thing he had forgotten.

Yet his wife hadn't, she returned to him before he had a chance to get his boots back on armed with a massive plate so loaded it required both hands. They had a bottle of dry mead stashed nearby along with a skin of water, they didn't need to run off again and could enjoy the evening together. Yet she didn't greet him with the same smile she usually wore, his earlier offense still lingered! Silently he offered to take the plate from her, he didn't know why it seemed so important until he had set it off to the side. Yes, she was angry, but not so much that she refused all contact with him and ignored his attempt to help.

Good, mostly because he had no idea how to overcome whatever obstacle that lingered between them.

Helping her up, he flattened out a small sheet of sewn patches of cloth to protect the fur from spills. She put the plate down. He uncorked the mead.

She ignored him and started eating.

He didn't know what he did wrong.

They had wooden cups to go with a wooden bowl, a ladle, and some plates. It wasn't their stuff, everyone carried some communal items that could be used by all, but since they were available he poured both of them cupfuls of the wondrous golden elixir. That was something he hoped would spur a comment, but... nothing. For some reason he was getting worried, that happened sometimes when he didn't understand what was wrong with people.

"This is good food," he remarked, deciding to be the first to speak. "Thank you."

"Husband know Anza did not make," she sighed.

... But that's not what he meant.

Thonvar shook his head and took a drink. "I am thanking you for bringing it, I see beans, potatoes, salted beef. These are good."

She nodded with a sarcastic expression as she chewed.

Undeterred he continued, "this says to me that you remembered what I ate before, when I left you the ham, it says to me that you thought of me. That is why I give thanks."

As he was saying that she was reaching for a chunk of beef, lingering for a moment when his words took effect. Would she speak now? He let her process it on her own terms, watching her as she took the piece she was reaching for and failed to bring it up to her mouth. Instead she reached up to him, holding it out without looking, waiting for him to respond. His mind asked him if she was flirting, Thonvar didn't know. Since it was offered he leaned forward and let her feed him, her claws curling slightly as his lips graced over them.

Finally she looked up, watching him chew for a few seconds before quietly replying, "Anza think of husband."

Yes, that's what he... No, that isn't what he said. They were the same words, mostly, but hers had a very different meaning.

"You keep me in your mind a lot," he observed.

"Always husband in Anza mind," she explained, a claw pointing at the base of her stubby horn. "Anza know husband work hard all the day, not have," she made a fist, "at done, weak, husband need strong."

"You want me to get my strength back, I know."

She didn't look convinced. "Strong Thonvar? Strong Anza. Husband dummy, not good think."

He didn't understand her, he wished she could speak... Oh! She said he wasn't thinking. About what? The rug? Was that what this was all about?

"You don't want me to take a risks like carrying the rug alone, I might be hurt."

Anza scoffed. "Yes! ... No... No!" she hissed with her eyes clenched shut in obvious frustration. "Dummy Thonvar!"

"What?"

"Dummy not think," she scowled, pointing at the bow, "Husband dumb, not strong make Anza not strong."

"Our family not str-- Weakens our family?"

"Family, us, dumb Thonvar not get. Think!" she yelled, pointing again at the bow.

He just didn't get it, by the gods what the hell was she so angry about? Following her angry claw to the bow didn't help, was she saying archery was bad? What kind of message was she sending? Even her accent was difficult, her tongue rolled every "R" sound into a harsh trill, the various syllables shifted into the grating ones her own tongue had, sharp and confusing sounds that his human mouth could only make if alone and divorced from flowing speech. "Flowing" was also the wrong word, her sentences were usually easy and gentle, the limited vocabulary coming to him with the leisure of a nice brook.

Her increasing frustration brought volume and it brought speed, he wondered how close she was to shouting incomprehensible gibberish at him.

That's why he thought hard before he finally answered with, "please, I'm trying to understand, do you dislike archers?"

Frustration was replaced by fury, she balled up her fists and glared at him with fire in her rose-tinted eyes.

"You don't care about archers. The bow. Uhh," he looked over at it, "it's the bow that's the problem. Are you mad that I bought it?"

Her claws replaced the words, grabbing the slightly lighter sack of gold and firing it at his chest like a meteor; he barely caught it bouncing off.

His anger flared from the assault. "I don't understand what you're trying to tell me. Don't do that. Do you think I will know by magic? I don't use magic. You must tell me," he set the sack of gold back where it belonged, "or stay angry, I don't care."

Still angry she folded her arms and muttered, "Anza not think good when husband is dummy."

"You let your anger control you, wife. Calm down, then tell me, how am I to know what you think? I barely know you."

"Thonvar not know nothing, does with not think!"

"How then? The bow? Are you mad that I did not tell you I was buying something to keep us fed? I will find arrows, kobold, do _not_ worry about such things. You tell me you think of me, I thought of you."

That was that, he was tired of playing games and being abused by something half his size. As far as he was concerned she would be a weight to bear for him if they were starving, he would need to do all the work. Sure she might now how to trap a rabbit or stalk something, but they were in his lands and he knew the only way to survive existed on hooves. That meant he should, by any right, have full authority and all the say on how best to ensure their survival. He didn't care if she didn't like it, she was just a stupid kobold anyway.

Seeing her expression shift made his guilt come instantly, had she known what he thought? Bitter shame stung him, he looked down at the food to keep from being reminded of his foolish mistake.

"Anza try, Thonvar not get," she sighed, her voice soft once again, "how say husband who not think of what now and next? Tell Anza."

His brain decoded her words as best it could. "I was thinking ahead, Anza. I was thinking of you. Of us."

"Husband not think when work..." she trailed off and held up her hands in frustration. Then she looked down. A single claw tapped on the exposed rug. "How say?"

"Rug?"

"Thonvar strong work rug," she said, miming lifting it, "not think."

"You said you weren't..." he lost his words, a tiny miller was fast at work inside his head as he looked up at the bow, "you said I wasn't thinking with the bow, are you mad that I lifted this with that under arm?"

Partial relief spilled over her as he spoke, she sighed and moved her hands and jaw without word.

"The gold. You were watching me. Were you worried I might break the bow I just bought?"

"Husband yes!" she exclaimed, rolling her eyes with a slap to her horn. "This what Anza try say husband."

Thonvar felt so stupid, his reddened face must have shown how ashamed he was at missing something that should have been obvious hours ago. How stupid of him! Them! Had she just told him, tried to work it out, they would have had a more pleasant day and he wouldn't have been confused and uncomfortable. This was why he avoided people and hadn't ever associated with the opposite sex, the one time he had it was paid for and he was too shy for it, maybe he should have paid more attention! Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Anza abandoned her side of the cold food and went to him, her arms around his bicep as she softly asked, "husband sad?"

"I feel stupid."

She shook her head and kissed his cheek. "Thonvar think on hard when Anza say of," she gestured to the floor, "know say, smart husband. How stupid?"

"I don't even understand what you just said, but I don't want to do this again," he said, finally looking over at her. "Why didn't you explain about the rug and the bow earlier?"

Finally it was her turn to look the way he had been feeling all day, he regretted everything and his heart melted when her hurt eyes looked away. Thinking about what to do wasn't necessary, he slipped the arm around her midsection and pulled his wife into his lap where she could be properly held. They were still learning, he didn't know her yet and hadn't figured out how to bridge the language gap, forgiveness for the kobold came as easy as the kiss they shared.

A very much needed one at that, he dragged the blanket and plate over to the edge of the wagon so it was out of the way before laying back. Evidently she knew what he wanted and agreed, she didn't remain in his lap and followed him to lay her head on his shoulder while they shared another lovely kiss.

"I'm sorry, Anza."

A forgiving kiss and affectionate nuzzle, that was her answer. He had a good wife. So good that she went and fetched the plate and full cups, arming herself with a wooden spoon and loading with some of the southerner food. Defenses against such weaponry didn't exist, not when he was that hungry, and to his surprise it wasn't as cold as he had expected! Her fist was full of salted beef and she didn't mind embarrassing herself in front of him as she fed him another spoonful, giggling with a full mouth as he slurped.

"You should slow--" He coughed from the spice, she put out the fire with a small mountain of whipped potatoes.

Gods might, it felt good to relax and eat. He had been at it all damned, cursed day, helping change old wheels and tongues, even a broken axle was one of the repairs they had struggled with. All the while listening to the elves mumble about going to this place and that, how they needed to go here, there, visit with some damned, dumb king about the "situation" there. Another spoonful, he thought about how normally he would have eavesdropped and listened harder, but he was huffing and puffing in the final days of the summer sun as the loosely-paved road battered wagon after wagon. Then his own, the kobolds chattered on and on when he tore off the wheels on his and mended a few spokes before they became a problem.

Instead of a spoon he got a nice, big helping of the beef she had been munching on. Anza was like a scaly pig, he wondered if she was just pretending to be ladylike earlier or if they were too wore down to care.

He didn't. Even if he wasn't tired, he didn't care if she fed him by hand as long as she was clean and he knew for a fact that she was. Not as much as he'd like, but he caught her scrubbing furiously with a bowl of water and a rag while the wagon jostled along which is what tipped him off in the first place. Seeing a blast of water slosh out was... Odd, to say the least, he had to look to see where it came from. Just out of curiosity he leaned over and sniffed, she jerked back and looked at him with a furrowed brow.

"You smell good," he remarked, hoping the comment would work.

A bright grin told him it did, she trilled happily and fed him a half-spoon of potatoes. He had to quickly chew and swallow to be ready for the next one, the process quickly turned into a game and they raced time together to consume it all while it was still hot. Wine helped, of course, it also made laughter come far easier as the sun finally dipped below the horizon. When she had nothing left to assault him with they stuck to just drinking, slurping down as much as they dared in quiet enjoyment until the weightless haze of alcohol affected them even when immobile.

That remained so until she stumbled up to close the flap to the wagon, weaving unsteadily in a precarious position before stumbling back to him in a fit of giggles. He just marveled in his inebriated stupor at how pretty her laughter was, if he closed his eyes he could imagine what she might look like as a human, he thought she would be one of those white-haired shieldmaidens that sometimes ventured south. Fjords seemed to make the prettiest people and those women laughed like she did, full and yet feminine, they were the kind he fantasized about.

A warm wetness on his lips made him respond, his tongue left it's sanctuary and extended forth to meet the alien waiting for it so they could dance in his mouth. Hands on his head, holding him there as she straddled him during the hot intensity they shared. His eyes remained shut until she left him, he finally opened them to find her staring down at him with her heavy-lidded eyes clouded over with a lusty need.

She didn't need to tell him this time, he worked on his leggings while she fought off her tunic and came down on him tongue-first while he tried to tug the fabric past her thick tail. Even in his drunken haze he realized she was raising it up high, was it instinctual? No time to think, he forced it down and got the obstacle to her down, past her knees, and off her ankles and feet with a clumsy tug. Her thoughts were the same, she broke their kiss and slid down, nuzzling herself under his tunic and peeling it up and over his arms.

Of course he helped, but only because he had other plans for her and needed his hands. His focus was on swollen piece of flesh in front of him, so close, he couldn't help himself but want it. Guiding her down by soft, fatty handfuls of kobold rump he could feel the heat of her excitement on him as his tongue opened her slit without warning. A gasping cry escaped her as he lapped at the alien folds one by one, the salty taste of fresh excitement didn't bother him at all.

Then he noticed something else, a small protrusion near the way deeper, his exploring over that made her buck and shiver with fantastic delight. Another tease, she pressed herself against his face to encourage more of that, but he denied her and went back to the other spots, slow, gentle strokes from bottom to top.

"Husband..." she gasped, her claws running through his hair.

Finally he relented, giving her another sample with a full lick that made her thighs tremble and her hips rock. That wasn't allowed, he kneaded his hands into her soft, pliable hide and held her tight while he worked her with more lashes of the tongue. His memory of her oral surprise was fresh in his head as he worked her, hard and firm grinding with the roughest and most unforgiving tastebuds he could bear while he reveled in her feminine flavor. Beside his ribs he could feel her toes curl as she gasped hard and then again, breaking into a pant as she squirmed and shuddered under the withering pleasure.

When he guessed she was near the edge he let off a bit and went slower with deliberate, smooth movements of his tongue on her clitoris; trying to copy the punishment she gave him. It worked. Arching her back she shuddered furiously and mashed herself against his face with uneven, staggered jerks as she endured the ecstatic suffering until she could take no more. Pushing away she escaped his grasp and sat herself far away from his face, her tiny hands holding his head down as she panted above him.

"N-Not..." she stuttered, cut off by another full-body spasm. "Please."

"Was it good?" he asked, stroking her thighs. "Did I--"

Her claws covered his lips as she nodded quickly, deliberately, eyes locked with his. As far as he was concerned they weren't done, it was only fair that they continue, and she didn't protest or try to stop him when she felt his hands work the loincloth off. No, instead her tail drooped down and ran along his throbbing anatomy, she grinned as he shuddered from the harsh stimulation. Knowing it was out seemed to provoke her, those eyes on him gained that needy glaze again and she slowly released his face to lower her gaze on his parted lips.

Then with a maddeningly slow push she moved backward toward it, the only part of him that mattered in that second, his hands on her hips and ready to guide if she needed it. As she grew near her tail raised high and her hips tilted, an automatic presentation to her eager mate, her jaw parted as she watched his excitement build and...

Anza jerked forward quickly when he accidentally probed a bit too high, just under her tail, she opted to readjust her angle before attempting again. When she did it was a slow and sweet glide that required no effort on his part, she took him entirely and did it with a satisfied sigh as he filled her. At first she didn't move, as if she was savoring his presence, her claws running sets of amused circles in the russet hair on his chest as she watched him breathe. Thonvar was lost in those eyes, he had to... He leaned forward and sat up and she didn't stop him at all from coming to her and sharing an electrifying kiss with him. A different one, not raw, not affectionate, this one was... Special.

He hated that it had to end, but she made it better by rolling her wide hips in slow, methodical circles back against him and soothed the human into a relaxed state. None of his muscles hurt, his body buzzed with a euphoric glow as she worked herself not so much up and down his length but against it as well; the motion running it unevenly inside her. A look of realization set in suddenly as she gasped, and then with a little twist to the side she began to draw an uneven invisible oval in their private universe with her hips. Every oscillation he felt the length grind and tease against a rough set of folds, each time his surging, throbbing tip touched there she shuddered with fantastic satisfaction.

Cautiously, as if he was moving to touch something with potent magic, his hand rested on her inviting rump which made the kobold grin and giggle. Her claws ran over his chest while she moved, her strained expression told her she was resisting shuddering in the face of the wonderful pleasure he gave her. Resistance that manifested in a spasm inside, a firm grip on her mate that filled him with a spine-breaking shiver every time. Something about it made him want it more, the painful, wonderful suction of womanly muscle stroking the girth that spread her wide.

They both fought nature for as long as they could, resisting the urge to ruin it with speed and tenacity, but eventually their mutual movements blossomed into enthusiastic grinding together. Each time a stroke of his length in the steel grip of kobold velvet, their breath hard and raw to match the quickening pace. He wanted it, that elusive sensation crawling under his skin, in his bones, he knew what it felt like and in her eyes he saw she was working so hard to bring it to him. His wife, beautiful, scaly, kobold wife; her wide and womanly hips locked to his, their bodies strained, muscle taut, his mind became singularly focused on their only goal.

A sharp gasp heralded the vertical onyx stripes cutting through the rosy glow of her eyes growing wide, he felt the change, her body shuddered as the grip on him tightened and pushed him where she needed him. Deep inside the stinging bliss ripped through the nerves and made his tip flare to fill, his body split by the incredible finale radiating from his loins and up his spine. Deep inside her she milked him, drained him completely, her body struggling against itself to last long enough to get every drop of the human's masculine gift.

Just as when they reached the pinnacle of marital bliss together their bodies simultaneously gave up, his head struggled to keep in reality as she dropped limp to his chest in a fit of harsh panting. He tried to comfort, a hand batted lazily at her, his ears pounded with hard bells as his heart floundered in his chest.

His eyelids were too heavy to lift.

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Drums.

He heard drums.

When he opened his eyes there was nothing, black nothing.

He couldn't even see his hand in front of him.

Where was he?

... Who was he?

That thought took an eternity to ponder, he lost track of infinity as his mind soared over the nothing until he saw the beginnings of... something in the distance. When he wanted to know, it became his focus and he was closer and closer until he was there, but he did not know. What was this? Where was this? Was this then? Now? What will be? His questions made no sense, but they were important, and with no eyes he could not seek the answers so he had eyes then. He had a body, with hands, he saw his hands, and his feet touched the nothing in front of him.

Drums.

He heard drums.

Where was he?

Stumbling forward he followed the noise, the something took shape to be stones as ancient as the forever that came before man, before elf, before kobold, dwarf, goblin, orc, fox men, lizards, aurochs, sabercats, dragons, horses... Before death. Death was in the place, he could hear it, the nothing vibrated and told him. Drums were there too, the drums ahead, he stumbled again on the nothing and reached out to a stone. Fingers of stone came out and interlaced with his, stroking his skin, he came close to see if it was real. Was it? Stones could never talk, but they could kiss, the cold stone was not cold for him, it kissed him and sent him on his way. He needed to see it.

Drums.

He heard drums. They called to him.

Walking was too hard, he crawled elbow-deep in the black that licked his skin, tried to taste him and make him submit, but his feet were strong and so he was strong. He crawled in the nothing until the something stone became weathered and worn, gave way to sand and rock and the dead grass of purple and gray, it glowed a deep blue, almost black as he crawled over it. It loved his soul. Drums. He kept his soul, he was saving it for later, but the stones let him walk steady and so he did not crawl. He could not crawl, he had to see. They were there, he needed to see it.

Drums.

Ahead was a temple, an ancient temple when his ancestors were new, they built it to worship the dragon that was their lord. A dead priest stepped out, his skin tight against bone, dry as tinder, lips gone, teeth blackened with old rot, eyes gone and replaced by deep violet orbs of magic as his hands raised to the sky. Thuunav, Lord of Sky, hear our prayer. Whisper to the night's magic to keep Her away, to keep the Trickster at bay, we need you Lord of Sky, your words in the breeze, guide us in our time of need. All the others, just as dead, raised their arms up high to carry it away. Wind, oh faithful to our Lord, carry his guiding words to the Reach before the Fear of Before comes to our doors.

Drums.

"... wuuth ..."

He kept walking, the temple was old now and crumbled, he looked for the place he needed to be, where it was, he needed to see it. Drums. Every footstep a glowing pulse into the death-taken, fear-broken, a step of life as ancient as the Before. Life of Men. His life. A force projected, deep, but it was gone so soon and the path he came was dark as before. Above the night sky did not dance with life, it was blue again, a hateful glow that did not enjoy him casting his life deep into the void. It made him angry, furious, he hated the not-sky that tricked him to believe. Drums. Now in his heart, drums of war, of Men, of their way to go where Nothing was and make Something.

"... gaeli snaivir ..."

He fell to his knees and gripped himself, making him long and thick, the stone in front of him would be his rebellion. Thrusting deep inside the stone took him, he worked frantically, staring at the sky. He screamed at it. He hated it and it hated him.

Thick, sticky ropes of Life spilled where the sky hated it most. He smiled.

"... heilja eina mijn kiskaraus ..."

Drums.

He ran this time, ran to see where the drums went, where they led him. More human stones, steps, he climbed them with all his might to see. There were others now, he saw them, felt them, the sounds their souls made as they shuffled toward it. Drums. He was so near so many, a sleeping place, where they slept sometimes and woke, hands high, prayers never answered, but they remained locked in the ritual for all time until it stopped. Or was stopped. Drums. He knew it was just up there, they did too, he heard their whispers...

"... astihang wuuth gaeli snaivir ..."

Drums.

Somebody else was over... there... He knew them, they could see him too. Stones saw him, knew him, but they knew not the stones or the sky, they knew so little, yet they had the Force he had, of Life, it vibrated to him. Then smelled to him. They could control something, he knew of it but he did not know it, it was different than the old Way. New. Not ancient. His Way was ancient. They went to where the drums showed them. They needed to see it too.

Drums.

"... aena thulan hala aenos hithga ..."

He got to the top, the drums were all around him, around them, and another, some others, the ground knew it too. He did not understand, but he did not need to, it was there. Down there. Down the steps. They all went down, the ground gave up it's stone and the stone walked too, it was there. And saw.

He saw.

This was black. Blacker than nothing. Hateful. Powerful. It could not make itself where the things were, the Force had power, the Old Way, and New Way, these were it's binds. Yet it was there. It's Hate was real, with Fear's tongue licking a brain. He looked at it, the black, looked into it, looked throug

"YOU ARE NOTHING AND YOU WILL DIE"

-------------------------------------------------

Thonvar jumped in terror, he almost screamed.

His body was drenched in sweat and he was freezing, his breath was impossible to find as he gasped for real air, real, actual air. His mouth wasn't big enough for all the air he needed, but somehow he managed. Then he remembered, he looked around in the dark and saw Anza there, panting hard, eyes wide in terror, she just barely glanced at him before they came together in a much-needed embrace. Did she have a nightmare too?

When he had caught his breath he managed a weak, "I'm thirsty," before fumbling around for the waterskin.

She found it, she gulped down all the water she could before reluctantly passing it to him. By the gods what a night!

He was still naked, merely draped in the fur blanket, when he climbed outside aside, he didn't care who saw him at that particular moment because he just needed air and it was too much inside the wagon. Anza came too, clinging to him as he stepped down and she remained on his hip as the just fought to recover. They would probably need to talk about what happened, it seemed like more than a coincid...

The sky was red.

Blood red.

He looked up in raw, bone-chilling terror as his eyes fell on the source. A rock from the heavens, a piece of the sky, drawing a line of fire from west to east that lit up the sky in a horrific and unnatural way. Anza shuddered as she watched it, on her lips the words of her natural tongue and sounding just as dark as his memories of old legends. Of the sky raining fear.

He had to look away. There was nothing up there he wanted to see, he--

A pair of red eyes. Just below the horizon. Looking right at him. Not kobold eyes, these were bigger, wider set, they had to be to make out at that distance. He blinked in disbelief, but they had vanished. Was he hallucinating?

The rock's glow died down. The sky lost it's red.

Thonvar looked around quickly, his eyes now sharp with alertness. Something was out there still, he could feel it.

"Anza is a kobold over there?"

She took her eyes off the sky and looked around.

"Anza no see kobold," she mumbled, hugging onto him for comfort. "No see nothing."

"I was sure I saw..." he trailed off and sighed. "I don't like pieces of the sky falling down, that was no shooting star either. That was evil."

"Anza think yes, Thonvar... Anza cold," she whispered, shuddering against him. "Please?"

He looked at the spot again. Was he sure?

One thing was sure, Thonvar knew something was very wrong; too much was happening all at once. He didn't trust his senses at the moment, how could he after that dream? What insanity was that? A Prophecy? Dark magic? Were they near a coven of witches? Maybe praying to the gods would help, because he was absolutely out of his element with strange dreams, evil omens, and terrifying eyes watching him from afar. All right when he was newly married, too! Here he was counting his luck.

"Yes. It's cold out," he sighed, reluctantly moving to head back inside. "I hope we move faster tomorrow."


(Run you fools, run, get the hell off the steppes! Abandon those damn knife-ears if they want to dawdle!)
(Mind you, this is all happening while other stuff is going on in the world and I think I have another story that ties in with this)