Free Blood Of The Wizard (Book 1) by Thomas Head Page A

it.”
    “ By thunder, that’s it, you scoundrel!  We’re leaving without you!”
    Struggling to get dressed, I was shocked that she was in no rush to do the same.  She was reclined there on the cold ground, naked as the day she came into the world, smiling.  I sat to put on my boots and kissed her stomach.  As I stood, I looked down with a questioning look, but I did not have to ask why she did not cover herself.  She was allowing me to digest what I was walking away from.  This is not to say she was full of conceit.  She was just comfortable. Comfortable and gorgeous and wise.
    Stooping, I picked a bunch of green ferns, then felt foolish as I gave them to her.
    “Fie, you young fool” came a call from the distance, but it might as well have been her words.  “We’ll see you upon our return!”
    Then she blew me a kiss, and it made a dull thud echo through my stomach—it was the most erotic and heart-melting thing I’d ever known.   What other absurd things I might have said, I cannot tell.  But we were at the end of our time together, and I had to go. 
    “ Go, you handsome young scoundrel!  Go!  You’ve already rescued your maiden… now go slay your dragon.”
     
     
     
----
     
     
     
     
    The purple hills were a frosty mirror to the morning’s new sunlight.  Between their deep shadows and the forested banks I found the lads in a tight circle.  Their backs to each other, their weapons jutted like thorns.  I could hear the shouts now, shouts of defiance and shouts to give a fellow courage.  Then unseen archers on the city walls loosed their bows.  I saw the glitter of the feathers as the arrows slashed down toward my fellows.  A moment later, throwing spears came, arching over the high wall to fall on the upheld shields.
    Amazingly, at least to me, it seemed that none of our dwarves was struck, though I could see their shields were stuck with arrows thick as hedgehog spines.
    S till the lads advanced toward the ship.  And I noticed that it was not archers that were attacking.  It was maids that were attacking.  All of them, maids .  Three small parties of war-maids advanced. 
    N ow my lads were wielding their bows, shooting at them, seemingly careful to land their shots in the maid’s shields.  A handful of younger maids broke from the ranks to hurl their spears at the small shield wall.
    “ By thunder lads, we can’t wait!  We must hurry along now!” my uncle cried nervously.
    I saw the closely touching shields vanish along the docks.  Then I saw the shield wedge emerge from a far ditch, and, like a monstrous beast, to crawl out closer to the vessel.  Now I could see nothing except the flash of blades rising and falling, and as the maids charged, I could hear that sound, the real music of battle, the chop of iron on wood, iron on steel.  The wedge was still moving.  Like a boar’s razor-sharp tusks, the blades began to swing and lunge.  The wedge had pierced the maids’ formidable ranks along the docks, knocking several of them into the water.  Soon after, the Feisty-Goat heaved upstream by dint of a Big Frobhur, rowing with two oars, and though the maids plunged into the water and tried to wrap around the vessel, my merry lads pressed forward.
    M ore of them rowing now, they went swiftly across a small sandbar and into the deep green waters beyond it. 
    The lads suddenly cheered and surged beyond sight.
    I muttered under my breath, realizing the surreal situation they had left me in—one moment I was asleep, and very much naked with a rare beauty, and now they had vanished into the curves of the river.
    “What the devil have they done?...”
    With a mixed sense of panic and relief, I charge into town, careful to remain unseen.  Almost immediately, I spotted a lone nun, walking her horse.  She was leading it by the bridle. I snuck behind her.  Then I lifted her robes over her head, and twisted them.  While she struggled, panicked, I tied the large knot of robes to