Free Sword in the Storm by David Gemmell

belt, and he felt her warm hands on his hips, the heat of the fire on the bare skin of his legs. She dropped to her knees before him, pushing her cheek against his swollen penis. Taking it in her hand, she kissed the glans, running her tongue over the tip. He groaned and heard her give a throaty chuckle.
    “Are you still afraid, Connavar?” she asked.
    “No.” Stooping, he took her by the arms and lifted her to her feet.
    Eriatha led him to the bed, and they lay down side by side. Conn moved above her. Her legs swung expertly over his hips,and he entered her. The warmth alone was joyful, but it was as nothing compared to the sense of harmony that engulfed him. This was perfection of a kind he had never experienced or even dreamed of. Skin on skin, her lips upon his, their bodies moving together. Lost in ecstasy, he began to move faster and faster, his entire being focused on the movement, the warmth, and the wetness.
    There was no sense of time or place now. The universe was the hut, the world this bed. Nothing mattered save the desperate need within him to thrust harder and harder. His body was soaked in sweat. Rearing up on his elbows, he gave one final thrust. He cried out as he came, then sank to the bed, breathing heavily.
    They lay in silence for several minutes. Then Eriatha began to stroke his chest and belly. Arousal came swiftly, and he made to mount her again.
    She pushed him away. “No, lover. Now is the time for your education to begin. You have already shown me you can rut. And you do it wonderfully well. Now let us see how you swift a learner you really are.”
    “What must I learn?” he asked her.
    “To treat your lover’s body as if it were your own. To bring the same pleasure to her that she brings to you, with hand and mouth and body. And to learn patience, Connavar, and control. Will you be able to do what I tell you?”
    He smiled. “Let us see,” he said.
    “Then we will lie here for a while and merely touch,” she said. “And I will show you the secrets of the game.”
    Throughout the evening and into the night she taught him. He would never know that she feigned her first orgasm, nor would he ever learn how surprised she was that the second and third were entirely natural.
    At the last they sat quietly on the bed, sipping cider. “I wish there was more I could teach you, Connavar,” she said. “Butyou are—as you promised—a fast learner. And you will bring your wife great joy. Who is the lucky girl?”
    “Arian—she is the blacksmith’s daughter. You must have seen her. She has golden hair and the face of a goddess.”
    “Yes, I have seen her. She is very pretty,” said Eriatha, climbing from the bed and putting on her faded blue dress.
    Conn sensed the change in her mood. “What is wrong?”
    “Nothing is wrong,” she answered. “But it is late and time for you to go.”
    “Was it something I said?” he asked, rising and moving to his clothes.
    “Foolish boy,” she said, gently stroking his face. “You have said and done nothing to offend me. Quite the reverse, in fact. Go home and leave me to get some rest. You have tired me out, and I need my sleep.”
    Conn dressed and stepped to the door. Taking her hand, he kissed it. “I will never forget this night,” he said.
    “Nor I. Go home.”
    Only when he had left and was walking home through light rain did he remember that he had not given her the coin. Slowly he trudged back to the hut and was about to knock on the door when he heard the sound of weeping coming from within the darkened hut. The sound was plaintive and, more than that, infinitely private. Silently he took three silver coins from his pouch and left them by the door.
    Then, lifting his hood into place, he walked home.
    As summer waned and the corn was cut, threshed, and stored, the young men of the settlement took to the high woodlands with their elders to replenish the winter fuel stores. Younger boys, carrying long canvas sacks slung over their