R17

Morning dawned above the river. Forest mirrored in the murky water looked like a curse of dark evergreen covered with cloak of snow. Shagart was sitting on a rock feeling his butt literarily freezing. He wondered what will happen when his friends realize his ass is glued to the boulder. Would Bargh-uz crush the rock with his hammer? Or would Miargh let the flames flow from her fingertips to melt the ice? While he was pondering such deep thoughts, his eyes wandered to Saint Vincent, fortress squatting on the highest hill across the river. Stealthily, sneaking as goblin thief, his thoughts encroached upon the fort. Do we mine trenches and galleys or strike from the air with wyverns?

Bargh-uz was munchin on the last of his cold roast boar. He plucked at rare meat right off the bone, savouring the grease solidified at the bottom of the pot. Yisk, his goblin sidekick watched greedily at the plate that was exactly halfway between Bargh-uz and little green rogue. In the middle of the plate single doughnut covered with sugary syrup and reisins. Bargh-uz growled at Yisk from time to time, but it didn't help much to unglue goblin's gaze from the plate. With mighty belch faintly stinking of garlic and rosemary, Bargh-uz declared his breakfast finished.

Miargh was sitting in the tub filled with hot water. Saray didn't usually offer bath to the patrons, but orc-sorcerress was quite convincing. Truth be told, she had to make the water hot by her own. Still it didn't lessen the pleasure and joy at heat that was gathering across her belly and between her legs. Dipping her fingers in the water, she invoked a bit more of the magical power. Warmth started hugging her hips and played at small of her back. Miargh sighed, remembring that Shagart is out there in the snow, skulking around the riverbank. She told him that the fortress won't fall easily at all. That the tower above the city is not a lookout but wizard's home. Human wizards gave her the creeps. Old pervs, the lot. She remembered her first teacher Mirtius and his lecherous gaze, sticky fingers at her butt, crass attempts to brush against her ample bosom. She also recalled bubbling of blood on his chest when she smote him with well aimed Claw.

Sun was reaching the zenith.