Chronicles of Hemlear Pt. 01

Bitten

————————Prologue————————

Averill left the tavern and slung her pack over her shoulder as she walked toward the livery a few streets away where she had quartered her horse. She was between jobs and while she still had enough coin left to live on fairly well if she was frugal, she had always preferred luxury to frugality. She rested a hand on the hilt of her long knife as she walked, making it clear that anyone who thought her easy prey would be mistaken. It was rare for thieves or slavers to work in a city the size of Bayford, especially with the size of the watch here, not to mention the heavy hand and dim view of thieves that the local nobility were well known for. Still, it was better to be safe than sorry. She didn't want to present too easy a target for any that might be about and hoping to get lucky. It was still a few hours till sunrise, but she wanted to get an early start on the road before the farmers and merchants were up and hogging the roadway with their carts and animals. And as a result she was out and about when most people were still asleep and most of those still around were watchmen and the unsavoury drunks and night prowlers. She hated travelling when the roads near the towns were crowded, the press of bodies and the stink of animals and unwashed peasants was vile. She avoided places with a lot of people most times because of her heritage. Humans distrusted half-elves and elves largely ignored them, but hate crimes against half-breeds of any stripe were not unheard of, especially out in the frontier cities like Bayford. So she kept her distance and travelled when the roads were empty whenever she could and tried to leave well before sunup and arrive just before the gates were locked. She'd had to spend more than a few nights in the open, but she was canny and skilled, and had little fear of what might be in the forests.

Her lifestyle was fairly transient, constant travel from town to town along the Frontier borderlands and seeking employment with the various groups that crossed the margelands and went into the Frontier to the south of the settled lands. It was a good way to make relatively easy coin, but it did not lead to a life of comfort most of the time. She had stayed in posh rooms and enjoyed lavish meals and even been north to some of the great cities. And while those places were beautiful and the luxuries there were exquisite, she liked the life she led, though it meant a lot of travel. Her possessions were few, just what she carried on her person, and she was happy. Someday she would retire, save up some coin instead of spending it all and buy a house in one of the northern cities, maybe open a school to teach others her trade and enjoy a life of relative luxury. But not quite yet... she wasn't ready for retirement at her age. And skills like hers were always in demand and she could charge top coin for them for a long time yet; as a half-elf she would live three times as long as a human if she was careful, maybe even four. And she was both careful and good at what she did.

But for now it was time for her to move on, there were no jobs out of Bayford at the moment. The tavern keeper had told her that up north they were looking for blades for hire, and out in Severin's crossing, a new town that was sprouting up on the river Arncam in the east some adventurers had been sending out messengers looking for aid for some delve or expedition into the lands down that way. Adventuring paid well if you could accept the danger, and she had no desire to sign up as a soldier or mercenary and live that sort of life; far too much hassle. She turned down a side street and saw someone walking toward her in the dark and rising fog. Averill watched the other person with one eye while the other kept her surroundings under watch. It always paid to be careful; she had heard of people attacking even guardsmen when they got cocky enough... or drunk enough. And while she wasn't really afraid, she was very wary. The obvious distraction was a well-known tactic, one she had used herself to fair effect, and she was looking for anyone moving in the shadows or side streets as she gripped her knife a little more firmly. She got closer to the stranger and saw it was another woman in a long cloak. As she drew closer, Averill nodded in greeting and the woman looked up from under her hood. Averill was immediately mesmerized, freezing in place and staring at the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen. She had stopped to stare at beauties before, but something about this one was different... and very much against her will. Inside, a part of her mind railed against her inaction and the dangers she was in, but she was so lost in the beauty of those eyes that she couldn't do anything about it. She felt something on her wrist, and her arm being moved away from her weapon, and the woman before her smiled and let her hood fall back.

Averill was in awe of the beauty before her; long elegantly pointed ears, slanted, exotic eyes and fine ethereal features denoted her as a full blooded elf. And to Averill's half-breed blood, elves were always the loveliest creatures in the world. Several of her past lovers had been elves of both sexes, and while their hubris was off-putting, they preferred half-breed lovers to humans or other races. Averill didn't object or even move as hands divested her of her pack and weapon belt, and the woman stepped in front of her and looked up at her with a smile. Averill was tall for a half-elf, standing just past five and a half feet, but this elf was barely five feet tall, if she was that. Averill gladly bent her neck to watch the enchanting woman and as the stranger reached up with small, slender hands and began to unlace her shirt. As she reached out her cloak parted and fell from her shoulders and the pure, radiant beauty of the creature was breathtaking.

She was nude under the cloak, her body lithe and trim and smooth, her skin nearly so pale that it was translucent. Her small breasts were topped with nipples so pale that they were nearly lost on her skin and she was clean and lovely in every possible way. Averill gasped and shivered in excitement and ecstasy as the woman unlaced her shirt and opened the front, baring her flesh. The shirt was stripped away from her, by whom Averill couldn't see, leaving her bare to the waist, her breasts firm and high on her chest and just large enough to droop a little and the small woman cupped one gently as she looked up at Averill and smiled, her mouth seeming to open too far for her fine-boned face. Her soft pink lips parted to reveal a crimson mouth and perfect white teeth. But something about those teeth seemed wrong, though Averill couldn't place just what, couldn't seem to focus on anything but the beautiful eyes that held her enthralled.

A part of her, that small, still awake part, was struggling desperately to regain control of herself as the woman leaned in closer. But Averill arched her back and presented her flesh for the elven woman. The tiny woman nestled her head between Averill's breasts, placing soft kisses on her heated skin and Averill felt a sudden moment of sharp pain. She gasped and sobbed, coming back to herself for a moment, wrenching her mind free and her eyes away from the tiny elf as her heart raced in terror.

"Vampire!" came to her mind and her arms came up to push the attacker away. But hands grasped her wrists, holding her arms still in an iron grip as the pain was drowned in a wave of perfect, complete pleasure.

She gasped as a powerful pressure centered on her sex and a throbbing, powerfull lust washed through her body, the vestiges of resistance drowning in the bliss of surrender as the small elf sucked the blood from Averill's breast greedily, as if she were nursing. Averill's spine ached from her hips up to her shoulders and she sobbed in pure joy as the hands released her wrists and moved across her body, touching her everywhere and seeming to send sparks across her skin. She moaned in pleasure and didn't flinch as her pants were stripped down her legs and she was lifted and then laid back on the cold cobbles among the slight morning mist that was slowly turning to fog as she looked up at her assailants.

Her pants and boots were stripped away as she lay on the ground, immune to the cold and the damp of the morning, the pleasure still radiating from her breasts, where the enchanting woman still suckled, and two more women looked down at the pair with the same crimson smiles, the pearly white of fangs bared in the night. Both were human, and both were stunningly beautiful. One had short dark hair, little more than a cap of dark ringlets on her head and the other was blonde with long, flowing hair past her waist. They wore simple white dresses that any peasant might wear and grey-blue cloaks that blended in with the night mists. The part of her that was still Averill knew real dread then. There had been rumours of a coven of female vampires that had been hunting all along the Frontier for decades. Their prey were always women, men were either slaughtered and left them to bleed, but women vanished, never to be seen again. And Averill was their latest victim, though she could not make herself understand why this was so bad as the pleasure that centered on her breasts began to radiate through her entire body.

The blonde woman knelt and Averill felt her legs being parted and the cool caress of lips on her thighs as the woman kissed her heated flesh and caressed her body. She had thought that Vampires would be cold, as they were undead, but their flesh was not much cooler than her own and as the blonde's bite pierced her inner thigh, Averill cried out in the throes of a sudden, powerful orgasm. She was no stranger to sex, but she had never felt anything like this before. Her legs were spread wide, and her sex was convulsing in ecstasy as the second mouth pierced the flesh of her wrist and the night above her dimmed slowly as her life was leeched out by the three women. She knew that she had lost a lot of blood, that she should be dying of it, that she should already be still and unconscious, helpless. But she was still awake, still aware and the powerful pleasure went on and on and on. The part of her that was still her was fading, the fight to regain her will was slowly being lost, and she didn't care. She felt a stirring at her breast and the small, enchanting woman rose to look Averill in the eye.

"OH, MY LITTLE ONE, YOU NEEDN'T WORRY... I WON'T LET YOU DIE. YOU WILL LIVE..."

The woman's voice was raspy and rough, completely at odds with her appearance. It was as if her throat was badly damaged at some point and had never healed properly. There was more, she spoke on, but Averill swooned, close to unconsciousness as she felt a hand caress her abdomen and slip down to cup and cover her still clenching, gushing pussy, slender fingers caressing her folds and delving her depths as the elven woman smiled and lowered down to kiss Averill deeply, her tongue parting the taller woman's lips and Averill felt a warm, salty flood in her mouth, and the taste of copper filled her throat as the kiss deepened. She swallowed on reflex and felt stronger and warmer as she returned the kiss with all of the fervour that she could muster and clenched at the hand that was caressing her with her thighs, clamping her legs together as a small finger delved her depths and caressed her most sensitive spots tenderly, as if the elf knew exactly where to touch, just how hard and exactly what to do. Averill moaned and writhed, her hands coming up weakly to try and caress her lover, but the woman at her arm, the one with dark hair, held one arm still as she sucked at the torn flesh.

Averill's other arm came up and the elf laced her fingers through Averill's with a smile as the blonde woman came up and received a kiss. Averill felt instantly jealous of the e'dan, of the human woman but aside from a whimper of displeasure from her weak throat she said nothing. The elfin woman lingered with the blonde woman and the other e'dan rose and kissed the elf as well, hands from the two humans caressing Averill as she lay on the street and moaned in delight, more warmth and strength returning to her as the blonde woman turned and kissed her deeply. Averill returned the kiss and the hand between her legs never stopped, the elf looking down at Averill around the kiss she shared with the blonde human, and past where the dark haired woman was suckling at one of the elf's tiny breasts. Averill was focused on the tiny, enchanting elf and the feelings in her body as the hand between her legs slipped another finger into her heat and pleasure began to rise once more, a different, deeper, more powerful pleasure that seemed to be centered on the elf's eyes. It washed over her suddenly and she arched her back as it exploded within her and a last little spark of something indefinable died as the pleasure and darkness consumed her. And as she spiralled down into unconsciousness, the words of the elf chased her and lodged like burning embers in her mind.

"REMEMBER ME WHEN YOU DREAM, LITTLE PET... CALL OUT TO ME WHEN YOU ARE WITH A LOVER... YOU KNOW MY NAME, DEEP IN YOUR HEART AND YOU WILL REMEMBER IT... CALL TO ME... CALL TO ME..."

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"Lillethe!" Averill cried out as she woke with the sunset.

Gasping, she sat up in the bed and looked out at the last rays of the sun vanishing below the horizon. She looked around and saw she was in an unfamiliar room and her whole body ached, especially her head and down her spine all the way to her backside. Memories of the dream came back in a flood and she threw the blankets off of herself to reveal her bare skin. She saw a man was in bed with her, snoring contentedly and that she had love bites on her neck, shoulders, breasts and thighs. But her skin was not broken nor was there blood on her. Careful probing revealed that she had engaged in lovemaking recently, the thick cream leaking from her and the sweat on her body were indications of just how vigorous. But she looked again and again where she thought the three women had bitten her and found no marks.

Then she remembered; it was all a dream. She had caught a fever on a trip across the Frontier borderlands and had been holed up in a farm for three days, the family there had found her passed out under a tree, soaked in sweat and delirious and they had nursed her back to health. And that fever dream had come back to her regularly ever since, especially after she had had sex. A healer told her that sometimes the rise in her body heat that came with lovemaking could bring on something like a ghost of the fever to disturb her sleep and alcohol would only make her more susceptible. She found no bites or scars on her skin, she felt no fear of the light and no craving for blood. But that dream came back to her again and again, and her cravings had been much stronger since as if her brush with the fever and the nearness of death had made her crave life even more; fine foods... wine and mead... luxurious surroundings... and sex... most of all sex. Rare were the nights that she slept alone, and this man was just the latest in her long line of lovers each more physical and aggressive than the last.

She rubbed at her face with both hands, a foul taste in her mouth and her eyes burned, the ache down her spine was burning at the base of her back and her sex ached and tingled where she wasn't bruised and sore. She knew this feeling... mead. She had been drinking mead again. She tended to overdo it when she drank mead and the man in the bed next to her was a perfect example of that. He was broad of shoulder, had heavy muscles and a thick, almost nonexistent neck. The kind she tended to prefer. But the smell he had to him, a very masculine odor that seemed to assail her nostrils told her that he had at least some orcish blood in him. Her elfin senses tended to be repulsed by orcs and orc-kin, and while she was sure he had his attractions, at that moment she was repulsed by him based on smell alone. It was like he hadn't bathed in days... weeks.

She slid across the sheets and stood, padding to the bedstand and poured water into the basin, shivering in the chill as she splashed her face with some before reaching for the washcloth. She washed her underarms and sex, cleaning the pooled sweat and leaking juices from her body before setting the cloth aside and drinking deeply from the ewer. As she set it down, she heard the man stir on the bed behind her and she half turned, expecting to be repulsed more by what she saw. But he was passively good looking at least, with a grizzled growth of beard and a sharp nose and cleft chin. Dark hair and green eyes, and she felt herself responding to his very presence. Her belly ached and her sex almost begged to be filled. She licked her lips and turned to look at him and he saw her and smiled.

"Awake again, little one? All day we've been up here. You are the most energetic woman I've ever known, eager for a third?" He asked, turning to his side and looking at her.

She smiled and nodded as he climbed from the bed and walked toward her. He was tall, past six feet, and heavy. His body was thickly muscled and corded and the flaccid cock she looked down at expectantly was thick, and promised to be thicker when it was hard. He paused at the bed stand and drank from the ewer as well before splashing some water on his face and turning to her. She looked up at him, breathless in anticipation as he leaned in to kiss her, a hand coming to rest on her hip as his lips parted and hers allowed his tongue to probe her mouth swiftly and insistently. Had she really been here all day having sex with this man? She had no recollection of the day, or even his name, but that was unimportant at that moment. Her hands came up to rest against his broad, hard chest and he pulled her in closer, his hands coming up to press against her back and draw her right against him. She gasped into the kiss and felt her breasts crush against him as his kiss turned hard and almost possessive.

She closed her eyes and lost herself in the feel of him as he pushed her back against the wall. She felt him lift her from the floor, almost level with his face as their kiss broke and her arms went around his neck. Her legs parted and circled his waist and he pressed his slowly hardening shaft against her aching slit as one hand supported her weight easily, cupping her bare ass while the other found her breasts and squeezed hard, making her gasp. She liked rough sex, the harder the better and he seemed to know that as his mouth came back to hers powerfully and he squeezed her breasts harder still. She moaned into his mouth and her hands tangled in his hair as she ground her hips against him, feeling a deep, powerful need, a need, a lust a hunger for sex that she couldn't resist. He broke the kiss and chuckled as his mouth sought her neck, nibbling at the soft flesh there and then at her sensitive, slightly pointed ears.

She writhed as he focused on her ears, the slight points were very sensitive and he seemed to know it, licking and biting her ears and making her moan and writhe with unrestrained pleasure, her legs clamping down, her hard thighs strong enough to make him grunt and grin as he nipped at her ears and his shaft grew hard between them. It was one of her weaknesses and he exploited it. Her ears had always been sensitive, and she had heard that most elves considered any touching of the ears to be a form of foreplay, so much so that very good music was often a prelude to sex. And it was just something she had inherited from her mother, just a little something that added to who she was. He grunted and his hands clenched tight around her flesh as he spoke.

"Are you in your shaajan ka little elfling?" He asked jokingly.

Full blooded elves had a fertile mating season, the shaajan ka that he asked about so jestingly. It was a time when Elves sought a mate, and they tried to conceive a child. Many elves, especially females, tended to isolate themselves during this time if they did not desire a mate or children. Elves could and often did take mates outside of their fertile time, but children conceived outside of shaajan ka were practically nonexistent. Averill herself had been conceived when her mother, Thalia had come into her fertile time while away from elfin lands. Her father, a human adventurer, had been the most pleasing of Thalia's companions, and Averill was the result. She had only met her mother a few times, and had not seen her for decades. Half-breeds were mongrels in elfin lands, only marginally more accepted than full humans. Her father had raised her and she missed him sometimes, but he had died of old age when she was still considered a child by the elves, and just considered a freak by humans. But half-elves didn't have a shaajan ka period; they had the lusts and phases of their human parentage and he clearly knew that, but he used the words to torment her and they worked, driving her to a higher state of lust as she bared her teeth at him and clutched at the hair on the back of his head, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood and he flinched then laughed.