Tales of Ithgar
by Rob
Chapter One: A Bargain
The hours drained slowly away as Kiersta sat deep in the shadows of an easy chair and watched the window before her impatiently. She had taken several naps during the day in anticipation of this night, and she wasn’t the slightest bit drowsy. If anything, she couldn’t have fallen asleep had she wanted to, fought constantly to keep her excitement under control. This night she, Kiersta Swiftblade, would capture the jewel thief known as the Fox, would earn her reputation among the sellswords of Ithgar, would be able to name her price when someone sought her services, would be much closer to being able to pursue her revenge on the dog that was her stepbrother….
The latch on the window lifted with a soft snick that anyone in the room would have missed had they not been alert to the slightest noise, as Kiersta was. She gripped the hilt of her sword and made sure it was loose in her scabbard, ready to be drawn swiftly at need. The window eased open ever so slightly and a dark shape appeared in silhouette, glancing about quickly and then dropping softly to the floor. The Fox (it must be him!) paused and looked around again, head cocked in a listening pose. Kiersta knew she could not be seen from the window and she breathed ever so softly, waiting for the thief to wander too far from the window for quick escape. He soon obliged, padding softly towards the painting of Lady Briana on the wall, behind which a safe was concealed. As he reached up to nudge the painting aside, Kiersta leapt from her chair and drew her sword in one smooth motion, assuming a fighting stance between the Fox and his only means of escape. She had arranged to have a large piece of furniture placed outside the door to the room, so she had the thief cornered. Her moment of triumph had arrived! Now she must only convince the Fox of that. He had caught her movement, and turned and drew his own blade, a fine rapier, as he turned to face her.
“Sir Fox,” she said, as calmly as she could. “I have you at a disadvantage, and there is no way out. You must surrender.”
He laughed, a deep rich sound, and looked her in the eye. Kiersta could not make out his face because of the dark red half-mask he wore, but she could tell he would be handsome, and his eyes were a piercing gray. He was very strongly built, and for a moment she doubted herself, but then her training reasserted itself.
“Do not laugh at me again, Sir Fox, or you may not live to regret it.” With this, she lifted her blade into an offensive stance.
The Fox assumed a rather lazy defensive posture. His eyes twinkled as he said, “Oh-ho, the flower has a thorn, and it seems she can use it. Whatever shall I do?”
He laughed again, and Kiersta launched a quick attack, designed mostly to gauge his defenses. He deftly and easily parried, not once taking his eyes from her face.
“At least, if I must die,” said the Fox as he made a probing attack of his own, “it will be with your lovely face as my last vision. And that cannot be counted a tragic death by any means.”
Kiersta blushed and attacked a bit more seriously. Again she was easily countered, the Fox barely moving as he blocked, but he continued to speak.
“Hair like a river of dancing flame” – parry – “Eyes as twin sapphires” – sidestep – “A vision in moonlight that puts the moon to shame.”
Kiersta was blushing profusely, and stepped up her attack, using more and more complex and deadly combinations. The Fox had to make an effort to keep from being skewered now, but he continued to praise her as he fought for his life.
“Ah, the soft lips, the perfect form – and I do not refer to your exquisite bladework, my blossom.” This last came as he tuck-rolled away from a thrust that would have pierced his heart. He stood and faced her again. “Regardless of whether I claim the Lady Briana’s necklace, I am a richer man for this evening.” He was breathing harder now, though Kiersta was winded not at all. She was clearly his better with the blade, and it was only a matter of time now.
“You will be a dead man for this evening if you do not surrender now,” she said.
He nodded once and smiled. “Alas, I might be inclined to agree, but I know something that you don’t know.”
Kiersta raised her blade again. “Please don’t tell me that you’re not left-handed.”
He laughed again, and she found herself liking the sound despite herself. “No, I am indeed left-handed,” he said, “but as a man of honor I must warn you to look behind you.”
Kiersta laughed and prepared to finish the fight. “Please, Sir Fox, desperation does not –.” She stopped herself. Was that a look of sympathy in his eyes? She wheeled around, but too late – something crashed against the back of her skull and all the stars in the sky rushed at her before everything went black.
Kiersta struggled to consciousness like a drowning woman fighting for air. Her head felt like it was in a forge being pounded by a strong smith’s hammer. Coming to grips with the pain, she lay still with her eyes closed for a time, willing the throbbing to subside. At least the bed was soft. That got her attention. Had she fallen asleep on guard and missed the Fox? She tried to rise to her feet but that started the hammering again and she fell back, although it seemed she didn’t really move much. After a few moments of stillness, she became more aware. What were her feet doing up in the air? Why were her arms behind her back? Her memory returned, and she tried to move again. The Fox was escaping! But she could not move, and full awareness came to her. Her arms and legs were bound by something soft yet unyielding, and her feet were tied to her wrists. She tried to call out, but she was gagged too, apparently with a silk kerchief stuffed into her mouth and tied in place by more of whatever held her limbs.
Kiersta craned her head and looked around, catching sight of herself in a floor mirror. She was on her belly in Lady Briana’s bed, and silk-stranded drapery cords were wrapped around her wrists, ankles, knees, and torso. Another cord had been looped two or three times around her head, holding the gag in her mouth. It was still night, and from the amount of moonlight in the room it didn’t appear if too much time had passed.
She glanced frantically behind her, and saw to her dismay that Lady Briana’s wall safe stood open. She sighed through the gag, her head sagging to the bed dejectedly. So much for her reputation. In the morning the servants, or Lady Briana herself, would find Kiersta trussed up in the same manner as the Fox’s other victims, though they were all dainty, helpless noblewomen and she was (supposedly) a skilled mercenary. Just as she began trying to come to grips with the shame, a firm hand grasped her waist and rolled her onto her side.
Kiersta let out a cry of surprise, which made depressingly little sound thanks to the wad of silk in her mouth. She looked up into the eyes of the Fox, as merry as they had been during their fight.
“Well, hello there, little flower. Nice of you to rejoin us. Though I daresay your head disagrees with that notion.” To her surprise, he did not appear to be gloating but seemed genuinely sorry for her monstrous headache. “Sorry about all the restraint, but with you nearly killing me and all it seemed prudent.” He reached behind her head and tightened the ropes holding her gag. “This probably isn’t exactly necessary at the moment, but this is a monologue and not a discussion, and besides, it looks quite fetching on you.”
Kiersta flushed, but the Fox didn’t seem to notice. Instead, he drew a stiletto from a wrist sheath and began cleaning his fingernails.
This bastard is a walking, talking cliché, thought Kiersta.
“Well, my dear, I’ll get to the point.” About time. “You are in possession of knowledge I would rather no one had. It is generally known throughout the realm that the Fox is a lone man, sometimes seeming to be in two places at once despite not being a practioner of sorcery. You now have an idea how that is done, and I dare say that knowledge must remove some of the mystery and romance for you. We just can’t have word getting out that the Fox has a partner.” Kiersta felt a chill run up her spine and furiously started working at her wrist bonds. The Fox noticed. “Calm down, my rose in bloom, it is not my habit to remove beautiful young women from this world. Indeed, it is my habit to save them from danger. And since you appear to be in danger at the moment, I will endeavor to make a rescue.” Gods, he’s full of himself.
“Judging by your nearly successful attempts to kill me, you were employed by the Lady Briana to guard her necklace and were clever enough to deduce when I would strike. It would be a shame if such skill and cleverness were left to waste because of one unfortunate failure. Surely, whatever reputation you have made for yourself would be torn asunder.”
He suddenly grabbed the front of her tunic and quckly ripped at it. He pulled the tear to one side, revealing one of her breasts, and sighed as if contented.
“And the thought of anything unpleasant befalling you pains me beyond measure, as such ill memories would likely ruin any chance of us reuniting on more cordial terms.”
Kiersta grunted angrily through the gag. The Fox slowly ran one hand from her knees up to her thighs and then her stomach, paused to softly pinch the exposed nipple, then caressed her face lightly. Kiersta made angry sounds through her gag and struggled against his touch, but she felt strangely aroused at the same time. He spoke again.
“So, this is what we will do.” He punctured a hole in the sleeve of her swordarm with the stiletto, then quickly pricked his hand and held it to the sleeve, leaving a sizable bloodstain. “We fought. As you were about to claim victory, I made a desperate move and pierced your arm, causing you drop your blade. I took the opportunity to make my escape, leaving without this.” From his sleeve he drew Lady Briana’s necklace. Kiersta’s eyes widened a little. “I will leave on the bed the knife that I found in your boot, and you can free yourself with it. Be sure to bandage your arm so that no one can see you were not wounded. And though the sight of your bosom is a scene of great beauty, I suggest you rearrange your tunic somewhat.”
Kiersta found herself blushing once again.
“In return for my generosity and my skill at storytelling, you will mention nothing of anyone other than yourself and the Fox in this room. If you do not agree, I will take the necklace and everything else of value I can find, and leave you as you are, with no knife to cut your bonds.” He ran his unwounded hand along her body again, once again pausing at her breast, this time for a few more moments. Kiersta fought her bonds, but could do no more than wriggle helplessly. “Should you agree to this and then renege, let me caution you that my partner is less of a gentleman” – he smiled at this – “than I, and would likely react in a most dangerous and unpredictable manner should you do so. Do we have a bargain?” As Kiersta tried to speak through the gag, he said “I realize that you are incapable of making a counter-offer this time, but this is as I intended. Simply nod once if you accept my proposal.”
Kiersta thought about it, and realized that she had few options. She could be dead right now, and it was obvious that the Fox did not wish to harm her. She momentarily thought about agreeing, then cutting herself free and chasing him down, but a brief exploration of her bonds told her that he would be long gone before she was even partway through getting loose. In the end, she looked him in the eye and gave a single nod. He looks genuinely happy about that, she thought.
The Fox moved over to the safe and quite deliberately placed the necklace back on its stand, then closed the safe and replaced the painting.
“Well, as much as I have enjoyed our time together, I must leave now. My partner is quite wroth with me over the loss of the necklace, and I must make amends as best I can. Before I go, I will leave a little something for you to remember me by as you attempt to free yourself.” With this he pulled off the silk sash that belted his tunic, and Kiersta frantically struggled away and mmmphed through her gag. The Fox laughed his deep, merry laugh, and that inexplicably calmed her.
“Oh no, my little rose, I have no time for deflowering any blossoms tonight, however beautiful they are.” Her cheeks burned once again. “Instead, let me make your struggles a bit more…interesting than they would otherwise be.”
He looped the sash around her waist, lifting her effortlessly to do so. He’s as strong as he looks. Then, unexpectedly, he pulled the sash down and between her legs, pulling it through and tying it off to her wrists. Her protests were stifled instantly by the sodden mass of silk in her mouth, and he laughed as he dropped her knife on the bed and leapt out the window.
Kiersta immediately rolled over and started to grope for the knife. She stopped quickly when the pull of her hands moved the silk sash just so… She flushed angrily, relieved the cad wasn’t here to see. With more careful movements she felt for the knife, found it, fumbled around til she had the hilt. Maybe she could get free in time to track him down. What to cut first? The rope binding ankles to wrists, probably. That would allow her to more freely move her hands around. She flipped the knife into position and started sawing at the cord…and stopped abruptly again. Oh, when she caught up to him, she would kill him slowly.
With renewed vigor, she started on the cord again, determined to ignore the feeling growing between her thighs. She had forgotten this little detail about the Fox and his victims.
For a year now he had been preying on the well-to-do of Ithgar, robbing jewels and other treasures from wives and daughters of rich merchants and nobles, usually leaving said wife or daughter or an unfortunate serving maid thoroughly trussed and with a black silk sash bound between their legs. Strangely, none of them recalled any details of the man that had robbed them save for the dark red mask and black clothing – and many were found bathed in perspiration and very tired from their struggles.
As she fought to free herself, Kiersta wondered at the softness of the silk drapery cords against her body. The bindings were tight, but she was in no pain, only mildly discomforted by the hogtie. And the silk sash… Stop it! she told herself angrily. She jerked the knife back and forth rapidly, and the hogtie cord parted!
Her legs bounced against the bed, and she stretched them a few times. Oh, but that felt good, to flex her knees again. It seemed like she had been bound most of the night, but it couldn’t have been much more than a single hour.
She gained a little more feeling in her feet and hands, and pondered what to try next. If she had been bound only wrists and ankles, she could have bent and pulled her hands up past her feet and in front, but her arms were secured to her sides by several lengths of cord above and below her breasts. Therefore she decided to work on the wrist bonds, and once again maneuvered the knife into position and started working it back and forth. No sudden movements this time, to drag her thoughts to the cursed sash…
Kiersta started herself back to awareness. This time the motion of the sash was much more subtle, and she had been lulled into a waking dream where she lay naked, bound by a wardrobe’s worth of silk sashes, and it was not a sash but a hand moving between her thighs, while another softly stroked her breasts and a mouth, his mouth lovingly kissed her gagged lips.
She saw the beginnings of false dawn through the open window. Kiersta shuddered uncontrollably, then worked herself into a thorough rage at the insufferable Fox and with thoughts of what she would do to him with her sword when she was free.
At last she cut through the cords on her wrists and sat up in the bed, swinging her bound legs over the side. Her hair and clothes were damp with sweat, and her fingers ached from the strain of working the knife. Angrily she rid herself of the sash between her legs.
Kiersta reached up and found that with her arms still pinned to her sides she couldn’t quite get to the knot of the cord holding her gag, so she worked at the bindings around her body until she could push them over her head and off. She furiously worked at the knot behind her head until it came free, then spit out the large wad of silk that had filled her mouth for the past few hours.
She cut the cords binding her ankles and knees, and she was free! But it was far too late to even try and find the Fox, so she must make sure that their – his! – story was believable.
She tore the sleeve of her tunic below the bloody hole he had made in it and wrapped it around her arm as a bandage. She pondered the remnants of her bindings, then gathered them together and wrapped them up in the gods-damned silk sash, then looked out the window and dropped the bundle into the shrubbery on the grounds below. She would pick it up later.
After that, it was only a matter of kicking over a chair, jumping up and down a little, crying out as if in pain, then shouting an alarm as loudly as she could. At the last moment, she thought about the rip in the front of her tunic and hoped she could keep it concealed as she heard the furniture being moved away from the door outside.