The Second Generation

Tanin, his eyes still on the dark-haired beauty, fell back a pace to stand beside Palin. “Little Brother,” he whispered, beads of sweat on his upper lip and trickling down his forehead, “are these women enchanted? Under some sort of spell?”

“N—no,” stammered Palin, staring around him. “They ... they don’t appear to be. I don’t sense any kind of magic, other than the force of the Graygem. It’s much stronger here, but that’s because we’re closer to it.”

“Lads,” said the dwarf urgently, scrambling to his feet and thrusting himself between them, “we’re in big trouble.”

“We are?” Tanin asked dubiously, still holding the spear in front of him and noticing that Sturm was doing likewise. “Explain yourself, dwarf!” he growled. “What do you know about these women? They certainly don’t appear to be prisoners! Are they banshees, vampires? What?”

“Worse,” gasped the dwarf, mopping his face with his beard, his eyes staring wildly at the laughing, pointing females. “Lads, think! We’re the first to enter this castle! These women probably haven’t seen a man in two years!"

Chapter Seven Our Heroes

Surrounded by hundreds of admiring women reaching out to touch them and fondle them, the confused and embarrassed “rescuers” were captured by kindness. Laughing and teasing them, the women led the brothers and the dwarf from the vast entry hall to a smaller room in the castle, a room filled with silken wall hangings and large, comfortable silk-covered couches. Before they knew quite what was happening, the men were being shoved down among the cushions by soft hands, the women offering them wine, sumptuous food, and delicacies of all sorts . ..all sorts.

“I think it’s sweet, you came all this way to rescue us,” purred one of the women, leaning against Sturm and running her hand over his shoulder.

Long blonde hair fell down her bare arm. She wore it tucked behind one ear, held back by a flower. Her gown, made of something gray and filmy, left very little to the imagination.

“All in a day’s work,” said Sturm, smiling. “We’re going to be made Knights of Solamnia, you know,” he added conversationally. “Probably for doing this very deed.”

“Really? Tell me more.”

But the blonde wasn’t the least bit interested in the knights. She wasn’t even listening to Sturm, Palin realized, watching his brother with growing irritation. The big warrior was rambling on somewhat incoherently about the Oath and the Measure, all the while fondling the silky blonde hair and gazing into blue eyes.

Palin was ill at ease. The young mage felt a burning in his blood; his head buzzed—not an unusual sensation around such lovely, seductive females. He felt no desire for these women, however. They were strangely repulsive to him. It was the magic he sensed, burning within him. He wanted to concentrate on it, on his feeling of growing power. Thrusting aside a doe-eyed beauty who was trying to feed him grapes, Palin inched his way among the cushions to get nearer to Sturm, who was enjoying the attentions of the attractive blonde to the fullest.

“Sturm, what are you doing? This could be a trap, an ambush!” Palin said in an undertone.

“Lighten up for once, Little Brother,” Sturm said mildly, putting his arm around the blonde and drawing her close. “Here, I’ll put your mind at ease. Tell me,” he said, kissing the blonde’s rosy lips, “is this an ambush?”

“Yes!” She giggled, wriggling closer. “You’re under attack, right now.”

“There you are, Palin. No help for it. We’re surrounded.” Sturm kissed the girl’s neck. “I surrender,” he said softly, “unconditionally.”

“Tanin?” Alarmed, Palin looked to his oldest brother for help, and was relieved to see the serious young man getting to his feet, despite all efforts of the dark-haired beauty to drag him back down beside her. The dwarf, too, was doing his best to escape.

“Get away! Leave me be, woman!” Dougan roared, slapping at the hands of a lithesome girl. Struggling up from among the cushions, the red-faced dwarf turned to face the women.

“What about Lord Gargath? Where is he?” the dwarf demanded.

“Using you women to seduce us, then capture us, no doubt?”

“Lord Gargath? Hardly!” The dark-haired beauty who had been making much of Tanin laughed, as did the other women in the room. Shrugging her lovely shoulders, she glanced at the ceiling. “He’s up there... somewhere,” she said without interest, caressing Tanin’s bare chest. The big man shoved her away, glancing nervously about the room.

“For once, you’ve made sense, dwarf. We better find this Gargath before he finds us. Come on.” Tanin took a step toward a door at the end of the perfumed, candlelit chamber, but the dark-haired beauty caught hold of his arm.

“Relax, warrior,” she whispered. “You don’t need to worry about Lord Gargath. He won’t bother you or anybody.” She ran her fingers admiringly through Tanin’s thick red curls.

“I’ll see for myself,” Tanin returned, but he sounded less enthusiastic.