They ignored her, because their thoughts could too readily be tracked, as she understood. But she had news for them: hot-bodied merfolk ahead. She's armed; he isn't. Doesn't need to be, in water. Swale departed.
The path descended into a blue forested vale set into the mountain, the fringe of Chroma they had been warned of. There was a widened river or thin blue lake in the crevice. The path advanced to this, and resumed on the other side. The lake was too wide to jump over, and there were no handy logs to make a bridge or raft; they would have to swim. That was surely the point of this setup: to put travelers into the environment of the predators.
"The merfolk will be alert,” Havoc murmured. “You know what to do."
"I think I have found the chance to show you my whole body,” Gale said, smiling, going into her act. “When you won't be able to touch it."
"That water may be dangerous,” Havoc said.
"Pooh. It's beautiful. I never saw such lovely blue."
"Nonesuch, trust me: color is dangerous."
"So you say.” She flung off the last of her clothing, stood gloriously naked for a moment, then plunged into the water. “Catch me if you can!"
Havoc had a traveling spear. He quickly unfolded it and stood at the bank, spear poised. Sure enough, there was a ripple approaching Gale from the right end of the lake. It was a blue merman. She saw him and screamed in simulated terror.
"Hey, buoy!” Havoc called. “Want to bet on my aim?"
The buoy paused to look at him. The fact was, travelers did not usually carry such weapons unless they knew how to use them, and the merman was well within normal throwing range. He lifted his two hands in a signal of capitulation and drifted back. “Introduction,” he said. “I am Pistol."
"Hayseed. I do not fathom the meaning of your name."
"It's from the White Chroma: what they call a firearm. A short tube that fires out hard balls.” He glanced at Gale. “Harmlessly, in my case, but they can have consequence, such as offspring."
So it was a sexual analogy. Now Havoc remembered his own experience with a similar device, when he had visited a White Chroma zone as king. This was evidently a macho merman, fancying himself with women. He had probably wowed bold village girls who sought education lacking in Mountain Lee Village.
Meanwhile Gale swam diligently to the far bank, and flung herself out of the water. Both Havoc and the buoy watched with interest as she scrambled to her feet, presenting a full bottom, and turned around, breathing hard as she presented full breasts. She was the most splendid figure of a woman, and making sure it showed. That was part of the act. The threat was real, but they could handle it, so they were making the most of what offered.
"That—that man!” Gale cried, affrighted. “He's blue!"
"I am indeed blue, but I'd be happy, if I could get into you, you luscious creature,” Pistol said. “Why don't you jump in again? I promise to fill you delightfully to the brim."
"He talks!” Gale cried.
The buoy made a droll expression. He evidently liked naïve women, but this was remarkable ignorance.
Havoc ignored him, overtly. “I'll toss my things across to you,” he said to Gale. “Then you must guard me as I cross."
"But I don't know a thing about weapons,” she protested.
Ha. She knew exactly as much as she needed to about the one weapon she favored. “Just hold the spear, and stab it at the merman if he approaches.” This would be virtually useless, but they were playing their game.
"If you say so,” she said uncertainly.
Havoc bundled her clothing and his, and hurled it across. Gale caught it as it bounced on the bank, bending over to pick it up, providing Pistol another spectacular view of her shaped posterior. Then Havoc threw the spear across, so that it stuck into the ground. Gale bent well forward to pull it out, her breasts elongating where the buoy could appreciate them. Then she straightened up, everything quivering. She knew exactly how to hold any male's attention. Havoc recognized and appreciated Symbol's influence in that respect.
While Pistol's eyes were monopolized by Gale's show, Havoc searched the rest of the lake, looking for the merman's inevitable companion. He spied what he sought: the guirl was waiting well below the surface on the left end of the lake. She made no bubbles, needing no air to breathe; her gills sufficed. She was almost invisible to any but a trained eye, and she had a knife. So it was not sex but food she was after. She was the most immediately dangerous one. The buoy would take sex first, then perhaps drown the victim and save the meat. It was now clear why few travelers who progressed beyond this point ever returned.
"Now warn him back while I cross,” Havoc said.
Gale held the spear somewhat inexpertly. “Are you sure? Maybe I should cross back."
"Negative. You wanted to camp on Goblin Mountain, so we'll camp."
"All right.” She poked the spear uncertainly at Pistol, who was sliding close. He did not try to conceal the fact that he was sexually excited by her appearance. Havoc knew that Gale noticed and was pleased; she always liked appreciation for her performances.
Suddenly the buoy leaped half out of the water, catching the end of the spear. He yanked. Gale, overbalanced, screamed as she fell into the water. She did it perfectly; no one would have suspected how well coordinated she really was.
Havoc dived, going for them. He was the bold man rushing to the rescue of the helpless girl, heedless of danger. And the guirl shot up to intercept him, knife hand extended. The mer-trap had been sprung. The mers had needed to get both of them in the water at the same time, so that neither would escape to tell the tale.
Now the action was joined. Havoc plunged down to meet the guirl, surprising her. She had not realized that he was a martial artist, or she would never have approached him so straightforwardly. He caught her knife hand, squeezed her wrist painfully, took the knife from her, and drew her body into his. It was a nice body, lithe yet quite well fleshed, an incidental pleasure to embrace for whatever purpose.
Then hell broke loose. She had been surprised, but this was her element. She was a fit and determined predator, no fainting flower. She wrapped her arms around him and dived, her linked legs propelling them both to the depths. He had the knife, but she had the water, and would soon drown him. He could not come close to matching her swimming ability.
But as her arms clasped him close to her supple bare body, his arms were not idle. His left hand caught her trailing blue hair, wrapped it tight, and drew her head firmly back. His right hand brought the knife up to touch her exposed throat. The message was plain: yield or die.
She made a stressed nod, then launched them both toward the surface. He maintained his grip and his threat. He had learned long since never to underestimate an enemy. Their heads broke the surface. Now he could breathe, but he did not relax. She was still dangerous.
He glanced past her head, and saw that Gale had Pistol similarly: one hand locked in his flaring hair, the other nudging the blade to his throat, and her thighs clamped on his projecting member so that he could not twist free. She was no Amazon, but she could swim well and knew how to use her knife, which was always on her body. She could kill him in an instant, and had made that plain. He had been so dazzled by her body and seeming naïveté that he had taken no precautions against possible counterattack. Havoc had counted on that, so that he had been able to focus entirely on the guirl, who was more immediately dangerous because she wasn't looking for sex first.
But now came her second ploy: the seduction. “You have beaten me, landlubber,” the guirl said. “You are some man. Take me.” She parted her knees without separating her fluked feet. “Introduction: I am Pistil, the very flower of my kind."
"Hayseed, minstrel,” he said, knife still poised. “Just move us to land."
"I hear and obey.” She began moving them toward the bank as her hands slid down his back, caressingly. Her flexing thighs slid against his hips, then jammed in close as her hands tweaked his crotch.
"Hey!
” But it was too late; she had succeeded in getting his member into her ready sheath, which clasped it firmly. He had misjudged her; she did want sex. At least as a way to nullify his advantage.
He moved the blade, scratching her neck warningly. But Pistil smiled. “You would not kill a guirl who wants only her second by you. You bested me; you are worthy. Do not deny me. Relax and enjoy it."
"Insult!” he said angrily. “Female obscenity!"
Pistil's vagina performed peristalsis, rhythmically squeezing his captive member, making it expand and harden. It was impossible not to respond, and the urge was on him. He remembered belatedly that the merfolk were required to have seconds rather than fourths, because of their narrow genetic base. Of course she wanted sex; how could he have thought otherwise? She must have planned to cow him with her knife, hold him under long enough to make him yield, then give him spot mouth-to-mouth breathing while she forcefully seduced him deep underwater. There might even be a flooded nether cave she could lock him into. “Revile me if you must, but give this appealing flower your live seed, you powerful man.” Her body pressed against him, breasts and belly flattening.
She had him. He could indeed kill her, but that was pointless, as she was no longer attacking him. A man was not supposed to decline a requested fourth, and that surely applied to seconds too. He had to let her do it, and spare her life, though she was raping him.
"I am defeated,” she murmured. Hardly true; she had merely been balked in one manner, then cleverly counterattacked to gain her objective. “I will not bite. Lover's word.” She brought her face slowly to his, so that the knife would not cut open her throat, and kissed him. Her eager tongue sought his as her vagina expanded inside so that it drew similarly on him, generating a relative vacuum beyond a tight closure. He felt burstingly huge. He remembered how the Black Chroma woman Intrigue had imploded, drawing him into her and his seed out of him in a single surge. Pistil was not as potent as that, but there were aspects of similarity.
It was too much. He climaxed, jetting forcefully into her warm conducive center. He felt her belly and breasts quiver with each pulse, as if being pounded from the inside.
"Appreciation,” she said with a beatific smile as she smoothly milked the last of it from him. This had the effect of extending his pleasure as intensity faded to satisfaction.
They were still moving toward the bank. His feet touched the sloping ground under water. “Now you have done it,” he said gruffly. “Let me go.” He nudged her again with the knife.
Pistil relaxed her organ, allowing him to withdraw. He pushed away from her. Only when he was standing firmly in the muck did he remove the knife from her throat. He backed onto the bank, knife still held ready.
"Smart, too,” she said. “I like that.” She had promised not to bite, and she had not, but she hadn't promised not to kill once she had his seed. She lifted her right hand. He flipped the knife through the air, and she caught it neatly. “You have taken my weapon, and returned it; I will not use it against you hereafter. When you return, I will come on land for you, no fault, if you ask. To amplify my chance for a second by you. My respect is not readily won."
And it was tempting. No fault in this case meant that she would not seek to kill him, just to give him pleasure. She did want his baby, but it normally took several sessions to be sure of it. There were differences even among merfolk, and she had rare presence and nerve. In addition, Pistil's versatile vagina had treated him far more interestingly than the guirl Theme's had, when he fetched the first ikon. She was superbly equipped. She had raped him, and made him like it. “Perhaps,” he said grudgingly.
She smiled and vanished under the water. Havoc oriented on Gale and the buoy. They remained clasped face to face. He fetched the spear, which floated nearby. “Are you done?” he inquired grimly.
"Done,” Pistol agreed, disengaging and swimming smoothly backwards. “Maiden, you are the best.” He disappeared under the water.
Havoc helped draw Gale out as she put away her knife. “You wanted him?"
"I was intrigued, once I had him harmless, so I let him. He is a robust man. His member pulsates wonderfully."
"It is a special ability of the merfolk."
"The females too?"
"More so, I think. She held me in her, and sucked."
"Envy. I can't do that."
"Needless, for you. But if Swale joined you, you could do it."
Gale nodded. “One day I will ask her."
He kissed her. “Needless,” he repeated. “I love you."
She shrugged. “We didn't want to kill them anyway."
"Agreed. But had they been ready for us, we would have been dead meat.” He was speaking literally.
"That's what made it so titillating. Seducing a killer."
"She invited me for another session, on land, no fault."
"Negation! You're mine on land, and not no fault."
"Awww,” he said, imitating a child.
She mock-punched him in the belly. “Those two Blue mers must be something, together."
"It can last for hours. They do it while swimming long dull distances. It's really better brief, for us."
"If you say so."
They dried, dressed, and resumed their trek. Havoc hoped their act had impressed the likely watchers. They could have crossed without getting tangled with the merfolk, and could have avoided sex with them, but they needed to seem more careless than they were.
The path climbed steeply out of the blue cleft and the colors became normal variegated nonChroma. “I feel back at home,” Havoc said.
"I think nonChroma is prettiest."
"I think you're the prettiest."
"Oh come on—you just had hot sex with that guirl."
"Can't I compliment you without being refuted?"
She melted visibly. “Well, I suppose you might make the effort."
"I'll whisper a sweet nothing in your lovely ear."
"It will float out the other ear.” But she cocked her ear for him.
He put his lips there and whispered “Love,” letting the feeling swell, for it was genuine. Under cover of that emotion he showed a brief thought: Silver.
She turned her head to put her lips to his ear. “Returned,” she whispered, and her love swelled similarly. Glamor. Those two thoughts had been as well masked as they could arrange, and there were no details, because they did not know how good spying mind readers might be.
Then they kissed. It was true that each had just had emphatic sex with another, but their love for each other was unaffected. They had never been sexually jealous of each other, and since leaving their home Village Trifle they had become well familiar with no fault relationships and variants. So her remark about his hot sex was a joke, implying that his expressed love was merely a pretext to seduce her.
Nevertheless he did want to seduce her. They had not had sex with each other in some time, and he had no certainty that they would survive the next day. “Oh, Gale!” It was sheer longing.
"Let's find a place,” she said.
The Ballad had not yet run its course, but they could hurry that up. “Done."
They walked more swiftly along the path, which now curved around the mountain rather than going straight up it. The scenery changed, becoming less esthetic. The trees seemed to be of the same species, but smaller and more gnarly; the bushes were twisted and discolored, with few flowers or fruits. “I don't like this region,” Gale said. “There's something wrong with it."
"Agreement. Even the flowers are shoddy."
In an hour they found an ideal campsite, a reasonably level ledge beside a flowing streamlet. It was only afternoon, but they prepared to camp for the night. Havoc gathered dry wood and made a fire, while Gale gathered dry moss for a bed. He set poles to make a shelter; she spread light canvas across it. They broke out their pack supplies and ate, constantly complimenting each other. Havoc broke sticks to feed the fire, showing off his muscles, and Gale sat on a low stone with her knees h
igh, letting the falling skirt show off her thighs.
"You are so strong,” she said.
"You are so beautiful.” It was the finale of the script, appealing in large part because it reflected their true views.
They finished eating, then retired to the shelter. “I want you, Nonesuch,” he said.
"Take me, Hayseed."
"No fault?"
She hesitated. “No commitment?"
"None."
"Then no sex."
"But you said you love me!"
Slowly she undressed, visibly saddened. “As you wish."
"Aha! You love me!"
"I love you,” she agreed, laying herself unhappily open to him.
"Then I have won,” he exclaimed. “But I will not have sex with you. For I am the nonChroma Glamor of Trees. Sex with me would wipe you out."
For an instant her astonishment showed. Then she rallied. “You have not won, for I am the nonChroma Glamor of Mosses. Sex with me would wipe you out."
"You can't be nonChroma! That's mine!"
"No, it's mine."
He considered. “It must be both."
"Both,” she agreed.
Then they embraced and kissed. He had sprung his new ending for the ballad, and she had responded as she had to. Now they would have sex, admitting that each had won and lost the game, and they were in mutual love. But the meaning went beyond the game.
About time, Swale thought.
They lay together, well ready for the finale despite their recent events with the merfolk.
And both their dragon seeds buzzed.
Obscenity! the succubus swore.
"Now it comes,” Havoc murmured, unmoving.
"Expletive!” Gale did not move either.
Then the goblins swarmed in. They were human in appearance, but stunted, with big heads and big feet and hands, but small globular bodies and ugly faces. They carried spears and clubs. There were scores of them, too many to fight. Havoc and Gale were naked, caught away from their clothing and his weapons. They did not move.
"Exuberance!” the goblin leader cried. “Tie them!"