The Children of Zzthethpezemos

The next morning was a brilliant one on the island that Turlogh Dubh O'Brien had not, as yet, learned the name of. It mattered naught for the moment. The Gael's strength had returned to him in full, along with his desire. Terrilara and he passed the early hours making love, and it was good. Better than good...much better. The dark warrior's passion was matched equally by that of the beautiful, yellow hued woman. For Turlogh, it was not entirely an expression of pure lust. There was something here, in this place, and with this girl, that he had never truly felt before. The past few years had passed in a blur of violence and backstabbing, attack and reprisal. Turlogh was an outcast, even from his own clan. His tenacity in the pursuit of justice and vengeance had branded him as one near mad. In truth, his own people feared him, despite the fact that the somber weaponsman had always fought hardest for the safety and honor of the Clan na O'brien. Turlogh's life was hard but he was just as hard. Always, he saw his misfortune as the way of the world and the warrior. He accepted it as it came, with his uniquely grim sense of purpose. Still, his dark moods were hardly helped when he observed other men and how they lived. Somewhere, pushed far into the back of his mind, were those same thoughts and desires for the simple things in life. Like any man, he was in need of a good woman, a warm hearth, the smell of fresh cooked food, strong sons, and above all....a sense of belonging. Turlogh had long been a hard man but just as true, he had long been lonely as well. He could feel, somehow here on this island, here with this woman, that he was much closer to that life being denied him in Errin. Errin, the lovely green land that was so dear to his heart...and so harsh to its dark son.

Turlogh meditated on these and other things as he watched the splendid figure of a woman pour him another drink. She sprinkled a reddish powder into the bluish liquid and stirred it with her finger. Curious, Turlogh inquired, "what be that reddish substance lass?" He smiled foolishly, realizing he'd forgotten they did not know each other's tongue. Nevertheless, Terrilara seemed to comprehend his question and she answered with one word. "Zzthethpezemos," she said and smiled. "Ah, I see," Turlogh replied, mostly to himself. "Perhaps that explains in part my quick recovery from the near drowning. Truly, I feel well this morning my dear girl. I'll be quick in giving you much of the credit as well darlin' lass."

Terrilara apparently felt the need to enlighten Turlogh further. She stuck her index finger straight out, parallel to the floor. Then slowly she lifted it until it pointed directly at the ceiling above. The girl giggled when the dark warrior's expression registered the knowing of her action. She gave him drink and he turned it up eagerly. "With that fine figure of yours girl, my loins hardly need further stimulation but I can't deny those red powders enhance the taste of this hearty drink of yours. No doubt, I've become more than passing fond of the local wine. If I had a sip of good Celtic ale to go with it....it's heaven itself I'd be finding myself in." Turlogh scarcely knew the extent of all he was about to learn of this sweet yellow lass!

Turlogh reached for the fair girl but she pulled away gently. His passing frown was quickly replaced by an expression speaking to more curiosity. Terrilara went to a shelf and carefully removed a smallish wooden box. There was a crude stone hearth in the middle of the hut, and a hole in the roof by which smoke could escape. Terrilara started a small fire with a piece of flint and a bit of metal. This action seemed odd to Turlogh who had observed no food to be cooked. The day was warm and a fire served no purpose that he could see. The girl reached inside the small box and pulled out a smoking pipe. She filled it with greenish buds from that same container. Quickly the pipe was lit and the room filled with a sweetish, aromatic odor. Terrilara filled her lungs with the smoke as she sat on the bed next to Turlogh. He was surprised when she slowly exhaled, blowing the swirling puffs directly in the face of the warrior.

The beautiful woman repeated her curious action several times while motioning with her free hand for Turlogh to do the same. Finally, she held the pipe to his lips and he sucked deeply. He coughed a bit, seeming to overfill his lungs. Terrilara giggled devilishly and held the smoking object to his lips again. Turlogh shrugged, "I suppose this is as good a time as any to be a'learning of your odd customs my lovely lass."

They continued in this fashion until the contents of the pipe were nothing but blackened ash. Turlogh reckoned the taste was not unpleasant. His mouth felt parched and he drank even more of the soothing wine. Suddenly he noticed his thoughts drifting in a very odd way. Terrilara's sweet, smiling face appeared to grow larger somehow, and even more appealing. At the same time, other objects in the room appeared further away than before. The Gael wondered perhaps if the after-effects of the near drowning, combined with strong wine might explain these sensations. There was scare little time to muse on such things when something much more interesting occurred.

Terrilara continued to smile lovingly at Turlogh with eyes that looked red and slightly glazed. He watched with astonishment as she dropped the pipe and lay back on the bed, facing in his direction. His eyes widened as she slowly opened her magnificently formed thighs in order to reveal herself unashamedly to him. One hand went down between her legs and she touched herself. With eyes half closed, she continued to smile even as her breathing became shallow and her lovely bosom began to heave noticeably. Terrilara's free hand sought out a full, quivering breast. She fondled the heavy flesh there, making it jiggle and flop. With sharp fingernails, she pinched the nipple, giving it cause to ripen, grow hard, and glow a brighter shade of delightful pink.

For some time Turlogh watched in stunned silence. In no uncertain way, the powerfully muscled fighting man had never experienced such a surge of animal arousal. He could barely breath and sensations like fire spread over his body. His manly parts were engorged with hot warrior blood. Terrilara's soft yellow flesh glistened with sweat, the salty droplets sparkled by the light of the little fire she'd left burning in the simple hearth. Turlogh's mighty hand grasped her tender arm and pulled her closer to him, much closer. They stared deeply into each other eyes, hers a brilliant shade of green, and his a stunning icy blue. She grabbed a handful of his thick black hair and pulled his head back. The hand so recently having been between her thighs, she held against his nostrils whilst he breathed in heavily. Her arms went about his neck as her lips met his. Both tongues probed with animalistic urgency, albeit reserving an element of gentleness and feeling. Turlogh's strong hands sought out her abundant, swaying breasts. He worked the softness there feverishly. His large, swollen member lurched and ground against the smooth belly pressed against it. The bloated tool responded in a like fashion to the silky sensation of thick white pubic hair brushing urgently against his inflamed glands.

Terrilara panted noticeably, a slender hand reached down to encircle Turlogh's massively aroused cock. Her grip was surprisingly strong as she tugged the thing up and down. The warrior grunted as deep waves of pleasure swept over his powerful lower body. Terrilara cooed in acknowledgement of his approval, she pressed her cheek against his, enticing him yet further with the sound of her moans of anticipation. Still she jacked his meat for a few moments further before guiding the monster to a place literally dripping with lubrication and arousal. As she lowered her body on the rock hard cock, Terrilara spoke in her tongue. The meaning of the words was a mystery to Turlogh but he understood the husky throated tone of her voice. He held her body tight against his chest even as he thrust his hips upwards...effectively impaling her with his hard masculine love. This motion he repeated several times before the girl began groaning loudly. Within seconds her entire body stiffened and spasmed with a powerful orgasm, the first of many. Turlogh continued with his own quest for relief. At last he threw the sweat-soaked form of the girl onto her back and he resumed his heavy thrusting, establishing a steady rhythm of deep, full strokes. This continued for a very long time, gradually increasing in tempo.

At last even Turlogh's great stamina could stand no more. With eyes tightly closed, he emitted a deep guttural sound and released a thick flow of male seed into his woman's hungry mushiness. Exhausted, he withdrew and fell beside his lover as they both waited for their breathing to return to normalcy. Gradually the after-glow came and Terrilara snuggled close to his chest, her fingernail playfully entwining the thick black hair on his chest....and gently tweaking his nipple. She wore the expression of a woman fully satisfied, and in truth, the Gael enjoyed the same sweet sensation of utter satisfaction. Not even in Bright Errin had he been so fully loved...yea, not by love freely given or paid for with gold or silver!
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Turlogh smoked more of the strange herb as Terrilara prepared the afternoon meal. Already she had washed his tunic and drab kilt. There was a loud rapping suddenly outside the doorway to the hut. The girl pulled back the heavy cloth that served as a makeshift door. Two muscular, yellow warriors entered carrying Turlogh's heavy black mail, his visorless helmet, and his weapons. The Gael barely had time to pick up his ax before one of the men motioned for him to follow. "Zzthethpezemos," was all they offered in way of explanation. Obviously his weapons had been returned as a gesture of goodwill and trust. Now was the time for a parlay with their chief. By way of returning their faith in him, the somber weaponsman decided to leave his ax and long dagger behind. He put aside the strong urge to hold his good steel in his hands, there would be time for that later. He gave a goodbye nod to the beautiful island girl before leaving. Yea, there would be time for other things as well.

Outside, the Gael put his hand up to shade his eyes from the glaring afternoon sun. Not much light could penetrate the wooden hut, therefore he blinked, perhaps the strange smoke had something to do with that as well. Truly, this was the first time he had gone outside after partaking of the aromatic substance. The vague, floating sensation he felt was not unpleasant, and surely this remote land seemed even more beautiful now than the day before.

The people went about their activities as before, but now they didn't simply pause and stare. Not at all, they smiled and waved, and many called out loudly in their strange tongue. "Obryinne, Obryinne," they chimed. Turlogh was not at all a joyful person but he returned their waves and attempted something akin to a smile. He felt a twinge of amusement at the way they spoke his name. No matter, he found himself thinking, in time they would know it better. This thought gave him pause....in time? He could surely leave anytime he wished, his boat was not damaged overmuch. Turlogh shook his head a bit in an effort to clear his thoughts. This only served to remind him of Terrilara. Already he missed her, his mind and body longed to be in her arms again. And after only a few minutes apart? Surely the smoldering herb and blue wine had addled him. The Gael tried to think of fair Errin. Sadly, this only brought to mind harsh images of warfare, burning villages, and the faces of those slain by the ax or sword.

Thankfully, it was but a short stroll to the house of Zzthethpezemos. His escort halted at the bottom of the steps but waved him on with nodding heads and motioning hands. Turlogh mounted the steps and knocked at the stout wooden door. Only a second passed before a comely young maid swung the door open and greeted him with a warm smile. "Come in my son!" It was the voice of Zzthethpezemos from inside. "We have much to talk about."

Turlogh's eyes followed the sound of the voice and found the old mage sitting in a wicker chair with his wrinkled hands crossed in his lap. The Gael was about to extend a greeting when he saw something that gave him a start. Young Brenne Mac Art sat, half reclining, on a cot to the right of Zzthepezemos. His face was pale as cold death but he smiled weakly and raised his hand in a salute. "Turlogh, you old warhorse, don't you recognize your weapons brother?"

The somber Gale's face registered both surprise and delight. In truth, the recent events had nearly made him forget his young companion. And he hadn't imagined in the best of circumstances to see him looking this well, albeit pale and weak. "It's a miracle!" Exclaimed Turlogh.

"Hardly," Brenne answered, before slumping back further on the cot. "All the thanks goes to good Zzthethpezemos....and this fine lass here,and their strong potions. Granted I would rather have died than swallow some of those foul smelling things forced down my throat! Still, they've nursed me back from the clutches of the cold grave." Brenne's blue eyes went to the girl who knelt by his side and ran her fingers through his unruly hair. Truly the women of this strange land could give a man many reasons to cling to life, no matter how severe his wounds be, Turlogh mused. Young Brenne quickly added, "and much thanks to you my friend, your seamanship found this place of respite...and saved both our lives."

Zzthethpezemos spoke, his distinct, deep rumbling voice filled the room. "Yes he was close to death, perhaps even closer than you were yesterday Turlogh Dubh O'Brien. It took all my simple healing arts to pull him back to the land of the living. Much had to be done but now a life continues, and a brave young heart beats stronger with each passing hour."

Turlogh knelt on one knee before the ancient man. "I have not the words to express my gratitude. The hospitality we have been shown outweighs any I've known during the course of my troubled life. If there is anything within my power that you would ask, please speak great one!"

"Nay, great warrior," Zzthethpezemos said. "Already you have returned our kindness and vigilance when you saved the lives of the woman and her child. Yea! I owe you my thanks. Perhaps a day will come when there will be something I might ask. But for now, I await the unfolding of events yet to pass." The Gael didn't understand, he studied his feet and wondered at the ancient one's words.

Turlogh suddenly looked up, his blue eyes flashed. He had forgotten the child. "Does Terrilara have a husband," he asked, forgetting himself momentarily.

"Once she did, but the child's father was killed during a storm. The wind blew a tree down upon him while he tended to the mossund, the woolly beasts of burden we depend upon for so many things." Zzthethpezemos put his hands together and rubbed the tips of his fingers against his chin as he spoke. "He was a good man and sorely missed. The woman had lost her love for life...until now." Zzthepezemos smiled and spoke to the young female. She hurried to bring a cup of wine to Turlogh before refilling the cup that sat beside the old chieftain. "I'm sure you have many more questions dark one. I shall try to answer, but please be seated and drink."

Turlogh did as he had been bid. He noticed that Brenne had shut his eyes and seemed to be asleep. Zzthethpezemos noticed the Gael's concern. "He was dealt a blow that few men could have survived. Even so, it will be many weeks before all his strength shall return...if then. However, I predict a full recovery in time, rest and care are what he needs. And he shall have them, be assured."

"His mind is sharp, he recognized me at once....I felt truly moved and my heart swelled with the knowledge of it," Turlogh said.

"Yes," Zzthepezemos noted. "It took all the science I have acquired during my very long life...and more." His voice trailed off. Turlogh studied the man's face carefully. "Tell me of this place...and how you once knew Errin, if it pleases you to talk Great Zzthethpezemos," asked the Gael.

Zzthethpezemos took a long drink before leaning back, his eyes taking on a faraway aspect. "I am very old, for over six hundred years I have walked this world. In truth I am closer to seven hundred years old but the exact number...not even i can recall. It seemed a small matter after a time. My race are few upon the earth these days. We never numbered many...our seed rarely gets a child. In all my years I've sired only a handful...and not from lack of trying." A wry smile crossed the old man's features before he continued. "They are all dead now...the last was Terrilara's husband. Their child is my grandchild. Thusly, I am forever in you debt Turlogh."

Zzthethpezemos took another long drink, "I've always had a fondness for this native brew. Lately, I partake overmuch mayhap. But I'm so old..at least that's the only excuse I have. But let me continue. I came upon this island much like you did, by accident, over one hundred years ago. I found peace and love here...more than one gentle yellow maid I have loved deeply..all dead now. Still, this is where I choose to die. I will pass here among my children, I think of them all as mine you see. I have been many places and my eyes have beheld many things. I think much about those lands but here I stay. And yes, there was a time when I dwelled in the land you call Errin. A beautiful and good land it is indeed. But, as you know Turlogh Dubh O'Brien, Errin is a land much known and much desired....thus the neverending wars. Ah, what tragedy I beheld. I was a pupil of the great Druids then...they taught me things that still fill me with wonder. Men such as those are soon in passing from this world, this I know, even as they knew. I knew young Brenne's ancestor, the great warrior Cormac Mac Art of Connacht." A twinkle appeared in the deep set eyes of the mage. "In truth, Turlogh, you remind me much of him...although you say Brenne is one of his line. I am sure he would be proud of both of his sons. In truth HE IS."

Turlogh sat near speechless, the words of Zzthethpezemos were hypnotic and difficult to comprehend. But the old man came to a pause and the Gael managed to make an inquiry, "I would like to know the name of this place, afore I have been amiss in asking."

Zzthethpezemos raised an eyebrow, "oh, but the fault is mine brave Dalcassian. Please pardon the forgetfulness of an old man. This island is called Torn. When I came here I knew less than you. I was not even a sailor. Some hardy Briton pirates left me here. I had joined them to escape my many enemies. However, they blamed me for becoming lost, and hoped to loosen the grip of cursed winds by making me a castaway. My initial dread soon turned out to be a rare blessing from the Gods. There was a great, old chieftain among the people then. He took me in and taught me much of this island. I owe him many thanks. Of course, I too had much knowledge to impart to these gentle people. In time my own anger subsided, my heart became still. There are only a handful of villages here on Torn and none larger than this one. All share the peace and tolerate no aggressions amongst each other. Still, our young men do train as warriors, and they keep their deadly weapons at the ready. It is a long tradition and as you know so well, the world is filled with danger. Those fierce Norsemen that chased your ship could have just as easily found this island instead of you, good Turlogh. And if we had no warriors, what then? Despite the peace. we must remain vigilant."

"Aye, a wise policy," Turlogh said.

The old man turned to the Gael. "It is my hope that you will be satisfied here until your friend has recovered his strength. At such time as you desire to leave, I shall point you in the right direction my friend."

"You have my thanks, Great One," Turlogh replied. "Your generosity, and that of your people, are overwhelming. When the time comes that Brenne is fit to travel, you can rest assured we'll not whisper a word as to the location of Torn where resides the gentle Children of Great Zzthethpezemos."

This appeared to satisfy the old man much. He closed his eyes and seemed to meditate deeply on something. After a long pause Turlogh realized Zzthethpezemos had fallen asleep. The Dalcassian arose and waved goodbye to the girl who continued her vigilance at Brenne's side. As quietly as possible Turlogh opened the door and stepped back into the bright sunlight. He was surprised to find that much of the day had passed and a spectacular sunset was forming on the horizon. He had much to ponder, and his arms ached for the softness of Terrilara. He surprised himself by wondering what a walk on the beach at sunset would be like whilst holding the hand of his beautiful woman. Yes, HIS. And truly he desired to fill his lungs again with the strange, soothing smoke. Yea, he scarely remembered a time when the evening held so much promise. Indeed!