The ruins of Ars-Gorlai loomed high above, and Mina, who had dragged herself through hell to get there, was not impressed.

She and her band of thieves, archaeologists and grave robbers had trekked for a month, through snake-filled swamps, treacherous forests and vast, open plains to get to this large, shabby fortress, carved into the side of a rough, shale mountain.

One of her thieving companions — a large, brutish man named Byron, twisted a map, ruffled some papers, frowned.

“This doesn’t look very similar to what the drawings show,” he grumbled, glaring down like the papers themselves had cheated him and he was preparing to get his revenge.

“Of course not,” sighed Abel, a small, reedy man, one of the three archaeologists who’d hired them. “Those drawings are old, Barron. Stone falls down,” he said, miming to Byron as if he were stupid.

Byron bit his tongue and said nothing, but his eyes smoldered. He’d been calling him the wrong name through all their travels. Abel caught none of it, and Mina rolled her eyes.

“When do you want to start exploring?” she asked. If it were up to her, the answer would be “immediately” but since he’d contracted her to escort him there, he called the shots. And she knew the answer he’d give would be —

“Tomorrow morning. Set up camp. I’m going to survey the outside and see what I can find,” he huffed, and left without another word.

Mina’s temper flared, another small indignity delivered on his part – he’d done nothing but complain the whole trip without being useful at all, except order them around like servants. 

The other three were awful in their own way. His wife, Brienne, was a fine woman until another lady went anywhere near her husband, at which point she became a witch. Mina felt her judging gaze skin her back every time she went to talk to Abel, and it rankled her deeply.

Two assistants — one, a young, mousy woman named Talia and an older, more feeble coworker named Phineas — kept to themselves, and generally gave Mina the creeps. Talia in particular had snow-white hair and eyes like frozen moons, deep and blue and devoid of any sign of life. She looked alien, almost. Phineas was just a creepy old man, and she’d caught him leering at her along those two weeks.

She often slept with a knife under her pillow, her sword close by. On this trip, she kept a second one as well.

“Mina,” Byron said, watching him leave. “Are you sure he’s good for the money?”

“I’d have to say so,” Mina said, running her fingers through her long, red hair. “I checked with Forley before we left — half the money came through, just like he’d said. And it was legit, too — we’re already patching the roof and getting new furniture.”

They looked up at the massive structure, the sun setting, and the long shadows cast from the gnawing fangs of rock looked like living, evil beings, slithering up and down the face of the place.

“How deep do you think we need to go to get anything done?” Byron asked. He looked relaxed, but Mina caught a nearly imperceptible waver to his voice.

“Are you scared?” she asked, eyes wiggling. Byron scoffed, but Mina saw right through it. He didn’t answer.

“You are!” she whispered, looking around. Byron was an old friend, moreso than Tig, Holden and Eivor, the other three she’d brought along from the guild. They were barely in their 20s, kept to themselves. Mina and Byron were pushing 40, older folk in a young world. That wouldn’t stop them from harassing him the rest of the trip, though.

“It’s…I don’t know, Mina. This place is bad,” he said. He was sweating, in the cool evening breeze, and he looked pale. He stared, unblinking, on the statue at the top of the entranceway that sank deep into the mountain. “I don’t like it here. And I won’t go in if you don’t make me, Mina, and I don’t care who knows it,” he said quickly, like he’d lose his nerve if he didn’t share it then and there.

He was scared. Genuinely scared.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice low. She knew better than to laugh at him, or distrust him. His gut had saved her before, in situations where they should’ve perished, blades nearly missing them, ships nearly leaving them behind, lords and ladies just missing the thief nabbing their purses.

“It’s…a bad feeling.”

“Probably,” Phineas wheezed from behind them, making them both jump out of their skin. Mina snarled and rounded on him, an inch from his flabby, lecherous face.

“Care to share something?” she asked, her voice taking a cold edge. 

“Yes, the reason why your friend feels this way,” he said, unbothered. “Ars-Gorlai was the home of a fortress to an old, mad mage who dabbled in quite the selection of dark, forgotten magic. Much of it was inscribed into objects, but things like that, they don’t really sit still. While the curses and enchantments have most likely deteriorated, the energy leaked into the walls, hence…” he gestured vaguely.

“Do you feel it too?” Mina asked.

“Why, yes, but I’m sensitive to these things, as it seems your friend is, too,” he said. “It will pass, and we will acclimate. I expect things to move along shortly, here, do we have our bags ready?”

“No, Abel is gauging the exterior. We’re moving in the morning, and we’re setting up camp now.”

Phineas’ brow furrowed, his expression inscrutable. “I see. Well, I’ll go assist him.”

He wandered off, but comprehension hit Mina like a thunderbolt.

“Wait!” she called. Phineas turned.

“Most likely deteriorated? Not definitely?”

Phineas grinned. “Why yes. Some of those enchantments may still be active. When we venture in tomorrow, best not to touch anything, yes?”

***

Night fell like an axe — swift and without warning. Before the tents were fully pitched, the sun was gone, the stars were out, and the ruins of Ars-Gorlai leaned over them like a giant, ready to snatch up a sheep.

They huddled around the campfire, the ten of them, slurping on a watery soup with some greens and rabbit Holden had accumulated while they were setting everything up. It was good, passable food, and useful — tomorrow would be a long day.

The feeling seemed to have passed for Phineas, but Byron still seemed jumpy, on edge. Talia watched him with those bulbous eyes, her too-pale skin shining in the firelight.

“So, Abel,” asked Tig, a small, pretty woman with short, black hair who was great with a lockpick and had the nicest smile Mina had ever seen, “what’s the story behind this place?”

Abel nodded, swallowing a big chunk of rabbit. “It’s quite the story, but it’s long and involved — I’ll give you the relevant facts. To begin, these kinds of fortresses were named after their owners. In this case, it’s the wizard Gorlai, who — and this is anecdotal — was a chief backer of the Farmer’s Uprising nearly 300 years ago, and was known as quite the accomplished enchanter. But he had a rather…dubious personal reputation as well. He…erm…”

Abel looked uncomfortable, and he set his bowl down. “He was known for certain…let’s call them proclivities, in his personal life, leaning toward domination and sadism. And while he engaged in sizable contributions to society — some of which are still in use today, in a less evolved form — more of these magical devices were related to his own personal pursuits.”

“I am not sure of this word, proclivities,” Eivor said. She was a tall woman from the North with thick blonde braids and paint along her eyes. She, along with Byron, was the muscle on the trip, and didn’t speak their tongue natively. “What does it mean?”

“He was into some very interesting things in the bedroom,” Tig giggled. “With lovers.” She was the only one who was laughing, and it died away when she saw the look on everyone’s faces.

“While I’m not one to judge,” Abel said, “I would strongly advise everyone to not touch anything without my express permission and say-so tomorrow. I’d hate for something to happen to any of you.”

“Why haven’t people cleared this out before?” Holden asked.

"When the Fall happened and magic vanished, most of the wizards and their fortresses either collapsed or sank into the Earth," Abel said. "While Gorlai’s magic faded, the enchantments guarding the place, which included a shield and a veil that hid it from sight and maps, held. Until now, it seems.”

They all looked up at the ruins, as if waiting for it to say its piece. It remained silent.

“In effect, we’re the first ones to see this place in 300 years,” Abel said. “We should be very proud of ourselves, and extremely vigilant. Untold discoveries — and if luck holds for you all, riches — await us within.”

Mina thought back to Phineas’ words — the old man looks sunken, like a corpse, in that firelight. “And what about experiments with dark magic?” she asked.

“Hard to say,” Abel said. “Accounts are mixed, at best, but one can be sure he did. The wizards were an arrogant breed, prone to fits of grandeur. It wouldn’t shock me if there was something he experimented with, though the amount of them eludes me. Which leads to my earlier points — don’t touch anything without consulting me. Not a candle, not a doorknob, nothing. Are we clear?”

Everyone muttered their assent.

“Good. Now let’s get to bed. We have a long morning ahead of us.”

***

Mina woke in the night to the sound of grunting and groaning.

Her brain, in a fuzzy haze, pushed out into the darkness of her tent, trying to move an invisible force away, as if that were the source. It wasn’t, and as she grew more awake, she realized it was nearby.

Her heart hammered — she grabbed the knife from under her pillow and poked her head out into the clearing, straining to see. The embers from the fire were nearly dead, but they were light enough to project the movement behind one of the tents — and the sounds that came within.

She listened deeply —

Abel.

She slunk out, steadying her breath, bare feet padding along in the dirt. She heard the archaeologist, Abel, another voice — and then a third.

Were they…?

She snuck around and stared into the opening, just an inch across, to the entrance of their tent.

Abel was on the ground, on his knees. His head was mashing into the dirt, his skinny, small frame bent by someone larger. He moaned softly, hands tied behind his back, legs spread as the figure thrusted slowly into him, savoring it, by the sounds of their voice. His wife —

No. It wasn’t his wife. Brielle was tied to a post in the corner, a large cloth gag stuffed in her mouth. She, too, was naked, wrists above her head, and twine was wrapped, constricting, around her breasts, with some wooden clothespins on her nipples. Something was inside of her, both holes by the looks of it, and she humped the air on her knees, trying desperately to apply pressure to the objects inside of her.

And the figure turned —

Eivor. The Northern woman had husband and wife dominated, pinned down and begging for a fuck, with the husband getting the first of it with something large tied around her waist. She bit her lip as she thrusted, slowly, savoring every inch she dug deeper into him. 

He came hard with a pitiful groan, all over the ground, but she didn’t stop until she figured it was time. After a moment, she threw him to the side, and he collapsed. Eivor stood, moving her way over to Brielle, who whimpered excitedly. She presented her breasts, and Eivor caressed them gently before untying her. She grabbed Brielle by the throat, whispered something in her ear, and turned her around, before she began to fuck her, too, with the same object, Brielle squealing.

Mina stepped back, slowly —

CRACK

A branch broke beneath her feet. Eivor’s eyes flickered toward Mina in the darkness, but Mina was a thief, used to subterfuge, and was long gone.

She lay there in her tent, her heart hammering, as the shock faded. She snorted at the thought of Abel giving his “proclivities” speech knowing his own — maybe that was what made him so uncomfortable.

She closed her eyes and wondered what it would be like to be in Eivor’s position — she’d had them both at her mercy! What she’d give to give those two a piece of her mind, and apparently a piece of something else, to have them at her mercy, begging for some sort of release —

The painted black lines of Eivor’s face loomed at her in the darkness, harsh, grey eyes shining in the moonlight that leaked through her tent.

“Eivor,” Mina breathed.

Eivor slunk up to her. Mina didn’t move, her eyes fixated on that large phallus, still attached to her waist.

“What did you see?” Eivor whispered. “Captain?”

“I saw —”

“Something you wanted?”

Mina opened her mouth, but closed it. She knew the answer. She just couldn’t believe she was going to give it.

“Did you want to watch?” Eivor asked. Mina felt hot, sweaty in her bedroll. Eivor just had to move the blanket just a bit to reveal that Mina wasn’t wearing any pants — just her underwear.

No! Mina wanted to scream, but her body betrayed her. She felt the heat of arousal flare up, her own inner feelings coming to light. It’d been a while since the last time another woman had her like this, and she couldn’t help but feel good. 

Eivor could see it, too.

“I can give you the same. Now, or never,” Eivor said. “Do you want it? If no, I will go and never offer again. If yes…”

Mina felt the chain of command fall down. She didn’t give a shit — she wanted what Eivor could give her now.

She nodded.

Eivor lunged.

Her hand clamped down on Mina’s mouth, and Mina struggled, incredibly aroused. She could feel her muscles pushing feebly against the woman’s iron limbs, and she felt the wet, used phallus drag across her stomach and thighs. 

Mina struggled some more, trying to get some feeling, and felt Eivor’s hot breath at her throat. She froze as pain, soft but sharp, ripped through her neck.

Eivor had her throat in her teeth. She bit down, somewhat hard, not enough to draw blood or break skin, but just above it. Mina gasped, let Eivor push her head to the side, her teeth guiding her, like a bone-white North Star.

Eivor leaned back and drew something out from her pocket. She stuffed it into Mina’s mouth and pushed her head down. It tasted sweaty, salty.

“Mine,” Eivor said, gesturing at her waist. “Now for you, Captain.”

Next, she tied twine around Mina’s hands and pinned them above her head. She pulled the blanket off and marveled at Mina’s body — her large tits, her well-sculpted hips. She was a dancer, before she was a thief, and kept the tone of it.

Mina mumbled something into the gag. Eivor closed her hand around her throat.

“Quiet, Captain,” she said, and gripped the strap on with one hand, pulled Mina’s underwear aside with the other. “I’m going to fuck you now. If you scream, I will stop and leave you like this. Silence. Do you understand?”

Mina nodded. She felt hot, heavy, and tight. She wanted to feel Eivor inside her.

Eivor took a hand and gently rubbed on her clitoris. Mina arched her back, her nipples erect, and bit back a moan through the underwear gag in her mouth. She felt herself get soaked, smelled her own arousal, felt Eivor explore her with impunity.

Then, Eivor entered her. In a hot rush, that pushed against the inside of her and spread so good, Eivor fucked her like she hadn’t been fucked before. Her rhythm was excellent, and she was responsive. Mina gasped when she pushed up and bit down on her nipple, when she grabbed her roughly, the salty, sweaty taste of Eivor’s underwear in her mouth.

Her eyes rolled back as Eivor sped up, pushing hard, and fast, moving, moving, moving.

I’m going to cum —

And she did. Quickly, in minutes. She bit back the moan, froze, tightened, and shuddered, her body relaxing. She sighed in pleasure, and Eivor withdrew. She took the strap-on off and removed the gag, the twine, leaving Mina alone, soaking wet and sleepy.

“That was good, Eivor,” Mina said softly. “Where did you learn to do all that?”

Eivor smiled. “I have many talents.”

“Did they know that?”

“I offered. I saw how he looked at me, and I find them both attractive, in their own way. The wife was interested, and once she saw what I did, she submitted. They both serve me when I visit, and I like that. It’s good for all of us.”

“I see,” Mina said. “You’re quite the woman.”

Eivor grinned. “As are you, Captain. You have haunted my fantasies this month. I yearned to take you, make you mine, as I did tonight.”

“Don’t get too carried away,” Mina said. “I’m still your captain.”

“Out there, yes. But not in this tent. Not now.”

Mina laughed, soft and low. “No. Not in this tent, you’re right. Go back and get some sleep. We have a fortress to plunder in the morning.”

Eivor smiled and left without a word, and Mina, feeling sleepy, drifted off, this time fully through the night.