Hilda and Kana: The Grave Doll of Isha - Part 1

Part 1

The bonfire crackled. It cast long shadows.

"So," said Hilda, "here we are."

Kana was silent. She stared into the fire.

Hilda took the straw grave doll and attached the lock of hair with a pin. "This is how we do it back home when we don't have a body. You burn the doll. As long as you've got some hair it's all good."

"She had a nice smile," said Kana, her eyes on a place leagues away, her eyes on a place long past.

Hilda snorted. "If you like that sort of thing." She sat still a moment and sighed. "I suppose she did."

The minutes passed, broken only by the crackle of burning branches.

"We just burn it?" asked Kana. "In Malat there's speeches and priests and if you're important enough we build a marble mausoleum."

"Na," said Hilda. "That's city-shit. If they had a good life, you have a party. Booze, sex, fighting, all the good stuff. That's the Beterci way. If they die young... Well, then it's a bit different. Those who knew you gather. Always at night, always outside, always quiet like. They drink and tell stories. And when they're done, they burn the doll and send you on your way. It's so the ghosts know you."

"Do you-" started Kana but Hilda threw over the bottle.

"It's the good stuff," said Hilda. "Found it in that inn we trashed back Ko way. You'd just set that fire and it seemed a shame to waste."

Kana took a deep drink and hissed. "Strong."

"Strong is good," said Hilda. "Strong means the dead can taste. Pass it back."

Kana passed it back and took a gulp herself. "Nasty," she hissed with relish. "That's one thing you city folk have figured out. You know how to brew you some drink." She flicked the bottle and sent a spray towards the fire. It hissed for a few seconds and burned blue. "For the dead." She splashed a second measure onto the doll. "And some for Isha too."

Isha...

"Remember when we first met her?" asked Kana.

"Do I," said Hilda with a half-chuckle. "That city had more city-shit than I've ever seen." She shook her head. "I suppose that's as good a place as any to start." She raised the bottle in an invisible toast. "Listen up ghouls and ghosties. Tonight I won't burn Hern's Beard, I won't say the secret words and I won't call up the Old Man of the Forest to chase you away. Come and listen. We've got some stories to tell you about your new friend."

The wind howled in the trees. Shadows turned and flickered.

"So Agartha," said Kana.

"Agartha."

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Hilda's Tale - Agartha

The air was dry on the Neck of Salt. Reddish dust rose from the Old Salt Road as Kana and I trudged towards the great sandstone gates of Agartha.

"Big place," I said as I shaded my eyes with a hand.

"Not really," said Kana. "Further east all the cities grow much bigger. It's the coast traffic. Agartha's too far west to really benefit."

Damn city-shit. How in fuck did a city grow anyway?

We walked on, feet eating up the miles. My armour dragged at my limbs, rendered heavy from long hours travel under a harsh sun. I don't wear full armour, don't have the coin or the patience for that shit, but I've got a fair number of metal plates hooked up to my leathers, covering key parts of my chest, arms, legs and back. My cunt itched something bad below it all. "You sure your friend is good? I'm going to fucking kill someone if we came all this way for nothing."

"He's not a friend, just someone I knew back in Malat. But yes, the message was good and the job with it. Anyway, it wasn't that far off our route."

The closer we got to the city the more traffic joined us on the road - giant ox drawn carts piled high with food, ragged beggars, strapping young farmers and others besides. All had skin deep brown colour, only a little lighter than Kana's own. That might seem strange to the less travelled sort but it was normal in this part of the world.

"Mistress!" shouted a youth wearing only a loose cotton skirt. "A basket of figs to fuck the Dar-Yalad." He rubbed his crotch, which showed a somewhat impressive bulge. I gave it a judging look. A lot of farmer boys give better cunt poundings than you'd expect. Still, no, I wasn't going to take his shit.

I dropped my great sword from carry to ready and spat, "Speak to me again, you little shit, and I'll rip your guts open and feet them to the gulls." The heavy steel shone like a slice of untarnished silver in the bright sun.

That gave him a shock and he scrambled to the other side of his wagon.

"What is a Dar-Yalad?" I asked Kana once I was sure he was well and truly gone. This was her end of the world after all.

"It's a caste or perhaps tribe in Agartha. There are two, the Dar-Edamim and Dar-Yalad. The Dar-Edamim are the majority, have black skin and are anything from street beggars to city lords. The Dar-Yalad are different. They're hereditary slaves, but not like you might expect. They don't mine ore, farm the fields or work as servants. They're kept as status symbols, like expensive pets. It's good luck to fuck one and bad luck to harm one."

I gave the approaching city a dark look. "I know this much stone all in one place rots the brain but that's some crazy shit."

"It isn't that strange and their civic government is extremely interesting."

"Yes it is and no it fucking isn't. Anyway, why did he think I was one?"

"That pink skin of yours."

We reached the gate and passed inside. Beyond was a raucous market square. Sellers shouted the prices of their goods, prostitutes wrapped in flowing silks beckoned passers-by into shadowed tents, strange and potent spices hung in the air and the stink of animals lurked just beyond that.

I'm not one for cities so Kana took the lead. She walked down building lined roads which all looked identical to me. We had to stop at a cross roads to let a procession of cloaked palanquins pass by. City-people apparently had other people do their walking for them. And Kana wondered why I preferred the wilds.

It wasn't much further to our destination. Kana led us down a street lined with large, ornate homes. Ours was the third from the end. A wall and wooden gate protected a private enclosed garden.

Kana knocked, a hatch at eye level clicked open and she whispered to the person on the other side. Whatever she said passed muster because the gate clicked open and a servant in a loose fitting robe ushered us inside.

The garden was a quiet, cool space and the first place inside the city I didn't actively hate. In the middle gurgled a water spout, like a private mountain spring. It fed a small stone lined pool which leached some of the heat from the air. I've had half my skin burnt black by a desert sun and my tits frozen half off in a winter storm. A little balance is nice for a change.

Two half moon gravel paths led to the town-house proper. You better believe it had huge columns. You know the type: I have a tiny cock or I have a dead clit written in stone.

"This way," said the servant, still speaking in a low voice. "The master and mistress are expecting you."

He led us through the house and into a second enclosed garden, this one shaded by high wooden palisades which only let through a narrow square of sky. Plants grew in glazed clay pots and vivid green leaves draped in lazy indulgence.

It wasn't the décor that held my attention, however. That honour belonged to the three fuck puppets arrayed behind our hosts.

They were completely naked save for their chains but fuck weren't there a lot of those. Golden links bound their feet in tight hobbles. Golden cuffs kept their hands together, wrist to wrist. Lines of chain which seemed to serve no purpose other than ornamentation crisscrossed their bodies - framing breasts, wrapping limps like crazed snakes and making elegant diamonds of stomachs. Tight elongated collars, clearly the work of master leather workers, kept their necks extended, chins high.

Under the chains was only white skin, perfect, unblemished and the colour of milk fresh from a pregnant slut's tits. You know, the fat farmer type who contrives to always be pregnant, even when her husband's off fighting a war. All three were incredibly beautiful and not just best whore in town beautiful, either. They could stand alongside the best sacred prostitutes in the Grand Temple of the Unbridled Lady, the kind kept in stock for visiting kings. Their faces looked to have been made by the most skilled sculptors from the finest porcelain, their hair could have been spun from white gold and their flesh was unmarred by either fat or muscle.

The two on either end were woman and they had tits you wouldn't believe. I just wanted to bite them and never let go. Not huge but perfectly shaped and not a hint of sag. They had these pink nipples which just popped. The man in the middle was even prettier with not a hair on him other than his long blond locks. A tight waist. His hips even flared a little.

These, I realised, must be the Dar-Yalad - the hereditary slave caste of Agartha.

"Master, mistress," said the servant, "may I introduce Kana of Malat and Hilda of the Beterci Tribes. Guests, you have the honour of being in the presence of Jabnit and Jezebel of the glorious and eternal city of Agartha."

Our hosts lounged on low couches in the shade. Jabnit was a small city man who clearly had never swung a sword in his life. Dozens of small coloured ribbons fell from his hair and he sported a tight beard that I just wanted to pull off. Jezebel was better. She wore a completely impractical dress but the many holes and low cut revealed a hard athletic body. I certainly wouldn't say no if she offered to lick my clit until I creamed. If not for the coin on offer, I might have taken my cum even if she'd been the one saying no.

It's Kana's job to talk to city people so I just sat back on my heels and behaved. Mostly that involved not breaking, stealing or fucking anything, though it was a close run thing. They had this golden knife just sitting on a nearby table. Gems you wouldn't believe. I doubt they would have even noticed if I slipped it into my boot.

Kana talked and yammered for what seemed like forever but finally was done.

"We have an agreement," she said and bowed her head. "If we have a few hours to rest we will begin."

"Of course, of course," said Jabnit. "Boodes show them to a guest room and bring fruit and water."

"We thank you."

Yeah. 'We'.

The guest room was nice, the kind of place you almost felt bad trashing after a night of drinks and whores. It had a wide low bed, jugs of cool water and bowls of fresh fruit.

I unbuckled my armour, propped my sword against the wall and collapsed onto the bed. "So," I said as I grabbed a bunch of grapes. "What city-shit are we doing today?" The grapes crunched between my teeth. Sweet.

"A rescue mission," said Kana as she stripped out of her silver scale. "You saw the three Dar-Yalad?"

"Yep. Hard to miss the bondage fuck-puppets strung up like that."

"Well, there's a fourth called Dido and she's been stolen."

"So basic property recovery? Why hire us. I'm sure there must be some strong-arm types in the city."

"Remember I said Dar-Yalad are lucky to fuck and unlucky to hurt? Well, it goes much deeper than that apparently. Way back when, or so Jezebel told me, a god by the name of He With Golden Feet came to Agartha with a child. He gave the child to the city and charged the city with the child's protection. They did so and also protected the child's children and children's children and so on until the modern day. The descendants became the Dar-Yalad."

"Even when it has a reason city-shit is crazy," I muttered.

Kana rolled her eyes and continued. "The bondage, the slavery, it's all about protecting the Dar-Yalad. If left free they might starve. If left unbound they might hurt themselves. They take it very seriously. Did you notice the curtained palanquins on the streets? Those weren't for Dar-Edamim great names. They were for prized Dar-Yalad, so the sun wouldn't burn and darkened their skin."

"They let slaves ride and masters walk here?" I said and shook my head. Don't get me wrong, thralls back home weren't treated badly by most measures but they certainly weren't treated better than free men.

"It's all about harm," said Kana. "Letting a Dar-Yalad come to harm is an incredibly bad omen. It will bring a god's curse down on whoever did it, the Dar-Yalad's owners and the entire city. It's built into their civic religion. That's why Jabnit and Jezebel hired us. No agent from Agartha would undertake the rescue for risk of hunting Dido and even if they would, Jabnit and Jezebel couldn't risk the truth coming out without losing face."

Now that was just too much. "You mean they have these beautiful whores all bound up and they're not even going to smack them around a little? Where's the sense in that?"

"You just don't understand civic religions," said Kana, which I thought was pretty unreasonable given the shit she'll put a whore through if given half a chance.

"At least my gods make sense. Look I get your temples. God represents whatever. Temple offers whatever as a sacred service. But this civic shit is just nonsense."

"Think that if you will but remember, it pays well."

There was that. I crammed the last of the grapes into my mouth and pushed myself up. "Do we have any leads?"

"One," said Kana. She stood naked, and I idly traced the lines of scar that covered her back with my eyes. There were a lot. We were too good for there to be one for every adventure but a lot of our history was writ there. "A man by the name Luli the Badger. He delivered the ransom demand. If we find him, we can hopefully find Dido."

I stripped down too and we set to washing the road dust off our bodies. It felt good to be clean and I finally got a chance to scratch the annoying itch deep in my cunt.

On our way out we had a final meeting with our clients.

"We're so worried for our dear Dido," said Jezebel as Kana and I stood there in her hall. "You simply must get her back. I can't imagine what those monsters must be doing to her. And they won't know to give her hot milk every night! She'll be ever so upset."

"And you must go quickly," said Jabnit. "When the kidnappers realise we can't pay, they may sell her to another family. Even in secret, her bloodline would be extremely valuable. She has impeccable pedigree."

Not too long after that we hit the streets. Tracking a fugitive through rough ground, that's my business, but doing the same in a city is Kana's time to shine. I just had to hold my great sword in a menacing fashion and growl occasionally. We got the usual hangout of Luli the Badger from a street orphan in exchange for a battered square penny and a promise not to kick him. I consider it a good deal given he tried to pick my pocket.

For a bonus he gave us a vague description. "Like a badger, you know, short and angry. And with scars on both cheeks. Someone ran him through."

That hangout was a popina, or wine house, in a grey zone between the better parts of town and the true slums. It was made from whitewashed brick and windows high on the second floor suggested rooms to rent. Normally I'd have kicked down the door and threatened to gut anyone who didn't tell us what we needed to know, but our mission required more subtlety than that.

We sidled inside with a group of other customers. I can't say how much good that did; I kind of stood out, you know. It appeared a more reputable place than I expected, with sturdy furniture and only a slightly soiled floor. It was clearly an old establishment, however, full of narrow nooks, sheltered corners and patches of shadow where neither the light of window nor lamp reached.

The barman was tall, easily over six foot, and looked like he would give a good cunt pounding if properly motivated and given half a chance. He wore his long black hair in an intricate braid down his back, simple cloth trousers and a jacket which left his sculpted chest bare, the muscles of which glowed with either sweat or oil. He stood behind an arc of large stone jugs, with wide open tops. Some were filled with grape mush that stunk of heavy fermentation, while others contained water, honey, lemon juice and an array of brightly coloured spices. He held a wood and iron ladle in his hands.

"Astegal," cried a drunken man at a nearby table. "Another of these." He sloshed a mug, which contained the dregs of a drink.

The server, Astegal, nodded, flipped a fresh mug onto a sturdy stand and made the drink in a few quick movements of his ladle. First came two kinds of grape mush, then water and finally a small amount of spice which smelt of fire. He mixed the drink with a three-pronged instrument and a serving wench delivered it to the table. Quick and impressive service. It would be a shame if we needed to trash the place.

Kana gave me a nod and we set to searching the place for our quarry. The wine house was full of raucous Dar-Edamim and we only had a rough idea of what Luli looked like.

In one corner I found a muscular woman with the ritualistic tattoos of the jungle tribes having her way with a tarted up whore. He clearly knew his art, because he moaned and resisted just the right amount. She produced a tit covered with strange spiral scars and shoved it into his mouth. I moved on before my cunt could juice up too much; she didn't look the type to share.

Other drinkers included weathered sailors, calloused labourers, off-hour servants and even a few women wearing a rich nob's idea of simple dress, clearly slumming for the evening. None appeared suitable candidates to be our badger.

And then I found him.

Continued in Part 2 

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