A Match Made in The Hindu Kush
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Mustafa was good at his word. He sold several of the stones and traded several of the smaller for silks and men for a caravan. The caravan set out one day. Unknown to all, except Mustafa, Ariston had slipped from the city and rode along the route, half a day ahead of the caravan.
On the third day, in the steep canyons, Ariston sensed a trap. He rode on, a lone armed rider would not be worth attacking to betray the presence of the trap. Ariston turned aside and rode up into the hills.
Leaving his horse tethered in a draw, he scuttled among the rocks like a lizard, just below the rim of the canyon. He saw men on the other side now, watching the canyon bottom. He knew that there must be men on his side as well, and they would be near. Soundlessly, he searched. He found two robbers in a small depression. His knife slid into the neck of one as his sword chopped the other. Neither man had time to make a sound. He left them to the buzzards.
Knowing that the guards below could not scale the heights, the men had arrayed themselves along the canyon rim trying to cover the most area. That left each man alone. Ariston snuck up behind hills man after hills man, leaving each to drain his lifeblood into the stones.
He sensed the last group, those who would be the first to see the caravan. There were three, two watching ahead and one lazing on his back. Ariston jumped from a rock, his sword glittering in the sun. It struck down the first man. The second turned, his knife in hand. Ariston lunged, his sword gutting the man, who screamed in death's agony.
The third man had scrambled from his rest, his sword drawn. "You will die, barbarian. The hills are alive with my tribesmen."
"Not on this hill," Ariston said his sword an arc of flashing steel. The swords clanged. From across the valley, men shouted wondering what was happening on the other side. Ariston pressed his enemy back with his whirling sword, never resting, always attacking; the hills man had never met a man like this, his great sword beating his talwar aside until it slipped in his sweaty hand. Amazed that a city man could fight like a man born and bred to it, the hills man didn't even see the blade as it ended his life.
Ariston heard hoofs. He jumped to the top of the canyon. "It is a trap," he shouted.
The caravan stopped, the guards riding to the front looking up at Ariston. They recognized him as Mustafa's partner. What was he doing here?
"The canyon top over there is full of hills men. I need men to ride up behind the hill and attack them from behind."
Across the canyon, the tribal chief saw his plans unraveling. It is one thing to attack an opponent who cannot strike back. It is another to face mounted men prepared for battle on even ground. He shouted across the canyon, calling to his men.
Ariston, standing on a great stone shouted back, "Did I not warn you? Your men are all dead. Next time you attack my caravan I shall keep my promise to poison your wells, kill your goats, and despoil your daughters. Go and mourn your brothers for they are all walking the dark path to Hell this moment."
The chieftain was incensed. But he could see a detachment of guards from the caravan riding for the hill behind him. If he tarried they would trap him between them and the canyon. He would have to stand and fight a superior armed force. He looked across the canyon at the barbarian standing so proudly, knowing there was no way down and back up with armed men chasing. He shouted to his men to run. They set off following the stony paths too steep and narrow for horses.
The tribesmen would return the next day to collect their brothers and mourn. The hill tribes had laughed at the warning of the city man. What did he know of the hills? They would show him what hills were. The laughter died and was replaced by the wailing of the women and fear. Some men would seek out a lion as enemy, but most were wise enough to know the sheep was much easier prey and provided good meat. The tribes consulted and the decision was made to avoid this new lion.
Ariston had returned to Bashram. Mustafa was the only man to know the story, for a while. When the caravan returned some months later, undisturbed along the whole trail, the story quickly spread. None would chance the anger of the great fighting barbarian now. His legend ran before him.
When Ariston returned from his trip into the hills, he was greeted by Alara and Jasmin. "Master, you need a bath and refreshments."
He looked at himself, covered with dust and sweat, "Yes, you are right. Quick then, draw me a bath."
The women rushed off, taking heated water from the kitchen and pouring it into the bath, mixing it with fresh clean water from the fountain. Jasmin rushed off and brought Ariston. The women undressed him and helped him into the bath. They exchanged a look, both excited by the lordly shape of Ariston, the muscles hard and flowing beneath his tanned skin, and his manhood, promising much even it its flaccid state.
Alara, young and girlish, helped him into the water as Jasmin went and fetched figs, dates, and sweet breads from the kitchen, along with a jug of wine. Ariston had settled in the water sighing with pleasure. Jasmin and Alara fed him bites of food and sips of wine. In between, they washed him with scented soaps. Ariston thought himself in Paradise.
After he was washed and fed, Jasmin and Alara dried him. Jasmin disappeared as Alara led him to his room and had him lie on his couch. She brought forth scented oils and began to rub them into his back, easing the tension in his muscles.
Ariston had begun to nod off from the pleasure when her hands started massaging his thighs. They dipped between his muscular thighs and her finger tips grazed his balls. Suddenly, he was no longer dozing. His cock began to grow. She continued massaging his legs and he wondered if it had been a mistake. His cock began to subside when Alara's hands once again dipped deep between his thighs, ran down barely touching his butt and grazed his balls, almost too light to notice, but not too light. His cock immediately began expanding.
Now he was sure, well, almost sure, she was doing it on purpose. Then she was back to working on his legs, soothing his calves, then his feet. Again, his cock slowly subsided, the sensuous pleasure of touch carrying him away. She slowly worked her way up to his lower back, soothing him ... once again her hands slid between his legs and touched his balls, tickling them briefly, then away. His cock reacted once again as Ariston moaned in frustrated pleasure.
In a soothing voice, Alara said, "Turn over, Master."
Ariston turned, his cock at full staff. Seeming not to notice, Alara began pouring the oil on his chest and working at his muscles, rubbing and kneading. She massaged his arms, back to his chest and his stomach. Once again, the soothing pleasure had caused his cock to subside, but the cycles of hard and soft had left his balls charged like never before. Ariston, despite the way he seemed to be floating in pleasure, also was aware of the tension in his loins and knew the slightest touch could set him off.
Alara's hands soothed the muscles in his thighs. Ariston's eyes were shut, but behind them his whole being was concentrated in his loins, wondering ... Her hands slid around his loins, and massaged his legs. Ariston felt the pulse in his cock as her hands neared, only to be disappointed as her hands went past. She gentled his muscles, her hands gliding over him. They slid up on the inside of his thighs. His attention was riveted on her hands ... they paused, just short of his loins, then gently touched his balls and softly rubbed them, rolling them around. Instantly, Ariston's cock rose to full strength, pointing straight up his belly.
Her hands left his balls once again and his eyes flashed open in disappointment. But what he saw was that Alara had thrown off her gown and was crawling over him, settling down on his loins. She held his stiff cock erect, ran her oiled hands up and down the staff once, and settled until his cock pierced her and filled her. Once she was fully down on him, her loins glued to his, she said, "Oh Master, you are wonderful." Her hips rolled forward and back, rubbing her loins on his.
"Girl, if I knew you would like this, I'd have done this long ago," he said.
"Jasmin will be envious," she said smirking as her motions grew ever wilder. Her hips were moving up and down the length of his cock.
"Oh, Great Goddess," he moaned. Then to Alara, "She'll have no reason to be envious. I'll see she is happy as well."
"Master, make me happy, NOW!" Alara moaned.
He held the girl in one arm, turned until she was below him, her legs wrapping around his waist to hold his cock deep in her, then settled back onto the couch. "Now..." Ariston said smiling as he began thrusting into the girl.
His powerful body thrust again and again into the girl. She moaned in pleasure, the moans growing louder and faster, until the Goddess came to her. As she cried out in thanks, Ariston let his crest come as well. Another powerful thrust and he loosed his seed into the wailing girl, blast after blast of his seed filling her. His cock was awash in their juices as he fell onto the girl.
Her hands caressed his back. "Thank you, Master."
"Thank the Goddess," he said.
Ariston rolled to his side as the girl snuggled into his arms. They fell asleep in grateful thoughts to the goddess.
The news traveled among the merchants that the caravans protected by the barbarian were no longer being attacked. They looked at their own profits and their losses from the hill tribes. Many decided a little less profit would more than be made up by no longer taking losses. They began inviting Ariston to become a partner. His only duty was to allow the caravan to travel under his name. For this, he was rewarded with a portion of the profits. Soon, all of the caravans were traveling under his name. His wealth grew great.
The king's advisors also noticed that the profits of the traders had risen as the king got his percentage as well. Happy with this new situation, the king granted a monopoly to Ariston and his partners. Ariston would have a percentage of all goods that traveled through Bashram. A monopoly given by the ruler was a guarantee of wealth since the state can use the laws to protect the monopolists.
However, the state of affairs was unstable, for the hill tribes had lost a source of revenue, attacking the caravans. Sulik Khan, headman, called his men together. "I am no coward." He looked around at his men. They too, were proud men. "I will no longer bow to a city man. I will take what is mine. Who will join me?" All the men stood up. He smiled and nodded.
That day they traveled down to the caravan route and set their trap. It was too easy as the guards had come to believe they could not be attacked. They weren't even wary of the possibility. They laughed and told stories, all in a group at the head of the caravan as they entered a narrow part of the trail.
As the guards came round a turn, a sudden shout rent the peaceful air. Howling men came tumbling from the rocks, their talwars sharp and flashing in the sun. The guards were cut down before they could draw their weapons.
The camel drivers turned and raced away. Several did escape, those at the end of the caravan. The rest were cut down. The hill men laughed as they led the captured booty away into the hills.
It took a month for the news to travel to Bashram. The merchants all gathered at Ariston's house, worried that the old days were returning. The servants served them beer. Ariston stepped into the middle of the garden. "Friends, I have talked with the riders from the caravan. They know who attacked the caravan. It was followers of Sulik Khan. I have not heard of him. If any know of him, please tell me all you know."
The buzz grew as men told what they knew of Sulik Khan, their panic causing them to grow louder and louder in their tales. Ariston smiled behind his passive face. He had to calm the merchants even as he was amused that something so little could cause them to panic.
It was all Ariston needed: where this tribe lived and how many men. He sent the merchants home and planned his revenge on Sulik Khan. He set out two days later, traveling by the back trails, for he knew the hills would be watching to see if the barbarian would come. If he did, they would warn Sulik Khan. If he didn't, they would once again scourge the caravans. He could feel the hills watching for him.
But the eyes did not see the traveler who did not wish to be seen. It was hard travel and took long. It was almost a month before Ariston was looking down on the camp of Sulik Khan. He waited for the night. When the last camp fires had burned down to coals, Ariston slipped down from his perch, noiseless in the dark. He went to the goat herd and poured his revenge into the water. The goats did not notice. Ariston slipped away in the hills.
The next day, the children were sent out to milk the goats. They found half of the flock lying still. The children stared at the still goats, then as a group, they ran back to camp yelling and crying, for the goats were the main source of food to the hill tribes. The women heard the cries of the children and hurried out to meet them. When they heard the story, they yelled for the men and all ran to the pasture.
They could do nothing but stare at the devastation. The women began to cry. The men all looked to Sulik Khan. He knew the barbarian had done this, just as he had promised. "Do not drink the water. We must bury the goats. They are poisoned. Keep the ones still alive away from the water until we can find fresh."
"What are we to do for food?" one of the women asked.
"We will hunt and we will take food from the caravans. It is a war now," he rumbled.
Ariston was too far away to hear what was said. But he could see who directed the tribe. 'That must be Sulik, ' he said to himself. He watched his foe. He saw them bury the goats. Then the men gathered and armed themselves. Sulik Khan ordered them off in groups of four, to hunt for food and to hunt for the barbarian who had caused the ruin. Ariston watched as Sulik himself set off, alone. Surprised, Ariston left his perch and plotted an interception.
Sulik Khan boiled in anger. He searched for signs of the barbarian in the field but found none. He went to the rocks, searching with his trained eye. Finally, he found a footprint that was not of his tribe. Just one, but it was enough. He looked up into the rocky hill above his camp. His prey was there. Sulik Khan feared no man. He set out up the hillside. He felt the flames of revenge in his veins, burning him into a raging anger.
Bess
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