Walking the streets of Driftafay had been horrific. There had been no battle, only scattered skirmishes through the streets as the Elvish soldiers butchered those few humans who dared resist even after the gates had been opened to them. Lelthina had no love for humans, and their petty attempts to claw for something resembling power, but the gore of combat disgusted her. Still, it had been necessary.
She wished she had had her coach, instead of the single pure white horse, that she might shut out the scenes of carnage as the Elves took their revenge. Standing now in a lavish room, her new chambers in Driftafay, she stayed away from the balcony. Instead staring at a painting upon the wall depicting a beautiful Elf man bathing in a river. Letting her eyes roam over the exquisite perfection of his tight body, she used it to drive away the visions of slaughter. The hard ridges of his chest, the dark brown of his nipples, begging to be nipped on. The surface of the water teasingly hiding his cock from view, showing only the small tuft of hair just above it, those delicious indentations of the hips that so defined his abs peaking above the water. Lelthina’s imagination filled out the dimensions for herself, and it was perfect.
The only way she would take them.
Lelthina had never liked being anywhere near the front. Or whatever might resemble a front in this war. War and battle was not her specialty. Politics, diplomacy, and intrigue were her battlefront, her tools.
At least she had been able to take a bath and slip back into a silk dress. She felt back in her element at least. No need to sit in a saddle anymore, or eat the poor rations of the soldiers, or suffer the stench of latrines when the wind changed. Though the city currently stank from the pyres of the dead, it would dissipate soon enough. Besides, she had perfumes and incense to ensure her little haven was pleasant enough.
She let out a sigh, rising from her seat and finally pulling her gaze away from the beautiful man displayed upon her wall. With measured steps she moved towards the balcony, the world barely hidden behind the sheer silk curtains. She could see the dawn on the horizon, those first rays of the sun making the brilliant colours of her curtains all the more spectacular.
She ran her fingers over the silk, smiling to herself. This had been Sarya’s room until earlier today. It had seemed such a soldier’s room, with weapon and armour racks, a simple chest for her belongings, the dresser full of plain tunics. But the centurion had surprised Lelthina with her silk curtains. It seemed that some of the more noble traits of Goldulin culture had seeped their way into the soldier. And from the tales she’d heard, of the whore that spent more nights in this very room than the brothel, the councillor guessed that Sarya might be more in line with the nobility than she would like to admit.
That or Lelthina overestimated a soldier’s need for the rudimentary.
Leaning forward, letting the silk caress her skin, Lelthina watched the sun rise for a few moments. The streets were already teeming with activity down below. Elvish soldiers organizing the still living citizens into working groups to clean the streets, of blood, rubble, and bodies. Crows circled overhead, waiting for the corpses to be dumped and clear of people that they might come down to feast. And of course, Telva’s insistence on public displays of the executed. Swaying from the gallows erected in the market square. A once teeming market square, but war and rebellion have turned it far from that purpose for some time now.
The sound of her door opening caught Lelthina’s attention. It was quiet, but she knew of only two people in this city who would dare walk in on her without announcing themselves first. One she accepted, the other was simply to annoy her. And Telva was never so quiet. She smiled to herself, not moving as Pharno came up to her. He smelled of soap, and the image on her wall came to mind again as his hands ran over her open back to her shoulders.
Slowly he pushed the straps of her dress off, and slowly guided them down her arms.
“I have an appointment soon,” she said, smiling and turning her head slightly, but making no move to stop the spy, even as the silk slipped off her breasts, and continued downwards. His hands surprisingly soft against her sides until they settled upon her hips.
“Not for two hours,” he said, his lips playing along the back of her neck, tongue teasing at her skin as the dress fell from where it was at her hips, and puddled on the floor. She groaned softly, as he pulled her back against him, feeling the fine clothes he wore against her body.
“A more personal appointment. You are not my only lover,” she said with a sly grin as he guided her to the bed. He spun her around then, so her breasts were crushed against his chest. She couldn’t help herself, her fingers already rising to the buttons of his tunic to open them, to peel the soft fabric open and reveal that hard chest to her bosom.
“No, but I am the only one in Driftafay,” he said with a smile as he grasped her hands, dragging them along his own form, letting her feel him, until her hands reached his trousers, her hands immediately began to work on them, pushing them down off his hips. His hard cock sprang free, dragging along her thigh.
“For now,” she said, grinning before he pushed her back, landing on the bed. She propped herself on her elbows, legs closed, smirking. She would let no other lover treat her the way Pharno did, and that’s what made him special. That he was able to so easily seduce her, to get between her legs. How many lovers did he have in Driftafay already she wondered, feeling his hands grasp her calves firmly, and start to pull them open. Revealing everything to his hungry eyes.
She was nothing to him, she knew, except a good fuck, and a source of payment. He liked the power he held over her in these moments, and Lelthina let him have it. She wasn’t sure if he was truly in control, or if she let him pretend to have it. His interest continued for much the same reasons. Again and again he came back to take her, to ravish her. The one woman he wasn’t sure he could truly take.
But he smiled, crawling between her legs, one hand on her breast and pushing her onto her back before his fingers closed in a firm squeeze, feeling her nipple against the palm of his hand. Then his hips thrust forward, and she moaned, back arching, pushing that breast even tighter into his grip.
Their hips began to move, as Pharno stripped away the nobility, and left them as but two naked elves fucking each other, their moans mingling as his cock rammed into her. Their flesh slapping through the room as they let themselves enjoy this base instinct. This need.
With only the sun to look upon them as it rose up into the morning.
Rania’s lips had been pleasant as she whispered the word from the sentries into the ear of her mistress. The soft nibbles and caress of tongue even more so. The concubine of course had been emboldened by the soft groans of her mistress, letting her hand slip over the corset armour, and into the cup that held her breast, squeezing firmly, even finding a nipple and pinching it, earning herself another soft moan as reward.
“A dragon has been spotted on the horizon mistress,” Rania whispered, each word letting her lips graze Lillium’s ear, her tongue flicking again to enforce it all.
“Good. Make sure the hall is prepared for our guest, and that the entertainment is ready,” Lillium said as she looked out the window of her chambers, towards the rising sun that hovered above the horizon.
Pulling away, with some disappointment, Rania bowed to her mistress, and quickly left the room. Rising to her feet, Lillium moved to the window, and leaned against the sill to look across her town. The one she was raised in, and the one she conquered. Cut off from the Kazdruk advance, but too far deep for any proper Coalition army to get to quickly. Unless the Elves finally mobilized.
Fingers curling into tight fists, Lillium thought back to the day her clan was nearly destroyed on the Plains of Atzgol. To seeing the Elves retreat under the orders of that bitch of a Princess. Telva Winterstone. Letting out a long breath, Lillium turned away from the window and started to make her way down to the grand hall of the keep where she’d greet her escort. Vengeance would be hers someday, and it would taste sweet on her lips.
Heels clicking on the stone, Lillium entered the hall, glancing over the currently empty tables, before she seated herself on the throne constructed on the dais that overlooked the room. Behind her, the large stained glass windows that had once depicted the glory of Oan and the Cozlak clan now held dark red glass, with black Morkaten designs. Helots stood on guard, standing rigid with their spears pointed towards the ceiling, while a pair of slaves wearing nothing except sandals and violet loincloths stood near the entrance to the kitchens.
Crossing one leg over the other, and pulling her blade free, Lillium watched the entrance to the hall. Her blade’s point against the floor, she spun it by the pommel, keeping her face neutral.
The doors opened, and two helots entered, escorting a large brown skinned kazdruk warrior. A wicked war scythe was resting on her shoulder as her hooves clacked against the stone floor. A single eye stared at Lillium as she came forward, a tan scar running over the opposite brow, the eye there milky white and useless.
“Baroness Lillium. I am Velkra, your escort to the spire,” her voice was deep, impatient, but Lillium gestured to one of the tables with her free hand.
“I guessed as much Velkra. But what kind of host would I be if I did not offer refreshments first,” the succubus purred, one of the slaves stepping forward to pull out a chair for the Kazdruk.
Raising the eyebrow of her ruined eye, Velkra looked towards the chair, then back to the baroness.
“I’d rather we leave now.”
“It is a long flight to the spire from my understanding. A quick meal, and a bit of a show, then we shall depart.”
With a grunt, Velkra moved towards the chair and sat herself. The slave trembled slightly; likely the first time she had seen a purebred Kazdruk. Especially so close. At a snap of Lillium’s fingers though, the two slaves vanished into the kitchens.
“It is not wise to delay succubus. Aeltha summoned you, and Yuldasha herself wishes to meet you,” Velkra said, placing her scythe on the table, her hand never straying far from the shaft of the weapon.
“Nor is it wise to ride alone with a hungry Kazdruk.”
Velkra let out a laugh at that, before the slaves returned. One holding a plate of bloody meat, the other holding a large tankard of ale, the foam spilling over the rim and dribbling across the floor. The slaves set them down in front of the Kazdruk, who reached out and grabbed one by the ass. Like a good slave she didn’t squeal, though she did look to Lillium while the other scampered away.
Lillium smiled, her fingers dancing on the pommel of her sword, spinning it in place. She knew what Velkra was doing; that grabbing the slave wasn’t just out of lust. It was an act of dominance.
“Enjoy her,” she said, lifting her free hand and snapping her fingers again. Two naked helots came in from the opposite door of the food and beer. Velkra grinned, baring her teeth as she forced the slave under the table, lifting up her own heavy and plated loincloth to reveal her snatch. The slave had no illusions of what she was to do, pressing her face forward, and drawing a low rumble of pleasure from the Kazdruk as tongue found the tangy folds of the warrior.
Velkra and Lillium both thought let their attentions turn to the two helots, who were pulling a woman in behind them on a chain. She followed meekly, obediently, her flesh bared for all to see.
“This is Viviane. A former knight of Oan,” Lillium said, making her new whore blush as the helots pulled her before the throne. If the hall were full, everyone would be able to see. Lillium had impressed that into Viviane before now. The whore blushed, but Lillium could see the excitement in her, her submission so complete that she took enjoyment even out of her own humiliation.
“Now my whore. And here to be fucked, for your enjoyment,” Lillium said as Velkra tore into the meat that was provided.
Meanwhile the helots pressed themselves against Viviane’s body, holding her between them. The front one grasping her thigh and lifting, feeling her leg bend over his arm before he thrust his hips forward, plunging his cock into her slick cunt. The whore let out a hungry moan, her head tilting back.
Fingers sliding along the grip of her sword, Lillium watched the display with her lips curled. Watching as the fallen knight draped her arm across the back of the other helot’s shoulders as his cock thrust forward as well. The whore’s eyes clamped shut as his prick pushed into her ass with little resistance. Her fingers curled tightly as the two helots let their hips thrust back and forth, plunging into her. Her nails dug into the back helot’s shoulder, her juices dribbling along their cocks as the fucked her for the entertainment of their baroness and the Kazdruk who watched eagerly.
Drinking her ale, and eating her gifted meal with one hand, the other was beneath the table, pulling the slave into her loins. Smearing fluids across the woman’s face, letting them run down her neck to her swaying breasts. The sounds of lust filled the hall, the smell of sex. Lillium leaned back and soaked it all in, the helot guards around the edges of the room standing at disciplined attention.
What surprised the succubus though, was that while Velkra seemed to be plunging headlong into hedonistic enjoyment, the Kazdruk had subtly examined the room. Taking in the guards, the entrances, the window. This one was playing the game, and Lillium didn’t like it.
The moans from the whore continued, getting louder and louder as the twin cocks plunged into her. Her juices dripping onto the stone floor from the same pricks that drove into her. Her nails close to drawing blood as the helots roared out their pleasure, feeling the succulent flesh against themselves. One lowered his maw to Viviane’s breast and bit down firmly, drawing thin trails of crimson that flowed over the swell of her tits.
Their orgasms drew forth loud moans and screams of lust and pleasure. Pain and desire. Cum quickly began to leak from the whore’s cunt and ass, running over the cocks that slowly pulled out until Viviane was dripping onto the floor, panting as she recovered from her orgasm.
Velkra though stood, surprising the slave whose face was glistening, painted lips smeared. The tankard was empty, the plate holding only small scraps and tiny pools of blood. Adjusting her loincloth, the Kazdruk gestured to the main doors of the hall.
“I thank you, baroness, for the hospitality. But now, I insist we depart,” she said.
Lillium stood and smiled, sheathing her blade as she walked down from the throne. This time, she made no delays. Velkra had seen everything Lillium wanted her to. Hopefully no more than that.
Walking up from the sand of the beach behind her helots, the Kazdruk warrior looked to the fortifications and barricades the humans had erected just on the edge of the wood line. Axe resting on her shoulder, she frowned, walking past the point where every other attack had come under a hail of crossbow and arrow fire. Not this time though.
While the helots continued on ahead, grunting and snarling at each other, weapons bared and ready for the flesh of humans, the Kazdruk moved slightly more cautiously behind them. Something wasn’t right here. She couldn’t believe the humans defending this point to be so cowardly as to just leave.
They had passed the barricades, the small stone towers. They could see the tents and firepits just inside the wood line where the human soldiers slept and ate when they weren’t on watch. The place looked deserted. Though, the leading Kazdruk noted the trebuchets further back. She cocked her head, wondering when the humans had brought such machines forward, and how they hoped to use them. Their use would be severely undermined in the woodline with trees to block so very many angles.
Another step, and the kazdruk felt the ground give slightly. Confusion crossed her features as she looked down at her hoof.
“Now!” Commander Mikel roared, throwing open the trap door he was hidden under, leaves and fallen branches scattering as soldiers did the same for over a hundred paces in either direction. The pits dug but two paces from each other. Short spears thrust up first, goring the helots that were nearly upon them. Then the crossbowmen stood, their bolts launching in a deadly volley. The sound of metal punching through metal and into flesh filled the air. The kazdruk screamed as they died.
Not even the kazdruk stood a chance, her body riddled with bolts that sank deep into her flesh as the humans scrambled up out of their holes. With spear thrusts they finished off any Kazdruk invader that still drew breath, staining the ground with their filthy blood. Not a single human had been felled in the quick and deadly ambush; but they were not done. Those with crossbows were already reloading, placing a single foot in the step at the head of their weapons, turning the powerful cranks to draw back the strings. It took a few moments, and watching it, Mikel hoped it wouldn’t be the cause of too many deaths for what was about to happen.
Drawing his sword, Mikel swiped it down to point forward, towards the beach.
“Forward. For the Coalition. For freedom. For the Langal Clan!” Mikel screamed, and led the charge, his soldiers following closely behind. As instructed the crossbowmen pushed out in front, leading the way over the barricades and down the short hill towards the beech, maybe ten hundred paces away.
Hundreds of helots and dozens of Kazdruk sitting around their campfires, eating, sleeping, fucking slaves. Behind them, the afts of their boats bobbed in the water, the bows lodged firmly in the sand. In the distance, Mikel could see the great war ships anchored off shore that had brought them all here.
The angry war cries of the charging humans though had them scrambling for weapons and armour. Kazdruk were roaring out at their minions, hitting some. Mikel saw one even grab a helot by the throat and toss him towards the others that were trying to establish some kind of line.
As usual though, the helots were disorganized. Their bloodlust taking away any true intelligence from them. They charged, swords and axes held high, spears levelled towards the charging humans. Mikel felt his heart pounding as the Kazdruk stormed over the sands, leaving behind a few human collaborators armed with whips to watch the slaves.
As the scrub and tougher dirt of the land gave way to the shifting sand of the beach, the helots nearly upon then, Mikel called out his next command.
“Loose!” he roared, junior officers down the line in either direction ensuring his command was carried on to everyone.
The crossbowmen came to a skidding stop, and squeezed the levers on their weapons that launched a volley into the charging helots. Almost the entire front line fell, their bodies twisting as the bolts punched through armour and into flesh and bone. Whether they were killed didn’t matter yet, the fallen being trampled by their uncaring comrades.
“Spears, forward,” Mikel shouted, the crossbowmen already reloading as the other soldiers slid in between them, picking up speed as they broke into a full charge with Mikel leading in the centre. This was it, where all the planning and tricks couldn’t fully save them; the melee of battle.
As the two sounds met, the cacophony was nearly deafening. Screams, war cries from both sides, armour rending, steel clashing steel, flesh tearing, bone breaking. Mikel couldn’t pay much attention to his line now, more concerned with his own survival as he pushed a helot’s spear aside with his shield, and plunged his sword into the beast’s neck. Blood spattered his face when he pulled the blade free and the creature fell, clutching at its wound, but Mikel had moved on already.
A sword hit him in the shoulder, scraping along his armour, forcing his body to tilt. He moved with the motion, swinging his shield around in a wide arc that crashed into the side of the helot’s head, sending him stumbling to the side. His sword swung, hitting the creature in the gut, bashing against its own armour and doubling him over. Enough for a swift kick to the side of the head that sent him sprawling to the ground, where another human soldier plunged a spear down into his neck. The soldier though then took an axe to the chin, splitting his head open, blood and brains splattering down to the ground as the humans tried to push the helots further back.
But all momentum had stopped. Sand turning to mud under all the shed blood, fallen bodies, dead and wounded, made each step ever more treacherous. And the purebred Kazdruks were coming now, marching into the rear of their helot lines and forcing their way through, tossing some aside to get to the human’s stuck in the quagmire of battle.
The whistle of crossbow bolts overhead was a relief, even as they struck many of the Kazdruk and some of the helots. Nearly twenty of the kazdruk fell, their bodies riddled, crashing down onto their own troops, forcing helots to struggle out from beneath their bulks. But there were still more of them.
As Mikel took the head off a helot beside him, sending a spray of blood upwards, he saw a Kazdruk grasp one of his soldiers by the head. The woman scream out, trying to stab with her spear, but the short weapon that had been so advantageous in the pits could barely reach the towering monster. The point barely cut the Kazdruk’s muscular chest. A vicious twist of the arm, and the woman’s body flopped violently like a doll, snapping her neck. Her body then tossed into the melee.
All around him, helot and human clashed violently, as the once rigid lines of battle fell into chaos. The smell of blood washing over him as he fought his way through to get to the Kazdruk purebloods. A spear hit him in the chest, the point digging a groove in his armour as it slid off to the side, Mikel responding with a quick stab into the helot’s face. It gurgled for a moment, its eyes rolling back in its sockets, before Mikel kicked the enemy free.
Another volley of crossbow bolt were loosed into the enemy. More Kazdruk purebreds falling, more helots. The beach was quickly turning into a quagmire of blood and corpses. Mikel’s sword and armour were smeared with gore, he could feel it trickling down under his tunic. Hot and sticky against his skin as a soldier next to him had their head caved in with an axe. The fallen was avenged quickly with a spear thrust that went under the helot’s armpit and into his heart.
After smashing a helot in the throat and crushing his windpipe, Mikel found himself face to face with a towering invader. Looking up at the dark red skinned tower of muscle, his face contorted in blood lust and rage, Mikel quickly threw himself to the side. The falling axe meant for his skull sank into a corpse’s chest.
The kazdruk let out a roar of anger, grasping his axe with both hands to wrench it free. Mikel acted quicker, his sword swinging down onto the bastard’s elbow. Flesh and bone split and broke. The kazdruk twisted away shouting in pain, arm dangling from the wound by strands of skin and muscle. His fist swung around, catching Mikel upside the head and sending him to the ground.
As his vision swam, Mikel started to get back up, only to find a hoof stomping onto his chest. He gasped in pain, his armour denting slightly. Fingers reaffirming their grip on his sword, Mikel watched the hoof rising again, shifting for his head. Rolling out of the way, sand bursting up around the hoof, Mikel felt the impact on the ground. Twisting onto his side he swung his sword, felt the edge bite deep into a calf, earning another loud scream of pain. The kazdruk fell to a knee, blood spilling from its wounds.
Managing to get to his feet, Mikel thrust his sword into the kazdruk’s neck. Felt steel scrape spine. A final choke, and the kazdruk fell dead, nearly dragging Mikel with him before the commander pulled his sword free. The bottom of his boot helping.
Around him, the clash of battle was nearly silent, leaving only the screams and moans of the wounded and dying. Around his bodies littered the beach, as soldiers moved through the battlefield to finish off any invaders. The few that Mikel had held in reserve were rushing down the hill now carrying stretchers for those that could be saved.
Hand rubbing across his chest, Mikel made a note to visit the blacksmiths later. For now, he wasn’t done.
“Get the trebuchet’s down here,” he shouted, one of the reserves nodding, before rushing up the hill while Mikel looked out to the warships floating out in the ocean. The engineers were soon pushing the great siege machines down the hill and into range of their targets.
A great roar got his attention, and turning, Mikel looked to the sky to see a dragon flying over head. For a moment Mikel’s heart was pounding with terror in his chest, but luckily the beast seemed to have no interest in what was occurring on the beach below. After tossing an outward facing extended pair of fingers towards the dragon, Mikel turned his attention back to the ships.
They saw the aftermath of the battle, and Lillium watched as the trebuchets launched chunks of flaming rock out to sea, and the warships anchored off shore. Whoever was manning them was good, only barely missing, one of the rocks that went too high clipping one of the warship’s sails. Chunks of wood fell to the sea as helot sailors rushed to put out the flames that had caught, and to draw up the anchors.
Velkra said nothing, keeping her eyes straight ahead. The massive saddle that was strapped along the neck of the dragon was long enough that the succubus wasn’t pressed against the kazdruk, though she was in arm’s reach.
“Why are we not going down there?” Lillium said, having to shout above the roar of the wind and the powerful flaps of the dragon’s wings.
“This dragon was given very specific instructions by Aeltha. I do not command it,” Velkra said, scarcely looking over her shoulder to regard the succubus. It certainly explained why the kazdruk wasn’t holding onto the reins, which Lillium had to admit to herself, had made her nervous when they first took off. Though, she had refused to comment and show that.
Still looking down, where the human soldiers looked so small, stacking the corpses of the invading Kazdruk, Lillium watched as the next barrage of rocks went sailing out to sea. Luckily, the dragon was high enough to not be in any real threat.
The second barrage launched outwards from the shore, and a few rocks crashed into the ships below. Hulls smashed to splinters, masts crashing down into the waves, as the sailors were tossed into the sea. Lillium watched it with a frown, seeing three of the five ships begin to sink beneath the rolling surface. The remainder were struggling to turn, one of them missing a mast, some with gouges dug out the sides.
It wasn’t long before the third barrage was flung out, and the last two were smashed to pieces, vanishing from sight to settle on the sea’s floor.
Then the dragon was out over the wide expanse of water, the shoreline dwindling into the distance. Velkra seemed tense, her shoulders sitting higher, her arms flexed as she grasped reins that wouldn’t help her in the least. She had wanted to be down there, fighting. But instead she was on an escort mission, an unwitting pawn. Lillium hadn’t decided for whom though.
The two didn’t speak to each other as they flew across the ocean to the island that had once been the centre of the Goldulin empire. The wind ensured they would have to shout, and neither felt like there was anything to say to the other. So Lillium watched the ocean, and saw a fleet of ships.
Squinting, one hand above her brows to try and block the glare of the sun, she tried to see whose they were. They certainly weren’t of the clans or the Coalition, but neither did they look Kazdruk. More like large floating rafts than ships proper, covered in what appeared to be tents, with sharp angular sails. Lillium didn’t bother pointing it out to Velkra though. The woman would likely just say the same thing she had when questioned about going down to the beach.
So Lillium watched, soaring over them, until they were but pin pricks on the horizon, and looked ahead again, waiting to see the next shore approach.
The ambush had gone off without a hitch. There was only a single survivor of the helot patrol, the rest laying dead on the forest floor. Kira watched as some of her little band of refugees turned insurgents carried their dead away, melting into the forest as if they were never there. Others were picking the dead clean of weapons. There were not many black smiths at the scattering of camps Kira had throughout the forest, and they needed more weapons. They were still getting more, trickling in as battles went bad along the coastline, or fled the Elves of Winterstone.
After watching the wounded and the dead be carried off, Kira then turned her attention to the surviving helot, forced to his knees, a dagger under his chin, the blade against his throat. Moving towards him, Kira knelt so she was at eye level. The helot stared back at her, defiance in his gaze, but he said nothing, and did nothing.
“Tell me. Where are the other patrols?” she asked.
The helot just stared at her, blood flowing from the wound in his belly. He held it, palm tight against the wound, but otherwise he ignored it.
“Without some kind of attention, that wound will kill you. We can get you that attention if you speak,” she continued. But the helot did nothing still. Just stared.
“That’s fucking unnerving,” one of the insurgents muttered as he watched the kazdruk soldier kneeling there, bleeding. Not roaring madly. It was a kind of discipline they hadn’t seen before in the cannon fodder of the invader’s armies.
“You are willing to pass on life then?” she said, and got the first reaction out of the helot. A sneer, showing teeth, but he said nothing. Letting out a sigh, Kira wondered what to do with the beast. There wasn’t anywhere to really keep prisoners back at the camp, and she wasn’t willing to risk him escaping. Rising to her feet she looked down at him, and regretted that she had to give the order she was about to.
At what point did the justification of defending your own lands stop being enough to differentiate you from the enemy.
“Kill him,” she said.
The helot raised his head slightly, offering more of his throat as the insurgent behind him swiped the dagger to the side. Blood immediately began to pour from the split in the skin, bubbling out as breath escaped the slashed windpipe. There was a moment of fear in the helot’s eyes, but he didn’t resist, or react otherwise. Just died, slumped on his knees.
“What do we do with the bodies?” someone asked Kira, as she looked around the small patch of woodland, at the corpses stripped of any usable items, any valuables they might use, even their armour, leaving the bloody corpses laying naked beneath the boughs of the trees.
“Leave them. It’s our offering to the forest. The wolves need to feed,” Kira said, turning and moving back towards the camp herself. She frowned as she walked, the rest of her insurgents melting into the forest around her to head back to camp, leaving her alone with her thoughts.
Lillium was still her in mind. Slithering through her imagination, and after she had the helot’s throat slit, she had imagined her sister beaming with bride. It sent a shudder down her back that was partial revulsion, and partial arousal.
Even last night in her tent when she was making love to Thaden, she’d had him turn her over to take her like a beast. But the truth of it was so that she could imagine her sister behind her. That the flesh and blood cock thrusting into her had been a exceptionally carved piece of wood. Kira was starting to fear the next time she encountered her sister.
She had kept her doubts hidden, buried as everyone around her looked to her as hero and saviour. How would they react knowing that she wanted to sleep with the most powerful Kazdruk commander in the area. The only Kazdruk commander in the area.
No, not sleep with. That was too innocent a word. Fuck. She wanted to fuck Lillium. She wanted to fuck her sister. Taste her, hear her moan, be made to moan by her. Another shudder.
Stopping to lean against a tree, her fist pressed firmly against the bark, she opened her ears, listening for anyone near by, smelling for them. When she was confident in her privacy, she let a hand slide into her breeches again, let her fingers find her slick cunt, and started to fuck herself, imagining Lillium’s fingers.
“I hate you, and I love you bitch,” she growled, angry, and horny, and ashamed, as her juices rolled down plunging fingers.
Waking up just after sunset, Sarya noted that Isilde wasn’t around. Her things were still there, unpacked, and the centurion rolled her eyes, before she started to pack the makeshift camp. No fires, only bedrolls and packs with dwindling food and water. When she finished, waiting for the whore to finish her piss, or her shit, or whatever it was she needed to do, Sarya looked to the sky. It was harder to look around her, at the visible corruption of the land that grew ever more obvious the closer she got to Volgras.
It wasn’t Kazdruk corruption though. This, was something else. Familiar though. And she was still a day away from Innisgar.
Voices pulled her from her thoughts, snapping her head down as she lay in the grass just on the edge of the wood line. Male, and, a female. Enemies maybe. She pulled her spatha free, just in case.
She could hear them coming closer, could see figures moving along the open fields, and heard movement in the forest. They weren’t being too quiet, but quiet enough that they had gotten close enough that she couldn’t slip away without being found.
Definitely male voices, and one female. She listened carefully, straining, and recognized the gruff speech of helots. So they were enemies. Then she heard the woman’s voice again. Far too familiar.
Sarya’s blood ran cold, fury growing in her heart. But she breathed in deep, calming herself as the helots came ever closer. The whore had betrayed her. There was no other explanation for it, not with the calm almost flirtatious way she was speaking with the helot. Not with the way they were coming directly towards Sarya’s position.
As her breath came out even, her pounding heart slowed, Sarya stood. The first helot was only ten paces away. He called out his warning, foolishly turning his head as he did. Sarya took a few steps before lunging forward, feet just above the ground as she jabbed her sword forward, felt it plunge into the side of the helot’s neck. With a jerk of her arm, she freed the weapon out the front of his throat. Blood sprayed from the wound, pattering over the grass and trees as Isolde yelped.
While the whore scampered away, the helots came forth with blades drawn, but three of them held weighted nets. She eyed them all cautiously, slowly backing away, starting to move faster as she noted them running.
But when a sword slashed to her face, making her twist her body to the side before parrying, they took advantage of the distraction and surrounded her. Fourteen of them left standing now.
A slash from behind towards her calf, so she turned her leg, and caught it on the rim of her greave, her own sword gouging across the armour of his chest. He stumbled, but a lunge from behind had her spinning, catching the side of the blade and swinging it out far. A blade drove into her back, scraping over the layered plates. Stumbling forward, a sword tip slicing open her bicep, Sarya tried to spin again to face another threat and caught a slash to her calf. She felt blood trickling over her limbs, and caught another blow before a kick to the back of her knees had her spilling to the ground.
Nets flew over her, the heavy metal weights at the corners thudding into the ground as one of them stepped on her elbow, making her wince in pain. He grinded the joint into the ground, until her fingers opened, and another helot kicked the blade away.
She could see Isolde now, staring at her with concern on her face. Sarya’s own expression turned to fury.
“You fucking backstabbing cunt,” she snapped, and Isolde fell to her knees.
“I’m sorry mistress. It was the only way. You would not listen otherwise. You must be… perfect,” the whore said, and clutched her face in her hands, sobbing. Not because of guilt Sarya knew then, but because she was angry with her.
Somehow, Lillium had gotten to the whore. Sarya snarled, before a heavy blow from a sword pommel sent her plunging into darkness.
The dragon’s landing had been surprisingly smooth, though both Lillium and Valkra were jostled slightly as it landed on the large pad stretching out from the spire. As the succubus looked around the tortured sea, she was reminded of Thorlgruz, of the desolation brought onto the land itself by the Kazdruk. Of course, Thorlgruz had been a great cathedral built by humans. The spire’s grandiose mocked it as assuredly as the landscape.
The dragon had crawled back to its roost in the spire itself before Velkra and Lillium dismounted and started into the spire itself. Through twisting passages lit by violet torches. Helots, Kazdruk purebloods, and other creatures roamed the halls, interrupted occasionally by stairwells. Velkra seemed in a hurry, likely to get back to her Talon. Lillium could understand that, especially after what they had seen on the beach the day before.
As they neared a doorway guarded by two fully armoured helots, Lillium noted a Kazdruk storming down the halls. She looked beaten, with blood still dripping from her nose.
“Wulfshn,” Velkra had called, but the Kazdruk didn’t stop. Just threw them a glare that seemed equal parts angry and shamed. Velkra watched her depart, before grunting and continuing on their path. Lillium raised an eyebrow, taking in the display, before continuing to follow through the door.
They stepped into a long chamber, bordered with pillars but otherwise undecorated. At the end was a flickering field of green energy that broadened at their approach. They stepped through without hesitation, and Lillium gasped as she stepped out feeling cold and a tingling sensation running beneath her skin that wasn’t entirely unpleasant.
Whether Velkra felt it, or was too used to it to care, Lillium couldn’t tell, but the Kazdruk didn’t stop. Just kept marching. When they reached a rather ornate door, Velkra paused, then glanced back at her charge.
“Aeltha’s lab and chambers. She’s expecting you, I’m sure,” she said, and turned and left without further words. Lillium didn’t bother watching her go. Instead she slipped inside, and came face to face with her creator. Her mother in a sense.
“Hello child,” Aeltha purred, sitting on a tall chair, fingers running over a skull on a table beside her.
“Mistress,” Lillium said, dropping to one knee, and Aeltha smirked. It had become a game, and not true submission.
“I have a small task for you, before you meet Yuldasha.”