Saint-Etoile castle dominated the city of Orlous, its stout keep and
curtain wall with elegant crenels curved and smoothed to deflect projectiles
looked down upon its narrow streets and the plastered walls and thatched roofs
of the common buildings. Six battlements
ringed the keep, and the Queen’s chambers rested in its heart, protected from
attack except for the private balcony overlooking the baily. The access point wasn’t completely vulnerable
though; when she became Queen Amelie modified the balcony so that it could be
collapsed if the curtain walls were breached.
Amelie’s inner chamber was utilitarian, but not austere. Her bed lacked the silk sheets found in
Zentara, but were still made of fine cotton spun by the most qualified
seamstresses in the Kingdom. The walls
of her solar were populated with portraits of her ancestors. From Prince
Renault, first Duke of Orlous, whose ‘portrait’ was of mosaic tile, having
predated the more modern oil painting techniques to Jean, First King of Thesta,
to her own father, King Guillaume, who loomed larger over all of them.
The Queen could feel their eyes on her, but Amelie only had eyes for
her daughter. “Anne! It is so good to see you again! It feels like it has been an Age since I held
you in my arms!”
“I’ve missed you as well, mother, so much.” A moment passed between them before Anne
leaned forward and pressed her lips against Amelie’s. Anne thrust her tongue into her mother’s
mouth and twisted it around Amelie’s as she wrapped her arms around Amelie and
pulled her into a tight embrace.
The Queen’s eyes widened at the sudden display of affection, but soon
she found herself melting into her daughter’s arms. Amelie’s lips wrapped around Anne’s tongue
and sucked it hungrily as she yielded to her daughter’s advances. The Queen’s heart missed a beat as the
princess grabbed her Amelie’s with one hand and the back of her head with the
other.
Anne held her mother in place for the kiss, gripping Amelie’s soft
brown hair firmly while massaging the Queen’s pert ass cheek with the other. The sensation of their lips rubbing together
made Amelie squirm, and the growing pleasure didn’t give her time to think
about how wrong what they were doing was.
Her own hands slid up and down Anne’s back, rubbing it just like she
did when she comforted the little princess after she tripped and skinned her
knee. This was a totally different type
of comforting though, and Anne was definitely no longer a little princess. Nothing made that more apparent than when
Anne broke the kiss and pulled Amelie back, allowing her to notice for the
first time what Anne was wearing.
Her daughter was dressed in a skimpy silk purple halter top that barely
supported her breasts from underneath and left her cleavage entirely
exposed. Really, it was more of an
undergarment, and perhaps that is what it was.
A golden belly chain was wrapped around her waist, with a dangling ruby
that rested just above the gold chain holding up the floor length silk purple
loin cloth. Perhaps most perversely was
the royal Thestan coronet that still sat atop her head, a royal insignia that
she had worn in her youth, and her mother before her. The priceless family heirloom was now capping
off her daughter’s lewd and lascivious outfit.
Seeing her daughter’s erotic garb made her suddenly aware of what she
was wearing. Where did this come from, she thought as she felt the thin spider
web strands of silk wrapped around her chest and torso press against her soft
flesh. They left her breasts totally
exposed. Each mammoth globe was fully on
display, and her nipples throbbed in the cool air, desperate for her daughter’s
attention.
Anne was eager to oblige, and released Amelie’s head and ass to pinch
each nipple, squeezing and plucking them as the Queen lay back on the bed,
raising her knees to expose the crotchless panties framing her sex but leaving
her bare, swollen labia open to view.
“You want me, don’t you mother?”
Anne laughed softly as she listened to her mother squeal. “Say it, beg for your daughter to fuck you!”
Amelie wanted to protest, but the depraved words rolling off her
daughter’s lips were almost hypnotic and made her pussy burn with desire. “Yes!
Please Anne! Fuck me! Fuck your mother hard!”
“What a slutty little mother you’ve become. Is it any wonder I turned out the way I did
with such a depraved role model? If
you’re so eager to give in to your primal lusts, why are you resisting the
orcs? Why not surrender to them so you
can finally enjoy yourself?”
Anne released Amelie’s tits, gave each one a light slap and then slid
down between her mother’s legs. Two
fingers immediately pushed into Amelie’s cunt and began sloshing in and
out. As she fingered her mother she twisted
and untwisted the fingers around each other while working her wrist in a slow
circle to tease and rub Amelie’s insides.
The Queen writhed atop the bed, nearly climaxing on the spot at the
feeling of having her daughter’s fingers probing her insides. For months she had been fruitlessly masturbating,
unable to get any satisfaction unless she was with a partner; a monstrous
partner at that. But now it seemed that
her daughter’s touch was more than sufficient to give her the pleasure she
sought.
And touch her Anne did. Her
fingers were like magic, manipulating her in ways she didn’t think
possible. Anne’s fingers pumped faster,
the slender digits filling her in a way that the human cocks of her soldiers
couldn’t. Each time they plunged into Amelie’s
pussy Anne rotated her hand to brush her knuckles over her mother’s sweet spot.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?
You love getting fucked by your daughter. But is it really enough, mother? Or do you want more?” Anne gave her the mischievous smile she used
was a child when playing a prank and slipped another finger into Amelie. She worked them in and out as she pressed her
thumb into Amelie’s clit and started to roll the small button.
“Ah! Anne! Mmm!
I, I can’t take much more! I’m
going to cum!” Amelie squealed out in
lust as she pumped her hips in the air.
Her well-toned ass flexed as she arched her back, pushing her hips hard
into Anne’s fingers as she humped herself into her daughter’s hand. “It’s so good! Ah!”
“Yes, it is. This is what you
want, what you love. What would everyone
court think if they could see you now?
Shall I ring for them?” Anne
tittered teasingly as she slipped her pinky into Amelie’s sex, stretching the
pussy even further.
Amelie’s hungry sex swallowed the finger eagerly. Her slippery walls sucked it in easily,
eagerly. After all, four fingers were
nothing compared to the centaur’s penis.
“Nnnng! Ah!” But the thought of her court seeing her like
this sent a fire through her. It was
like the dreams she had of being fucked in front her army, or by her army, but
also different. At she had camaraderie
with the soldiers in her army. Her
courtiers were much more formal, the relationship peculiarly even more
hierarchical than in the Falcon Guard.
“Should I make you beg, mother?
Beg to be used and defiled in front of every noble in the city?” Anne began rotating her wrist in wider
circles, pushing the walls of Amelie’s slit further and further apart. She continued to rub her mother’s clit,
rolling the nub faster and more firmly as Amelie thrashed atop the bed.
Amelie’s brown hair lashed about her face as she thrashed on the bed,
on the edge of a powerful climax.
Hearing these humiliating suggestions coming from her daughter’s mouth
was driving her as wild, nearly as wild as the fingers in her cunt. “Ah!
Anne! Please! Ah!”
“Please expose you? Please ruin
you?” Anne’s grin turned more wicked as
she slid her thumb off Amelie’s clit and lined it up with her slit. “In more way than one?” Cruel laughter resounded off the walls of her
room as Anne pushed her thumb into the Queen, working her whole hand into the
royal snatch. Once it was lodged in deep
and before allowing her mother time to adjust she curled the fingers into a
fist.
“Ah! Yes! A-aaahnnne that’s so good! Mmmm!”
Amelie moaned whorishly as the climax exploded through her. Her spasms rocked the bed as she rode the
orgasm, dancing atop Anne’s hand like a puppet as the younger woman grabbed her
hip to gain the leverage needed to pump her fist in and out. Amelie’s mind went blank as she felt her cunt
getting stretched by her daughter’s fist.
Anne’s knuckles pushed against her cervix as the princess worked her
hand deeper, pushing her forearm into her mother. “To be honest I didn’t think I’d actually get
this done. It’s really true that you
fucked a centaur, isn’t it?” Anne
tittered again, but then the humor drained from her tone as her voice became
deeper and cut through the haze of her lust right into her mind. “You don’t really deserve to be Queen, do
you? It was never supposed to be
you. You’re an imposter. A whore is all you were ever supposed to be.”
With those words ringing her in her she climaxed again, and then a
third time as the first and forearm pummeled her vagina. Her large breasts bounced on her chest as she
convulsed in ecstasy before she finally collapsed down on the bed panting for
breath.
She wasn’t given any respite however.
Anne climbed atop her and crawled up her body. “You’ve had your fun mother, but now it’s my
turn.” Somehow she was already naked and
straddling Amelie’s head. She lowered
her hips down to press her wet labia right onto her mother’s lips.
Amelie’s opened her mouth on instinct and wrapped her lips around her
daughter’s mons. She began to suck and
stroke the labia with her lips as she tasted Anne’s juices. “Mmm!”
Amelie moaned hotly, sending little vibrations into Anne’s slit as her
tongue lapped along the slit, gently pushing the nether lips aside to taste the
pink folds within.
“Mmm that’s it” Anne purred, “that’s so good. That’s where you belong, that’s what you’re
good at!” Anne began to gyrate, rubbing
her labia against Amelie’s lips and smearing her juices all over her mother’s
face. Then her voice became deep again
and once more cut through the fog of lust.
“And good girls get rewarded.”
Anne reached up and pulled Amelie’s magical iron sword off of a mounting
on the wall.
“Mmmm!” Somehow Amelie knew what
was coming and squealed in anticipation.
She lifted her knees and spread them apart, offering herself to the
princess. A moment later she felt the
pommel press against her slit which was still gaping open after having been
fisted. The pommel slid in all too easy,
and soon her sex was swallowing the handle as well.
She tried to cry out, but her mouth was still overed by Anne’s
pussy. Her tongue darted out, pushing
through the folds to probe deep into her daughter’s sex. To Amelie’s surprise she felt something hot
and creamy inside, and soon she was lapping out copious loads of cum into her
mouth.
Orc cum she knew from the
taste. As she sucked the dirty seed from
her daughter’s snatch Anne’s belly grew more and more distended. Anne’s shrill cries grew louder and louder as
her own climax near, driven on by Amelie’s hungry tongue. Nothing could make her stop licking and
sucking, not even the powerful thrusts of the magic sword deep into her puss.
Amelie looked up at her daughter’s pregnant belly as she sucked orc cum
from her pussy and began to climax. Anne
joined her, and as both reveled in the lewd, passionate encounter their loud
screams were joined by the sound of the curtain walls of the keep crashing to
the ground in utter devestation.
The cacophony of sound was so raucous that Amelie shot up in her cot,
heart pounding as she awoke from the dream, pale as a ghost but still basking
in her post-orgasmic glow.
****
Excitement welled in Henry’s chest as he watched the dark ashlar stone
walls of Dromstadt rise above the horizon.
Dromstadt was not as rich or elegant as Ruar or Orlous, but even now it
charmed him. The city of his youth
hadn’t been his home in over 20 years, and he had stayed there only all too
briefly after it had been liberated from the orcs. Now Henry was on his way there again. Will it
be for the last time? If I lose this
battle I won’t get another chance. The
war I’ve been fighting since King Garrett was deposed has led me here. It’s taken decades of fighting, persuading,
plotting, and scheming to get the northern lords to rebel, to get Thesta and
Sandora on board. If only we had the
elfs we might have won the war already.
But then I wouldn’t have my Sylvia.
Henry scowled as he thought of the Elfish Isles. Why did
Prince Augras have to return this year and not next? What Abyssal hole did he crawl out of with
his black magic just when humanity’s greatest chance to throw back the orcs was
at hand? The King spurred his horse
and trotted up a nearby hill to get a better view of the terrain. The sun sat high in the sky, bathing the
world with its warm nourishing rays. His
chain hauberk weighed heavily on his shoulders, but he ignored it and the light
that was doubtlessly reflecting off the armor.
There was no need to hide their movements; his outriders had already
clashed with the orc scouts and sentries and both their location and
destination would be obvious to Belkor.
There was only one place they could be going. As Henry reached the crest of the hill the fields
outside of Dromstadt became visible. The
city had long since pushed back the primeval forests to make room for farms and
villages. In years past the fields would
have been full of peasants planting the next harvest. Instead, the fields were being trampled
beneath the feet of Belkor’s army. His
camps stretched out before the city, but didn’t surround. He
wants to keep his forces together until I am dealt with.
A sigh escaped his lips as another avenue for an easy victory was cut
off. Belkor was building fortifications
to block the way from the south, apparently content to let Henry come to
him. The King took a moment to consider
the situation, rubbing his bearded chin as he looked over the enemy’s
disposition.
“The orcs aren’t going to be accommodating, are they Your
Highness?” Etienne asked as he rode up
beside Henry. The Thestan commander was
still unsure in his role, having assumed it only after Queen Amelie departed
and Phillippe died.
“They never are, but there is still a weakness there we can
exploit.” An idea began to form in the
back of Henry’s mind, a risky idea, but one that just might work. It’s
risky, but what else can I do?
Etienne studied the landscape from beside the King. “We’ll need to draw them out of the
fortifications and meet them on the open field, and then signal the garrison to
come out and hit them from behind. But
how will we lure them out?” Etienne
fidgeted uncomfortably. “Using the orc
princess as bait no longer seems effective.”
“Not the way we have been, no.
Torture is not going to lure them into our trap. We need to set a sweeter bait then that.”
“What did you have in mind, Your Highness?”
“Belkor won’t move to save his sister from torture, but what about from
death? I promised to reign in Daniels’
worst abuses, but at this point an honorable death might be a mercy. Even that might not tempt Belkor though, so I
mean to sweeten the pot so to speak.”
“How?”
“By executing her myself. I’ll
build gallows in front of our remaining forces and go forward with a small
force. The orc pretender won’t be able
to resist the chance to grab me and his sister.
When he moves, you do, and the garrison.” Henry pointed to a small village east of the
orc encampment. There, you see that
village to the east of the orcs? You
will attack from there, right into their unprotected flank. When the garrison sees the battle erupt, they
will know to ride out and take the camp from the rear. There won’t be any escape this time.”
“That is a bold plan, Your Highness, and risky. You shouldn’t put yourself at so much risk,
it is too dangerous. And the princess-”
“There isn’t any choice, not anymore.” Henry stated, making up his mind
and becoming surer by the moment. “We
need decisive action. If we draw this
battle out maneuvering or get dragged into a siege then it gives Grotok more
time to conquer Thesta and Sandora and link up with Belkor. As for the Princess, I hope not to have to
kill her. If Belkor moved as predicted
we will take her back to our lines for safe keeping. I would like to have both her and Belkor in
custody before we face the sorcerer.”
Etienne looked relieved at that, but not completely. “Even still, the risk-”
“We’re losing the war, Etienne.
The Catabrians have left us and the Sandorans are dead. Thesta and Sandora are invaded and Queen
Amelie is hopelessly outnumbered. Our enemies
have even tapped into some dark power from the Abyss to plague and curse our
forces. Now is the time to risk
everything, for soon we shall have nothing.”
The Thestan commander’s face turned to the east, looking out to the
still snow-capped Lyskean Mountains and Thesta beyond them. “I hadn’t wanted to believe it was really as
bad as that.”
“It is, worse maybe. Which is
why we cannot shirk from our duty.
Because it is no longer just duty to ourselves, our families, or our
Kingdoms, it is now a duty to all mankind.
We fight to keep ourselves free from orc dominion and dark magic.” Henry turned to his retinue and summoned
Daniels over.
“Yes Your Highness?” The
grizzled old footman asked.
“Get the Princess ready. I’ll
most likely kill her in the morning.”
****
Drauken’s heart pounded in his chest as he looked up at the towering
spires of Greenthorn Castle. They
reached up to the sky, blocking the setting sun and casting a shadow over him
as he approached the gates. Over a year
of planning, all the scheming, sneaking and…killing…had all led up to
this. Dusk would soon set in and Duke
Willem and the men-at-arms of the west would infiltrate the castle and take the
Queen into custody.
Despite his nervousness, it felt like a weight had been lifted off his
shoulders. The Queen’s mad war would
come to an end and a more enlightened regency would take charge of the
Kingdom. Jeanette had been a great ruler
once. She had led Zentara to supremacy
over Heste, incorporated the orcs into the Kingdom, and greatly expanded trade
and prosperity for all.
But something had changed over time.
Whether it was the rebellions and treasons, or the rejection of the
royal families of Thesta and Sandora, or simply the pressures of leading the
Kingdom, it had culminated in the loss of her son and led her to plunge the
Western Kingdoms into war. Everything
she had accomplished win her youth was on the verge of coming and undone, and
now the only way to stop it was to stop her.
As he crossed beneath the portcullis and into the baily of the castle
his heart caught in his chest as he saw Dorian waiting for him with a squad of
castle guards. “Master Drauken, welcome
back to Ruar. You’ve been gone too
long. The Queen is anxiously awaiting your
report on the Marche orcs, and to hear why you failed to stop them from killing
the Duchess of Haverset.”
“Of course I will answer any questions her Highness has. Alas, there are some things that are simply
out of my control.” Drauken managed to
reply. To be honest he had gotten so
caught up in the conspiracy that he had forgotten he had a ‘mission’ on behalf
of the Queen. Drauken followed Dorian
through the courtyard and into the castle proper.
As they walked through the walls he couldn’t help but think of the
secret passages running through the building, the same secret passages the
Duke’s men were even now getting ready to enter. Will
they have to navigate through the same maze of lust that I did? He wondered, thinking of the lewd sound of
orgies he heard down the passages of the castle when he traversed the secret
tunnels.
Hopefully they wouldn’t get distracted the alluring sounds and sights
and stay focused on the mission. No, the Duke will have selected men who are
disgusted with the wantonness that has taken over the capital; disgusted with
the Queen.
Dorian didn’t say a word as they traveled to the council chambers. Only the sound of stomping boots and the
rattle of the squad’s armor accompanied them as they moved through the lavishly
decorated passages. When they finally
reached their destination two more guards were waiting outside. They opened the doors and Drauken and the
leader of the Queen’s Shadow entered.
The Queen was seated on a large, opulent chair made of oak and inlaid
with gold. She was thankfully dressed in
a maroon velvet dress that covered her completely below the next. A necklace of large pearls hung from her
neck, contrasting with the obsidian crown fastened after broken towers that sat
atop her head.
He was pleased to see that the lord from Oxmain was present. Duke Willem had said the man’s name was Count
Luthor, and that he would be instrumental in swaying Oxmain onto their side
once the rest of the council and royal family was imprisoned.
Vilknar, the Queen’s eighth son was present as well. As custodian of the royal treasury he would
be needed to gain access to the Kingdom’s gold.
He was surprisingly studious for one of the royal family, and not known
for prowess at arms or valor in battle.
Drauken hoped that he would yield the secrets of the treasury
easily. The Queen was too old and
stubborn to be intimidated into betraying them.
“Master Drauken, you grace us with your presence at last.” Jeanette looked him over, a cold, steely look
in her eyes. “You’ve returned after so
long, and with nothing to show for it.
How is it that you failed to prevent the orcs from murdering my dearest
Susannah?”
“I did my best, Your Highness. I
thought my contacts there, and the years of mutually profitable business we shared
would be enough to win them to our cause.”
Drauken raised his hands and sighed dramatically. “I did not count on the dislike they have,
even now, for your noble husband and our dear departed King, Turogg. They are all tribes that resisted his consolidation,
and even now would oppose you simply to spite his ghost.”
Jeanette’s face puckered and she scowled dangerously. It was always hard to read how she would
react to Turogg’s name; it had been many years since his death, and she
certainly had carried on without him, but it could still throw her into a rage,
though none could say if it was caused by sorrow or guilt.
“You’re saying that they hated my noble husband so much that even now
they oppose him? That it is King
Turogg’s fault that you couldn’t persuade the March orcs not to attack?” Jeanette’s lip curled into a sneer and she
glared at the orc.
“It isn’t anyone’s fault.
Raiding orcs are a savage lot and go where the gold and women are. They’ve captured more treasure and women on
this raid then they have in a generation.”
Drauken gripped the table nervously.
I don’t have to be so defensive,
none of this really matters, he realized, the men will be here soon to put an end to this farce.
“Let’s talk about the Duchess of Haverset,” Dorian said softly, “we
know that she died during the sack of Shropfordshire, but we haven’t learned
the exact details. Do you know how she
died? Why wasn’t she held for ransom?”
“I’m afraid I don’t have any answers for you. The Duchess was killed well after I left the
orcs, and I had no notion of their target.”
Drauken paused to listen for the sound of soldiers moving through secret
passages, but heard nothing. I need to stall a little longer. “I could speculate, of course if you
wish, based on my knowledge of their practices.”
“That won’t be necessary” Jeanette replied waspishly, “we wanted you
here today for facts, not speculation.”
“We will find out the truth, sooner or later. The Queen will have her due from whomever was
responsible.” Dorian added.
“The war must be won first, and our best armies are far away. How do you intend to exact vengeance on the
orcs?”
“It is only a matter of time before victory in this war is ours. Then we can hunt them down at our leisure:
once we know who is responsible.”
Jeanette stated plainly, her old steely resolve asserting itself over
her previous anger.
Shouting in the hall interrupted the meeting, and the sound of battle
soon followed. Finally. “I don’t think so,
Your Highness. You won’t be doing that,
or anything else. It is time for new
leadership in the Kingdom. These
destructive wars of yours are madness and need to come to an end. If you willingly abdicate, I promise that you
will be well treated, and will be able to retire with your accustomed comforts
and…pastimes.”
“You think so? You think that
you will be the one to bring me down, Master Drauken? After all these years, all of the people who
wanted to take me down and see me fail, you think you’re the one to do
it?” Jeanette gripped the arms of her
chair tightly, face contorting as she fought to restrain the emotions raging
through her.
“It had to be someone. Your
increasingly erratic reign could not continue indefinitely. It just so happens to have fallen on me to
initiate it.” The sounds of battle got
closer. “It is over, Your Highness, but
this isn’t the end of your dynasty. A
regency council will be implemented until one of your children is selected to
take the throne. Griselda, if I have my
way. But your tenure is over; you can
come quietly, or you can be dragged out of here kicking and screaming. I don’t want to see you hurt, or humiliated,
but the men out there are angry, disillusioned, and want to see only your
ruin.”
Dorian’s dry voice broke the silence that lingered after Drauken’s
impassioned pleas. “I think he’s
sincere, Your Highness. He seems like he
really does mean it.” He slowly rose
from the table, his hand resting on the hilt of a dagger on his belt as he
moved to stand between Drauken and Jeanette.
“I find myself disappointed.”
Vilknar added wryly. “Griselda,
really? At least be a little more
circumspect in picking a puppet. You
should have picked me, then we might have believed you actually intended to
leave my family some real power.”
Despite the levity in his voice, he did seem vaguely offended at being
overlooked.
He was right of course, Vilknar was too talented to leave on the
throne. He would have made a good King,
better than Grotok in Drauken’s view.
But then, Vilknar was more mercantile the martial. “Whether you believe me or not, this is the
end” Drauken began before getting cut off.
“On that we agree.” Dorian
replied, the dry amusement taking on a more sinister tone. It has been amusing following your little
plot, Drauken. You even managed to
surprise me once or twice. But things
are coming to a head now, and with the death of the Duchess this game is no
longer amusing.” The Captain of the
Queen’s Shadow rose from his chair and walked to the wall where he rang the
servant’s bell.
A moment later twelve guards wearing the Queen’s livery burst into the
council chambers. As Drauken stood there
in shock, and before he could even think of running they had taken him in
hand. “Drauken, Master of Caravans, you
are hereby charged with Treason.”
Jeanette rose shakily from her chair, her voice quivering as she glared
at Drauken. “You have confessed your
guilt before the council. All estates
and properties will be forfeited to the crown.
You will be incarcerated until your execution at the Crown’s
convenience.”
The sound of fighting had stopped in the corridors. How? Drauken wondered in vain as they dragged
him from the room. How?
****
For the first time that morning things were quiet in the camp. Jasmara had been awoken early by the blasts
of trumpets and the sound of thousands of men preparing for battle. She knew her brother was out there nearby,
and began to hope that she might even be rescued before nightfall. As the morning progressed she watched the
army depart, marching towards Belkor and lining up for battle. Now, only the camp followers remained. Them, and the two guards wielding spears who
stood watch outside the barred wagon she was kept in. Even they didn’t speak much, not that she
tried to engage them in conversation.
Jasmara quickly slipped the knife into the sleeve of her tunic as she
spotted Daniels approaching with another guard.
Neither were bearing weapons, which was luckier than she had any right
to expect. The look on Daniels’ face
told her all she needed to know about why they had come though. This is
it she thought as she steeled herself for battle.
“Here we go, Princess” Daniels sneered as he approached the wagon. “It’s time to see how much your family loves
you.”
“Haven’t we had this dance before?
King Belkor knows better than to throw away his army simply because
you’re going to rape me for the hundred and first time.” Blood rushed to Jasmara’s head and it began
to pound. I won’t be used as a pawn again.
“Oh we’re not going to rape you this time, we’re going to make a clean
end of it and hang you. Think he’ll come
running if he sees you swinging from the gallows?” Daniels laughed and nodded to his companion,
who began unlocking the cage.
When the man unlocked the cage and grabbed her by the arms to pull her
out she was ready. Jasmara slide the
knife out of her sleeve and plunged it into the soldier’s neck from inside his
guard. She pushed him away as he gurgled
for breath but choked on his own blood.
Daniels stumbled back, and Jasmara wanted nothing more than to cut him
into pieces but she needed to take the armed guards first. Springing forth from the back of the wagon
she grabbed onto the spear of the nearest guard and slammed it into his chest
as she knocked him over. The guard
winced in pain and tried to knock her off by leveraging the shaft of the spear
to turn her aside.
A human woman would have been doomed, but as an orc, even as a female,
she had a large and dense frame. The
weeks of ‘freedom’ she enjoyed with Sylvia allowed her to regain weight and
musculature which she now put to good use.
Jasmara straddled the guard, still leaning forward with her weight to
pin the man and held the spear with one hand while readied her knife with the
other.
“Bitch!” Daniels snarled, looking up from beside the corpse of the dead
soldier.
He rose too late to save the second though, as Jasmara slammed the
dagger down into his eye. Ironically,
killing the guard saved her own life, as the turning motion of bringing down
the blade angled her enough that the last guard’s spear cut through her
shoulder blade instead of puncturing into her back. Jasmara howled in pain as blood poured down
her back. Snatching the spear out of the
dead guard’s hands, she leapt to her feet and readied a defensive stance.
Daniels lunged for the knife that was still embedded in the dead
guard’s eye, but Jasmara slashed with the tip of the spear and drew a cut down
his cheek. She tried to whip back
around, but couldn’t move fast enough to prevent the remaining guard to jab his
spear into her arm. A thin rivulet of
blood ran down her arm as she brought the spear around, slamming the shaft into
his to knock it aside.
Jasmara followed up with a straight punch into the guard’s jaw. He reeled back from the blow and his kettle
helm fell off his head. Her distraction
allowed Daniels to grab the knife, which dripped blood onto the earth as he
held it out in front of him. Jasmara
backed up again to create some distance and keep from getting flanked.
Daniels and the guard moved outward to either side as Jasmara moved
back until they were on either side. But
before they could capitalize on the advantage Jasmara struck. As quick as a coiled snake she jabbed out
towards Daniels, who had to retreat since his knife couldn’t parry a
spear. The princess didn’t expect to
connect though, and instead whipped the butt of the spear back to smash it into
the guard’s unprotected head. It
connected with a sickening thud that sent him straight to the ground where
blood pooled around his head.
She moved backwards again, dragging the lead foot until she was online
with the guard and then thrust the spear into his stomach and twisted the
blade. The soldier guard gurgled, but
only for a moment as the blood seeping from his mouth mixed into the puddle
beneath him. Jasmara ripped the spear
out of the man as he died and readied her guard to keep Daniels from lunging
inside to attack her.
“Bitch!” He snarled, but as angry as he was he didn’t seem like he was
going to attack. “Do you really think
you’ll escape this camp? The King was
going to kill you quick, but if you run you’re going to suffer!”
Cold laughter rippled out from her throat. “A few months ago that might have worked, you
might have been able to intimidate me.
But I remember who I am now, and if you think I’m going to miss this
chance to kill you then you are as stupid and as useless as you were when my
mother treated you like a dog!”
“You still won’t make it from here alive. Kill me and I’ll die happy knowing that your
mother whore of a mother will lose a daughter along with that bastard son of
hers!”
“As long as you die!” Jasmara
advanced, and this time it was Daniels who was retreating. “Don’t even think of running either. I want to look in your eyes as the light
fades out of them. But I’ll shove this
spear through your spine too if I have to!”
Daniels, who had been looking behind to see if there was a path to
escape, suddenly spun back and threw the knife at Jasmara. The Princess brought her arm up as if to
deflect it with a buckler that wasn’t there and winced in pain as the tip of
the blade cut through her forearm.
Fortunately, it was a glancing blow and didn’t bury itself in her flesh.
He was already running by the time she brought her arm down. Jasmara darted forward after him and quickly
caught up with the elderly man. She
thrust the spear down into the back of his knee sending the former footman into
the dust groaning in pain. Jasmara
pulled it back and spun it around and smashed the butt into Daniels face,
shattering his jaw.
She flipped him over, contemptuously batting away his hand as he tried
to swing at her. “I’d like to take this
slow, to pay back everything I owe you.
But the battle is about to start, and I don’t want to miss it.” Jasmara thrust the spear a final time, ending
Daniels’ long, sad life. After savoring
the victory for just a moment, she pulled it out again and wiped the blade
clean.
After bandaging her own wounds, she returned to the guard she had
killed by stabbing in the eye. As the
camp followers screamed and scattered, she began to strip off the armor. It wouldn’t be a perfect fit, but it would be
good enough. Jasmara smiled to herself
as she put it on. It felt good to be a
warrior again.
****
All light was rapidly disappearing as the guards dragged Drauken
through the halls, deeper and deeper into the bowels of the castle. A darkness the orc didn’t even know existed
began to envelop him as he neared the depths reserved for only the most dangerous
criminals and traitors. This must be what the Abyss looks like,
he thought forlornly. Drauken had been
in an almost fugue state since he was seized in the council chambers. We were
so close; the war was going to end.
How did they know? Who betrayed us? One of the other Masters? Duke Willem?
It is said he courted the Queen in her youth. Could he be making a play for King-Consort? Over and over he played it in his mind,
trying to figure out where it went wrong and who betrayed him. It was hard to believe that one of the Guild
Masters had betrayed them. They had all
the gold they needed, and their solidarity in face of the crown was legendary.
Still, they all had their weak points, secrets and weaknesses that
could have been leveraged by Dorian. All
of them knew about the plot, and some more operational details than
others. But he knew them all, and could
not think of one who would betray them. It has to be Willem. Not that it matters, I’m never going to leave
this cell. More than likely I’ll never
learn who it was and I’ll be hanged quietly, in secret, never to be seen again.
A loud cry interrupted Drauken’s moroseness. At first he thought it was the tortured cry
of some prisoner, but the mass of bodies crashing into his guards quickly pulled
him from the morass of his despair. A
brutal fight erupted around him as the party escorting him to the cells was
ambushed. In the cramped corridor the
guards’ spears were less effective than the attackers’ swords.
A vicious slash nearly severed the head off the last guard as the burly
form of Duke Willem turned towards Drauken.
Blood streamed from a cut on his forehead, and several of the rings in
his chain shirt were busted and rent from hard battle. “We have to get out of here! Quickly, this way!” Willem gestured towards an opening in the
wall that led to one of the many secret passages in the castle.
“You! You’re here? What happened?” Drauken hurried through the doorway,
following the small party of human soldiers into the narrow tunnel.
“Everything has gone to the Abyss!
Over half our men collapsed before the battle even started. Poison, I think. Then the passages here were filled with
guards. They cut off our escape right
away, but it is a maze down here. I
don’t think anyone really knows them all, even the Guild that built them! It was too dark, too confined in the
passages. It only took a few rounds of
battle before everyone was split up and lost.”
Drauken’s face was flush and he heaved for breath, but still seemed more
alive than he had been in some time.
“It took a while but we finally found ourselves in a place we
recognized from the map. We were able to
carve a path to the cells, figuring that they would bring you here. We have to escape the city, and get back to
our Duchies to make a stand there. Come
with us, and bring as much gold as you can get your hands on in the city. If we can get to the rest of the Masters we
can shut down the city’s economy. That
alone might give us the edge we need to survive this disaster.”
“For a while, but all of your best men are dead. How can we hope to resist the Queen with
peasant armed with pitchforks?”
“We’ll have to raid the Smiths’ stores, and get as many of them as we
can to build more. Besides, we don’t
have to resist for long, only long enough to distract the crown while the March
orcs move on Ruar, while Henry defeats Belkor, and for the princess-knight to
pull some…trick of stratagem.” Willem
deflated slightly, knowing how improbably it all was.
But what else can we do? “Alright; you’re right. We have to do something and that is as good a
plan as any. Organize the western Dukes
and I’ll get the Guilds and as much money as we can get our hands on. Swords, spears, and armor too.”
The sound of fighting still resounded through the secret corridors, but
with the map in hand Willem was able to lead them to the nearest exit. A squad of soldiers had been left to guard
the exit, but they had grown lax and sure in their victory. Another brutal battle unfolded, but they were
able to dispatch the guards and flee back into Ruar.
“We should split up here” Drauken said as they got to an intersection,
“an orc with a group of humans will draw too much attention. You get out of the city. I’ll join you in Polder as soon as I can. Thank you for coming back from me.” Drauken clapped hands with Willem.”
“Good luck Master Drauken. Stay
safe and be careful who you trust. The
traitor is still out there.”
Drauken nodded and began running towards the merchant quarter. How
will I know which one it is? I suppose
we’ll just have to take everyone we can, but hold them in custody before taking
them into our council. The streets
were quiet and a tension filled the air, as if everyone in the city knew that
something terrible was happening. The
feeling of oppression started to consume him as well, and dread filled him with
every step he took.
His premonitions proved true as he approached the merchants quarter and
saw flames licking at the night sky. The
acrid smell of smoke permeated the streets, and in the distance, screams. The Guild Master slowed his pace and stayed
in the shadows as he made his way towards the Guild Hall.
The Queen’s soldiers surrounded it, and he could see the smiths being
rounded up in chains, merchants being executed in the street. Drauken clenched his teeth as he saw the
Master Smith, Boris, being dragged out of the hall. A burly orc struck off his head as he
demanded to see the Queen. I’m too late, the Guilds are done. I have to get home, Melora can get my
gold-Melora! Fear gripped his heart
tighter as he thought of the elf. If they got to the Guilds they might be at
my manse already! He left the Guilds
behind and ran to his own home.
Drauken breathed a sigh of relief as he saw it unmolested. He quickly ran through the door and bounded
up the stairs. “Melora! Melora!”
He ran into the office space and saw her tight, pert ass encased in
leather pants bent over his desk going through his papers. “Rouse the servants, we have to load the strongboxes
and get out of the city as quickly as possible!”
Melora’s leather cuirass creaked as she turned around and drew her
sword from its scabbard.
“What are you-” Drauken’s breath stopped short as he felt a piercing
pain in his belly. He looked down into
Melora’s eyes, and then down to the blade impaling him. A last strangled gasp escaped his lips as she
twisted the blade, and then he fell into blackness.
****
Not that she knew it, but Jasmara stood on the same spot on the hill
that Henry had a day earlier, overlooking the fields outside of Dromstadt. She could see her brother’s army in a
defensive formation with rough earthworks protecting their lines. I could
join them, she thought, sneak through
the lines and see my brother again, fight by their side and end this war.
But her gaze drifted across the field to the Hesten army moving into
battle position. It looks so small from here.
She quickly scanned the ranks and noted the missing Thestan
soldiers. Before she could think on what
that meant she spotted Henry, looking impatient at the front of the army. He must
be waiting for me, she realized with a grim smile.
I could join Belkor and fight in
the battle, or I could go down there and eliminate Henry. She wanted to: she hated him for allowing
Daniels to torture her. To rape
her. The only pang of guilt she felt was
for Sylvia. The woman had been kind to
her, a friend even. She wouldn’t be here
now if not for the aid she was given. Did she mean for me to kill Daniels if he
tried to rape me, she wondered? But
a darker thought nibbled at the back of her mind. Or did she intend for me to kill
myself.
The orc princess began walking down the hill towards Henry’s army. She had managed to cobble together a passable
uniform from the soldiers she had killed.
Unfortunately, she still bore the wounds from the fight with Daniels and
his men. I can’t fight a battle, she thought, but there is something else I can do. Another smile crossed her face at the irony.
Fortunately she didn’t run into any sentries as she approached Henry’s
army from the rear. He must think he has the orcs all bottled up
against the city. Even though it
worked in her favor, she couldn’t help but question it. Or he
is trusting in Belkor to stick to his defensive strategy. It appears to be working, though he hadn’t
counted on my escape.
She knew that if anyone looked to closely at her she was doomed. The green skin of her face and the tusks
protruding from her jaw would immediately give her away. She was counting on people being too focused
on the orcs in front that they wouldn’t be looking at one coming from
behind. Even still, she tipped the brow
of her kettle helm a little lower to help hide her face.
Jasmara didn’t want to die here, and killing a King usually resulted in
instant death. But she had a plan, one
that hopefully would kill Henry, keep her alive, and win the battle. This
will become the stuff of legends if it works.
Her heart raced as she strode between the columns of soldiers. Long experience in the army had taught her
that if you moved like you knew what you were doing then more often than not
people would allow you on your way. She
could see Henry in the distance, sitting atop his horse. He must
be getting impatient. Jasmara
tightened her grip around the shaft of the spear. He’ll
have sent runner to see what happened.
He might even think I’m one of them returning.
She stepped out of the ranks and made a sharp turn to approach Henry
and the cluster of guards around him. This is it. One of his knights pointed her out thinking
she was a messenger. Henry turned, and
his eyes widened as he recognized him.
Jasmara hefted her spear and hurled it, just as Amelie had shown her all
those years ago.
It slammed into the King, knocking him from his horse. She immediately turned and ran towards the
orc lines. The soldiers closest to her,
those that saw it happened immediately began to pursue. Down the line others followed, thinking the
order had been given to advance. The
soldiers of the northern lords charged towards the orcs’ prepared position,
completely outnumbered without the Thestan support.
Now I just have to hope my
brother’s men don’t cut me down!
