Queen Yavara: Chapter 28

Chapter Twenty-Eight

TITUS

I shuffled over to Zander, every step a labor of agony. It had been two weeks since I’d sustained the wounds, but I still felt them acutely. Solar fire and Nadi wood were not things a vampire could simply recover from. It took the specialized training of the greatest wizard on Tenvalia just to get me walking again. He sat in his chair, smoking a pipe and staring out at the elven encampment three miles west. We were atop a hill, one of two hills in the entire Tundra, it seemed. The other was a quarter-mile to the north, where Brock and his son surveyed the impressive sight to the west, and the equally-impressive sight to the east. Behind the hills, was a horde the likes of which hadn’t been seen for a thousand years. Every tribe of the Ten, the Pines and the Maples was there, the tents stretching to the shores of Glacier Lake. Tomorrow, the resplendent forces of gold would clash with the savage forces of black, and the world would hold its breath to see which way its destiny would turn. But me, I didn’t really care much anymore.

“How are the burns healing?” Zander asked.

“They’re dreadfully painful, but they are fading.” I grunted, carefully easing myself next to him, “The wounds from the Nadi wood are still numb.”

“I suspect the nerves are dead forever then.”

“Well, I have forever to find out.”

Zander nodded. “Anastasia died last night.”

“I felt her passing.” I sighed, “I came here with two-hundred and twenty-one of my children, and left that godforsaken marsh with sixteen. Tiffany bit Angela and Julia a week ago to bring the total to eighteen, and now Anastasia brings me back to seventeen. You must understand, Zander, that much like your pet orc warlord, I am very selective with who I let into my clan. Julia and Angela had been groomed for months before I let Tiffany bite them, and even then, I allowed it more for Tiffany’s benefit than my own.”

“I smell a request.”

“Your nose hasn’t failed you. Please inform our monarch that I need prisoners of war. They must be attractive, intelligent, well-educated, eloquent, funny, witty, and interesting. Oh, and preferably rich.”

“That’s quite the requirement list. I don’t remember you being so selective in Ardeni.”

“Well I couldn’t be, could I?” I mused, “Attractive, intelligent, well-educated, eloquent, funny, witty, interesting rich people weren’t usually in the market for vampirism.”

“And now they are?”

I gestured broadly to the elven army. “Look at all these candidates! Even if my requirements disqualify ninety-nine of a hundred, that still leaves me with eight-hundred. Officers, Zander; I need officers! No poor enlisted men, but men of means and education! Men of confidence, bravado, and command!”

“Sounds like a sausage fest.”

“My favorite kind of party.” Yavara giggled, having dropped from the sky without a sound.

“It’s not often that I’m caught off my guard, my queen.” I mused, sniffing the air, “Are you wearing a special fragrance, or are you simply an apparition?”

“Zander helped unlock my shielding ability.” Yavara said, removing the ethereal protection, “Nothing comes in, and nothing goes out. It makes breathing difficult, but I have to keep an air-tight seal for arcane attacks.”

I raised my brows at Zander. “You’re a teacher now? Tell me, how does a natural-born wizard teach wizardry? It would seem akin to a bird trying to teach a fish to fly.”

“That was why Prestira was such a gifted teacher;” Zander said with a morose smile, “she learned her abilities from scratch, and so understood them in a way I never could. I’m afraid my nonsensical rambling has stunted our queen’s development indefinitely.”

“Oh, shut up.” Yavara slapped Zander affectionately, and sat on his lap, “You’re a wonderful teacher, especially when you bring Professor Destiny into the mix. Such a strict disciplinarian she is,” Yavara cracked a lecherous smile, “and how creative she is with that staff of yours.”

“That reminds me,” I mused, “about that gender ratio problem Zander posed.”

Yavara looked to me. “You want me to turn half your imprisoned men into women before you bite them?”

“Would you?”

She frowned. “After I change a high-elf, I feel a bond with them, like how I felt for… Patricia.” She choked up at the mention of her lost blood-daughter, and blinked away a tear. “Even the man who killed her, when I changed him I felt a maternal love for what he’d become. They’re like my children, Drake, and I can’t just give them to you.”

“I gave you my children, my queen. Two-hundred and five of them, and they were every-bit as dear to me.”

Yavara paused, then nodded. “Okay, Drake.”

“Splendid.” I smiled toothily, and groaned in pain as I hobbled onto my feet, “Well, if you don’t mind, my children and I are going to sit the rest of this war out; I do believe we’ve played our part in it. Good luck with all the killing tomorrow!”

FIELD MARSHAL DELTIAN, NEW COMMANDER OF THE HIGHLAND ARMY

“It would be a smarter move to retreat and regroup.” General Shordian said, “It’s only been two weeks since the vampire raid, and we’ve just finished promoting the last replacements; we’ll need every advantage at our disposal.”

“We can’t wait.” I sighed, rubbing my eyes, “The queen is demanding that we attack as soon as possible.”

“As your advisor and councilor, I am telling you, we need to fall back.” Shordian insisted, pointing at the map, “Read the land, Field Marshal, and see how it works against us here. Yes, the ground is firm, but the enemy holds the moorland before the valley. But if we move back five miles, that puts a bog between us and them.”

“No.” I said firmly, “We didn’t march through all that wet hell just to turn around and march back. You’ve got to think of the soldier’s morale, General.”

“Brock Terdini picked this spot for a reason, Field Marshal! I implore you not to fight the battle on his terms!”

“Brock Terdini became Froktora by virtue of his brute strength and savagery.” I sighed, “We’re dealing with orcs here, General. Even if Brock is the smartest orc alive, he still wouldn’t be fit to clean latrines in the Highland army.”

“Do not underestimate our enemy! The Dark Queen took Castle Thorum by herself!”

“We have the greatest arcane force in the world. General Shordian, I appreciate your concern, but wars are not won by running away, especially not this one. The queen wants a decisive victory here and now, and I will give it to her. You are dismissed.”

COLONEL BORTIUS

General Shordian rarely showed his temper, but his face was nearly scarlet when he exited the field marshal’s tent.

“Get the regiment in formation,” he growled, “light chain and poles, every company.”

“That goes against the division-commander’s orders, sir.” I responded.

“Division-commander? You mean that idiot boy that leap-frogged into the shoes of a competent dead man?”

“Is that why you went to the field marshal, sir?”

Shordian ignored me, instead assessing the valley before us. The Tundra didn’t offer much topography, but the Alkandrans had managed to capture two modest hills that gated the valley. I could see their centaur scouts standing atop them, watching us from two miles away. It was hard to believe that behind those two hills was a horde that numbered over a hundred-thousand. I could hear nothing but the steady hum of wind across the flat expanse of nothing.

“I want a line of long poles stretching the entire front of the light infantry columns.” Shordian said, sweeping his hand over the field, “I want them aimed for the hills.”

“Are you expecting a mounted charge, sir?” I asked, “Our cavalry outnumber their mounts three to one.”

“Brock knows that, and he knows that we know that.” Shordian inclined his head, “He can read every book on Highland tactics and know who we are at the core, but we’ve got no idea who he is.”

“You think he reads, sir?” I scoffed.

Shordian shot a sharp eye at me. “What’s my golden rule?”

“Never underestimate your enemy, sir.” I mumbled.

Shordian picked up a stick, and carved out the formation in the soil. “The formation Deltian wants to use is the ‘Golden Jaws.’”

It made sense. The Golden Jaws was the best formation to use against a heavy-infantry dominant force with inferior cavalry numbers. The formation presented a weak center of elven heavies with strong light-infantry at the flanks, archers in the rear, and cavalry on the outside. The superior elven cavalry would engage the enemy mounts and force them inside, encouraging the enemy heavies to charge at the elven center. The elven light-infantry at the flanks would hold their ground while the weak elven heavies would systematically fall back. Thinking they were gaining ground, the enemy would fully commit to breaking the center, all the while the archers would rain on them, and the light-infantry at the flanks would stay put. The center would bend but not break, and once the archers had exacted massive casualties, and the enemy was packed in between the light-infantry flanks, the flanks (the ‘jaws’) would close.

“You disagree with his choice, sir?” I asked, confused.

Shordian frowned at the formation he’d drawn. “On paper, it’s the best choice.” He looked up at me, “Have you ever played chess against yourself?”

“No, sir.”

“It’s an enlightening experience. You end up twisting your head in knots trying to find your own weaknesses. When I don’t know my enemy, I must assume he would do what I would do against me.” Shordian drew the hills in the soil, then lines representing enemy formations. “How would you defeat the Golden Jaws with Brock’s army composition?”

“Don’t get bated into attacking the center, sir. Attack the light-infantry at the flanks instead.”

“Hmm, no.” Shordian mumbled, “The light-infantry is still too strong to overwhelm, and then you run the risk of the cavalry smashing into your flank. No, the Golden Jaws is a trap, but once the trap is closed, it’s vulnerable.” He looked out at the hills, listening to the low hum of the wind. “I don’t know what Brock’s cooking, but he’s not as stupid as Deltian wants him to be. His one tactical advantage is those hills, and he will use them to full effect. Long poles, light chain, and long shields. Leave all extra supplies here.”

“Why? We’ll need them when we advance.”

“We’re not advancing a fucking foot today.”

CAPTAIN GRERTIAN

“Officers!” Colonel Bortius yelled, “Light chain and long poles! Leave supplies here! Companies one though five: front lines, column one. Companies six through ten: front lines, column four.”

“Front lines, sir?” I asked. I was the captain of eight-company of the first light infantry regiment, and our original orders were to stay in column one, ten rows back. For some fucking reason, General Shordian wanted his entire regiment to spread out along the front lines of columns one and four, right in front of the two hills.

“Orders, Captain.” Colonel Bortius said. I could tell by the look in his eye that something was wrong. That raid had taken out more than half our regiment commanders, leaving General Shordian one of the few veterans left. Whatever the new field marshal was planning, Shordian was going against it. Well, I wasn’t going to report it; shit, in this clusterfuck of an army, I didn’t even know who I’d report it to.

“Alright, you heard him.” I said to my company, “Long poles and light chain. Short-sword side arms. I want checker-board formations: long shield, pole, long shield, pole. Take a shit, take a piss, jerk-off, and suit up.”

“Yes, sir!” They shouted back. I wondered how many of them would be there tomorrow.

PRIVATE FREYTIAN

“We’re going to the front?!” Deklian exclaimed.

“Aye, that’s what the captain said.” I said as I screwed the spearhead into the twelve-foot pole, “New command, new plan. Everyone’s gotta fuck it up in their own special way.”

“We were supposed to be half-way down the column!”

“It doesn’t rightly matter where we are, just so long as we’re not in the center.” I said as I tested the weight of the pole, “The heavies are taking the punishment; we just have to close in on the sides, and we’ll be fine. Shordian probably just wants us to deter a possible cavalry charge.”

“Why would he spread his entire regiment out like that?” Deklian said as he hoisted the shield onto his back.

“Probably because he’s done listening to that Deltian twat.” I said as I strapped the last piece of mail onto my torso, “Old man’s going rogue; about time, I say.”

“Aye,” Deklian said, looking around nervously, “about time.”

We walked across the buoyant wooden paths the engineers had built over the bog. Murky water sloshed over the sides and pooled in the cracks, soaking our already saturated boots. If I never saw another swamp again, it would be too soon. Finally, we made it to solid ground, and our boots squelched and thudded against the brown grass and packed soil. The valley opened up below us, a vast expanse flanked by two hills. The permafrost made the ground hard and uniform, and allowed for subterranean pockets of gas to form geysers that spewed sulfuric steam into the air, which settled into a thick blanket in the bowl of the valley. The wind sounded a low humming note, almost a drone that carried over the cacophony of marching boots, yelling officers and blaring bugles. Despite the noise, the army seemed muted. The jovial calls, rambunctious whoops, angry yells and bawdy songs were all gone. In their place was an underlying tension, something that made no sound, yet was nearly deafening. I glanced at Deklian, and he offered a smile that was so tight I wondered if his teeth would crack. His eyes seemed to be bulging from a face that was too pale, his nostrils flared, his jaw fixed. When I smiled back, I was sure I looked the same.

We made our way through the columns of statue men, row after row of golden armor and helms, of stares fixed straight ahead. It was like a forest of regimentation, and I wondered if we’d see the end of it. Then, there it was. Nothing. A vast void, a field of space like a sucking vacuum that pulled at my courage. The front. Never in my life had I felt so naked. The hills that had seemed small when I entered the valley now appeared to tower over me, the bowl of the valley floor seemed an abyss of sulfuric haze from which only demons could emerge, and the grey sky seemed so high, and I was but an insignificant dot below it all. I had not known what comfort the confines of an army were until that moment, when I realized there were no rows of men before me to buffer the charge. I was the buffer. The cavalry trotted beside us, silent but for the low thunder of hoofs on hard earth. The heavies moved in on our other side, a symphony of clanging armor and pounding boots. The archer divisions moved behind the heavies, and the mages came in behind them, though I could not see them from so far away. I could barely make out the silhouettes of ballista and trebuchets covering the rear, their monstrous wheels squeaking through the metallic drone of the army shuffling into place. Then, there was nothing. Only the low hum of the tundra wind playing through the air.

But there was no wind. The air was still and humid, and the low hum grew louder. Boom, boom, boom; the sound of distant thunder echoed across the valley, but there were no storm clouds in the distance. The ground began to shake. The hum grew to a rumble. Boom, boom, boom; louder now, the staggered footsteps of some unearthly behemoth. The shuffling of men barely containing their terror, the growl of an officer demanding, ‘steady.’ Boom, boom, boom; went the war drums, the chant of some horror accompanying it, a beast of a hundred-thousand mouths and twice as many eyes, limitless and inevitable. A man screamed behind me. An officer barked an order, but his voice was nearly as panicked. A horse neighed and reared. Deklian shifted next to me, the trickling of piss sounding from his armor. The rumbling grew to a roar, and I could start to make out the sound of a chant, some three-syllable word. Rah-rah-rah, rah-va-rah, ya-va-rah,-Yah-va-rah- Ya-va-ra! Ya-va-ra! Ya-va-ra! Yavara! They crested the hilltops, a black shapeless mass waving a thousand banners, stretching along the ridgeline as far as I could see, looming above us. They churned like an ocean in tempest, they drove their spear-butts into the ground and smashed their blades against their shields, they roared a horrible chorus of war cries, and they chanted. Ya-va-ra! Ya-va-ra! Ya-va-ra! The yip and snarl of wargs came after, and they added their bulky silhouettes to the mass, their silverback hunches glinting in the midmorning grey light. Their howls soon sounded a shrill overtone to the discordant roar, and all the while, the chanting rose. Ya-va-ra! Ya-va-ra! Ya-va-ra! The chanting became a crescendo, the syllables muddying into one another until it was simply a scream that vibrated in my skull, the pounding of spear-butts, the stamping of feet, and the drums all roiling together in an escalating explosion of sound. And from that explosion, she came.

She rocketed from the hilltops like a missile, her black armor glinting, her hair rushing behind her, her ascension propelled by the eruption of sound bursting from her horde. She shot over the elven army, then ascended, moving so fast it was like she was being pulled into the sky. All I could do, was gawk. I’d never seen a god before. She shrank to a dot before the overcast sky, then circled above us like a patient vulture. There was a moment when all was silent. Then she dove. Her horde roared, their cadence accelerating as though to give rhythm to her freefall, faster and faster their fervent beats became, higher and higher their collective roar. She seemed to crash through the air, a boom like thunder sounding as a ripple moved across the sky. Then she was there, and every man in the Highland army ducked as she swooped overhead, the wind of her flight blasting against us. She smashed right through the siege engines, her path marked by the succession of wooden explosions that sent shrapnel bursting through the air and beams careening into the rear of our army, rows of golden helmets suddenly disappearing beneath tons of timber. The archers fired thousands of arrows, but they just bounced off her like pebbles. It was only when the mages fired a salvo of arcane attacks that she ascended, but not before taking ten men with her and dropping them from hundreds of feet up. Their screams cut through the air, their flailing arms and legs clawing at the wind in the final moments of fevered life. Then, they crashed to the ground.

The horde roared once more, and charged down the hills. It was like watching a tidal wave of black water crest over the ridgeline and flow into the valley. I squeezed my pole tightly, but my grip seemed too weak. Was my stance correct? Was my pivot foot in the right place? Good god, had I forgotten everything they taught me in basic? I didn’t belong here! I was supposed to be a stone mason! The cavalry thundered past us, sweeping up the hill like golden wings, undaunted by the churning mass of death before them. Such brave men, such heroes they were! Their banners billowed behind them, their armor gleamed resplendently, their magnificent horses pounded up the hill without a falter in their stride. I would sing songs about them! I would tell my grandchildren about the great charge of the first cavalry division, if only god just let me live! The wargs and centaurs rushed down to meet them, but they were like cattle before the herding shepherds, out of sorts and frightened. The cavalry winged to the outside, and harried the enemy mounts into their own charging infantry. The great tidal wave narrowed to a waterfall between the hills, and plummeted into the haze of the valley bowl.

For a moment, it seemed as though the endless stream of beasts had disappeared into a depthless volume beneath the sulfuric fog. Then I saw it, a shadow in the haze, becoming darker and darker until it was no longer a shadow, but the front of a horde, suddenly a mere hundred yards away! They rushed up the bowl without losing a step of speed, their voices cutting through the roar of it all, high and manic with wrath. The vanguard broke away from the rest, the largest orcs I’d ever seen, and the largest among them at their front. Brock Terdini was an impossibility of size, power and agility, moving with such ferocity that he tore the earth with each footfall. He screamed past me, his massive hammer raised over his head, and he smashed into the center. I could see the entire line ripple with the impact. The rest of the vanguard charged in after, sounding the sudden clash of metal on metal, the scream of mortal blows, the grinding of boots in earth. The center bowed and stretched, falling back step for step without a hint of slowing, and the orcs kept surging forward. We pivoted with the inverting crescent of our line, stabbing uselessly at the horde that barreled past us, but they didn’t pay us any mind. They just added their weight to the tonnage of momentum, and drove relentlessly into the center. Screams of alarm sounded from the rear, cries for help and reinforcement. Oh god, they’d broken through! They’d split the army right in half! But no. The flow of orcs began to slow. The narrow stream clogged, then bunched, then flooded into the ranks of the light infantry at the flanks. All at once, the advance stopped. I looked to the hilltops, and saw the last trickle of the wave crest over it. The elven cavalry had driven the enemy mounts from the field, and were pursuing them doggedly. The tail of the horde surged from the valley bowl, and abruptly crashed into the backs of their own men. Then, the slaughter began.

“Loose!” Came the command, and the snap of ten-thousand bowstrings sounded. They arced into the sky, coalesced into a black cloud at the apex, then fell like rain. The orcs disappeared beneath the hail of arrows, hundreds dying in a second, a diffusion of gaps forming in their ranks. Before they had a chance to regroup, the flanking light-infantry surged forward, and packed the horde atop their own dead, compacting them so tightly they couldn’t even raise their shields to defend themselves. What had seemed an endless force before, now seemed a multitude barely fit to fill a stadium.

“Loose!” Came the command again, and a cheer rose from the surrounding ranks. In one massive stride, the light-infantry at the flanks pushed in, and closed the gaps made in the orc ranks.

“Loose!” The commanders shouted, and another cheer erupted from the army. The deadly shower levelled whole pockets of the horde, and the light infantry took three massive strides inward, packing the survivors in. I could see the terror in their black eyes as they squirmed against one another, helpless with no room to swing their weapons, stepping upon the bodies of their dead and dying. The mages closed in then, launching salvos of spells into the mass, burning, acidifying, and disintegrating those unfortunates caught in their path. I didn’t know I could feel such euphoria at the sight of so much suffering.

“Kill the bastards! Kill them all!” I laughed, then turned to Deklian, “Holy shit mate, we won!”

“It was never in doubt!” He laughed back.

“Never in doubt? You pissed yourself!”

“Aye, well good thing we wear gold uniforms then! C’mon, we didn’t come all this way just to watch the war happen; let’s kill some of the fuckers!”

“Stand fast!” An order came behind us. It was hard to hear over all the jubilant commotion. Arrows fell, orcs screamed, the jaws closed, and the men cheered. “Stand fast!” The order came again, Captain Grertian yelling it.

“Captain, we’ll miss all the fun!” Deklian protested.

Grertian grabbed him by the shoulders, and turned him around. “Stand fast, soldier! Shields up, poles ready!”

“Captain, their cavalry has been run off the-”

“Hold ranks, face the hill!”

I turned to see a lone figure floating above the hilltops. “What the hell is she going to do, take on the whole army herself?” I laughed.

“Aye, ya dumb slut!” Deklian yelled, “You been eyeing our nice long poles, have ya? Don’t worry, they’ll be in you soon enough!”

There was a roar of concurrent laughter, followed by another hail of arrows and another chorus of orc screams. The light infantry took five steps inward, and closed around the orc rear. I sighed, and leaned on my pole. Now that the terror was gone, I was upset that the only war stories I’d get to tell my unborn children would be of wading through muck, and watching everyone else fight. Oh, we’d assault the steadings of the Ten and raise Castle Alkandra, but killing orc bitches and pups didn’t have the same gravitas as facing down a horde of bulls. I’d have to get some souvenirs off the dead to make up for it. I wondered who would get Brock’s head? Boom, boom, boom.

It was like someone had poured cold water down my back. The fear prickled from my flesh, and took an icy grip on my chest. Boom, boom, boom. The sound echoed across the valley, muting the murderous revelry. All eyes turned to the hilltop. The Dark Queen raised her arms, and even from this great distance, I swore I could see her merciless smile. Boom, boom, boom. Roar. They crested the hill like a tidal wave once more, tens of thousands charging at full tilt. Frantic orders were screamed from every corner of the army. Turn around! Where is the cavalry?! Keep pressing the center! The orcs we surrounded surged once more, charging over mountains of their own dead into the chaos of reforming regiments, fighting with a savagery too great to contend with. No longer were they the cattle herded for slaughter, but the anvil for the coming hammer, the chopping block for the coming axe, and we, the doomed rooster who had so arrogantly called the morning song of victory, but the dawn had not yet risen. It was all so clear now. The Highland army was going to be massacred, and the only men in position to stop it, was the first light infantry regiment. We would hold this line to save the army, and we were all going to die doing it.

“Freytian,” Deklian laughed, his voice manic with terror, “I think I just shit myself!”

“All that fucking talk, and in your first battle you fill your trousers.”

“Aye, I guess I’ll have to requisition brown pants after this is done!”

I clapped him on the shoulder. “You know, I think I’ll get a pair myself.”

The horde disappeared into the sulfuric fog, then burst from it a hundred yards away, charging headlong across the short expanse. I gripped my pole, dug my heels into the dirt, pressed my shoulder against Deklian’s shield, and screamed. The horde crashed into us. The impact nearly sent us sprawling, and the momentum carried us skidding on our feet for ten yards. I skewered three orcs just by holding my pole steady, and struggled to keep my weapon in hand. Deklian frantically stabbed over his shield with his short sword as he pressed his weight against the shield, screaming at the top of his lungs. The pole was wrenched from my hands, and I was nearly carried with it over the shield-wall. My head smacked against the edge of the shield, and I barely stopped myself from toppling before the relentless momentum that carried us backward. A snarling face appeared between the gap in the wall, eyes full of fury, tusk bared and spittle flying. I drew my sword and hacked at it, shouldering the shield and pushing with failing legs. I thrusted over my head again and again, each blind stab meeting its mark, impossible to miss against the wall of bodies. We slid back further and further. The men on my left side were grabbed and thrown screaming backward. The men on my right were flattened and trampled. Orcs poured through the gaps like water through a failing dam, surging past us and behind us.

“Hold!” I screamed uselessly, “Fucking hold!”

Deklian and I were nearly parallel in our effort to push against the ocean of bodies. He suddenly buckled with a cry, and I took him by the arm to hold him fast against the shield. His foot caught, he folded backward, and he was dragged screeching beneath the shield. I lurched to the side, spun, and was sent sprawling into the dirt. A sharp pain in my back. Another in my ribs. I tasted iron. I couldn’t breathe. Thud. A crushing pain in my ankle. Thud. Another on my hand. I couldn’t see! I couldn’t breathe! Just blackness, just suffocating dark and heat! I coughed flame from my chest. I couldn’t suck in air. I needed to see something! Where was the light? Thud, thud, thud. Pounding into my back. It was numb now. I felt the bones crack and cave. They felt like someone else’s. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. If only I could take in air! If only I could see! I planted my ruined hand into wet soil, and pushed with the last of my strength. I rolled over just in time to see a heavy iron boot come down on my face.

GENERAL SHORDIAN

“Get to the front!” I yelled, physically dragging soldiers from their flanking positions.

The line my men were holding on column one was breaking fast, and the line on column four had already been overrun. Our cavalry was still tied up with the centaurs and wargs, and our only hope of keeping column one from collapsing was to get as many light-infantry regiments to the front as possible. The replacement generals were fumbling around, issuing contradictory orders and frantically waving their swords. The veteran generals were all thinking what I was thinking: if columns one and four collapse, it would be over. When we’d amassed enough men, I screamed, and led the charge.

The best men in war are always the dead ones. My entire regiment held the line for the precious few seconds we needed to launch a counterattack, then fell before the onslaught. I was the general of no one now; I was just an old man with a sword, and a sea of death before me. I would add a few drops of my own. I sliced through an orc neck, ducked a decapitating axe, struck my assailant in the nose, and plunged my blade into his eye. My men rushed behind me and pushed the line forward, pinning my body against the chest of an orc. He raised his arm to bring his hammer down, and I bit into his throat and rent backwards. Black blood spurted onto my face and armor, and the orc fell into the advancing wall of beasts behind him.

A bolt of lightning blasted from behind the orcs and struck an elf in the chest. The electricity bounced from man to man until twenty were fried. Zander Fredeon appeared from the crowd, shooting spells wildly from his fingers and staff, cutting down scores of elves at a time. I fought my way through the mass of orc bodies, dodging attacks and carving my path through their flesh. I was covered in black blood by the time I’d made it to the wizard. I bull-rushed his blind side, and was promptly blown onto my back. The Dark Queen shot above me, her propulsion knocking over the entire elven line. The orcs advanced and killed the dazed soldiers where they lay. I scrambled to my feet just as she turned in the air and came swooping back. The elven line was blown back again, and hundreds of men were cut down. I dropped to my knees and covered my head before the air hit me, then stood up just in time to block a sword and stick my own in the assailant’s belly. The Dark Queen arced in the air for another pass, and a hundred fireballs consumed her. She emerged from the inferno unscathed, the ethereal orb surrounding her fractured and dim. She rocketed to the safety of the sky, and circled overhead.

FIELD MARSHAL DELTIAN

“Glordias and Crytian,” I said to my messengers, “tell the cavalry to break off their attack and hit the orc light infantry on the flanks. Dwandian, tell the heavy-infantry generals to pull back, and leave three sacrificial regiments to cover the retreat. Erisian, Karlian; tell the light infantry divisions to perform a tactical retreat to the bog, and the ranged divisions to cover them. Tell the mages to hold off the enemy advance for as long as possible; make sure they stay intact, they’re too valuable to lose.”

The messengers rode off. We’d lose at least seven regiments in the retreat, but it was better than the whole army. It would’ve been the whole army were it not for the first light infantry. They would be immortalized in song and poems, but I doubted it mattered much to them. I watched as a makeshift line formed across the front, and those behind began to trickle back to the bog, passing the wreckage of siege engines before running across the wooden pathways. I waited for as many men as possible to get across, then ordered the ropes cut. The sacrificial regiments hadn’t been informed of their purpose. They knew it now. I watched in grim silence as they were driven backward, then disappeared beneath the wave of black bodies. I nodded, and stepped back into my tent.

“Corporal Jinaris, you are dismissed.” I said to my guard. He saluted solemnly, then marched from the tent. I sat at my table, and briskly wrote my letter of recommendation for General Shordian. Stowing it neatly in an envelope, I sighed, and unstrapped the stifling leather of my breastplate. The cool air caressed my skin, and I enjoyed the simple pleasure for a moment. It felt strange to know I had just orchestrated the single greatest military failure in history. With nothing more than pride, I had all but destroyed my nation’s chance at victory. There would be tribunals, convictions, and disgraces of the highest order, but I wouldn’t have to face them. I took a shot of whisky, then plunged the dagger into my chest.

PRIVATE FREYTIAN

“This one’s a front-line man; see the patch on his shoulder?” A voice from somewhere said. Was that what God sounded like? It was gravely and low, not at all divine, but I supposed mortal expectations didn’t count for much in the afterlife. I was floating in a sea of black, feeling nothing but the gentle abyss surrounding me, the strange warmth that suffused my numb form.

“The balls on these boys.” Said another gruff voice, almost exactly like the other, but a little higher, “They nearly stopped my whole charge. If they had another regiment like them, I don’t think I would’ve gotten to you in time.”

“Give your old man some credit, Trenok; I could’ve held out for another minute at least.”

“You look like a fucking cactus with all those arrows in you.”

“Us Terdini have thick skin.”

“You look like a retarded porcupine.”

“Us Terdini may have thick skin, but that still hurt my feelings.”

“Did you see that? He moved!”

“Death twitches.”

“No, look at his chest! He’s breathing!’

“Let me see him!” A female voice said. Yes, that could definitely be the voice of god; commanding, yet sweet. I opened my eyes. Light. Agonizing light blazing into my pupils, overpowering my vision with a glare that seemed to consume the world. Then it faded, revealing silhouettes, which in turn, faded to the features of a massive orc with a body full of tattoos, and a dark-skinned elf woman with orange eyes.

“You’re okay.” She said gently, “I’m not much of a healer yet, but I’ll do my best.”

I blinked, my head beating with confusion, my thoughts like molasses. I was a child. No, I was a man. A stone mason’s apprentice? No, that was what I was before. I was a soldier now. A private in the Highland army, and I’d just been in a battle. A battle against the terrible Dark Queen, who was kneeling at my side, shooting golden light from her hand to heal a gaping wound in my belly. My legs were gone. My hands were broken to pieces. Every breath was agony, but I was alive.

‘What happened?’ I mouthed, unable to give voice to it.

“You lost, Sweetie.” The Dark Queen smiled sympathetically. There was a sound like wood being chopped, then a scream. I turned to see an elven hand flopping before a shorn arm, the blood pumping from the stump. Brock Terdini kicked the screeching elf to the side, and another terrified elf was brought to the chopping block, his arm forced outward. I felt a surge of panic, and kicked with my stumps to free myself and crawl away. The Dark Queen held me down with just her hand.

“No need to fear. Brock’s just dealing with some uncooperative prisoners. You’re not one of them, are you?” She winked.

I shook my head.

“I didn’t think so.” She chuckled, “No, you’re going to be very cooperative, aren’t you?”

I nodded fervently, and she giggled girlishly.

“You’re a very brave man to have stood before that whole charge. I would’ve won the war today if you hadn’t done that.”

‘I’m sorry!’ I mouthed.

“Don’t be. I have use for brave men. Men who are willing to do what must be done. What’s your name?”

“Private Donald Freytian, Ma’am.” I finally managed to croak.

“You mean Captain Donald Freytian.” The Dark Queen corrected as she slowly began re-growing my leg.

“I’m no captain.”

“Of course you are.” She smiled in such a way that broached no argument, and I slowly nodded. She giggled once more, and tended to me like a doting mother to her hurt child, humming sweet lullabies as she slowly regrew my limbs and closed the holes in my flesh. It was odd, but I swore I caught her stealing glances at my crotch, and licking her lips.

LEVERIA

“…we’re retreating across the marshlands, and pulling up our bog-bridges along the way. We’ll be at North Fort in two days, and from there, I will send contingents to Mid Fort and South Fort. We’ll have the entire rift entrenched in a fortnight.” General Shordian paused, “I think it would also be wise to retake Castle Thorum as soon as possible, Your Highness. If Brock deems the Highland Rift unassailable, he might decide to move his army south.”

“It will be done.” I said numbly, “Thank you, general. The praise your peers and superiors have heaped upon you is not unwarranted. I hereby promote you to acting field marshal of the Highland army, and charge you with the defense of our nation.” I pressed my hand to the mirror before he could reply, and buried my face in my hands.

Elena pulled me into a gentle embrace, resting her chin atop my head. “Shitty day, huh?”

“The shittiest of days,” I mumbled, “but it’s going to be the best day of the rest of my shitty life. I’m finished.”

“A wartime leader is rarely deposed. No one wants to inherit that mess.”

“Ternias would be king of shit-mountain if it meant he would be king. I’ve lost the Noble Court for the rest of my reign. I’ll spend every fucking day clawing my way through the shit just to keep what little I have.” I smashed my fists against the vanity. “Goddamn my stupid whore-slut sister! Goddamn her, goddamn her, GODDAMN HER!”

“You only have yourself to blame.”

I whirled on Elena with a closed fist. She caught it easily, opened my guard with her foot, and pressed against me. I tried to hit her with my other hand, and she caught that one too. I thought about biting her fucking throat out and spitting her goddamn voice box in her eye just to see the expression on her face, when there was a knock at the door.

“My queen,” a guard called, “King Reagent Tiadoa is here to see you.”

“Should I… hide?” Elena whispered.

“No, just sit down and keep it formal. I’ve delayed this for too long.” I turned to the door, “Tell my father he may enter.”

Elena sat in the chair across from me and crossed her legs to conceal her gift. When the door opened, I didn’t recognize the man that walked through it. Wisps of hair splayed wildly from his liver-spotted pate, his flesh hung like film from his bones, thin enough to cut with the bare graze. Even his eyes, those steely-blue orbs that had captivated me in my youth, were murky and dull.

“Ranger Straltaira -or should I say, Ambassador Straltaira.” Father said to Elena, “The last time I saw you, you were quite a bit less tan.”

Elena smiled. “The last time I saw you, you were quite a bit less bald.”

Father laughed cheerily, something that sounded wrong coming from him. “It’s funny how everyone tells you what they really think the moment they take the crown off your head.”

“Was it glued to your hair?”

Father chortled. “When I’d heard that Elena Straltaira was the new star of the Noble Court, I couldn’t believe it! Little Elena? The timid girl whose social circle was actually just a line?”

“Kind of like the Tiadoa family tree.” Elena mumbled.

“What was that?” Father asked, digging at his ear.

“Why have you come to see me, Father?” I asked, quickly changing the subject.

“I heard the battle at The Tundra had not gone well.” Father said, “I thought you might need my counsel.”

“Your counsel is always appreciated.”

Father glanced at Elena. “I was hoping to speak with you in private.”

Of course. “Ambassador Straltaira, if you please…” I said, pointing to the door. Elena got up and walked out, taking a moment to look back at us with a raised eyebrow before leaving.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” Father said.

“I’m very busy, Father, you know that. I’m not mindfully avoiding you; I’m just distracted.”

“Being a ruler is a consuming role, but you must not neglect the needs of those you love.”

“Needs.” I laughed, “Am I your daughter, or your whore?”

“You used to be my lover.”

“You used to be worth loving.” I snapped.

Father’s face fell, and I didn’t feel even the smallest pang of guilt. “You bear my son.” He whispered.

I placed my hand across my flat belly. “Not anymore.”

His lower lip trembled, his eyes bulged. “You didn’t…”

“No. I was at Castle Thorum when Yavara attacked it, and I was wounded. I didn’t know the cost until I bled two days ago.”

“Yavara.” Father muttered, a single tear trailing his weathered cheek, “She is god’s punishment for my sins!”

“God?” I almost laughed, “God? Did you not once tell me religion was the cane the king used to shepherd fools and drunkards?” I waved derisively at him, “But of course you’ve found God.”

“You’ll understand when you’re old. Seeing the end coming changes the way you think.”

“Then why wait for it, old man? Run with what strength you have left to meet your god.”

“You don’t mean what you’re saying.” He put his hand on my shoulder. “You’re in great pain, and you’ve had no one to share the burden. It is why you unload it all on me now.” He brought me into a weak embrace, “Can’t you see what this isolation has done to you? You need to be with those you love.”

His touch was revolting. My skin crawled to feel his withered fingers against me, his frail back bowing to wrap his bony appendages about me. I felt his hard cock against my hip, and the way he rubbed it against me. I pried his arms from me, and pushed him away.

“Leveria…” He croaked.

“You used to be magnificent.” I hissed. Now there were tears in my eyes, “You used to command a room by simply walking into it. Your mere shadow used to bow even the boldest shoulders, and your whisper would silence even the loudest of mouths. I used to be in awe of you.”

“Don’t say that.” He shivered despite his wool cloak, his face bunching together in a grotesque display of grief.

“I destroyed you.” I felt the tears splash warmly upon my cheeks, “I loved you with an avarice, and I stole from you with my love, and when you finally gave me everything, I realized I didn’t want it. It was the taking that I loved, and now there’s nothing left of you to take.”

“Don’t!” Father moaned, holding himself on the chair, “Don’t say that!”

“Why did you come here, Father?” I whispered, stepping toward him, “What did you hope to find? Do you not know me after all these years?”

He collapsed in the chair, weeping into his sleeve. “You’re all I have left!” He blubbered, “Don’t leave me alone!”

I stared down at the creature before me, the broken thing I had once loved with such jealousy that it drove me to kill my own mother. I pitied him, and for that, I hated him, this shell that mocked the love I once I had, this masquerade of a memory.

“Take off your pants,” I commanded softly, “now.”

He looked up from his sleeve, confusion in his eyes. “What?”

“I won’t repeat myself.” I hissed, sliding my pale, thick legs out from the slits on the sides of my dress. I loomed over my father, raised a naked leg, and pressed the stiletto heel of my shoe into his groin. He cried out, and I sneered, feeling the heat in my nethers, the saturation of terrible lust begotten by my desire to dominate. “You used to be such a domineering man,” I growled, pushing my heel harder, “you used to just take me whether I wanted it or not; you didn’t ask.”

“Leveria,” Father gasped, “stop!”

“Stop?” I laughed cruelly, “Stop? Is that all you can say? If I had done this to you but a month ago, you would have made me sit on this heel. Now you weep and beg like a blubbering old wretch!”

“Leveria! Please!” His face became purple.

“I’ll give you what you want, Daddy.” I twisted my heel, “I’ll give you what you came here for, but you’re not going to like how I give it to you.”

I raised my foot from his crotch, and planted it firmly next to his face. He gasped in relief, his face lightening as he exhaled. I leaned forward, looming over him so that my breasts nearly spilled from my bodice, and the right-angled slip of my legs caused the dress to expose them to the hips. The silk fabric draped between the alluring swell of my bared thighs like a curtain ready to be lifted.

“Well, Daddy,” I smirked down at the pathetic, old man, “come get what you came here for.”

Daddy nervously dipped his head beneath the hanging fabric of my dress. I felt his trepid fingers open my slit, and his subservient tongue slide between my petals to lather my froth. I groaned hedonistically, pressing him deeper with both hands atop his head, leaning into it until my soft belly rested upon my knuckles.

“That’s it, Daddy,” I sighed pleasurably, “eat your baby’s cunt.” I brought my other foot onto the chair, and climbed it with my father’s head planted to my crotch, bringing him upward until I swung both legs over the chair’s back, and made a precarious seat of his face. I leaned forward, putting all my weight onto him, dangling my bare legs over the back of the chair and squeezing my thighs together. He dutifully continued his consumption, his lips parting around my opening to suck gently from the folds as his tongue moved inside me to taste the spot within. I tilted my head back and moaned to the ceiling, pressing my pubis downward, knitting my fingers together behind his head to force his face into me. His tongue worked harder, and my thighs squeezed tighter, trapping his face in place. As breathing became a chore for him, his mouth moved with a fervency, his dexterous little tongue writhing against my ceiling, frantically attacking that soft spot that drove me crazy. I gasped in delight, shifting forward until my legs dangled straight-legged from the chair’s back, forcing my father’s head over the edge of it.

“More!” I cried. He complied, holding me aloft with two hands sinking their grip into the fat of my ass, his chin grazing my anus as he burrowed his muzzle deeper.

“Daddy,” I panted, my dress darkening with sweat, “make me come!”

I undulated atop him, my hips grinding as though I bestrode his lap, my petals flushed from his lips, my clit swollen with arousal. My knuckles were white with tension, the tendons in my hands standing high in an effort to bring him closer to me. He relentlessly attacked the spot within me, knowing it so well after all these years, his tongue moving in practiced patterns, each pass ratcheting the sensations. A deep pleasure ached within me, throbbing and pulsing, building and ballooning. I grinded with deep passes, rocking his head back and forth atop the chair, making love to the face planted between my trembling thighs. “Daddy! “ I cried, my voice quaking with pleasure, my breaths rapid and desperate. I held him fast against me, his nose squishing into the delicate folds of my secreting lust, his mouth filling with my dripping pleasure. The ecstatic quaking in my nethers took over my body, and I arched my back as the feeling crawled up my spine. At the precipice of sensation, when I was erupting from within, I pulled back the skirt that draped over my father’s face, and stared rapturously into his eyes. “Daddy.” I mouthed, and lurched forward. The full weight of my body wrenched his head backward over the chair, and snapped his neck with a sickening crack.

The blood that coursed through me was an inferno. The heartbeats in my chest were thunder. I could hear minute sounds in crystal clarity. I’d finally done it; I’d murdered with my own hands, and the feeling was like no other. I existed in a level of awareness that was so visceral it was like being awake for the first time. Had I ever noticed the way my hair stood on end? Had I ever noticed the heat of my breath in my nostrils? Had I ever noticed the vibrancy of color that solidified before my eyes? I wanted to exist in that moment forever, but the adrenaline subsided, and the high faded. I sighed, and looked at the man I’d once loved. He was just a corpse now, though if I was honest, he’d been little more than that for a while. I pulled his pants up and cleaned myself off his face. I closed his dead eyes dispassionately, their familiar gaze meaning nothing to me anymore. I adjusted myself in the mirror, and then dragged the body to a nearby table. I pushed a vase off the edge of the table, and screamed.

The guard burst in with his hand on his hilt, Elena rushing behind him.

“Help him!” I shrieked, crocodile tears streaming down my cheeks.

“What happened?!” Elena yelled.

“I don’t know…” I sobbed, “One moment he was… and the next… his heart…”

Elena rushed to my father’s corpse and placed her hand on his pulse. She closed her eyes and counted silently, then lifted his head to listen for breaths. She paused with her hand on the back of his head, then turned to the guard.

“He has passed.” She said gravely, “Sir Raftas, please get Sir Bortan and take the king reagent to the parlor. Make certain that no one knows of this until the queen can address it with dignity. She is too distraught to now.”

The two guards carefully picked my father up between them, and left. When their footsteps had dissipated, Elena turned to me. There was fear in her eyes, fear like I hadn’t seen since I first stepped into her cell at Castle Thorum. But this time, it didn’t excite me. “His neck was broken.” She said cautiously, “Why, Leveria?”

I swallowed. “He was a threat.”

“Everyone is a threat to you.”

“But he had nothing left to give me.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Because you took everything.”

“Yes.” I whispered.

Elena averted her gaze from mine, and stared out the window. The dusk was beginning to fall on this day, the last day of Highland greatness. I knew it was so. There were moments in history that scholars salivated over, cataclysmic moments with a clear before and after. When some historian a hundred years from now wrote ‘The Rise and Fall of the Highland Kingdom,’ he would mark this day as the apex. I would be remembered as the monarch who started the fall, and the man I killed would be remembered as the last of a golden era. I didn’t care. In that moment, nothing mattered to me more than the look on Elena’s face.

“I wonder,” She finally said, “how long until I have nothing left to give you.”

“I don’t want to take from you, Elena.” My throat caught. “I want to give… I want to give you everything, but you won’t have it.”

I brought my hand to her shoulder, and she recoiled. “Don’t touch me!” She hissed.

I withdrew like her flesh had burned me, covering the offending hand like it had acted on its own accord, and I was not to blame. She hunched where she knelt, watching me with a caged animal’s tension. Cautiously, I shifted an inch toward her on my knees, my hands folded before me, trying to be as unthreatening as I could.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me.” I said softly.

“I don’t?” She laughed horribly, “Don’t you know I’ve lived in terror ever since you dragged me here?!”

“You dragged me here, actually.” I whispered, shifting an inch closer, “And I’ve lived in a terror just as great.”

“What do you know of it?!” She snapped.

“Nothing at all.” I swallowed, “I can’t speak to your fear, only my own.” I shuffled another inch.

“Stay away from me!” Elena growled, brandishing a knife with such speed that I didn’t see it until the point was against my chest. But it was the sharpness of her words that stabbed me, and they bored into my heart with a pain so acute that I did not fear the blade.

“When I thought you would kill yourself, I was terrified.” I whispered, grasping the blade with both hands, “When I saw the missile coming for you, I was terrified. When you came for me that night, I was terrified. When you first kissed me, I was terrified. Being with you is like dancing on a knife’s edge, but when you’re gone, I long for that terror so much that it aches. What do you call that feeling?” I shuffled another inch, and the blade broke my flesh.

Elena’s hand shook. Her eyes glimmered. She closed them as though in defiance of the tears that were there, and one pathed her cheek in a glorious arc. “I hate you.” She hissed, staring at me from burning slit eyes, “I hate you with everything I am.”

“I love you.” I barely said it. It came from me in a breath, and if I could’ve, I would’ve sucked it back in and never let it leave my lips.

Elena gaped at me. “What?” She gasped.

I swallowed, and whispered it this time. “I love you.”

“Don’t say that!” She growled.

“I love you.” I rasped, opening my hands around the knife, letting the point press into me.

“Please don’t say that!” She hissed, begging me with tears streaming down her cheeks, her lip trembling. So beautiful she was, so beautiful when she was in pain. The most beautiful thing in the world.

“I love you, Elena Straltaira.” I said clearly, my voice tremulous with that terror, that sweet terror that I finally labelled truly. Love.

Elena cried out in anguish, and plunged the knife into the floor. She buried her face in her hands, and wept. I dared not touch her, dared not try to impose on such a perfect crisis. Then she grabbed my face and pressed our mouths together, forcing her tongue inside, wrapping our lips in a fevered consumption. Her fists balled in my hair, and mine did the same to hers, pulling and tearing, compelled by some indescribable desperation. Our faces wetted with each other’s tears, our noses inhaled frantically beside one another, and our hands moved from our blonde manes to tear our clothes asunder. My milky breasts jiggled with a ferocious rip of my bodice, and her fingers sunk hungrily into their meat, her thumbs pressing into the pert nipples until they stung deep into my glands. I fumbled with the buttons of her dress and then gave up, and ripped it from the seams. She pushed hard against me, her throbbing cock pressing to my nethers, the heat of her teasing the aching desire within me, my ravenous lips dripping with readiness. She pushed inside, and I cried out into her mouth, the back of my head pressing into the floor, my body arching with her atop it, so great was my joy to feel her inside me. We broke from our kiss in a cacophony of gasps, her wild face hovering over mine as she delivered thrust after thrust, each one stretching me open for the next, each one flattening my ass against the floor, pinning me down so that I had to feel every delicious inch of her.

“Oh god, fuck me, Elena!” I cried. She growled and took a nipple into her mouth, sucking fiercely until the node was swollen and filled with sensation, her teeth pulling on it, her muzzle creating a shallow about its pressing indentation. I moaned to feel her possession of me, drawing my hands through her hair to encourage of nursing, instincts of perverse maternity beckoning me. Her azure gaze softened as I sung my sweet melody into her ear, massaging her scalp with tender fingers, opening my legs to receive the wanton abuse of her hips. She decelerated into slow, meaningful drives, making me feel all she had to give. My body was a bridge from tailbone to atlas, bowed to support and receive her, and she created a bridge of her own atop it, her arms pressing herself upright so that she could slide against my body with sensual passes, our forms slick with the sweat of our desire. My brows knitted, and my voice sung a mournful, low tone as I felt her cock penetrate me with purposeful motions, her girth pressing every surface of me, her tip opening my ovule to taste the honey within. My glistening soft pussy lips folded inward with her advance, and gripped her greedily as she pulled out, stretching and outturning like rose petals about her exiting pole. She ceased her feeding, and left my nipple wet and rosy, her tongue teasing it before slipping back into her beautiful mouth.

She slid under my ass and spun us until I was on top, my thick thighs straddling her, my ravaged dress falling to my hips. I growled around an animalistic smile, filling my hands with her golden breasts, relishing the opportunity to show her what I could give. I began to grind my hips in deep, circular passes, my belly flexing in shadows below my bouncing breasts, my back arched to keep my weight centered on our joining. I stirred myself with her cock, ruining the swollen petals that gripped her, feeling her throb and pulse with every clench of my feminine muscles.

“Do you like that?” I gasped between moans.

“Yes!” Elena cried out, “Don’t stop!”

I smiled and kept my pace, my hips undulating behind me, my breasts pressed together between my arms as I squeezed Elena’s. The succulent fat protruded between my fingers, the pink nipples that contrasted her bronze globes standing erect and swollen, leaking white nectar that pooled in a rim about the darker areola. Her head pressed to the floor and tilted back, a strained cry singing from her throat. I giggled at her lustful response, watching her bronze body bend and flex in reaction to my movements. She filled her hands with my ass, her fingers disappearing in the supple meat, the tips of both middle fingers teasing the very edge of my anus as she pried my cheeks apart. I gasped lightly, a sound coming from slightly parted pink lips below half-lidded eyes, born from a face relaxed in the splendor of such easy love making. The roll of my hips became an exaggeration of motion, a gluttonous indulgence of the cock that stirred my tender channel with tortuous repetition, savoring every bit of it. I eased down upon her, relaxing my soft belly into the curve of her muscular abdomen, squishing our busts together so that our nipples stabbed into each other. I breathed upon her lips with easy exhalations, each one sliding from me with a moan of pure delight. She thrusted with me then, gentle, purposeful motions that matched the languorous grind of my hips, piercing me as my pelvis met hers, the impact reverberating in our depths, sounding the sweet ache of our growing pleasure. She slid one of her hands up my back and held me to her between the shoulder, and with the other, she pushed her middle and index finger all the way into my ass. I groaned delectably into her mouth, feeling my tight rim expand, then close around each of her knuckles, sucking her in, hugging the bottom of her fingers like my pussy gripping her shaft. Her fingers kneaded my delicate rectal flesh, massaging the underside of her shaft with the vile flesh of my division. I sobbed onto her breast, overtaken by the gentle violation, succumbing so easily to her prowess.

“Take it.” Elena whispered.

“Give it to me.” I whimpered back, exaggerating the reclining nature of my drives so that my cheeks spread wide for her. The torpid repetition of our motions put me in a trance, and I drowned blissfully in the sensations, letting my body operate with instinctual autonomy. We moved in waves together, connected and fluid, my hair curtaining her face, seeing only her as she delivered thrust after thrust into me. I exaggerated the arch of my back to tilt my pelvis anteriorly, and her cock slid across my clit with every pass. It was too much! Oh god, it was way too much! I was trapped in my bodily oscillations, unable to escape the prison of pleasure I’d put myself into, unable to resist the pleasure that tortured me! The aching ecstasy churned in my depths, the lancing felicity of my clit shooting through my pelvis, the debauched pleasure of my rectum turned my insides to jelly, and yet, I could not bring myself to move with the fervency required to expel such delights, but could only heave with a sluggish cadence and graceful motions, forcing me to draw-out the euphoric torment, the slow-build of things I could not stop, but could not contend with!

“Oh god, Elena!” I sputtered, tears filming my eyes, “Oh god, don’t stop! Don’t stop!”

My diaphragm flexed with each push, yielding heavy gasps from my gaping mouth. I collapsed onto her shoulder, my limbs succumbing to the lassitude compelled by the ballooning pleasure, the weakness overtaking me. Though we moved with such gelatinous motions, the sweat poured from us, the exertion of ecstasy pounding in our hearts, our breaths a labor. I slid up and down Elena’s bronze torso, my voice rising in pitch, my sobs and whimpers harmonizing with her cries. We went rigid for an eternal moment, merging as a singularity of ecstasy cresting the wave, seeing nothing, hearing nothing; only feeling, smelling and tasting. Her cock thundered against my pulsating walls, then erupted within me, and the tension of the moment snapped, setting us free. I was wracked with deep contractions that sent me sputtering into a squirming frenzy, and she was taken by the pressure release that compelled her to thrust, and thrust, and thrust; battering my swollen nether-lips with her crotch until she’d emptied herself inside me. Our voices waned, our breaths came to us, and we panted to feed our starving lungs. When I recovered, I looked upon the face of the woman I loved. Her dark lush lips revealed rows of white teeth, her pointed nose bore a legion of freckles that smattered her flushed cheeks, and her eyes, those eyes that effortlessly captivated me, they watched me from the relaxed drooping of her lids, their azure depths beckoning me to drown in them.

“Do you know what terrifies me, Leveria?” Elena whispered.

“What?”

She brushed my hair behind the point of my ear. “There will come a day soon when I will have to choose between you and Yavara.” She looked helplessly into my eyes, “And I don’t know who I’ll choose.” She swallowed, “I guess that means I love you too.”

End of Part Nine.

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