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  1. Queen Yavara: Chapter One
  2. Queen Yavara: Chapter Three
  3. Queen Yavara: Chapter Four
  4. Queen Yavara: Chapter Six
  5. Queen Yavara: Chapter Seven
  6. Queen Yavara: Chapter Eight
  7. Queen Yavara: Chapter Nine
  8. Queen Yavara: Chapter Ten
  9. Queen Yavara: Chapter Eleven
  10. Queen Yavara: Chapter Twelve
  11. Queen Yavara: Chapter Thirteen
  12. Queen Yavara: Chapter Fourteen
  13. Queen Yavara: Chapter Fifteen
  14. Queen Yavara: Chapter Seventeen
  15. Queen Yavara: Chapter Eighteen
  16. Queen Yavara: Chapter Nineteen
  17. Queen Yavara: Chapter Twenty
  18. Queen Yavara: Chapter Twenty-One
  19. Queen Yavara: Chapter Twenty-Two
  20. Queen Yavara: Chapter Twenty-Three
  21. Queen Yavara: Chapter Twenty-Four
  22. Queen Yavara: Chapter Twenty-Five
  23. Queen Yavara: Chapter Twenty-Seven
  24. Queen Yavara: Chapter Twenty-Six
  25. Queen Yavara: Chapter Twenty-Eight
  26. Queen Yavara: Adriana's Story (chapters 25-28)
  27. Queen Yavara: Chapter Twenty-Nine
  28. Queen Yavara: Chapter 4
  29. Queen Yavara: Chapter 5
  30. Queen Yavara: Chapter 6
  31. Queen Yavara: Chapter 8
  32. Queen Yavara: Chapter 9
  33. Queen Yavara: Chapter 10
  34. Queen Yavara: Chapter 11
  35. Queen Yavara: Chapter 12
  36. Queen Yavara: Chapter 13
  37. Queen Yavara: Chapter 14
  38. Queen Yavara: Chapter 15
  39. Queen Yavara: Chapter 16
  40. Queen Yavara: Chapter 17
  41. Queen Yavara: Chapter 18
  42. Queen Yavara: Chapter 19
  43. Queen Yavara: Chapter 20
  44. Queen Yavara: Chapter 21
  45. Queen Yavara: Chapter 22
  46. Queen Yavara: Chapter 23
  47. Queen Yavara: Chapter 24
  48. Queen Yavara: Chapter 25
  49. Queen Yavara: Chapter 26
  50. Queen Yavara: Chapter 27
  51. Queen Yavara: Chapter 28
  52. Queen Yavara: Chapter 29
  53. Queen Yavara: Chapter 30
  54. Queen Yavara: Chapter 31
  55. Queen Yavara: Chapter 32
  56. Queen Yavara: Chapter 33
  57. Queen Yavara: Chapter 34
  58. Queen Yavara: Chapter 35

Queen Yavara: Chapter 13

Categories Fiction, Blowjob, Teen

Author: White Walls

Published: 25 April 2019

  • Font:

Part Five: Setting the Dominoes

Chapter Thirteen

ELENA

“Spin around, Opal, show Sherok your new tat.” I said to my favorite slave as the tattooist finished his work.

Master’s Little Anal Slut, that’s classy Elena.” Sherok laughed as Opal shimmied her hips, the fresh ink contrasting her pale backside.

“Well, Opal’s such a classy little girl, aren’t you?” I grinned, filling my hand with her supple ass. Opal’s tail curled upward in arousal, exposing her holes. “Not now, Opal.” I said, running a finger down her taint, “You, your mother and your sisters need to get dressed. We have a big day in store for us.” I gave her a parting spank, and watched her go with a fresh handprint on her ass. Opal sauntered away to show her new ink to her jealous sisters and mother. I received many pouting faces from my slaves, all of them aware of my preference. Maybe they’d try even harder to please me next time.

“Your turn, Ranger.” The tattooist grunted as he watched my naked slaves bathe in the stream.

“What’s that?” I asked, confused.

“Brock made you an honorary member of the Terdini tribe this morning.” Sherok said.

“And?”

“And it is custom for a warrior to get a tattoo after their first kill. Brock said you felled two enemies in Ardeni.”

I shook my head. “Two rangers, Sherok. I’m already carrying the guilt; I don’t need it etched onto my skin.”

“Careful, Elena.” Sherok said, crouching next to me, “Brock and Zander trust you, and that’s enough for me. You brought them,” she gestured to my six slaves, “and that’s enough for most everyone else. But us orcs are a suspicious breed, and if trust erodes, it is hard to rebuild.”

“I won’t celebrate killing my own countrymen.”

Sherok grabbed my wrist and squeezed. “They are not your countrymen anymore; we are!” She said fiercely.

I looked coolly at her, running my eyes over the tattoos that sleeved her muscular body to the chin. “Are all these tattoos representations of your kills?” I asked her

Sherok eased her grip on my wrist. “No,” she said, “a Terdini cannot ink themselves until their first kill, but after they’ve been baptized in blood there are a number of tattoos one can earn.” Sherok pointed to her left thigh, where a decapitated head and a basket were inked side by side, “This one is for my first raid, and this one I got because I placed third in the biannual basket weaving contest.”

“You gave yourself a participation trophy.”

“Placing third still gets you on the podium!” Sherok said with such vehemence that it must’ve been a touchy subject for her.

“And this one?” I asked, pointing to small hand over her left breast.

“Trenok.” Sherok beamed proudly. Then she turned over, showing me the tantalizing length of her athletic back, ending perfectly in two robust glutes. “Can you guess this one?” She smiled coyly over her shoulder, pointing to a tattoo of parted lips an inch from her crack.

“Brock likes to eat ass?”

“Do those look like Brock’s thin lips?” Sherok laughed, “A chief’s daughter from a neighboring clan was abducted by trolls. I happened upon their camp, and rescued her. She was very, very, very grateful.” Sherok rotated herself lasciviously, her black eyes glinting with amusement, “So you see, there are many tattoos you can get, Elena of the Straltaira. What deed would you like to immortalize on your flesh?”

I looked over at the succubi bathing in the river, and smiled. “There’s only one thing I’ve done for the Terdini that’s worth remembering. What’s the symbol for rescuing the chief from a pack of succubi?”

“A heart circled by a broken chain backdropped by a fist.” The tattooist replied gruffly.

I turned to him. “You actually have that in your catalogue?”

“No, I’m just fucking sick of your blabbing, and I don’t get paid by the hour.” The tattooist pulled out his tapper and needle, “There are no set symbols; I just make shit up as I go along, and you get to tell everyone else the deep meaning behind it. Now, where do you want it?”

“I don’t… shouldn’t I put more thought into this? This going to be on me forever!”

“Gronk is very good, even if he’s not very patient.” Sherok chuckled, sliding beside me, “You don’t strike me as the type with an eye for artistry, no offense, so you should probably just listen to him. Now…” Sherok gently hooked her fingers under my cloak, “where on Elena of the Straltaira should we put this new tattoo?” She pulled my cloak from my shoulders, exposing me to the waist. I felt her eyes moving over me, and I shifted to give her a better angle. “My god Elena, you have a beautiful body.” Sherok said softly, her breath caressing my neck. She moved my ponytail over my bronze shoulder and traced her fingers down my spine. A shudder went through me when her hand lingered on the small of my back. “No, not there.” She teased as she turned me around. Her hands traveled around my waist and up the sides of my torso. She stayed her fingers at my breasts, caressing them gently, her thumbs tracing my areolas. “Maybe here? No, they’re perfect as they are, we wouldn’t want to ruin these. Wait, I know just the place.” Sherok grinned at me as she hooked her thumb into her thong, and pushed it down. Just above her clit, was the tattoo of her tribe: two jagged lines bisected by waves to represent the Gorge.

“I can’t quite see it; can you bring it closer?” I asked with a sly grin.

Sherok stood, her toned legs casting shadows of muscle, her supple ass creasing above the thigh. Her bald slit was a darker shade of green than the rest of her, and it glistened with desire.

“That is an excellent place to put a tattoo.” I smiled as I lowered my face to her, “Unfortunately, I have something in the way there.”

“You sure?” Sherok smiled down, gently snaking her fingers through my hair, “I think it would look nice. Of course, I haven’t seen this magical cock of yours yet.”

“Oh?” I asked, my mouth hovering over her clit, “Did you want to?”

“I’ve been dying of curiosity.” Sherok smiled as she dropped to her knees. I raised my ass off the chair and let Sherok pull my cloak to my ankles. My cock sprung forth and wagged in the air, and Sherok eyed it hungrily. Reaching out with long elegant fingers, she clasped me softly, and my head tilted backward, my eyes closing to savor the coolness of her palm.

“I think between the shoulder-blades would work best for you.” Gronk grunted. I just nodded and leaned forward.

Sherok’s hand made smooth passes up and down my length as Gronk’s tapper struck the fine needle. The prickling between my shoulders was painful, but not overbearing, and with Sherok’s fingers doing their work, the pain became a backdrop of sensation, an oddly-calming constant in the swelling tide of lust.

“I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, because it’s not an insult.” Sherok said, “But this is the most feminine penis I’ve ever seen.”

“That’s an oxymoron.” I laughed breathily.

“It’s not when there’s this tight little pussy right below it.” Sherok said, pushing a curious finger deep into my slit. I smiled lustfully at the she-orc, a soft moan escaping my lips.

“Where did your clitoris go?” She asked.

“You’re holding it.” I moaned.

“Oh my,” Sherok said, looking up and down my length, “It must be so sensitive.”

“It is!” I gasped when her supple lips wrapped around it. I struggled to stay still for the tattooist as Sherok consumed me fully, rotating about my base, her black eyes twinkling up at me. I hooked my thumbs under her chest strap and pulled down, releasing her breasts in a jiggling explosion. I cupped each of them, her soft skin conforming delightfully beneath my fingers, her nipples hard and wet. Sherok moaned lowly around me, then pulled out slowly, her lips sealed, her tongue licking all the way.

“Wow,” She whispered when my tip left her mouth, braids of precum bridging her lips, “there is something in your seed, Elena.”

I pushed her breasts together, my thumbs pressing into the nipples. “And how does it make you feel?”

“Hungry for more!” She gasped, and dove back down. As she took me into her throat, she parted the fingers of her exploring hand, and inserted two in my pussy, and two in my ass. The tattooist had to press down on my back to keep it from arching. Sherok winked, her lips quirking in a smile around my cock, her tusks biting playfully into its underside. I pressed her nipples until they inverted, and her smile disappeared, turning back into a ravenous oval about my base. Her long fingers found virgin depths within both my holes, and as I gritted my teeth around my masculine pleasure, I was assaulted with a woman’s vulnerable lust. Inside me. So deep inside me! I opened my legs to take her deeper, angling my pelvis so that she could do the same with me. Gronk growled and pushed his hand against my back, folding me over to keep me still. Trapped in that position, with the top of Sherok’s head sliding along my belly, at the mercy of her exploitive fingers and consuming mouth, I began to climax.

“Make me come!” I cried.

Sherok smiled around my cock, and complied. Her head bobbed with a gluttonous fervor, glossing my shaft with her spit. When she took me in, her swan-like neck swallowed to apply pressure, the suction pulling at my spasming loins. Her fingers penetrated my holes at a frenetic pace, my juices gushing from me with each push, dribbling down my taint, wetting my anal violation. I whined and hissed, trying to reciprocate with my hands as I clumsily fondled her breasts, unable to find dexterity in the heat of my pleasure. Sherok’s other hand serviced what I could not, pushing four fingers between her squatting legs, her nectar stringing from between her knuckles, pooling at her heels. Without warning, a trifecta of pleasures coursed through me, fluttering in my nethers, aching in my anus, raging in my loins. I panted and gasped as Sherok moaned muffled tones, her hips swaying in a dance of desire. She planted her face firmly against my crotch, and I unloaded down her throat. Her moans rose to stifled screams as my cum gushed into her belly, my charmed seed bringing her to orgasm. I saw a spasm lance up her spine, and her hips dropped, her thighs trembling violently. She squirted on the ground between my feet, and though her eyes rolled back, and her face flushed, she didn’t stop sucking me until I was dry. Then she pulled out slowly, her lips quirking in a playful smile as her cheeks grew gaunt, highlighting her severe cheekbones. My cock sprung from her lips with a pop, clean and shining.

“It’s rare for a thing to be better than advertised.” Sherok said, drawing one tantalizing finger along my underside, then sucking it clean, “I can see why beasts of lust would sacrifice their freedom to be in the service of something like this.”

“I’m always open for more slaves.” I smiled.

“Do I seem the type to wrap myself in chains and squeal for you?” Sherok raised her brows.

“I’d love to see it.”

“You think yourself a dominating woman, don’t you, Elena of the Straltaira?” Sherok said, standing to her full height, “When all you’ve had are elves and succubi, I suspect it’s easy to think that.” She grabbed my cock and squeezed, not to the point of pain, but to the edge of it. She loomed her face over mine as I moaned and withered beneath her. “But you’ve never been with a warrior like me, Ranger.” She flicked her tongue across my lips, “I’ve made slaves of men twice your size, and I tied them down and milked them until they worshipped me like a goddess.”

“I’m feeling rather worshipful right now.” I whispered, my voice full of breath.

Sherok’s tusked showed in her grin, and she released my cock. “It’s a shame that you must be going. With my husband gone, you and I could’ve had the whole day to ourselves.”

“I’ll be back. And if Brock’s in a generous mood, I’m sure we could share you.”

“Share me?” Sherok scoffed, “You’ll be the novelty of the bedchamber Elena of the Straltaira, so you’ll be the one shared. You might have to take a dick for the team.”

“Only if he does.” I laughed.

“He’d never!” Sherok snickered.

“I’m done Ranger,” Gronk growled, “you didn’t make it easy for me.”

“Turn around, let me see it!” Sherok said excitedly.

As I turned, I heard the familiar whistle of an arrow over my shoulder and I hit the ground with reflexes honed to instinct. A split-second later, a volley of arrows rained around me, thudding into table tops, singing off rocks. I reached for my bow, only to see Sherok’s fist already closed around it.

“Give it to me!” I shouted, but Sherok couldn’t hear me anymore. A haft protruded from her right eye socket, her remaining eye staring vacantly as blood flowed from her nostrils. I heard the familiar twangs of bowstrings, and I scrambled under the nearby table. Another volley fell, and Sherok’s body was riddled. Gronk gurgled, clutching the haft imbedded in his neck and falling to the ground. Arrows landed like hail, the sharp heads blasting through the wood above me. When the volley stopped, I dove out of cover, grabbed my bow and quiver of Yavara’s Nadi arrows, and scrambled back beneath the table. The wails and screams of the wounded sounded from all around, their bodies lying in groups between the huts. Drawing my bow, I searched the tree line, knowing exactly where to look. These were rangers after all, and I knew how they hunted.

I saw a green cowl protruding from a high branch. I put one through his neck and searched for the next one. A bush moved unnaturally, and I fired into it. The ranger tumbled out, screaming at the flights stuck in his belly. At the sight of the wounded elf, a group of orcs surged from cover, and charged the tree line.

“Don’t!” I screamed, but it was too late. They were cut down immediately, one after the other until a lone orc was roaring at the top of her lungs with her hammer high overhead. An arrow struck her shoulder, and she spun one way, then another struck her thigh, and she spun another. She danced to the rhythm of arrows until she was porcupined with them, and her hammer fell behind her as she fell to her knees, then her face. But her sacrifice wasn’t in vain, for I’d been watching the tree line as she died. I drew my bow, and fired five arrows in quick succession. I missed on two of them, but the other three were kill shots. Then a series of very well-placed arrows zipped right past my head, and I knew I’d overstayed my position. I cursed, scrambled on hands and knees, and darted into a nearby hut.

Around a score of orcs were already huddled there, their eyes wide with terror.

“What the fuck do we do?!” One screamed at me.

“Get your crossbows and follow me!” I yelled, “They’ll set fire to the hut if we stay here!”

Ducking at the hips, I sprinted from the hut, moved across the clearing, and dove behind a wall. It wasn’t a brave maneuver; the leading runner rarely gets shot. The orcs following me were set upon by a volley, and four were cut down before the rest jumped the wall. Sure enough, flaming missiles came right after, sticking into the dry grass of the hut and setting it ablaze. Their path marked their archers, and I counted three rangers in the bushes and two more in the trees. Rangers operated in squads of twelve, which meant there were two more I couldn’t see. The orcs pressed themselves to the wall, thirteen men and women, six with crossbows, seven with swords and spears. A mismatch to say the least.

“Now what?!” A she-orc screamed, her eyes wide with panic. I held up a staying hand, assessing my surroundings. The sounds of skirmishes rang throughout the village, squads of elves firing into scrambling packs of orcs. This was a hit-and-run mission, meant to take out key targets and sow chaos, but the elves that surrounded the village were horribly outnumbered, and wouldn’t move from the tree line. They’d pick us off with eternal patience until we forced them out.

“Those with crossbows, fire into the trees at my command!” I yelled. “When we’ve launched our volley, those with melee weapons charge into the woods and kill everything that moves!”

I stood up, drew my bow, and fired a blind shot into the tree line. I was greeted a downpour of arrows. I dropped behind the wall at the last second, and screamed, “Now!”

Six orcs stood and fired wildly into the trees. One lucky bolt met its mark, sending a screaming elf from the branch. I shot off two more arrows, one making contact. The orc beside me lurched backward with an arrow stuck through his forehead, but it was the last one shot. The elves had expended themselves trying to shoot me, and under the cover of crossbow bolts, the seven charging orcs rushed into the woods unimpeded, and hacked down the remaining rangers. I heard the shrieks, and gulped. There was no doubt that I had known at least one of them.

“Fuckin’ eh.” The she-orc beside me sighed, lowering her crossbow, “I thought we-” and an arrowhead blasted from her chest, pitching her forward against the wall.

“Behind us!” I screamed, leaping the barricade. Three more crossbowmen were cut down trying to get over, leaving me with only one. The two of us raced alongside the wall, our heads bowed as arrows ricochet above us. The melee orcs in the forest charged after, two of them felled before they reached us. We ran right into another mass of orcs, all of them clutching melee weapons and cowering against the wall. A group of young men, barely past boyhood, not a tattoo on any of them.

“You can’t stay here!” I yelled at them, “They’ll just flank us! We need to rush them!”

“You fucking do it!” One of them yelled.

“Fine.” I said, tossing him my bow, “You cover me! Oh, you’ve never used one those before? Well then, let me teach you in the short time we have left to live!” I snatched the bow from his hands, “Or you can grow a fucking sack, and earn your ink!”

“It won’t mean shit if we’re dead!”

“You’re not going to die!” I yelled. In times of such terror, a confident voice yelling a blatant lie was all the comfort some needed. Adarian had taught me that. The orcs fixed their attentive gazes on me, waiting for me to tell them the secret to getting out of this clusterfuck.

“I need those with sword and shield to jump the wall and rush the tree line head on. Keep your shields high and your bodies low, and don’t slow for a second. You’ll be fine!” I assured them, “Just keep your shields at head to chest; head to chest, got me?”

“Yes ma’am!” One yelled. The others nodded.

“Those with javelins and spears follow me around the bend, and we’ll hit them from the side. Got it?”

“Yes ma’am!” Most of them yelled this time, their faces set with purpose.

“On my mark.” I said, and straightened over the wall once more, presenting a clear target. I fired one defiant shot, then ducked as a volley whizzed over our heads, “Now!”

The ten shield and sword orcs leapt over the wall, and two of them sprang backwards, arrows in their chests. The other eight ducked and kept their shields high as they sprinted, screaming at the tops of their lungs. I raced around the wall’s bend with my spearmen, praying that the elves wouldn’t notice the utterly exposed troop running parallel to their line of fire. My prayers were answered as the ensuing volley rained down on the attacking melee infantry, dropping two more. The other six had blinders on, focused only on the tree line, not yet noticing that I had lied right to their faces. They were a sacrifice, but it hadn’t been in vain. My troop slipped around the bend, and charged head-on into the ranger flank.

“Fire!”

Spears and javelins shot through the air and into the trees. Five elves came screaming down. I aimed and fired two more shots, sending two more rangers tumbling from their perches. The melee squad finally made it, barreling through the brush as they screamed their war cry. Elves were no match for orcs in hand to hand combat, and the remaining rangers who hid in the brush were driven out and cut down. The orcs were brutal with battle fever, hacking off limbs in stay of a killing blow, making the rangers know horror and agony before the end. I wanted to say something to stop them, but I couldn’t. I understood why they did it. Being pinned against a wall like a trapped rat while your brothers and sisters died around you would make a demon of anyone. The last elf mercifully gurgled his death scream, and the orcs cheered. A bird-call split the air. The encircling woodlands rustled with movement, and the remaining rangers retreated without a sound. It was over. I sighed, and lowered my bow. An arrow struck the barrel next to my face, the shaft twanging. It was a Nadi arrow, a message curled around the shaft. My eyes shot to the far end of the village, where a cowl could barely be discerned above the treetops. Adarian always was the best shot at Castle Thorum. His cowl disappeared, and I plucked the arrow from the barrel.

Hi Tiger. You look different. The message said, but it really said, ‘goodbye.’

I walked through village, where scores of men, women and children lay dead or wounded. The cries of the bereaved sang from every corner, but the loss of one would sting this tribe the hardest. I knelt at the corpse of Sherok, her body pierced with a dozen arrows. My tears fell onto her face as I cradled her broken body. The haft that stuck into her eye was a Nadi arrow. How long had Adarian watched the two of us? How long did he contemplate between me and Sherok before letting the arrow fly? I knew the only reason I was still alive was because of his mercy. It would be the last time I was extended the courtesy. A hand clamped down on my shoulder. I looked up at an orc male, his body covered in flesh wounds.

“Elena, you saved us.”

“Not all of us.” I mumbled, “Brock will never forgive me for this.”

“No,” said the orc as he brought me to my feet, “we will tell Brock of what you’ve done. His village would be burned, and his tribe scattered if it weren’t for you.”

I just nodded. “Someone needs to send him a message.”

“We will send him an eagle tomorrow.” The orc said as he lifted Sherok’s corpse from the ground, “He is preparing himself for battle against Cermonok today, and must not be distracted.”

BROCK

Trenok stood behind me at the wooden gates of the Protaki compound. The guards looked down at the seven of us, their crossbows aimed.

“Brock,” one of them said, “you’ve got some balls coming here. Cermonok would probably reward me for killing you as you are.”

I threw the elk carcass from my back, the customary offering for peaceful passage.

“The other clans would descend upon you if you killed a tribe leader at your gates.” I growled, “Especially after giving his due.”

“Why are you here?”

“The Dark Queen as returned. I am here to ensure the Protaki answer the call.”

The orc eyed the seven of us warily. “Cermonok has banned weapons within the compound. If you wish to enter, you must agree to a search.”

“What kind of chieftain disarms his own people?!” I demanded, “Are you citizens or prisoners?”

“I just aim the crossbow, Brock.” The guard said disinterestedly, “Do you agree to the terms?”

Trenok leaned into me and whispered, “A disarmed tribe? The Protaki aren’t worth our time.”

“They used to be ferocious.” I muttered, staring at the orcs above us, “They’ll remember with the right leadership. Besides, Certiok is supposed to be the hottest piece of ass this side of the Knife River, and you need a wife.”

“A political marriage?” Trenok gave me a quizzical smile, “You’ve changed.”

“I’m just trying to get you laid.”

“I’ve never had any problems.”

“Are you saying no to me, boy?” I asked with raised eyebrows.

Trenok stared at me for a long time. Then he tossed his axe onto the ground, and undid his knife belt. “We’ll revisit this later, old man.”

After the rest of us had disarmed, the gates opened, and we walked through. I eyed the villagers as I passed them. They were small for orcs, with hardly an ounce of meat on any of them. I wondered if Trenok was right, that the once-proud Protaki were neutered to the point of ruination, but then I saw the hate-filled gazes they gave the Terdini interlopers, and I knew there was some spirit left in their wasted bodies. I came upon the center of the compound. It was bustling with activity, orcs moving about their business, selling meager wares and flesh alike. This was the place. I slapped my hands against my chest and roared the Terdini war cry. The compound went silent as a graveyard, all eyes fixed on me.

“Cermonok!” I screamed, “Cermonok, come out and face me!”

There was a pregnant pause, then a deep voice roared out from the hut to my left. “Brock Terdini is that you?” Cermonok emerged from his hut. He was lean and corded with muscle, his shiny pate braided in a horseshoe, its peak not even reaching my chin. His face was contorted in rage. “Brock of the fucking Terdini. I suppose I don’t need to ask why you’re here.” Cermonok said as he paced around me.

“I have conditions.” I growled.

“You don’t get to offer conditions.” Cermonok sneered, “You’ve challenged me on my home turf. We play by my rules here.”

“Is that so?” I gestured over my shoulder, “Do you see those men on the hill? Those are the five chieftains of the Northern Pines. They have come to ensure you don’t fall back on your tricks.”

Cermonok glanced at the hilltop. I didn’t actually have time to gather five chieftains, and was instead relying on Zander’s magic to manufacture their silhouettes. One raised a fist in salute, and Cermonok returned it with a snarl. “What are your conditions, Terdini?”

“We fight in your pit tomorrow morning. As is custom, I will prepare myself in the challenger’s hut the night before. I do not trust you not to kill me during the night, so I demand an exchange of hostages.”

“That’s why you brought Trenok, huh?” Cermonok said as he eyed my son, “You’re a big boy now, Trenok. After I kill your father, you’ll have a place in my vanguard.”

“After my father kills you, I will take your daughter as my wife.” Trenok sneered, “I’ve heard she’s quite the beauty; I wonder how she’ll look on her belly.”

“Certiok will be my hostage, Cermonok.” I cut in before the two orcs came to blows, “An heir for an heir is a fair deal.”

I could tell Cermonok hated the idea, but he knew it was fair. He couldn’t afford to look weak before his entire village. He spat on the ground. “Certiok! Come out here girl!”

A young she-orc parted the curtains of the nearby hut, and strode confidently into the square. Certiok’s beauty was not exaggerated. Her skin was pale green and unblemished, her eyes were big and round, and her face was adorned with high cheekbones and a strong jaw line. Her braided hair hung over her muscular shoulders and outlined her ample breasts, which pillowed against the leather strap that barely contained them. Her toned torso ended before bodacious glutes and thick thighs, and she walked with the purpose of a woman who was used to getting what she wanted. And her eyes were filled with Trenok, her full lips quirking to present her tusks.

“Brock of the Terdini?” Certiok looked to me, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Brock has challenged me for the clan, and demands a hostage. You are to be that hostage.” Cermonok growled.

“Am I? How exciting.” Certiok giggled, then pointed to Trenok. “And who is this? Can I be his hostage?”

“No,” Cermonok growled, “Trenok is my hostage, and when I kill his father, you’re not to be near him. I might have to castrate him before you get any ideas.”

“Get any ideas?” Trenok laughed, and pulled down his loin cloth, “Do you think her still a maiden, old fool? Anyone with eyes can see that your daughter has a very good idea of what to do with a man.”

Certiok’s eyes widened. “It’s unlawful to conceal weapons in the compound, Trenok of the Terdini. The penalty is death. But don’t worry,” she gave Trenok a furtive look, “I know a place where you can hide it.”

Cermonok growled and shoved Certiok forward. Trenok walked past her, the two exchanging hungry eyes and smiles. Three Protaki took my son by the arms, and bound his wrists behind his back. He gave me a reassuring nod as he was guided to a nearby hut.

“We don’t have to bind you, do we Certiok?” I asked her.

“You can if you want.” She said, smiling deviously up at me.

“Brock!” Cermonok roared, “If you touch her, your son will dangle from his entrails!”

“You keep her locked up all day, Cermonok,” I grinned as I pushed Certiok to the side, “it’s no wonder she is the way she is. Relax old man, she won’t be touched.”

Cermonok gave me a hate-filled look, then pounded his chest, and screamed the Protaki war cry. “Tribesmen!” Cermonok yelled to his people, “Brock Terdini has challenged me in open combat for control of the Protaki tribe! Tomorrow I will bury my blade in his chest, and the day after, I will bury my cock in his wife!”

The townspeople cheered all around us, the Protaki war cry singing from every mouth. But none dared hurl insults at my turned back, nor even look at me with anything more than familiar contempt. For they knew in their heart of hearts what I knew, and deep down, what Cermonok knew as well. The Protaki chieftain was still in good shape, but he wasn’t the warrior he used to be. He’d grown complacent, and had starved his tribe to avoid a strong internal challenger. His people might cheer him now, but they secretly yearned for new leadership. Even his own daughter saw his weakness.

That night, I prepared myself in the challenger’s hut. I drew a thin cut on my forearm where I would brand the Protaki mark beneath the Terdini scar. All chieftains branded the tribes they ruled on their forearms. Some chieftains had to move down to their calves, they ruled over such armies. The Terdini and Protaki were lesser clans, but our combined strength could push us into the higher echelons of power. The path to Froktora was clear; I just needed to walk it. Cermonok was the first step. If I was surefooted, I would stand beside Queen Yavara with an army of one-hundred-thousand at my command.

The next morning, I stepped onto the sands of the pit, the crowd roaring their hatred at me. Cermonok encouraged them, waving his arms wildly, running along the stands and beating his chest. I’d never seen a more desperate display of ferocity. He circled around me before stopping, his chest heaving. “Are you ready to die Brock?”

“Shall we?” I growled.

Cermonok dropped into his stance, and the crowd hushed, their silence filled with tension. Cermonok made the first move, a wide step to the left. I pivoted my heels in the sand and waited for his attack. He circled me, forcing me to change positions as I closed my defenses. His stance was wide and threatening, his muscles tensing and relaxing as he feigned attacks.

“When I’m done with Sherok, I will let every man in the village have her!” Cermonok sneered, “Or what’s left of her, anyway.”

“I will feed you your tongue before you die.” I said calmly.

“And I will feed Sherok yours, Brock. On a platter next to your dismembered cock!”

“You can keep talking if you want, dead man. All you’re doing is giving me ideas.”

“Your wit is almost as slow as you are.” Cermonok began a circular dance of footwork, “Trading words with you will leave me a poorer man.” He advanced like lightning, striking a blow to my ribs. The crowd cheered, and I grunted, maintaining my stance stubbornly. Another shot, this one wrapping around my back and hitting my kidney. I grimaced, but did not falter. Cermonok danced back, his body like a coiled serpent.

“I hope Sherok puts up more of a fight than you.” He teased. I didn’t respond, but watched his footwork, finding the pattern in his movements. Cermonok pivoted on his heel and whipped his leg around. I blocked the blow with my forearm, then spun in anticipation of the next. Stars exploded in my vision, a concussive bell ran in my skull, and I twisted in the air. His other foot had whipped around and struck me squarely in the jaw. I hit the ground, and he was on me in an instant, his fists, knees and feet punishing my head as I held my arms up defensively. And then it happened. A wild foot came crashing down onto my face, cracking my teeth, splitting my lip against my tusk. My hand clamped around it. I had him. I squeezed until the bones snapped. Cermonok bellowed and fell, kicking and clawing to free himself. I methodically dragged him, savoring the desperation in his movements, the horror in his eyes. He tried to wrench his leg free, and I snapped his tibia over my knee. His shriek split the air as he thrashed like a trapped dog, tearing the muscle and sinew in his leg with the jagged end of his bone, no longer concerned with the limb, only survival. I never gave him the chance. I dragged him up my body until his head was within reach. He scratched and clawed at my face neck, leaving deep lines and contusions across my cheeks and lips. I ignored the pain, and pulled his neck under my elbow, locking his head in place. By the look in his eyes, I could tell he knew it was finished. But it wasn’t over, no; I’d made him a promise. I gripped his jaw and tore it free from his head, the tendons stringing from his neck, his throat exposed. His eyes rolled back, bulging and rupturing veins with pressure, turning the whites red. I grabbed his waggling tongue, ripped it from the gash in in his face, then forced it down the yawning hole in his throat. His esophagus burst around my fist, and his screams turned to a gurgle as black blood bubbled around my wrist. My fingers found his spine, and with a grip and rip, I ended Cermonok’s suffering. The crowd was silent.

I stood up, spitting blood and teeth. “Is there anyone here who would challenge me?!” I roared. No one did. “Then hail me as your chieftain, and share in my glory!” They stayed silent for a moment. No doubt they’d thought I’d be a tyrant, and no words I could say would dissuade them. But I’d shown strength and brutality, and there are few things orcs love more than a brutal display of strength. The crown began to murmur. The murmurs rose to chatter, then to cheers. They chanted my name as I stood atop the corpse of their former chieftain, his blood soaking the sand, forgotten.

“Blacksmith,” I roared, “Bring me your iron!”

The blacksmith walked over with the branding iron, the metal white with heat. I held out my arm and roared my victory cry as my skin melted. This would not be the last time this happened, I knew it in my bones. My flesh would be scorched with my victories from wrists to ankles. I gave a succinct speech to the Protaki, then ordered them to burn the compound to the ground. The Bend was no longer their home. It was obvious that it hadn’t been for some time, for the Protaki destroyed with the relish of people born to violence. Yes, they were still the Protaki. Malnourished, soft and frail, but fierce and wild.

When the compound was a smoldering smudge on the horizon, and the Protaki exodus was halfway to the Gorge, an eagle screeched overhead. It landed on my proffered arm, and I took the message from its talons. After reading it, I folded it gingerly, and put in my vest pocket.

“News from back home?” Trenok asked, Certiok on his arm. There was grief in her face, but she hid it well. I wasn’t sure if I had the same strength.

“There was an elven raid, and it was repelled.” I said, ducking to shadow my expression, “Thirty-five dead, forty-three wounded.”

“On a raid? Without you or I to lead the counterattack?” Trenok’s expression was grave and perplexed, “It must’ve been a dawn-elf troop; it couldn’t have been imperials.”

“It was Adarian’s own contingent. Fifty of his best, of which only twenty-six left with their lives.” I said, “It seems our resident ranger has proven her worth tenfold.”

“Adarian’s own company? Defeated in their own ambush?” Trenok laughed, clapping me on the back, “We will hold a feast then! It is a day of two victories!”

“Yes.” I forced a smile, “It is a day we will remember for all time.” I didn’t have the courage to tell him then. In the morning I would, but that night’s grief would be mine to bear alone. I held it within me like a weight, and only when I was alone in my tent in the waning hours of the night did I let it go, falling to my knees as tears fell from my eyes. I would have my vengeance. Yavara could not deny me this. His name was carved across the canvas of my mind, written over every memory of her. Adarian. Adarian. Adarian. There is a kind of magic in hatred that pure. For I knew in the confines of my darkness, that Adarian’s destiny and mine were married, and its divorce would be the death of one of us.

YAVARA

Good King Dreus, I have pondered the offer of our mutual acquaintance, and see the merits in it. My host will arrive at your gates at the hour of dusk to procure the sum of your loan. Myself and two of my brethren must be allowed into your hall to inspect the currency before we can reach an agreement. My host will remain under your protection outside of your gates. Unfortunately, our mutual acquaintance has left the city due to inclement circumstances. Rest assured that she is hale, and half a day’s ride on route to her destination. Best wishes to you and your kingdom, Titus. I’m not sure how King Dreus is going to feel about a procession of two hundred vampires to his palace gates.” Titus said as he looked at me, “And if I tell him you’re already out of the city, he’s just going to think I killed you, and am now trying to steal his gold. He won’t let me in.”

“King Dreus will be alarmed, but curious,” Prestira said, “and he’s smart enough to decipher what’s really going on.”

“Would your sister actually kill you in King Dreus’ own court?” Titus asked me, “That’s damn near a declaration of war.”

“Leveria will stop at nothing to kill me. I don’t trust a single man to remain loyal to King Dreus when the price on my head is that high.”

Titus looked at the wanted posters in his hands. The signs had been nailed to every street corner in the city. The city watch had taken them down as fast as they could, but the word was already out: five-hundred-thousand gold pieces for the death of Yavara “Alkandi” Tiadoa, a quarter of a million for Prestira, Zander or Brock. I needed to leave the city now.

“I can see how this would tempt even the most loyal of subjects.” Titus murmured, “Alright my queen, we’ll go with your plan. You’ll both need to dress the part, so get out of those priestess robes and grab one of mine.”

Prestira and I got out of our disguises and put on the vampire robes. They were black, with a large hood and a pull-down mask that covered the entire face and neck. Long black gloves were also part of the outfit. When the whole thing was on, not a single piece of flesh was left uncovered.

“You can take off the masks, we don’t wear them when the sun is down.” Titus said, “Having two of our cohort concealing their faces while the rest don’t will draw suspicion, so you’ll need to transform before we go there. Make sure you eat.”

Prestira and I walked to the four prisoners. They were in relatively high spirits for condemned captives, laughing and giggling to each other on the floor. They were broken things, succumbed to the horror of their situation, indulging mindlessly in the sexual delights of a vampire’s predation. Their necks were pocked with teeth marks, as were their breasts, thighs, and backsides. When Prestira and I approached them, they opened their legs with half-lidded eyes and expectant smiles.

“Hi Delicious.” I smiled down at the girl Titus has named.

“My queen.” Delicious slid languorously onto her back, presenting her throat and body with equal hopefulness. I mounted her about the waist, and placated her desire with an expert hand between her legs. She moaned delectably, closing her eyes and tilting her neck.

I leaned in, and whispered, “Tonight, you are going to be loaded into the cargo hold of Titus’s ship. Before the anchor is pulled, your shackles will break. Jump out of the porthole, and swim for the docks. No one will pursue you. Tap my shoulder if you understand.”

There was a pause, then I felt a trepid finger tap my left shoulder. I smiled against her ear. “I’m going to drink from you now, OK?”

“Please.” She whispered back, dancing lecherously to the whim of my fingers. I flexed the muscle in my brain and transformed. I was immediately consumed by the hunger, and I sank my fangs into the girl’s necks. She let out a gasp as I pulled the blood from her, arching from the floor as she derived sexual arousal from my feeding. Prestira transformed and drank from another girl. When we had our fill, we stood and took a moment to bask in the feeling of vampirism.

“Brutus!” Titus yelled as he slipped on his robe, “Make sure these girls are fed well after we go. Then you and the loaders put them onto our ships.”

We made our way outside, where Titus’ employees were loading his riches onto boats. King Dreus’ courier stood outside of the open loading door, shifting nervously from one foot to the other at the sight of us.

“You boy,” Titus called to the courier, “I have a message I need you to send to the king.”

“Y-y-yes s-s-sir.” The boy said shakenly, pacing cautiously toward us. Titus gave the boy the message and ten gold pieces “There’s another ten for you if you get this to him within the hour.” The boy sprinted off and disappeared around the corner. The vampires arranged themselves into two single file lines, Prestira and I heading each behind Titus. An ominous organ sounded a dour tune from somewhere, and Titus began a plodding march forward.

“This is quite the atmosphere you’re cultivating.” I laughed at Titus.

“Appearance is everything, my queen.” Titus muttered, “And don’t smile. Brooding; brooding is the key. We’re broken souls, walking in a solemn procession, our hearts filled with sorrow and a yearning for death.”

“Why?” I asked, suppressing a smile.

“Because it gets bitches wet, that’s why.” Titus said, “There’s nothing like a dark, damaged, mysterious bachelor to get the juices flowing. Have you never read young adult fiction?”

Prestira and I played our part in the austere march through the streets of Ardeni, bowing our heads and gliding in our robes. Windows shut, and mothers hastened their children indoors when we approached, and the barks of dogs and the chirping of birds ceased with our passing. I saw two vampires behind me with buckets full of dry ice trying to give off the appearance of fog. I shared a look with Prestira, who had to cover her mouth to avoid bursting out in laughter. Despite the ridiculousness of the whole spectacle, Titus’ reasons proved true. A line of young women began to form behind our procession, giggling and whispering nervously to each other.

We made our way to the palace mall, where a thousand men lined either side. They stared at our procession with their hands resting on their hilts, for all the good it would do them if Titus decided to attack. We were stopped by the captain at the foot of the steps.

“Are you Drake Titus?” He asked.

“I am.” Titus responded.

“My king wishes to know where Queen Yavara is. You will not enter his palace until I’ve confirmed she is alive.”

“Could I send a message to the king?” Titus asked.

“Sorry Titus, but King Dreus’ words are final.”

Titus leaned forward until his face was inches from the captain’s. The captain remained composed, the sight of vampire leaning to him not fazing him at all. “How rich are you, captain?” Titus asked.

“I don’t see how that concerns you.”

“It matters greatly to me,” Titus hissed, “because there’s a five hundred-thousand-piece bounty on Queen Yavara’s head, and I don’t know how strapped you are for cash.”

“I’m the son of a Lord Alexander.” The captain yielded, “I have fortune to my name.”

Titus sniffed him, then nodded. “Does this young vampire,” he said, pushing me forward, “look at all familiar to you?”

I covered the sides of my face with my hood so that only the captain could see me. I quickly flashed from my vampire form to my elven form and back to my vampire form. I smiled at the captain’s shock, and gave him a wink. “I trust you can keep secrets, captain.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, young lady.” He said, recovering with the ghost of a smile, “I will tell King Dreus -and only King Dreus- of this new development. Titus, you may bring yourself and your two cohorts behind me.”

The gates parted as the three of us followed behind the captain. We walked down the great hall of the throne room and knelt before the king. I glanced to my left and right, wondering which of the guards were waiting for Queen Yavara to appear so they could send word to Leveria.

“So, you’re Drake Titus, eh?” King Dreus said from his throne, “I thought you’d be taller. You’ve got some balls coming in here asking for a loan that’s not yours. If you don’t mind me asking, where in the blue fuck is Queen Yavara?”

The captain scribbled a note and handed it to King Dreus. King Dreus read the note, his eyes widening imperceptibly. With the utmost nonchalance, he glanced causally toward me, and with the utmost subtly, I nodded.

“Ah,” said King Dreus as he ripped the note to shreds, “my captain has confirmed that she has left the city, and that you are acting in her stead. You may rise.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw one of the king’s guard shift uneasily. Leveria no doubt had guessed King Dreus’ meeting with Titus was also a meeting with me. News that I had vacated this city would be worth a small bounty to Leveria, and anyone who was under her employment would want to be the first to deliver the message and collect.

“Captain,” King Dreus said as he descended the steps, “please escort Titus and the ladies to the treasury room and have them inspect the goods. I will follow.”

The captain guided us to the treasury room, where ten massive chests were lined up.

“What the fuck?!” King Dreus yelled as soon as we were alone, “When I told you to negotiate with Titus I didn’t mean do… this!” He said, motioning to my body, “Do you know how hard it’s going to be for me to convince my governors to trade with a vampire?!

I transformed back into my normal self, laughing at King Dreus’ shock. “I had to make some concessions, but this seemed like a suitable compromise.”

King Dreus looked at me, then looked at the other vampire woman. “And I suppose this is Prestira, then. Hi Prestira.”

Prestira transformed to her original self and smiled. “Hi Alfred.”

“Well,” King Dreus sighed, “I can’t say I agree with your choices, Queen Yavara, but they are your choices. Now, down to business. Each chest carries a hundred-thousand gold pieces. Ten in all make a million. That should be adequate for any royal treasury.”

“Small for a wartime treasury.” Prestira mumbled.

“It’s very generous.” I replied, giving Prestira a stern look, “And we’re not at war.”

“Your beloved sister is expected to issue a proclamation this afternoon.” Dreus said gravely, “She’s not calling it a war, but an insurrection of her vassal state. A formal declaration would mean she’d have to recognize your sovereignty and follow the rules, but a rebellion gives her carte blanche.” Dreus tapped one of the chests, “I don’t make investments that I don’t think will pay off. I took a risk supporting you, and will do what I can to act as mediator between you and the Highlands. But if I don’t think you can recoup the cost…” Dreus gave me a pitiable expression. “Well, the Highland bank has never defaulted, and I’m sure they’d love to pick up your balance.”

“Is that a threat, Your Highness?” I asked with raised brows.

“It’s a warning, Your Highness.” Dreus said gruffly, “As of now, the game hasn’t truly started, but once the pieces start moving, I will put my money behind the safest bet. It will take months for Leveria to raise her army. I suggest you raise yours faster. Hire some trolls to excavate the silver mines, and you’ll fill your coffers soon enough. I am willing to stay the payment on your loan for two months so that you can pay your army. With added interest, of course.”

“You war profiteer.” Titus snorted.

“That’s rich coming from a mercenary.” King Dreus eyed the vampire next to him, then turned back to me, his expression somber. “I’m sorry that it’s come to this, Your Highness. I thought your father would see reason, but it seems elven xenophobia curses even the gentlest of kings. I was… so very sorry to hear of your mother’s death. It’s a horrible thing Clartias did.”

“It wasn’t my father.” I said gravely, “It was Leveria.”

“I can’t believe she would do that.”

“Father would never force a public confession out of Mother.” I had to blink away hot tears, “Even if he thought she was guilty, the hearing would be private, and she would die with dignity. She was tortured!

“Leveria wouldn’t do that to her own mother.”

“You know her too well to believe that, Your Highness.” I smiled sadly at him, “I fear that in my absence, she will drive a wedge between us. She is a viper with honeyed tongue.”

“I’m not so easily persuaded by a honeyed tongue.” King Dreus gave me a devilish smile, “Whether it’s in my ear, or my ass. I will greatly miss your brown-nosing, Queen Yavara.” He held out his hand, and I pushed it away, throwing my arms around him.

“You will always be welcome in my court, Alfred Dreus.” I said, holding him tight, “Or my bed, if you wish to put an end to euphemisms and act with candor.”

“The world is built on bullshit, Yavara. Candor might knock the whole thing over. Now,” he grunted as he withdrew, “I’ll get some men to help you these chests, and you be on your way.”

“No need.” Prestira said cheerily, then transformed, hoisted the box into arms, and casually strolled out of the room. Titus lifted another with calculated nonchalance, leaving Dreus gawking.

“Thank you so much for your hospitality.” I said, giving Dreus a peck on the cheek, then transforming. I picked up a five-hundred-pound chest, pressed it overhead, then whistled as I strode out of the room. That night, we loaded my riches onto Titus’ vessels and set sail for the Great Forest, four human captives lighter. It seemed Brutus had done a poor job chaining the girls. What a klutz. As Titus screamed at the poor day-walker, I stood on the prow of his flagship, tasting the ocean breeze for the first time. I had wealth, I had power, and my army was growing by the day. But Leveria was queen of the Highlands now, and I knew deep down that she was one step ahead. Somewhere out there, was a trap.

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