Final Destiny
Yet another story written previously. Never did like the title on this one, but such is life.
Kellen tightened her grip on her staff, glancing down at softly glowing red gem that peered out from the head of the staff. It was a symbol of the position that she was about to take; she, special among even those who had been born into the service of the priesthood, was destined to become the high priestess. It was not a moment for her to any kind of hesitation. "Open the doors."
The guard who had the ring of keys did not respond but deferred to his companion. So deep within the prison, this particular cell was locked with no normal key. The second guard, bowing lightly to the command, turned to press his hand against a worn metal plate where the lock was, leaning in so that his cheek touched the side of the door and whispered a key phrase so quietly that not even she could hear it. In response, the door clicked quietly, and the man stepped away from the door with a little flourish. "The door is opened, m'lady."
She nodded her satisfaction, stepping forward and pushing the door lightly. For being such a heavy and fortified door, it swung on its hinge with only a slight effort and a bit of creaking, revealing the darkness within. Lifting her torch she raised it up into the door, peering within as far as the little circle of light could penetrate. The cell beyond was vast, the walls rising up so high that she could not make out the ceiling, the rough stone of the floor stretching into the darkness before fading away, creating the impression of a yawning abyss that threatened to swallow her up. Just beyond the little circle of light, she could make them out; the glint of light being reflected off numerous eyes hidden away in the darkness. She could not help but to shiver at the sight.
"Would m'lady desire an escort?"
At that she shot the guard a withering look. She realized that it was a normal sort of question they might ask aspiring priestesses, and that it was not meant as any kind of slight against her power, or her bravery. Still, a high priestess - even one in the making - could not afford to show any weakness. She had to refuse the help. "I command the staff. I need no assistance."
To make her point, she strode forward into the darkness, descending the pair of steps into the cell. She couldn't keep from shivering again, though, as the cold and damp air immediately assaulted her senses, stealing through the thin and flowing fabric of her ceremonial robes. The low rumble of breathing echoed through the cell, more eyes blinking at her through the darkness, but she merely frowned as she turned back to look at the entrance to the room, a flickering rectangle of fire-red that outlined the silhouette of the pair of guards that peered in after her. "M'lady?"
What she had come here to do required solitude. Though she knew that she had to remain confident in her abilities, had to put on the brave face for the men - it would not do to begin her career as the most powerful person in the land to stand shivering and in need of help - so she clenched the staff in her right hand again, standing upright. "I begin. Seal the prison and do not open the door again until I give the command." Years of repetition in their duties had erased any uncertainty in the men, and they merely gave her a salute in the form of a bow before the door was swung shut behind her, the lock shutting with a dull iron thud, sealing her in the cell with no source of light or warmth save for the torch in her hand.
With the door shut irrevocably behind her, she shuddered again and made no effort to disguise her discomfort. The thought of what she had to do, the culmination of all of her studies and preparation to become not only a priestess of the temple but the high priestess of the land, made her blood nearly freeze in her veins. "The price of power is great," she said in a near whisper, closing her eyes while she repeated the phrase she had been taught. "The value beyond measure."
The words brought her little comfort as she heard the shuffling sounds around her, the deep, almost labored breathing that continued to echo against the walls. With her eyes closed she began to imagine what they looked like, and her imagination was probably more frightful than the truth. With a little gasp, her eyes popped open so she could face her challenge.
She knew what to expect, at least, somewhat. Prior to her final task she had been given a thorough description of the cell, in reality a vast underground cavern that had been excavated to suit their needs. Roughly circular in shape, there were over a dozen large alcoves that had been cut into the rock, and from each of those alcoves a pair of eyes shone back at her, slowly blinking in the darkness. Directly across from the entrance was another door, never locked but always closed. Beyond that door was her eventual destination, but first she had to face those eyes peering at her in the darkness. Peering to her left, she stuck the torch out a little bit to try and illuminate the space in that direction.
The firelight caught the rough walls of the cavern where the alcoves had been hollowed out, dancing against the rough rock but still refusing to illuminate deep into the alcoves themselves. The eyes that had been peering out at her through the darkness closed, withdrawing in response to the light thrust in their direction, followed by a low, irritated hissing that rose up into the air. The sound of claws scrabbling on the floor made her skin crawl, but moreso than the guards outside the door, these creatures could not be allowed to see any weakness, any hesitation to her resolve. Swallowing down her trepidation, she took a few long strides forward, keeping herself upright and proud, letting her robes flow out behind her, gathering up the dancing firelight.
Finally she could make out some movement, some shape within the darkness, and she stopped where she stood. From where she had stopped, three of the alcoves remained lit up by her torch, the rest having fallen back in to the shadows. As much as she tried to remain stoic, her eyes widened as the form in the alcove directly in front of her resolved itself enough to make out the form. Dim firelight danced against the creature's slightly lustrous scales, reflected off the sharp teeth, illuminated the long tail that flicked angrily to the side. She had long been instructed on what to expect this day, had seen drawings, even life-sized sculptures, but it hardly prepared her for the reality of coming face to face with a real dragon.
The creature before her was not as large as her frightened mind insisted. It did not stand nearly as tall as a horse, and even it's stocky frame held low to the ground was hardly enough to rival the strongest oxen toiling in the fields. Still, horses and oxen did not come equipped with deadly sharp talons and rows of pointed teeth, nor did they come with that cold reptilian stare that pierced through the darkness and made her want to shiver.
She knew that this would be the worst possible moment to show weakness. Striding forward boldly, she thrust the torch out in front of her and watched with grim satisfaction as the creature withdrew, snapping its jaws angrily and breathing out a low, guttural hiss as it tried to push into the shadows at the back of the alcove, away from the pop and fizzle of her torch. "Foul creatures of the dark," she said, giving her voice an extra little edge to reinforce the lie that she was unafraid of them. Indeed, the creature before her seemed as fearful as it was frightening, continuing to cower away from the torch in spite of the hissing and the scrabble of its claws on the stone. Shaking her head, she turned to the side and looked into the next alcove, where a pair of eyes watched her from the edge of the darkness. Stepping in its direction without hesitation, she again thrust her torch in front of her and watched as another of the drakes recoiled, the angry hissing sound filling her ears as it came not only from these dragons, but from the rest imprisoned within the cave.
Then, to her surprise, a voice crept out of the darkness at her back, causing her to whip around and wave the torch in that direction. "Creatures of the dark ... it is what you have made us ..."
She knew that they could speak, but the first time she heard it was still a surprise. The voice, while being low and slightly raspy, articulated the words with surprising clarity. Not only were the meaning of the words obvious to her, but the tone conveyed with it every bit as much emotion as she might have expected to hear from a fellow person, laden with anger and contempt. She pushed forward until her light pierced the darkness enough that she could see the one that spoke. This dragon was no larger than the first two she had seen, but its size was deceptive in the dark. Ebony scales were nearly invisible in the shadows, save for the lustrous reflections that were thrown back in her direction. Vague hints of curled horns could be made out, as well as a ridge of some sort of spines that ran along the drake's back, but in the darkness it was truly hard to make out what it looked like. Then, as if to confirm that it was the one who had spoken, it hissed lightly before rumbling out in irritation, "You should go, before you do something you will regret."
It was a challenge of sorts, she decided. The dragon, whether he knew it or not, had selected itself by daring to challenge her presence. Swallowing down any hint of trepidation, she stood upright and spoke in a clear, commanding voice. "You may make no demands of me, beast."
"I have a name," it replied, confusing her slightly. She had been told that the dragons were unruly and quarrelsome in the best of circumstances, and the one with the most power in him would be the first to stand up and issue a challenge of some sort, and he would be the one to select. Still, she had expected a more direct confrontation.
"You are a beast. You have no need for a name."
The drake hissed lowly again, recoiling some and baring its teeth in her direction. "If you have come to insult me, you should leave, now."
That was more like it. She smiled inwardly as the dragon had responded in the predictable fashion. For being such powerful creatures, instilled with such deep and potent magic, they were incredibly simple and predictable. From this point on, the exchange would be almost by rote, each reply burned in her memory from her many studies, so much so that she could probably recite the lines for the dragon, as well. "You are to challenge me no further, beast. I wield power over you."
With a finality, she lifted the staff that was in her right hand, pointing the head of it in the dragon's direction. Of its own accord, the red gemstone set in the head began to glow faintly, emanating a dim, incarnadine shimmer. The drake recoiled as if it had been struck, its face shying away from the light and attempting to hide behind its foreleg. "You know not what power you wield," it accused, a little less directly and with a hint of sorrow in its voice.
To an extent, its accusation was true. She did not truly understand the nature of the Controlling Staff, or the Dragonstone that it bore. It had been fashioned generations ago, when the priestesses of the temple had finally discovered a way to distill the dragons' magic into a physical form and use it to put the wild creatures in check. She did not know how it worked, and those who came before her were equally ignorant as to its inner workings. It had little in the way of power, itself, yet it endowed its holder with the ability to command the beasts. "It is the power of command, which you may not disobey."
"You do not understand," it hissed again, snapping its jaws angrily but continuing to cower before the staff. "With it you would command yet more which you do not understand."
The staff was thrust forward, causing the creature to again recoil as if it had been hit with a physical force. "With it I command you to give unto me what I seek. You will follow me into the Chamber of Sharing, and your power shall become mine."
"No!" The dragon seemed to cower in front of her in a fashion that looked almost like begging, a fact that stoked her ego and made her smile. She began to feel less and less afraid of it as it spoke. "It is a desecration! For generations we gave freely unto your ancestors, shared our power, shared our joy, shared our pleasure ... what you do is a desecration, you must forbear!"
"We take that to which we are entitled, in recompense for the atrocities you have visited upon our ancestors. Unless you would grant it to me of your own will?" The mere suggestion seemed to rile the drake, rising up on its haunches and growling in a threatening fashion at her, at least as far as she would allow it before the gestured with the staff, cowing it back into its corner. "I thought not," she said, shaking her head.
"Forebear," it repeated, but to no avail. She had been warned of this, too. Though they be simple beasts, the drakes were also adept at deceit and manipulation; they would invent all manner of lies to try and avoid taking part, to try and disavow themselves of the crimes they had committed. She would not be so easily fooled.
The staff she bore had other purposes, other powers than simply cowing the dragons. Stiffly she pointed it at the chain that was locked securely around the drake's leg, her eyes briefly glancing over the fetid pile of bones and meat that the miserable creature had been gnawing on. Such luxuries were more than these creatures deserved, but were a necessary concession. Dead dragons could grant no powers. "Come," she commanded, flicking her wrist lightly and causing the lock on the chain to fall by virtue of the power of the staff.
The dragon came far quicker than she had anticipated. The locked chain did not even have enough time to clatter against the ground before the beast had suddenly uncoiled all its muscle, exploding forward in a mass of razor sharp claws and wicked teeth, murderous intent flaring in its eyes as it leaped in her direction, talons outstretched and its terrifying maw gaping open in her direction. She pulled the staff up with a startled gasp, only just in time to ward herself, the stone embedded in its head flaring brightly when the dragon had come so close that she could feel the heat of its breath washing over her face. As soon as the staff had flared, however, the drake fell to the ground below, bouncing off an invisible force every bit as effective as any physical barrier. It landed against the dingy floor of the cavern with a crash and clatter of scales and claws, sliding partway back in the direction of its alcove as it choked for air, scrabbling about in confusion.
The door behind her was pushed open in a rush. "M'lady? Is all well?"
Kellen stood firm, the staff lowered in the direction of the dragon, flaring angrily at it and effectively incapacitating the creature, which continued to claw weakly at the ground and fought for breath as it was nearly choked off. With an angry look of her own, irritated at being interrupted - and immensely frightened at having nearly been felled - she glowered at the guards. "You will not open that door again until I summon you," she said, clenching her teeth. The guards merely bowed in contrition, turning away and letting the door swing shut with a soft click of arcane latches falling back in to place.
Her attention immediately went back to the dragon. The force of her will coursed through the staff and radiated hotly from the gemstone embedded in its head. She could almost see the force wrapped tightly around the creature's throat, squeezing with deadly intent, watching it flail about helplessly, mouth agape and its tongue beginning to hang out. It would not serve to kill the creature, so she withdrew a measure of her ire, enough that the dragon collapsed into a pile on the ground and began to breathe deeply, its body heaving in ragged, raw inhalations, but she would not withdraw the power completely. She had been foolish enough to let her guard down for a brief second, a mistake she would not be repeating.
"Get up," she hissed, nudging the end of the staff upward, causing the dragon to writhe in pain for a moment before it managed to claw its way back up to its feet, swaying slightly as it stood, regarding her with wide eyes. "You will obey my commands without the need for this staff, because the next time you defy my will, I will slay you where you lie."
The severity of her words seemed to have had the desired effect, for as she withdrew the remainder of the staff's power, the creature merely gave her a low, irritated hiss, slinking away from her and managing to look wounded. With no less irritation in her eyes or in her manner, she flicked the staff in the direction of the larger doors at the back of the room, which responded by swinging open rather like a gate. "Go," she commanded, leveling her gaze back on the dragon.
With another irritated hiss, the obsidian creature picked itself up off the floor and slunk angrily in the direction of the opening, turning back to give her an angry glance only once before complying with the command, passing through the doors and into the narrower passageway beyond. Lifting her torch again and holding it out in front of her, Kellen began to follow, keeping enough space between herself and the beast that she would have ample time to react in the event it chose to defy her will again.
The passageway was not long, but it was enough that the blackness again swallowed up the entryway behind her before she emerged into another cavern, smaller than the last. The drake had already crossed to the other side and pressed himself against the far side of the wall, tucking against the floor as if it might avoid her gaze somehow. She let out a derisive little snort at the sight, helping her to reinforce the thought that she was in charge, that she had nothing to fear.
It did little to cure the anxiety that she felt in the pit of her stomach, however. The torch was set on a hook in the wall near the entrance to the chamber, from where it could illuminate the entire space. Unlike the larger cavern where the dragons were held, this one was much smaller and had no alcoves, no break in the walls safe for the one through which she had just passed. Immediately, however, her attention was drawn to the other, more obvious difference, for this room was not empty. Directly in the center of the room was a wooden framework that vaguely approximated the shape of a dragon : a sloping beam that would roughly follow the line of a dragon's spine, held up by a pair of struts where the creature's legs might be located. The thick, heavy wood was scratched, etched by countless clawmarks. Toward the back of the framework was a crude saddle of sorts, a broad, cloth-wrapped platform fixed to the center beam of the frame, and a pair of stirrups that had been attached to what mimicked the dragon's rear legs.
The mere sight of the framework made her stomach churn. Quietly, in her mind, she repeated another phrase that had been drilled in to her mind over many years of preparation for this moment. The path to the highest mountains must first cross the deepest valleys. Before greatness can be found, one must be brought low. It was the last, final step before she would truly become the high priestess, before she would truly have all the power and all the responsibility that came with the position. If there were any way around it, she would have taken that path without hesitation.
"Forbear," the dragon repeated, somewhat lamely, cowering against the floor. "This is a desecration ... you know not what you do ..."
"Silence," she commanded, gripping the staff in her fist and making the stone on it glimmer lightly again. "Here you relive your sins and in doing so relive the consequences. Your power will be mine."
The creature squirmed in discomfort and cringed. "No! You are mistaken! We cherished your people and shared all we had with them, and it was they who turned on us! Do not perpetuate this evil any further, you must ..."
She could not let the beast continue. It was bad enough that she felt such trepidation in her mind, and having this creature try and create any more doubt was unacceptable. "Enough!" Her command was shouted angrily, slamming the heel of her staff against the floor with an audible thud, the echo of power it created causing the dragon to briefly fall to the floor, writhing in pain. "I will hear no such lies from your mouth. Enough talk of desecration. It was you who desecrated my ancestors, you who violated my people. You came in the guise of a friend, and instead stole an innocent people away to use as your slaves. You raped them." The last accusation was spat out angrily, slamming the staff against the floor once again.
"Yet through your own foolishness, you did not realize that, through your desecration, you were creating your own downfall, that you were empowering your very prisoners ..."
"No," the dragon tried to object, gagging on his tongue. "Shared ... we shared our power ... freely ..."
With a twist of her wrist the staff was brought up and thrust in the drake's direction, causing his throat to close and cut off his breath. She watched through angry eyes as he once again clawed at his neck, scrabbled against the floor in an attempt to draw air, eyes beginning to bulge out. "Open your mouth one more time and it will be the last," she said, withdrawing the power once again and allowing the creature to gasp for air. "Rise," she added, commanding him with a dangerous tone of voice.
The dragon complied, pulling itself up to all fours. In other circumstances, the beast might have looked fearful, powerful, but as she realized just how much power she wielded over it, she began to see it as little more than any other animal. Small and to be controlled. It did not deserve the power it held, and would surrender that power to her. That thought made her giddy with hunger, yet still caused her stomach to twist in knots. She could put it off no longer. "Present," she commanded.
The drake hissed at her lowly and bared rows of teeth, but she would no longer brook such dissent. "Present," she repeated, firmly, lifting the staff in an implied threat. The drake hissed angrily again, but chose not to defy her command, turning away to bare its side to her inspection. If she had not been watching intently, she might not have noticed the difference in the dim light of the chamber, but she knew what to expect and was watching for it, filled with a conflicting mixture of both dread and fascination, revulsion and eager anticipation.
A small vent between the drake's hind legs, hidden from view before, became apparent, and then he presented himself to her. The proof of his sex slid forth from that opening, dropping from the vent in his slit and then hanging between his legs. The sight of it appalled her; strangely shaped, pointed and curved upward, beset with a series of ridges, looking nothing at all like anything she had seen. She inwardly wished that there were some other way, some alternative to obtaining a drake's power, but generation after generation of priestess had undergone the same ritual, the same ceremony. There was no alternative.
It was no time to be showing any weakness toward the creature. Swallowing her fear and revulsion, she stood resolute, erect, holding the staff proudly before her in a reminder that she was still in control, that she could slay the creature at the first sign of trouble. Without hesitation she reached for the belt of her robe, snatching the end of it and pulling it free in one sweeping motion. Unbound, the cloth fluttered open and around her shoulders, flowing outward and then downward, undulating around her breasts and then fluttering down her torso until coming to rest in a loose pile around her ankles, leaving her exposed.
An involuntary shudder ran down her body as her skin prickled, covered in gooseflesh. Her torch did little to warm the dank little chamber, cold and damp against her body. The dragon hissed angrily at her once more, but she simply squeezed the staff in her hand. It was enough to warn him of how serious she was. Kellen realized that the longer she waited, the more room she left for doubt, fear, and uncertainty to fill her heart. Screwing her features up into a scowl, she approached the wooden framework at the center of the room.
Quickly she mounted the flattened saddle, letting her feet slip into the stirrups, her body reclining forward. The cloth against her skin was not very warm, either, and the wooden platform it was wrapped around was stiff and uncomfortable. The way the stirrups were positioned made her legs spread wide, and the way the entire framework was tilted forced her hips upward to expose herself to the air. In one hand she gripped the staff, firm and unyielding, the one source of protection that she would have. She needed the reassurance; she felt suddenly and incredibly vulnerable.
For all his protestations, the drake was not hesitant about this part of the ceremony, a fact that did not surprise her in the least. "Foul beasts," she whispered inaudibly to herself as she heard the creature scoot up behind her, rising up on its haunches and stepping over her, its forelimbs clasping on to the wooden forelegs of the frame, claws digging into the wood and adding new divots to join the rest. She could feel its scales, surprisingly warm to the touch, brushing over her back and her shoulders, and hear the ragged breathing that now filled her ears. She felt very afraid, and fought not to show it.
Then he mounted her. It was swift and certain, unyielding as his flesh was forced between her legs, piercing her depths without any hint of hesitation. She felt her grip on the platform suddenly tighten as flames of pain shot up between her legs, and she had to bite her lower lip to keep from screaming. She had been in the company of men before, but this was unlike any man; the size was too great for her. That fact did not seem to deter the beast, whose hips began to eagerly piston forward against her, causing her body to press and grind against the framework, shooting yet more pain up between her legs.
She felt tears beginning to form in the corners of her eyes, tears of pain, and tears of shame. One must be brought low echoed in her head, and she understood it completely. There was no valley lower than this, nothing more shameful than being mounted by such a foul and lowly creature. She knew she could not abandon herself to her tears, that she must remain strong, and fought to hold them back.
In an attempt to divorce herself from the situation, she closed her eyes and remembered what she had been taught, why the step was necessary. The dragons were creatures of magic, and through magic they reproduced. Their seed was potent and endowed with not only the spark of life, but with the spark of power. When it found its home in the womb of a female dragon it would sprout into a new life, filling the egg with that energy, creating a new creature of magic and power, but when that seed could not find the proper womb to fertilize, the inherent power in that seed would disperse, radiating into whatever it encountered. So it was that their ancestors, the ones the dragons had raped, had been endowed with a power of their own, as the errant seed died in their own bodies, the power filling their every bone, their every muscle. That would be the fate of this dragon's seed.
Her attempt to sequester her mind for the duration was interrupted when the fiery sensation in her loins rose again, sharp pains shooting up her back as the drake's rutting increased in speed and severity. The wooden framework beneath her began to creak with the force of the creature's thrusts, each one compressing her body painfully against the platform, squeezing the breath out of her before relaxing enough to let her draw a breath. It was getting out of control. "S - stop ... you ... you're hurting me," she said, trying to sound firm and commanding between the gasps of breath.
The dragon only responded with a threatening hiss, redoubling its efforts and slamming her painfully. The jolt rocked through her body and made her shudder, brilliant points of light staining the edges of her vision as she tried to suck down another breath, when the quiet sound of something clattering on the floor caught her attention.
Her eyes flicked downward and for a second did not realize what she saw. Then, with a cold wave of panic that rose up in her gut and washed over her spine, she understood what had made the clattering sound. The singular, punishing thrust had caused her to briefly lose her grip, her staff sliding out of her hand and coming to a rest against the ground. As soon as she realized what had happened she reached for the staff, but she was too late; the drake, quicker in his response, had snatched up the staff and held it beyond her reach, growling triumphantly.
In ordinary circumstances, she might have felt slightly panicky if her staff had fallen into another's hand. Here, pinned down by a filthy creature in the midst of a rut, that panic was transformed into sheer terror. With a gasp, she did the only thing she could think to do. "Put that down," she commanded, her voice as stern and unyielding as she could manage in the circumstances.
"Very well," the drake replied in a smug voice, surprising her with his willingness to comply. Any relief she felt quickly evaporated as she watched the creature loosen his grip, the staff tumbling through the air well out of her reach, striking the ground below with a quiet shattering sound. She watched, horrified, as the slightly glowing gem burst into countless tiny shards, each of them instantly sublimating into a crimson mist that swirled in front of her face. She gasped in dismay, and in doing so inhaled some of the swirling mist. It had a foul, acrid taste, burning the back of her throat and throwing her into a fit of coughing.
Kellen almost did not care about the pain she felt in her throat, nor the fire she felt between her legs. She had just witnessed the unimaginable, the destruction of the staff of control. The slight glow of the scarlet cloud in front of her eyes seemed like an accusation, proof of her failure as a priestess, proof of her inadequacy, but more than that, it was a damning testament to the fact that she had just managed to unravel the single most important possession in the entire realm. If she had not been weak, if she had not tried to focus her mind elsewhere, she would have been more alert, would never have dropped the staff. She could have used its power to force the dragon to comply, but now it was gone.
Then she expected to be killed on the spot. Only moments before the drake had hurled itself at her with murderous intent, and without the staff to keep him in check there was nothing to prevent him from doing just that. Instead, the drake continued with his rutting. She could feel his heavy, scaled body pressing down against her, his hips crashing into her own, the thick and terrifying shaft that was being rudely thrust into her body. In a quiet corner of her mind, she concluded that the beast could not stop what he had begun. Too base a creature to rise above the power of such need and instinct, even knowing that the completion would result in her gaining his power, once again giving her the ability to defend herself, and to punish him. The dragon knew what the outcome would be, yet still would not relent. It was enough to put a glimmer of hope in her heart. The phrase again echoed in her mind: one must be brought low.
The force of the rutting was becoming too much, however. The framework beneath her continued to creak and groan, the joints beginning to splinter as they were pushed to their limit. The beast was not content to simply have its way with her, but intended to do so in the most brutal and inhumane fashion possible. The hope in her heart was quickly banished with the chilling realization that the dragon still intended to kill her, but not swiftly. The ferocity of what he was doing was too much. She would either be crushed to death against the framework, or it would give way and she would fall headlong into a shower of splinters against the stone. No, he was not merely having his way with her; he was killing her.
Clenching her eyes shut and her fists tight, she summoned enough energy and courage to speak up between her ragged gasps for air. "Stop ... stop ... I command you to ... stop ..."
The drake paused, but just long enough to breathe out a low growl. "You have no power over me any longer, bitch."
The anger and threat in his voice was unmistakable, driving a shiver down her spine once more. Her power over him was gone, but she was not yet powerless. "No ... stop ... or I will scream ... for help ..."
"Scream," the drake hissed, leaning in close enough that his breath spilled out over her neck, humid and foul against her skin. "Scream, and I will break your neck before you hear the first echo," he said, and to drive the point home, clasped his jaws around her neck and clamped down hard. With a whimper, she could feel the points of those teeth creating painful little divots in her skin, could feel the slick heat of his tongue flopping against her neck and sliding lewdly against her flesh, using the grip of his jaw on her to keep her head pressed firm against the platform.
The rough weave of the cloth dug into her cheekbone, the scent of countless other such matings forever imbued into the cloth and now rancid in her nose. She felt a trickle along the side of her neck, unsure if it was the drake's spittle or her own blood oozing from the dozens of tiny punctures its teeth were causing. Satisfied that she had been silenced, the creature redoubled its efforts, abandoning itself to a feral rut, forcing her body painfully against the framework and wracking her with pain from head to toe.
Kellen did not imagine that she could ever be brought so low. She felt tears beginning to spill from her eyes, unbidden and unhindered. If she screamed, the others would come and take down the beast, but only after it had killed her. If she remained silent, she had some small chance that the dragon would not break her, that she would still be drawing breath by the time he had finished himself, imbuing her with his own power and giving her the ability to dispense retribution as she saw fit. It was her only hope, and she clung to it with every fiber of her being. If earning power required one to be brought low, she expected near infinite strength after being brought to this pit of despair.
Mercifully, she would not have to wait. As the drake had given itself over to its bestial needs, it had unwittingly hastened the climax of the encounter. Soon the fire in her loins took on a new character, swelling outward and filling the pit of her stomach with a searing, intense sensation. For a moment she felt as if her insides were being torn apart, ripped asunder by the intrusion, but then the pain began to ebb and the heat radiated outward. Is this it? Is this fire the power, the magic, flowing into me?
Her question was answered only another moment later, as the drake released its grip on her neck and bellowed out a low, echoing roar that was an unmistakable signal of his climax. She wondered if the guards would come at that moment, but realized that it must have been a familiar sound to them, an indication that the ritual had been a success. She knew that they would not enter, but she also knew there would be no need. She could sense the bursting deep inside of her womb, the rush of raw energy that coursed out into her body. She could imagine it coalescing into a knot deep inside of her, seeking what it would not find before dispersing itself into her own form, and then she would strike back.
Then the beast was done. It dismounted her unceremoniously, staggering off to the side of the chamber while panting in an effort to regain its own breath. Kellen ignored it for the moment, focusing on calming herself, her chest still heaving with pained breaths, her loins still burning with pain. Unsteadily she rose, pushing herself up from the platform and trying to stand in the stirrups, but her legs had been spread too wide, for too long, and would not hold her weight. She fell backward with a crash, landing on her buttocks and then rolling to her side.
Still she could feel the swell of power within her. It was enough to give her the energy to push herself up slightly, holding herself up with one hand as she shot a withering glance at the drake across the room. If she had the power she would have struck out and destroyed him, but it was not yet complete. Soon, she would have her chance.
Then the creature seemed to notice her again, fixing its eyes upon her. For a brief second she realized that she was not empowered against him, and the beast, now sated, would have every opportunity to rip her throat out. Instead, it simply stared at her with widened eyes, his expression one of eagerness and anxiety. Confused, she tried to pull herself up again but the muscles of her thighs protested. Hurry, she silently willed the power within her.
The sensation within her grew more poignant still, but then seemed to change. The fire did not dim but took on a more physical dimension, tightening with in the pit of her stomach before it began to swell. She realized that it was more than her imagination, as she began to feel physically ill. At first it was a sensation like being full, but quickly grew beyond that. To her horror, she watched as a lump appeared just beneath her navel, small at first but quickly expanding. It grew, upward and outward, forcing her belly to swell, round and protruding. "Wh - what ..."
The drake hissed again, rising up on all fours and giving her a look that verged on a smile. "At last ... at last!"
A sensation like terror began to rise in her breast as the dragon slunk in her direction, and she tried to push herself away from him. "What have you done to me?"
Then it was upon her again, hovering over her. With surprising gentleness, the creature reached out and brushed a talon over her swollen stomach, gazing at her with widened eyes. "Mine ... my egg ... my child ..."
For a second what he said did not register, and when it did, she was dumfounded. "That's not possible, I'm not ... it doesn't work that way ..."
The dragon did not respond for a moment, engrossed with the sight of her swollen stomach, before finally snapping its eyes back up to hers and then sneering. "Not what you expected? You had hoped for my seed to find a barren womb, one incapable of nurturing young, and granting you the gift of my power? No, no, I have granted you far more than that. I have granted you something far more precious, something that has been missing, wanted for so long. You have been given the womb of a broodmother ... and now the gift of my seed ..."
She shook her head defiantly. "That's not possible, that ... that can't happen ..."
Still sneering, the drake turned and stepped toward the cloud of crimson that still hung low in the air where the head of the staff had been shattered. "The Bloodstone, the stone of Betrayal. My power ... the power of my brethren, you were able to subvert, but ours is a limited might. Our females, our consorts, their power was a greater one, a purer one. Ours is the power to spark life, and theirs is to nurture it and bring it in to this world. Theirs was a power that your people could not take, could not corrupt. So when your people betrayed us, they cut our females down, bled them, destroyed them ..."
Kellen was shivering, hugging her arms around herself and shaking her head. "Lies ... you tell lies ..."
"Lies?" The drake leaned forward and hissed angrily in her direction. "For generations you priestesses have told one lie after another, but I was there. I watched helplessly, forced to stand by while they were murdered, one after another, their blood gathered into vile stones and used as talismans against those who they loved. I watched as our broodmother wept, saved until the last to watch her sisters and her daughters throats cut, to watch her sons and her brothers fall under the persuasion of the stones. I watched till the last, when she was the last that remained, weeping for those who had been slain, mourning for the trust that your people had so selfishly destroyed. She wept bitter tears long after they had torn her flesh asunder, she wept bitter tears until the last of her life was spilled. I watched, helpless, as your people bathed themselves in her blood and used it to fashion that wicked talisman, that Stone of Betrayal. I was there to witness it all; I was her consort and she was my love."
His words were laced with more raw hatred and vitriol than she could have imagined, and were enough to make her cringe and push her back against the wall. He had to be lying, she told herself, an attempt to further confuse her. To what end, she did not realize. She hugged herself around the chest again, her eyes moving to the unnatural swell in her stomach, the sight of it making her dizzy again. It was not possible that what the drake said could be real.
"You have been granted her womb that you may carry my egg and witness the rebirth of my clan," he said, somewhat calmer yet more vindictive. "You will never have her purity of spirit but you must be remade in her image that our legacy may continue. It pains me to do so," he said, no longer addressing her directly but speaking into the air. "Forgive me, love."
She blinked in confusion as the dragon leaned in close to the wispy remains that the shattered stone had evaporated to, blowing on it softly. In response it writhed about madly, twisting and swirling about itself for a moment as if it had come alive, before it suddenly moved in her direction. Before she could react, the mist was upon her, settling against her skin and making it burn with an incandescent pain that seared her so deeply, when her mouth opened to let out a pitiful scream it was robbed of any voice. Collapsing forward, the strength from her muscles sapped in that instant, she could only weep in horror at the sensation. Then the mist was no longer, and with it went the pain.
For a moment she wondered if that was to be the extent of her punishment, but then the warmth within her loins began to flicker once again. She looked down between her legs and tried to gasp in fright as a dark, viscous fluid began to seep out from her violated nethers, oozing over her thighs and coating them with a substance that felt thick and hot all at once. It moved of its own accord, as if it were a living thing, tendrils of the stuff shooting up over her distended stomach and wrapping around her chest. She reached with a hand to try and brush it off, but more tendrils split off and immediately encircled her arm, pulling it tight against her and wrapping around her as effectively as a rope. A final time she tried to scream, but the stuff suddenly shot up and filled her throat, gagging her and cutting off any sound. Her breath had been cut off too, and in a panic she realized that she was going to suffocate. Her eyes went wide just in time to see a rope of the stuff reaching for her head, and then she was blind.
Her world had gone black. Though she could no longer see she could feel the cool kiss of the air on the parts of her body still exposed to the air, quickly being enveloped by the strange substance that was rapidly enshrouding her in its dark, heated grasp. She was vaguely aware of the instant in which she was fully enveloped, thrashing to no avail as it had pulled her limbs in tight, unable to move in any fashion except to squirm uselessly on the ground. Her voice was cut off as she tried to beg for mercy, unable to breath, unable to do anything but let out a muffled groan.
Then it began to squeeze. As effectively as a snake cutting off the life of its prey, the tendrils that had enveloped her body began to contract, squeezing her from her head to her toe. Again she made a vain effort to move, to escape, to do anything, but the shroud that had enveloped her held her fast. Her lungs seared from the lack of air, her panicked muscles quivering and giving way to a maddened seizure that must have been muted by the dark around her, the searing pain wracking her to the marrow of her bones. She did not know if the ever tightening grip that seemed intent upon crushing her to dust would kill her before the lack of breath stole her spirit away, but she was not sure which was the better fate.
Though she had not eyes to see, she could imagine what it must look like from beyond. The pressure was greatest upon her neck, tightened in far more deadly a grip than a hangman's noose, more a living thing of magic filled with all the malice and evil that the dragon could muster. It contracted about her and brought her limbs in close, forcing her into something like a fetal position, her hands brought near one another. It must have looked like she was begging for mercy.
It did not relent. So complete was the grip that the darkness had on her, she could feel it between her fingers, between her toes, squeezing down upon them individually. Her bones would be crushed into powder, her head burst open like an overripe melon. She knew the end was near, yet not near enough. She imagined the foul beast laughing as it slowly tightened its magic about her, reveling in her painful, final moments; her only consolation was knowing the creature would surely be sentenced to a terrible fate for its betrayal.
Then the unexpected happened. The writhing sheet of magic about her seemed to unravel, splitting into a thousand thousand tiny shreds of shadow, stretched too thin around her body and bursting like cloth stretched too thin. Suddenly she could feel the kiss of air upon her lips, and with an immense gasp she drew in a mighty lungful of air, quenching the dire burning that she felt within, pulling her back from that precipice and back into the light. He had gone too far. The dragon had tightened his magic about her too tight, and it could not contain her - it had been stretched to the limit and burst. She opened her eyes to flash him a wicked and triumphant glare.
What she saw made her heart sink. She was prostrate on the ground, forced upon all fours, yet at the same time she was standing nearly erect. She looked down at her hands, her arms in horror as she watched the tattered shreds of the dragon's magic falling from her limbs, revealing beneath them an expanse of dull scales, greens and browns. A frightened gaze was cast along her figure, and it was one that made her chest again swell with panic. Her bosoms were gone, replaced by a series of undulating scales that ran on down between her legs and continued beyond in the form of a tail. The magic had not burst because it was drawn too tight - it had burst because she had grown within it. Somehow, the foul creature had contrived to despoil her body and replace it with the crude, bestial image of a dragon.
"How ... how dare you," she said, her voice lined with an angry, dangerous growl as she looked back up to the drake. When she found herself staring right back into her own visage - her human visage - she felt her jaw drop.
She saw herself speak, but the voice that came out was low, gravelly, and angry. It was the voice of the drake. "Ah, my precious, my love ... you have no idea how it pains me so, to see your beauty in this ... this ... monster," he said, clearly addressing the memory of his former consort.
Kellen would not have it. If nothing else, she was now endowed with the physical power of a dragon, and intended to use it against this pretender. "You will pay for this," she said, coiling her muscles and gathering them for a strike.
The dragon in her image merely laughed. He now wielded the broken Staff, but by some magic had conjured up a jewel for it out of thin air. The staff was tilted forward only a fraction of an inch, but the sensation that struck Kellen was like that of a thousand tons of rock crashing into her. She felt herself thrown backward, the breath torn from her lungs, suddenly feeling powerless. "No, you will pay. You and all your kind will pay for the crimes committed upon my people," the dragon said, leering at her. "It begins with you. Now you will know the pain of being locked up in here, forced to serve those who have power over you."
Kellen growled, hunching down and glaring though she was effectively cowed by the power of the staff. "You'll never get away with this, you'll be stopped."
"How, pray tell, do you intend to stop me now?"
"I'll ... I'll call out for them. Tell them what you've done ... call for help. They'll bring down the power of the temple upon you, and then ..."
Another wave of the staff silenced her, her muscles ringing with pain while the dragon walked over to her clothes and began to put them on. "As if they will believe you, a dragon, over me. No, I have hungered for this day for generations, and it is not about to be spoiled. Not by you, not by anyone. Today marks the beginning of our freedom ... today marks the rise of the dragons, once again. Soon, I and all my brothers will be free from this servitude, and your pitiful nation will be destroyed."
The vitriol in the dragon's voice was enough to make her cower back again, every bit as effectively as the power of the staff had. The realization of what had happened, what was happening was beginning to sink into her mind, a thick darkness enveloping any hope that she might have had. Was it actually possible that she, who was destined to be the high priestess of the land, the leader of her people, would be the one to bring the entire kingdom into ruin? "What ... what ... what are you going to do?"
"What you did to me," the dragon in her image said, his low, scathing voice strange and unnatural coming from what looked like her own mouth. "What you did to my people. You will be forced to watch as one by one, my brethren will trade place with those whores who come down here to steal their essence. You will watch as each one of them are chained down here in the dark, forced to wallow in the filth and subside on rotten meat and offal. You will watch as, one by one, we steal your forms and infiltrate your pitiful little temple, until every last one of you is chained down here to serve myself and my brethren as we see fit.
"Then, when we are done," he said, stepping in closely and lifting the staff, waving it in front of her face in a threatening manner. "When all of your precious whores have been locked up down here and made to suffer what we have suffered, then you will have to watch as one by one, your men are slain. One by one, we will bring them down here into this pit, cut them down, and bleed them dry in front of your very eyes. Every man you have ever touched, ever loved, ever cared for will die slowly in front of your eyes. You will be powerless to help them, chained in a filthy corner, able to do nothing but watch as the lifeblood flows from their throat, as they draw their last breath, their eyes silently begging you for the help you cannot provide."
Such imagery made her stomach churn and recoil inside of her. Instinctively she withdrew from the leering dragon in her own body, feeling her claws scrabbling against the floor, pushing herself back in against the side of the room, shaking her head back and forth. The dragon, it seemed, had not had enough, as he stalked in closely and flashed a sadistic smile in her direction. Somehow, seeing that expression on her own face terrified her almost as much as the situation itself. "We are not unreasonable, not without mercy. When we are done, we will reveal ourselves to your populace, we will reveal the untold secret of our past, of the horrors you have visited upon my kind. Those who choose to remain and serve us will be allowed to do so in peace. Those who do not will be expelled from this land, forever exiled on pain of death. Thus your nation, your generations of lies, your enslavement of my kind will be at an end."
"But ... but ... it does nothing ... you are still few ... you ... can't get away with this ..."
"We will," the dragon snapped back, trying to breathe out a hiss that came across strange from his illusory human form. "And that is how you will truly serve us. Come," it commanded, yanking her along with the compelling force of the rod that he bore. It was every bit as effective as a chain that might have been lashed around her throat, tugging her forward through the short passageway and back into the darkened main cavern. In the low light, she could still make out eleven pairs of eyes that were pointed in her direction, numerous low hisses sounding all around. Had they heard what had happened? Did they know who she was?
"You have been granted the womb of a broodmother, but you are not a broodmother," the dragon said, its voice beginning to change, modulate, grow lighter and higher to sound like her own. "You are nothing more than a vessel for our young. You will bear my child, and when you are done, you will bear me another. My family will be rebuilt through your service, whether it takes years, decades ... or centuries. Yes," he said, his voice finally matching the natural tone of her own, still laden with toxic intent as it seemed to have picked up on her fear. "Centuries. You will live that long, if I desire it. You will be chained here for that long, if I desire it. And you will bear me a legacy, for as long as I desire it."
The dragon made a sound like a snort through her own nostrils. "And the rest of the whores in the temple will serve the same fate. They shall be chained down here in this filth, and shall provide each of my brethren with a womb to fill, that they too may have a legacy." A little flick of the dragon's wrist and she heard the telltale sound of locks being undone, falling against the dirty stone floor with a dull metallic thud. They came in intervals, and she could count them as they fell. Clack, clack, clack. It went on to the count of eleven, and then stopped. The realization of what it was made a chill run down her spine. "Perhaps, in time, you will come to feel repentant, ask ... nay, beg, for our forgiveness. And if you have served us well over the years, perhaps you will be forgiven, and allowed to join our society. Not as equals, but at least your chains will be broken. Perhaps. We are, after all, reasonable creatures."
Several low scrapes sounded in the void as the dragon in her form lifted the staff once more, and she felt a force compelling her backward. Before long she realized that she was being forced into the alcove where the dragon had originally been locked up; another metallic clink sounded as she felt the cold grip of steel around her wrist. She was being chained in his place; a dark, cold, dank prison, surrounded by dirt and filth and rotting flesh. "Please ..."
If the dragon heard her plea, he did not respond. Resolutely he strode toward the exit, raising the staff, before he turned down and flashed her a withering smile with her own face. "It may be some time before I see you again, so know this. Care well for my progeny, for if any ill befalls my egg, the same ill will befall you a thousandfold. In the meantime, serve my brethren well. Long have they been forced to forgo the pleasures of a dragoness." With a wicked smile, he turned on his heel, rapped on the door and commanded in a loud voice, "Open!"
Kellen could only watch in mute horror as the door was opened, a crimson rectangle of firelight from beyond framing the form of her own body striding up the pair of steps and out of the dungeon. She wanted to call out, cry to the guards, but her voice would not rise in her chest. The heavy door closed with a finality, a terrible thud of metal against stone that signaled her final failure, sealed up her final fate. In the dark of her prison, she could see eleven pairs of eyes approaching her, no longer shackled in their little alcoves. Eleven pairs of hungry, vengeful, needy eyes descended upon her. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out.
The only sound that would be heard in the dungeon for some time was the scrabble of talons on stone, the needy grunts of hungry drakes, the rasp of scale on scale. Kellen had finally met her destiny; not high priestess to her people, but the means of their undoing.
One must be brought low ...