Unthinkable
#4 of The Conqueror's Saga
Okay, a quick disclaimer:
All characters are copyrighted to me, with the exception of Kurtsa who is, of course, copyrighted to Kurtsa!
Then we have the usual crap about don't read if your underage... stay in school... don't do drugs unless you want to impress your friends... etc etc.
Oh, and I'd also like to take this opportunity to announce the coming of a new Cyris series: Walking The Thin Blue Line.
Now, on with the show!
Unthinkable
Victories come to me
Like moths to a flame
Defeat is a word
Unknown to my ears
A storm hangs in the air
Ready to unleash its fury
But upon who remains to be seen...
We stood like rocks, those ancient sentinels of the world. We stood, without fear, without expression, with only grim determination in our hearts. Fenrir was to my right, arms crossed and eyes stern. He looked a little tired after last night: selfishness and lack of foresight on my part. The noonday sun was obviously taking its toll on him. Under his black armour and black fur, he was sweating almost as much as he was back in my carriage. I gave a tight smile, my scales protecting me from any heat.
Around us the army hung in expectation. It had taken the full force of my personality, and not a little threatening, to bend the bandit clans to my will. Even then, standing on the crest of a hill, my forces assembled before me, I still had a niggling doubt. The bandits were unreliable at the best of times, and I was sure they had an inkling of my plans.
'My lord, the men are eager for blood,' I gazed to my left and down at the Rat standing next to me. Mersey, I think his name was. It was unimportant anyway, he'd be dead by sundown. I'd see to it personally if I had too. His attitude was insufferable. 'We yearn for battle.'
'A few more minutes, Mersey.' He looked displeased. 'Humour me,' I rumbled, my eyes flashing. 'By the end of the day you will be sated.'
'Better bloody be,' I heard Mersey mutter as he walked away. I contemplated incinerating him right then and there. Fenrir saw the murderous look in my eyes.
'Have patience.' How well he knew me. 'Was I so different when you first met me?'
'At least you had a vestige of intelligence.'
'It's nice to know you think so highly of me.'
'You grew on me,' I gave a low, throaty chuckle. 'Are you sure you're up to this? You can sit this one out, if you wish.'
I had obviously caught him off guard. 'My lord,' he gasped, 'I would not be parted from your side for one moment. Especially not in your hour of victory.'
'Our hour, Fenrir, our hour.' I patted him on the shoulder, looking out across the plains to Gallante. The Scarlet Crusaders - an apt name, by today's end. King Kurtsa and his blind followers would drown in their own blood by sun fall. My face twisted into a half-snarl, half-grin as I watched the crimson armoured soldiers march from the city gates to meet us. Rank and file, ordered and disciplined. That wouldn't last long.
The crusaders spread out on the plains: eight legions wide, three deep. The noonday sun glimmered off their spears, their banners fluttered in the gentle breeze. A lesser creature would have quailed at such a show of force, indeed, I myself felt a momentary pang of doubt. Gallante were undefeated, the tactical prowess of its commanders was legendary, every crusader would take five enemies down with him.
But then I felt a sudden surge of confidence. A crusader may be worth five of my soldiers, so it was fortunate we outnumbered them six to one. As for tactics, well, I had decided with Fenrir, during one of our brief rests last night, that a 'less is more' approach would be best. A sudden, head on attack would, hopefully, throw Gallante off.
'Lord Xethrall, a herald approaches!' Sarreth, now promoted to a Lieutenant, pointed at a golden blur bearing down upon us. Cheetah, if its speed and colour were anything to go buy. My grin spread: Kurtsa, renowned for his virtue and goodness, was trying to negotiate. Negotiate! I had to laugh. Righteous, but fatally foolish. Had he not heard that I do not negotiate?
My soldiers parted, giving the Cheetah a straight path to me. Without even the merest hint of exertion, he stood and gave a curt nod. 'Xethrall, I come with a proclamation from King Kurtsa.'
'Indeed?' I cocked my head to one side and raised an eyebrow.
'And I must also inform you,' the Cheetah continued, staring nervously around at my men, 'that under the Convention of Elian, heralds are protected from threats of violence or force. Killing me would be a direct violation of the Convention.'
'Well, I must inform you that I signed no such Convention, so you better pick your words carefully.'
The Cheetah took an involuntary step back, his face bearing a look of horror. It was evident what he thought of me: purely malevolent, utterly evil. A monster (which I was quite fine to go along with.) If Kurtsa was expecting me to play fair, square and by-the-rules, he was going to be sorely disappointed.
'King Kurtsa is prepared to offer you and your men clemency and land if you lay down your weapons. He was grant you an official pardon and allow you to settle on Gallante land, providing you swear never to take up arms again.'
I threw my head back and roared with laughter. 'An official pardon? Land? Bah...' I gave a dismissive wave of my claw. 'Why should I be content with a few leagues of land, when I could rule the world? What good is an official pardon when your dear King lies dead at my feet.'
'It is unwise to provoke Gallante, Xethrall. King Kurtsa may be mercifully, but he will not shun from unleashing his fury upon you and your barbarous followers.'
'I wouldn't have it any other way. Now, are you finished wasting my time?'
The Cheetah looked at me, his eyes deliciously wide. I could see through them and into his mind: he'd expected he would be returning home, he'd expected me to be as merciful as his master and honour the Convention. Now he realised the truth, and could see he would not live another minute. I could see him mouthing his plea as Fenrir moved silently behind him, sword raised for an executioner's blow. Well, the least I could do was reward his bravery with a swift death.
'And I'll never know his name,' I sighed, shaking my head.
'My lord, Kurtsa is advancing.'
I stood for a full minute, silence holding all those around me in suspense. It wasn't fear that belayed my orders, just a heightened sense of awareness. I was, in that moment, profoundly aware of myself. The slow rhythm of my heart, the deep rustle of my lungs, the sunlight gently warming my hard scales, the stench of the unwashed bandits surrounding me... damn, I would most certainly not miss them.
'My lord?'
'There'll be no drums today. Sound the charge.'
The order was quickly relayed, moving like a wave across the thousands of black hearted warrior's I'd rallied to my banner. This wasn't like the epic stories of legend, this was the grim truth of the real world: the heroes would not triumph, darkness would cover the land. The sun would set today and never rise again in these lands.
The horns wailed and my followers roared in glee, breaking forward into a lope, an irresistible tide of flesh, spittle and iron. These weren't civilised creatures, indeed they were as far from Anthro Sapiens as possible, more like their feral ancestors of old. The way they howled and roared, some even loping on all fours towards the enemy, was so... barbaric. The exact thing I intended to cut out in my new world. Still, they were excellent tools, the perfects means to my end. I ran with them, led them, the sword in my paw and the daggers of my claws glinted in the light, dull in comparison to the fire in my eyes.
We swept aside the red armour like a tempest would sweep aside the wooden huts built along the coast. The first five lines of soldiers were crushed under our tide before any sort of resistance was mounted. They closed ranks, and the melee began in earnest. Screeches of pain, clangs of iron, a symphony of marvellous chaos. And I was in its centre, my sword a conductor's baton as I cut through all those with the misfortune to be in my way.
All those, save one. One single, particularly irritating royal, who only dared show his face when the tide was turning in my favour. Time blurs during a slaughter, so I couldn't tell for how long I'd been fighting, but by the amount of blood covering my blade I guessed it was some time. A hole in the battle seemed to open up around me, as a figure garbed in red breeches and cloak stepped forward. A creature of vivid pinks and blues with no weapons, no armour, no visible scars of battle...
'Kurtsa, I presume?'
'King Kurtsa, to you... miscreant.'
I chuckled. 'I hope you fight better than you insult. I would hate to see the famous Scarlet Crusader not live up to his reputation.'
'My reputation is well deserved, as you are soon to find out.'
'What?' I spat a single, mocking, scornful laugh. 'Without a sword, or even a suit of chain mail? How do you intend to survive ten seconds against a creature bred for war?'
'Like this,' Kurtsa growled, waving his hand before him. There was a pause and I drew in a breath to laugh. It could very well have been my last breath, had sheer good luck not saved my scaly hide. Seemingly out of nowhere, a tremendous explosion erupted right before my face, blasting me back on a wave of heated air. The sheer weight of my armour cracked the ground where I lay, dazed and not a little surprised.
'A Magi?' I managed to grunt out. 'Impossible. Your sort were annihilated centuries ago.'
'Not all of us. Now pick up your sword, I would hate to see the Dragon of Death not live up to his reputation.'
'What's the point? You'll just knock me back down again with your cursed wizardry!'
'Perhaps, perhaps not,' Kurtsa raised his paws into a defensive stance, his legs spread and his shoulders set. 'Stand, Xethrall.'
'As you wish,' I spat, scrambling to my feet and scooping up my sword, then throwing myself forward at Kurtsa. My anger pushed me forwards, blinding me with red as I slashed wildly. Yet Kurtsa was slippery, and always one step ahead of me: ducking and weaving around my sword before planting a foot paw right under my muzzle and knocking me spinning away. 'Damn it,' I growled into the dust as my sword skidded away again. 'I thought you were supposed to shun humiliation.'
'I'm making an exception for you,' Kurtsa snarled, advancing on me. 'For years you've slaughtered, maimed, usurped, butchered-'
'I hope you're going somewhere with this. I'm well aware of my actions.'
'You are the definition of monster, and ridding this world of you will be an act of unparalleled good.'
'Well, there's one slight problem with that...' I'd been so unbelievably stupid. How could I have forgotten my trump card? Kurtsa had his infernal tricks, but I had one of my own. I began to fill my lungs, the glands at the back of my throat opening and my internal fire sparkling to life.
'And that is?'
'You have to kill me.' The air in my lungs was suddenly gone, replaced by a raging inferno. My jaws unhinged as I roared, belching a plume of fire directly at Kurtsa. The pink and blue of his fur disappeared as I pushed myself to my limits, lasting longer than I'd ever lasted before. Breathing fire, I found, was a lot like an orgasming: it could be short and massive or drawn out. This was definitely drawn out. As the fire died down and the smoke billowed around his, I groaned with the exertion. Still, it was a small price to pay for seeing the charred corpse of King Kurtsa.
Speaking of which, why hadn't I heard the unmistakable sound of his powdered bones crunching against the rock? My stomach lurched as the smoke began to clear, revealing a patch of blazing blue. 'Impossible...' My jaw fell open as the protective bubble of air around Kurtsa shimmer and disappear. 'Just die!' I roared, leaping up and charging forward, claws bared. Kurtsa froze, not expecting me to have any fight left. I had him!
Then I felt my claws clash with claws. My black paws mirrored by black paws. My burning eyes met dark, soulless depths. I only managed to grunt out one word before he knocked me out.
'Brother...'
XXX
'You know how I despise torture.'
'Yes, my King, but surely this is an exceptional case.'
'Hmm...'
'You said it yourself: he's a monster. A monster does not fear death, he fears being broken. I can break him, shatter him into a million shards...'
'Please, Zaphaniel... None of this barbaric rhetoric...'
'I thought that's why you hired me.'
'I hired you for one reason, and one reason alone: to destroy Xethrall. Now you've done that, collect your pay and leave.'
'Don't you remember what my pay was?'
Dimly, I heard the first voice, Kurtsa's, I guessed, groan. 'Yes, I do. Very well, Zaphaniel... go destroy your brother.'
'You're kinder than words, King Kurtsa.'
'And you are no better than your brother.'
'Then be glad I'm on your side.'
I heard footsteps from far away, and tried to open my eyes. Nothing. It was as dark with them closed as it was with them open. I was having difficulty telling which was which. Then a door groaned open and blazing, burning light filled the room, stinging my eyes and causing me to cry out with pain.
'It's been a while since I heard you cry out like that, little brother. The last time, as I recall, you were on all fours with that delicious rump of yours lifted high into the air.'
'That was a long time ago,' I growled, lunging for my brother. There was a clank and I shook, just realising I was manacled to the wall.
'Yes, before you tried to kill me. And the rest of your family. And your kingdom.'
'What can I say? I always had a temper...' I lifted my upper lip in a snarl at my doppelganger. The only difference between the two of us were the wings on Zaphaniel's back, as befitting the Alpha Dragon.
'And where is your temper now?' Zaphaniel ran a paw along my muzzle, leaving a scalding trail on my scales. 'The Desert Flame, quashed? Surely not!'
'What are you doing here? Get out of my life and back into the nightmare you belong in.'
'Even since you levelled our home but failed to capture me, I've been hiring myself out as a soldier of fortune. When Kurtsa found out there was another, stronger Dragon roaming around, he simply had to have me. As you can see, my services have been invaluable.'
'But of course you're sadistic tendencies haven't been sated by simple victory, have they? No, you were never satisfied by just winning, you always had to break me as well.'
'Oh, you heard our conversation outside? I must admit, Kurtsa is far too honourable for his own good. He doesn't know how to treat prisoners,' he slapped me across the face, 'but I do.'
'Just do what you're here to do.'
'Oh, I'm not going to do anything. You have an old friend waiting for you outside.'
'As if one blast from the past wasn't enough,' I groaned, already guessing who it was. Surely enough, through the threshold stepped Iago, washed and dressed. He looked like a new Horse. It made me sick just looking at the bulge in his lower tunic. It was bad enough to have been defeated, but taken by one of my own slaves? Humiliating! And I was sure there'd be a long line after him.
'By my ancestors, for the past week this is all I've dreamt about.'
'What? Me bound and naked? Your ancestors are going to be disappointed in you.'
'Defiant to the last,' Zaphaniel sniggered as he reached into the folds of his tunic. 'Well, defiant until I slip you this.' His black paw tightened around something and my heart skipped a beat. Oh no... not that... anything else...
'You son of a bitch,' I growled, struggling against my chains, heaving my body forward as Zaphaniel pulled out a bottle of a blue, innocuous looking liquid. My throat was suddenly dry and I was sure I could taste bile at the back of my throat.
'Perhaps, but a son of a bitch with a wonderful sense of irony.' Zaphaniel nudged Iago in the ribs and both of them sniggered. It seemed the two of them were in on the joke. 'After all... isn't this what you've done to almost all your victims? This is your own medicine here, so enjoy the taste.'
With that, Zaphaniel grabbed my muzzle and shoved two fingers into my mouth before I had time to clamp my maw shut. Forcing my jaws open, he bit the top of the bottle and snapped it off before pouring the contents directly down my throat. I gagged, trying to prevent the damned substance from sliding down into my stomach. Anyway, if it came down to a choice between choking to death or swallowing, I knew which I'd choose.
My body had other ideas. Against my own will, I gasped for air and swallowed the tonic. Its effect was instantaneous, and grimly familiar. As soon as it hit the pit of my stomach, my entire chest burst into a fever. Fire burnt through my veins, sending my entire body into a sweating heat and leaving me breathless, and increasingly horny. Like I had all those years ago, when this drug had been a nightly affair, I tried to resist my body. I filled my mind with other things: the sound of the wind in the trees, the steady footfalls of marching soldiers...
All was in vain. Slowly, but surely, my length slipped from its sheath and began to fill with blood. I closed my eyes in shame and groaned as the muscles in my lower half loosened, my tailhole unclenching and expanding, almost as if it wanted the fucking that was to come. If there was one thing I was glad about, it was that my ebon scales hid any blush.
How could this have happened? This, surely, had to be a nightmare. I would wake up, with Fenrir beside me, and together we would march to certain victory. This had to be my mind recalling those horrific years of my early childhood, where my brother would, on a daily basis, subject me to this humiliation. Indeed, the way he stood just then, with his head tilted to one side, paw laid casually on his hip and the merest hint of an erection between his legs, could have been lifted directly from my memories.
'As dearly as I would like to stay, I must move on. Kurtsa is eager for me to interrogate Xethrall's little bitch. Who knows, the King himself might come down and greet you himself, Xethy,' he added with a chuckle, squeezing my aching member and making me groan, half in pain and half in pleasure. 'Enjoy him, Iago. And don't be quick about it.'
'No need to worry about that,' Iago replied as Zaphaniel left. As soon as the door was shut, Iago hurried to tear off his clothes and bare his member to me. Had it always been that big? Oh Gods... I was in for a sore one. If I hadn't been yearning to die, I would have begged my brother to come back and do me with his comparatively smaller monster.
'I can't begin to explain,' Iago started, stepping towards me, 'how much humiliation I've suffered over-'
'Save me the speech. If you're going to rape me, then just get on with it. I have a suicide to plan.'
'Oh?' Iago gripped my hips and spun me around, so my ass was flush with his raging cock. He began to rub it between my cheeks, and I let out an involuntary moan. 'I thought you couldn't rape the willing...' His warm cock disappeared, but before I had the chance to see where it had gone, it was back and ploughing its way into me. I hadn't screamed for years, but I screamed then, because I hadn't experienced that level of pain or humiliation for just as long. Iago may as well have rammed his entire arm up my tailhole. Only his arm wouldn't fill my gut with seed when he was finished. I guessed the only thing I could do was pray he'd finish quickly.
Iago pulled out a jabbed in again, spearing me and reducing my body to a quivering lump of flesh. I could feel every inch, every cursed vein inside me as he tried his best to tear me into two. It felt like a white hot poker worming up my intestines and fighting to punch into my stomach. My shoulders clicked as I went limp, letting the chains hold me there as Iago continued to pump. Slow, hard, savouring every agonising moment.
'How are you enjoying this?' Iago grunted, reaching between my legs and crushing my balls. 'You seem to be,' he continued, moving to my shaft.
'Don't let my brother's drugs fool you. I can't think of something more repulsive than this.'
'What about if I brought you along to watch while I fucked your precious puppy?'
And then my mind snapped. A tendon, perhaps, or the last chain of moral decency, but something broke in me, and whatever I had been paled in comparison to the beast Iago's words unleashed. The muscles along my arms tensed as a new strength flowed my veins, purging Zaphaniel's drug and freeing my mind of lust. Deep in my chest a growl began to rise, filling my throat and exploding from my muzzle to shake the very foundations of the prison. Iago froze mid-thrust. My roar continued, my paws balled into lethal fists as I began to pull against my bonds. The metal groaned and strained and eventually snapped. I instantly rounded on Iago and gripped his throat, pressing my thumb digits against his Adam's Apple. My lips curled into a snarl as Iago gurgled his last breath.
'That's what,' I hissed, stepping over his corpse and making my way to the door. Easily, almost effortlessly with my new strength, I tore it from its hinges and stepped out into a dark stone hallway. The stench of damp make my nostrils flare and, over the steady dripping of water in some invisible corner, I heard the crack of a whip. One word, one name, rand through my mind and brought with it fresh energy and rage.
'Fenrir.'
I broke into a sprint, my ears pinpointing through the stone walls exactly where my companion was being interrogated. And I thought Kurtsa didn't buy into torture...
With one shoulder before me, I put on a final burst of speed and brought my entire weight against the flimsy iron of the door. Like some black comet I flew into the cell, barrelling right into the chest. I heard a distantly familiar crack as his ribs shattered, the two of us falling to the cold ground. Rolling off him, I dug my claws into the footpaw of the other Cheetah and dragged him to the ground. I raised my arm and smashed my elbow into his muzzle, not even giving him the opportunity to scream.
'Xe-Xethrall?' Fenrir cracked one eye open, panting heavily. It was only now I got a clear view of him, unclouded by bloodlust. His entire back and chest were covered in long, brutal red welts. 'Is it really you?'
'It's me. I'm getting you out of this place. Even if I have to kill half of Gallante in the process.'
Fenrir winced with laughter. 'I wouldn't have expected anything else.'
'Come on,' I reached up and began to chew my way through the chains. Such a flimsy material couldn't hold up to the daggers in my mouth. 'Are you up to moving?'
'I... think so,' Fenrir took an experimental step forward. He looked as if he was capable of holding himself, but then he tottered, swayed and fell into my waiting arms. 'You knew that was going to happen,' he accused me.
'I had a hunch,' I replied, shrugging before throwing him over one broad shoulder. 'Now just hold on.' I turned and padded out, picking up speed as I wound through the identical corridors.
'Do you have any idea where you're going?'
'Haven't a clue.' Then I rounded a corner, and dug my heels into the ground. There, no more than twenty feet in front of me, was a thick looking, wooden door. The only problem was there were five soldiers standing between us and it. Well, it was a small problem for a creature like me. With a deep breath, I filled the entire room with lashing tongues of fire. At any other time, I would have enjoyed the sound of five souls screaming in agony as their fur was turned to dust and their skin began to burn like paper. At any other time, but now I had more pressing concerns.
Outside, for the wooden door led to a deserted back alley, the night air was cold. An evening wind cut through the alley, raising small moats of dust that floated past my face. A poet would probably have been mesmerised by such a small, yet perfectly intricate example of nature's beauty. I was, if you haven't already gathered, not a poet, I was a warrior who didn't have time to waste. I lurched forward, my body scattering the moat as I broke from the alley and raced down the quiet streets. The moon was high, so I guessed it must have been the depths of the night. Good, that meant no screaming crowds of innocents to barge through. No off duty soldiers, or would-be heroes to try and stop me.
'Halt!'
Belay that last remark...
'In the name of King Kurtsa, I command you to halt!'
'That's really not going to happen,' I grumbled, picking up my pace. The street was beginning to curve steeply down and to the right, following the contours of the hill Gallante was built on. Between the buildings, I could make out the gates, still open now peace had returned to the world. I let my weight carry me down the slope, now focussing most of my efforts on trying not to fall flat on my face. I was trying to make this the sort of dignified, dramatic escape that bards sang about years later. My dreams may have been lying in ruins around me, but I could still hope for some sort of immortalisation.
'Close the gates! Close the gates!'
If I hadn't been thundering down the cobbled street, I would have rounded on the guards and incinerated them where they stood for being such unparalleled pains in the rump. Their comrades at the foot of the hill heard their cries and scrambled to shut the massive contraptions.
I let myself go, giving in to the pull of my forward momentum and careening towards the gate. Seeing this, several of the guards broke off and tried to form themselves into a defensive line. But they were tired, and I'd caught them off guard, and as I crashing into them they scattered like leaves in the breeze.
We were through and out in a second. Free. Safe. I didn't stop running until we were a safe league from the city. All of a sudden, my second wind left me, my entire body drained of strength. I collapsed onto the soft grass, Fenrir lying limp against my chest. A blast of déjà vu hit me: Fenrir, lying on my bare chest, the pair of us panting like we'd both run marathons.
Only something was wrong with this memory. Fenrir had never had an arrow sticking out of his back.
'Oh... no...' I slipped out from under Fenrir and laid him chest down on the ground. 'Fenrir? Fenrir!'
'My lord? They... got me...'
'Ssh. Save your strength. You'll be fine. You going to let a little shaft of wood kill you?'
'Not really up to me to decide, is it?' Fenrir's laugh turned into a gargle as blood welled from his muzzle.
'Oh, fuck! Fenrir, stay with me. Don't you dare leave me!' I grabbed hold of one of his paws. 'Your lord commands it.'
'Sorry, my lord... for everything. I failed you.'
'No, you didn't. Don't talk nonsense. You were the best commander a blackguard like me could hope for. It doesn't matter that we lost the war. That doesn't matter compared to me... losing...'
I hadn't cried in years. I wouldn't cry now.
'My lord, you haven't lost...'
'What?'
'Go west... keep going until someone stops you. Tell them that Fenrir sent you. They'll understand,' Fenrir ground out the last word, his body contorting in pain.
'Fenrir? What are you talking about? Fenrir!'
'My lord, it's been an honour... I... I...'
'Don't say it, Fenrir. Do not say it!' I grabbed his shoulders and bellowed in his face. But no stare returned my fiery eyed rage. Fenrir's head lolled back: expressionless, a death mask. Head west? What was west, except an endless forest? A wilderness of monsters that no one had ever returned from?
Perhaps it was suicide, but it was Fenrir's dying wish. A dying wish that, he thought, might win me the war.
Burying him was out of the question. Any semblance of the last rites were out of the question. I could see the torches of a search party leaving the city already. I stood and loped off into the shade, letting the night swallow me.