The Vaid Empire

Vaid Empire: Conquest

Chapter 120

30th of Thriduin, 21 AVE. 

Kingdom of Wonakaros, Holy City of Arkos-Tul. 

The ancient city of Arkos-Tul was alive once more, for the empty city now echoed with the sounds of hundreds of thousands of temporary inhabitants. They settled into the corpse of the empty metropolis and made it breathe again. 

Arkos men, women, their children, all had come at the call of their Holy Kromak. Their great Wonaks roamed the dunes outside the wall-less city, the villages atop their backs drained of all but elderly caretakers. 

Many of the older children could remember the last time a great festival was hosted within the holy city a mere few years ago. Now, however, the population had been summoned not to celebrate, but to prepare to defend the memory of all their ancestors had built. Though the city echoed with lively trade, the inevitable shadow of their enemies drifted ever closer across the sands outside. 

The Holy Kromak shoved open the doors of The Great Temple to witness all those that would stand at his side and fight. They poured through the city, held back just beyond the temple steps by guards. A mere fraction of the summoned population was blessed with the opportunity to witness The Holy Kromak’s presence as he stood, for the massive crowds bled out into every branching street. Fewer would hear his words, yet the elders would carry them across the busy city for all to hear. 

On this day, the war for the fate of their species would truly begin. 

“People of Wonakaros, our treacherous kin of the East are conspiring with the humans at this very moment! They have knelt before the human conqueror and willingly submitted their blades to his cause! Together, they seek the destruction of all we know, a final war that shall see our history and traditions brought down! Now, I shall ask a single question of you all!” He lifted his chin and peered down at them with the judgment of a god. “Shall you kneel?” 

The crowds roared, shouting their refusals and spitting at the mere thought. 

“Just so.” He clasped all four of his powerful hands behind his back. “Yet they shall march! They shall soon cross the desert as one! Here, where our great ancestors struggled against the monstrosities of the desert during the first horrid generations, where they purged the weak and forged themselves into warriors, where they rose not only to survive the dunes, but to conquer them, I shall see you molded into one as well!” His words dripped with fervor, more than accustomed to concealing his true thoughts. “Beneath my holy command, I shall see the greatest of you forged into an army the likes of which Wonakaros has never seen!” 

Cheers echoed across the vast city, drinking in the words of their living deity, their savior. 

“Our eastern kin abandoned us long ago, leaving us to suffer in the desert while they hid in their mountains and along their rivers! Now they’ve sealed an oath to destroy all you know, Narok and human blades joining together to slaughter us!” He gestured to the crowds before him. “Divided, they shall cut you and your families down with ease! Together, we shall crush their armies and leave their corpses to rot beneath the sun!” 

He heard their devotion, their deafening shouts. He longed to feel such consuming commitment himself, if only for an instant. Instead, he could only play his part. 

“Each of you, every tribe, every man, every woman, put aside the petty rivalries that have long divided us, for I shall lead you to face the coming hordes as one! With the gods blessing our blades, we shall crush all that seek to conquer us!” He reached out and clenched his hand into a fist. “May the desert consume the flesh of our enemies! May the sand bury the bones of all those who would call themselves our masters!” He lifted both sets of strong arms, hands outstretched to bask in their fervor. “Wonakaros shall prevail!” 

The city erupted into shouts, a population ready to march to war beneath the command of their divine guardian. 

No further words would serve his aims. It was time to act. Turning his back to the cheers of the crowd, Krom marched through the doors of his temple, ready to truly begin his preparations. 

“Quite a rousing speech, father,” Saros greeted him, a voyeur listening behind the great doors. She joined his side, her hips swaying as she sought to keep up. 

“Words are as fickle as the changing dunes.” He strode with purpose. “I’d see them forged into steel.” 

39th of Thriduin, 21 AVE. 

Kingdom of Narok, Arkos-Nu. 

“Look at her. Sleeping so peacefully,” Vixin said, adoring the bundle she cradled in her arms. Beneath the vast ceiling of the colossal cave, as the sunlight of the desert poured through the open gates of the underground city, she held her newborn daughter. Having only recently endured the ecstasy of birth days ago, she gently rocked the hybrid girl despite the noise of the legion all around. 

“Oblivious to the coming horrors. How fortunate for her,” Yisi muttered quietly at her side, tightening the straps of Kixsi’s saddle. All around them were legionaries preparing to march to war. 

Vixin frowned at her tone. Looking down, she watched as her love’s daughter attempted to feed a skinny grey fruit to her mother’s lixidion, only for Jinilya to snatch it from the toddler’s clumsy grasp. Chiding the princess, Vixin forced her to return it to the girl. 

The royals were granted ample space among the legion. The guards watching over Vixin and her family moved aside, bowing. The movement caught her attention, sensing his approach before she turned around. Marching towards them, The God Emperor beheld his daughters. 

Bastard and legitimate, Dominax regarded them both with a smirk. He met Vixin’s silver gaze in silence, watching her blush as he moved closer to meet her lips. Their unsteady peace survived in the wake of their duel, her lips warm against his, offering a soft moan. Her body tingled at his touch, his hands finding her hips as neither cared for the gazes of those around them. It was only right that they should see, witnessing yet more hints of the truth between them. 

When at last they separated, Vixin cleared her throat, fighting to keep the smile from her pretty lips. “Father.” She guided his attention to the newborn in her arms. “I’ve decided upon a name. Quilith.” 

He studied the girl with satisfaction. The hybrid clearly favored the traits of her Arkos father, for though she possessed pale human skin, she retained the tail and horns of the slave that had sired her, sporting two dull buds just above her forehead that would soon begin to grow. Dominax granted his daughter an approving glance as he sensed his own blood deep within the infant, yet another unique and beautiful creation to continue his lineage. “Quilith, the future Divine Mother of Arkos-Nu. So be it.” 

Vixin’s blush deepened with pride. A desert brimming with war was no place for a newborn, of course, and thus she had always planned to leave the child in the care of Torakeom’s servants. Only recently had she learned of her father’s aims for the girl, however, intending to have her trained as a Sage after sensing the power in her blood. 

“Grandfather!” Jinilya leapt into The God Emperor’s arms, already forgetting the lixidion. 

Chuckling, he held her, only for his attention to fall to Yisi as she lingered in silence at their side. Glancing at the toddler near her feet, he caressed his bastard’s chin. “And what of yours? Have you still neglected to grant her a proper name?” 

Yisi’s lips twitched, though it was Vixin that answered for her. “I’ve taken to calling her little Yisi.” 

Ignoring his bastard’s disapproving glare, he regarded the toddler with curiosity. Another critical component in the future of House Vaid stared up at him, a girl that was both his daughter and granddaughter at once. He nodded. “Yisi The Younger. A fitting name.” 

Yisi’s opened her mouth in protest, only to restrain herself with a quiet tone. “Any other name.” She dared to offer a pleading glance. “Please, your majesty.” 

Supporting Jin with his arm, he offered no mercy. “You’ve neglected to grant her a name, and thus I shall.” He didn’t bother to hide his disappointment. “Your lack of ambition surprises me, child. You know my aims. You know she is a grand gift, the source of my future successors. One would think you’d regard her with pride.” 

Her tight lips held back the war within her. Yisi held no pride, no ambition. She merely glanced at her lixidion. 

Sensing her bondmate’s emotion, Vixin tried to come to her rescue. “Father, perhaps a different name would-” 

“Make no further mention of it. Yisi The Younger, The Second. May history celebrate her as the mother of our dynasty’s future, among many.” He put Jinilya down. “It’s nearly time to march. Prepare yourselves.” 

As The God Emperor departed to command the legion, Vixin granted her love an apologetic glance. “Forgive me. I should have said nothing.” Kissing her cheek, a small smile curled at the corner of her lips. “Although perhaps this is for the best. After all, there is no name I adore more.” 

Yisi folded her arms, though her lover’s smile eased her bitter expression. She merely sighed. 

While the legion was swiftly organized into neat lines, Vixin said her goodbyes to her hybrid daughter when her new caretakers at last came to collect her. She relinquished the infant into the care of the cluster of Sages that had been commanded to stay behind, flanked by Torakeom’s servants. Her illegitimate sisters treated the hybrid with great reverence, the holy grandchild of their God Emperor. 

“Goodbye, Quilith. Until we meet again, know that your mother shall think of you always,” Vixin said with a swell of motherly love. As they took the child away, she felt a dampness in her eyes, not of sorrow, but of pride. Never would it be easy to see one of her children go, yet the girl would enjoy a grand life. 

While Jinilya and Yisi The Younger were escorted to the safety of a palanquin, Yisi mounted her lixidion. Taking Vixin’s hand, she helped her up. They rode together when The God Emperor at last gave the command to march, riding among the royals at the front. 

As they left the underground city behind, Yisi tasted the open air, feeling a yearning deep within her. The legion poured from the grand gates like a river of white, their marching steps pounding the sand beyond. 

Even with the love of her life at her back, holding her hips, Yisi was shackled. The open desert lay stretched out ahead, calling to her, yet a single glance at the palanquin carrying their daughters held her back. 

Riding behind The God Emperor, she bowed her head and accepted her fate as they marched to war. 

20th of Silla, 21 AVE. 

Kingdom of Wonakaros, Deep Desert. 

Salik could feel the tunnel around him subtly swaying. The Wonak was moving once more. 

Buried just beneath the nomadic village, he could see nothing but sunlight shining through the cracks in the ceiling. He peered through one, seeing the open sky between two buildings. 

It had been simple to infiltrate the village atop the massive beast, and even simpler to sway its Chief towards their cause when the Arkos man had faced the daughter of his Holy Kromak herself. His devotion had been complete, vowing even to cut his own throat when the humans arrived, unwilling to risk spilling a single word that would betray her hidden presence. 

Salik touched the rough walls of the tunnel, crudely carved into the thick shell of the gargantuan Wonak. None had glimpsed his assassins, save for the Chief himself, and thus they hadn’t known why their leader ordered their strongest males to slave away at carving the passageways. Their work had been swift and shoddy, yet it would serve Salik’s scheme. 

The low ceiling and tight walls didn’t allow him to stand up fully, and thus he crept along while hunched over. Reaching the end of one branch of the tunnel, he pushed against the ceiling to lift the concealed hatch built into the floor of the building above him. He peeked out to find an empty room, grand and spacious, a dwelling fit for a prince. 

Lowering himself back into the tunnel, he crept down another branch, finding a second hatch into a neighboring building. He heard the subtle jingle of metal rings before he heard her voice from behind. 

“The buildings above shall not disappear no matter how often you inspect them,” Naram said. “You risk us being seen.” 

Closing the hatch and sealing himself inside the tunnel, he found her annoyed gaze in the low light. “None shall see me unless I intend them too.” 

Together they crept deeper into the tunnel towards a small central chamber they had called their home for the past several days. Behind, he glanced down at her swaying hips as she crept forth, looking away the moment the tunnel opened into the tiny room. Hardly more than two bedrolls decorated the floor. Illuminated by the sunlight pouring through a crack in the ceiling, the snug chamber allowed them to lie down comfortably at night, though there was little space for anything else. 

Settling in, Naram sat on her bedroll with her back against the rough wall. Sitting opposite of her, Salik watched as she unconsciously began to tap the hard floor with a finger, lost in thought. Her worries were plain across her serious features. 

“The plan is solid,” he said, though his cold voice offered little comfort as he placed his helmet beside him. 

“It had better be.” She looked away. They had spent their days alone, absent from their fellow assassins as the rest of their group waited to enact their part of the plan beyond the Wonak. An Arkos and a Dril, they shared no further words than were necessary. Despite being nearly pressed against each other, it was as if a wide valley rested between them. 

They waited like predators in their burrow, prepared to strike when their prey at last fell into their trap. The human legion would arrive any day now, as per the word of Naram’s scouts. Once more, they felt the chamber around them sway, for the Wonak came to a stop. Though the Arkos Chief ordered the beast to proceed towards Arkos-Tul to avoid the suspicion of his people, he limited their progress to a slow crawl with frequent stops, ensuring the great beast remained directly in the path of the distant humans. They would conquer the moving village. They would rest. They would replenish their supplies. All the while, Salik and Naram would be waiting below, ready. 

It was impossible to predict where the young prince would be placed, of course. So too was Salik wary of his enemies sensing their presence just beneath their feet with their strange abilities. They would not sense empty tunnels stretching across the village, however. 

Far from the largest buildings where the royals would likely make their dwellings, Salik sat silently in the tiny chamber. Wiping perspiration from his snow-colored brow, he rested his head against the crude wall. Clouds, fog, and rainfall occasionally made the desert cool and temperate. Today, however, the cruel sun beat down upon the moving village without mercy. In the confines of the tunnel, he felt as if his Dril blood would boil. 

Naram offered a subtle smirk as she watched his discomfort, remembering Karak’s questions about the snow dwellers. She would have much to tell her younger sister when she returned. 

If she returned. Once more, she began to tap nervously. 

The heat was Salik’s enemy, and thus he sought to duel against it. Beginning to strip off his black bodysuit, he stopped only to grant his unfriendly companion a glance. When she merely shrugged and continued to look away, he finished undressing. Folding his clothing carefully, he sat naked against the wall, no longer finding the heat unbearable. 

Countless thoughts sprinted through Naram’s mind as she pondered all that could go wrong with their plan. She imagined her death. She imagined the humans marching against her home, against her family, against Karak. She imagined failing, knowing the bloody price. 

Her serious expression offered mere hints of her worries, yet the quiet tapping revealed them all. Daring to glance over, she saw the naked Dril sitting before her. When their eyes met, she blushed and looked away. 

Salik did little to conceal himself. He noticed her glances, his cold eyes offering a silent curiosity. 

For days she had been trapped, buried with her worries. The closer their enemy grew, the more she found she could not escape. The entire weight of a kingdom rested upon her shoulders, the fate of her people and family. Feeling as if she’d break, she dared to move her foot. It brushed against his, drawing his red eyes to meet hers. 

No longer was her gaze quite so unwelcoming. She didn’t want his help, yet perhaps she needed it. Naram dared to part her legs. Seated, she offered him a view of what waited beneath her short skirt. 

His deadly eyes lingered in silence. She kept her thighs spread. 

When he met her eyes again, red peering into orange with a wordless curiosity, she unclasped her top. Wrapped around her chest, it fell slowly, revealing her modest breasts. 

With her gaze filled with a silent need, the sight of his naked form her refuge from her worries, she bit her lip. Her offer was clear. He needed only to reach out and claim it. 

Red eyes traced over dark nipples, caressed by the sunlight trickling in from above. A tool of The Potentate, a weapon waiting for his prey, he dared to feel the call of something other than his purpose. As if he was a person, as if he was a man, Salik felt his own needs, long neglected. 

Wordlessly, he crept closer. As if testing her, their alliance fragile, he touched her leg. She offered no resistance. Fingers brushing across smooth Arkos skin, white caressing grey, his touch crept gradually up her thigh. Her gaze continued to urge him forth without a word, despising that she required him, yet reacting silently all the same. 

He watched her tail flick at her side as he neared her prize. Never had he touched anyone besides Ynisa, feeling his fingertips tingle with anticipation as they glided over Arkos skin. His hand crept beneath her skirt, discovering just how eagerly she indeed required him. 

Naram’s lips parted with a quiet breath as she felt him, feeling her worries melt away in an instant. She wouldn’t tell her sister everything about her journey with the snow dwellers, she supposed. 

Wet lower lips eagerly accepted his touch. He felt his own loins twitch, alive, growing firm. His enemy was days away. He dared to feel the urges of a man coursing through his veins, becoming Salik for a mere moment, rather than a blade. 

His touch was crude, yet her soft moans spoke the truth. The snow dweller granted her what she required, his fingers sliding deep. 

Hesitant, Salik’s freehand found her hip. When she did not smack it away, he allowed it to creep up her side, exploring her body. A Dril should control himself around an outsider. A Dril should only show such lust for his own kind, else he’d risk siring a vile hybrid. Salik dueled against such thoughts. They were the concerns of the real men and women of The Domain. He was merely their protector, their hidden guardian. Everything he had been taught fought against his desire, his instincts craving the beautiful woman beneath his touch, an Arkos or not. 

His hand found her breast. Naram let her head rest against the wall as she begrudgingly enjoyed his thumb, feeling it brushing over her firm nipple. No doubt her father would greatly disapprove of her mingling with a snow dweller. No doubt Saros would take great amusement in taunting her if she knew. As Naram prepared to face their enemy, standing between them and destruction, she found that she didn’t particularly care about what they’d say. Reaching down to squeeze Salik’s wrist, she groaned, craving more. 

Seeming to share the same thought, they moved as one, maneuvering to satiate their mutual needs. Naram unfastened her skirt with trembling hands, letting it fall away as she positioned herself on her hands and knees atop her bedroll. Naked and eager, she looked back, her cold expression demanding her ally to hurry. 

Claiming his place behind her, Salik knelt as he took in the sight of her. A naked Arkos offered herself, her tail and hips swaying to tempt him. Every urge demanded to seize his prize, his manhood rigid before him. Would The Potentate himself have the strength to refuse such an offering? 

“It’s safe today,” she warned, looking back. “Though don’t be foolish.” 

The dangers lingered, yet still he pressed the tip of his cock against her dark lower lips. Hybrids were always more difficult to conceive, yet still the possibility taunted him. Cautious, wary of committing the greatest crime a Dril could commit, he grabbed her svelte hips. A living man, a person, if only for a moment, Salik gritted his teeth as he pushed forward. Inch by careful inch, a white Dril cock glided inside a tight Arkos vagina. 

Naram sank in pleasure, arching her back like a stretching feline as she moaned. Keeping her rump in the air, she closed her eyes to endure the feeling of his cock, the manhood of a man she reluctantly called her ally. As it drove deep inside her, the tension that had built within her body beneath the weight of her worries shattered. 

Salik fought to control himself, to hold back. His thrusts came slowly, carefully, each movement betraying all he had been taught. His fate was sealed. His purpose had been decided from the moment of his birth, and never would he escape it. For only a moment, driving himself deep into the cunny of an outsider, he defied The Domain and The Potentate in the smallest way he could, a tiny taste of freedom. When it was over, he’d be their weapon once more. 

Naram forgot the crudely carved walls around them. She forgot the villagers living obliviously above. She forgot their approaching enemies and the potential doom of her people. She merely savored her pleasure, her needs being met with every thrust within the grip of the desert’s heat. 

Salik felt the perspiration wetting her skin, much less than his own. Her smooth grey form glistened, an exotic beauty moaning before him. Every urge drove him to thrust harder, deeper, faster. 

Closing his eyes and losing himself to primal desire, enraptured by the pleasure of her tight loins, he reached forward without thinking. As if acting upon muscle memory, accustomed to caressing Ynisa’s pointed ears during their moments of passion as she so enjoyed, he was snapped to reality when his fingers brushed one of Naram’s horns. Ynisa was gone. He had made his choice. 

Naram’s tail moved to caress the chest of her lover, only to pull away. He was not her lover, she reminded herself. He was a snow dweller, a mere cock that served to distract her. Blushing, she glanced back, seeing his powerful form holding her hips tightly, making her moan with every hard thrust. 

Born on opposite sides of Magnius, an entire continent between them for much of their lives, they never should have met. They came together only at the command of their rulers, their fathers. When the human tyrant was dead or defeated, they’d never have to endure the company of each other again, yet for the moment, their loins came together with every wet slap of his skin against her rump. 

Forgetting the world, Naram surrendered to her pleasure. Trembling, enraptured by the raw passion of the man she could still call a stranger, she felt the tension of her needs gathering with every hard thrust. At last, as her fingers dug into the fabric of the bedroll beneath her, his cock pushed her over the edge of her limit. The tension erupted into orgasmic bliss, shattering her with a climax that tore through her body. 

He felt her orgasm, never slowing his thrusts. His hips moved without mercy, driven by primal urges a mere tool should not feel. He felt them. He was alive, a man, a person. He clung to his pleasure, craving to extend their moment of passion for as long as he could endure, a tiny taste of freedom. 

His features firm, gritting his teeth, he closed his deadly eyes once more. The pleasure of experiencing a new woman coursed through his loins, as it would for any other man in his place. Despite her beauty, despite her exotic and enticing body, he found himself thinking of Ynisa. Smooth Arkos skin was alive beneath his touch, yet he imagined pale Dril skin. Tight grey loins squeezed his cock with every thrust, yet he remembered the pink Dril labia that had served him loyally. Naram’s moans echoed through the small chamber, growing wild in the wake of her orgasm, yet he heard the memory of Ynisa’s voice ringing inside his head. 

“I’ll return, and so shall she. On that, you have my word.” 

He had made his choice. He had made a mistake. Such was his fate, a mistake making a mistake. He was about to make another. 

Naram’s warning had been clear, yet he couldn’t resist. His tiny freedom was dying, growing closer and closer to a finish that would see his purpose resume.  

Driving his hips forward, Salik’s lips parted as he spilled his seed inside her. He would give his life to save his people, yet for a single fleeting moment, he defied their greatest taboo. Dril sperm erupted within the vagina of an outsider. 

“N…no!” Snapped back to reality at the feeling of his warmth flooding her loins, Naram tried to reach back and push him away, yet it was already too late. Her legs trembled, enduring the euphoria of feeling a man cumming deep inside her. “You…fuck…” 

Clinging to her hips, he released his grip when at last his climax shattered. She moved forward to pull his cock from her loins, cupping her vagina as if to protect what had already been claimed. A moment later, his seed began to leak from her dark labia, dripping through her fingers. 

“Damn snow dweller…” she muttered, turning around and sitting against the far wall. Glaring, she covered her breasts as she continued to feel his warm seed inside her. “On any other day, I’d slice off your balls and toss them into the desert.” 

Falling back to sit across from her, he wiped the perspiration from his brow, calming his heavy breaths in the aftermath. “Apologies.” 

If she expected more, he offered nothing as he merely peered at the floor between them. Seeing his silent remorse, her scowl eased. She wasn’t ovulating. There was little risk of a hybrid. Though more than a little annoyed, she took a deep breath, unable to deny the deep relief pulsating through her body. Knowing he had granted her all she had needed, she finally sighed. “Thank you, I suppose.” 

Her soft whisper lingered between them, yet he didn’t look up. A moment later, he rose and collected his swords, preparing to polish them a final time before their enemies arrived. 

She watched him work, receiving no acknowledgment. With her lips tightening, she eased onto her side, relaxing in the aftermath with her hand resting between her thighs. 

Their moment had ended. His brief freedom was over. Once more Salik vanished, and in his place the mere weapon of The Potentate prepared for the task ahead. 

When their trap was sprung, a prince would fall into their grasp, or a prince would die.

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