Vaid Empire: Mother of Tentacles
Chapter 19
28th of Silla, 766 BVE.
The Holy City of Aslyd.
Only the sounds of Audir’s slow breathing filled the chamber. Inhale. Exhale. When the memory of her face flashed in his thoughts, his eye snapped open.
Seated upon the floor of his personal chamber, he fell once more into his meditation. Clearing his mind, he restarted the process for the third time in an hour.
Silent, he listened to the gentle breeze quietly jingling the hanging beads that concealed the entryway. Hints of light trickled through the entrance as the day gradually neared its end. Closing his eye, he smelled the smoke rising from the small torch hanging from the wall.
He saw her once more. The face of his escaped Holy Mother flashed through his memory, and a stinging pain in the socket of his missing eye tore away his peace.
Calmly reaching over, he picked up his new spear. Freshly forged, a gift from the head priestess to replace his stolen black spear, its golden surface glimmered in the light of the torch. He brought the flat tip closer to study his reflection in the polished surface. A finger traced the scar where his missing eye had been. He saw the deep claw marks that had been carved across his face.
Calmly rising, he thought of her, his escaped prey. The memory of her hatred brought a pain to his scars, even as his manhood began to harden. He had hunted her only because it was his purpose. He had felt her loins when she disobeyed, remembering the sensation of taking her. The fire he saw in her eyes had never left his thoughts. Her rage had burned. She wanted to kill him. As he traced his scars, he smiled faintly for the first time all day, for the feeling was more than mutual now.
As he contemplated making another attempt to meditate, his choice was made by the sound of jingling beads as he received a visitor. As only three people would ever dare to enter The High Seeker’s personal quarters unannounced, he already knew either Gima or his daughters had come before turning his head. When he did, he was met with the former.
The head priestess slowly strolled through his chamber, swaying her wide hips. With a curious smile upon her eager lips, her large headdress made quiet metallic sounds as she approached.
“Admiring my gift?” Gima asked. She ran a hand down his powerful chest when she reached him, savoring the touch of his bare skin. “Your hand deserves to wield the finest weapon of Aslyd.”
Audir didn’t care to explain himself. “You need something.”
She frowned at his emotionless face. “You’re a cold man, High Seeker.” Glancing down, her gorgeous features twisted into a seductive smirk at the sight of his manhood. “So be it. You have your uses.”
Her presence did little to dampen the hardness of his growing erection. The body of the temptress before him seemed to have been designed by The Creator himself, every curve flawless. Her firm yet ample breasts hung before him, drawing his touch as she pressed closer. Cupping them in each hand, he felt the familiar weight of them as his loins began to ache, seeing the gold of her nipple rings gleaming like his spear. “You were satisfied this morning.”
“I was, yes,” she said with a hungry smirk as her hand crept down his abdomen. A crimson hand caressing crimson skin, her fingers wrapped carefully around his girth. “Yet today your warriors brought me a particularly enticing sacrifice. Tall and proud, he showed no fear as he stood before the crowds.” She licked her lips sensually, moving closer until he could feel her warm breath against his neck. “When I tossed his severed cock into the great fire, I found myself…wet.”
Audir’s manhood throbbed in her grip, and he met her with the cold glance of his sole eye. Hardly did he wish to deny the needs of a priestess.
Guiding her to his sleeping mat that was placed atop a large ledge carved into the black stone of the far wall, he maneuvered onto his back before bringing her forth to rest in his lap. She mounted him like a hungry huntress claiming her kill, though he was far from helpless. As she ran a hand down his powerful chest, nearly purring with need, his hands found her thighs.
She was no warrior. Soft flesh lay beneath her crimson skin. She had the shape of a fertility goddess, as if her body had been created to breed. As she straddled him, she rocked her childbearing hips, rubbing her fertile lower lips against his waiting shaft. Her breasts lightly jiggled with every sensual movement, ready to nurture her offspring.
Gima began to explore her own body, teasing him with the sight of her exposed form. Her loins pressed against the base of his rigid cock. Sliding up, she dragged her labia up the underside of his shaft, wetting him with her ample juices, as if claiming her mate for the night.
His manhood tingled. His grip on her thighs tightened, eager to slide inside. Audir felt his hand throb, and he glanced at the scar where his escaped Holy Mother had pierced his palm with his own spear. The pain brought the memory of her to the forefront once more, coaxing his hate, coaxing his lust as his cock moved.
The head priestess stopped grinding against him, instead pressing his cock against her soft yet flat stomach. She held it there, tantalizingly close to her womb, closing her eyes as if savoring the shaft she intended to ride. The bioluminescent blue glow of his manhood radiated from between her fingers, matching the shade of her glowing labia.
“Cum inside me again, dear High Seeker,” she demanded in a sensual tone.
He knew what she wanted. The duty of a priestess was clear. As she lifted her hips, pressing the tip of his cock against her labia, he gritted his teeth as she sank down, sliding him inside inch by inch.
The familiar sensation of her vagina made his fingers dig into her soft skin, though his gaze remained cold despite the pleasure pulsating through his cock. He was a potent male. She was a fertile female. Desire brought their loins together, not love. Her deep moan echoed off the black walls of his chamber as she threw her head back.
Audir listened to the metallic sounds of her jingling headdress as she began to rock her hips. A primal need guided her movements, her body seeking to milk his seed.
“Breed…ahh…me…” she urged as her sensual lips smirked in satisfaction. “I want…ahh…your child…”
Never did the coldness leave his eye. His hands guided her hips as he savored the experienced body atop him. If a priestess sought his seed, he’d pour it inside her, even if life itself was an unnatural state of being.
Her hand crept down her midriff as she caressed herself, settling over her womb. “Great warrior…ahh…give Aslyd your worthy blood once more…”
So he would. Roughly handling her, he pulled her close with every movement, pushing his large cock as deeply as he could reach inside her depths. Her fertility was a lure for his natural, primal urges, feeling his loins calling out to impregnate her perfect body.
“I’ve birthed…ahh…a strong son…and gave The Knowledge Holder his youngest daughter…” she continued, moaning. “My womb is ripe for your seed…”
A priestess sought out strong warriors to give birth to their children, expanding Aslyd’s great reach. Many of Audir’s own warriors had been born from the wombs of priestesses, the greatest men the ancient city had to offer, though now he trained even the lowest of scum to forge his army. He scowled despite his pleasure.
He slid his hand up her side to seek her ample breasts. They jiggled, round and taunting, as if the mere sight of them summoned his touch. His finger slid through the hole of the golden ring piercing her left nipple, hearing a sharp inhale of breath as he granted it a light tug. She slapped his hand, though he remained. If she wanted his seed, he’d explore her perfection however he liked.
Audir’s movements grew increasingly forceful as he matched her rhythm beneath her. His body ached to breed her, even if his mind was indifferent. He had bred. He had sired life. There was no telling how many children he had left inside the women he had enjoyed over the years, though his known daughters were proof of his natural faults, two examples of his baser needs he could not ignore.
Life was unnatural, yet he partook in its creation. All beings should long to return to The Creator’s side, yet his purpose was to protect the city.
Gritting his teeth in enjoyment, pushing up into her, Audir saw the flutter of her eyes. No longer was she in control.
He prepared to sire a child that would one day face death. All beings must die, though only those that died well would join The Creator again, else their souls would be banished to the forgotten realm. Nearly had he tasted his goal. His fingers had almost coiled around the end of his purpose, earning the death he had been promised. Once more he thought of his escaped Holy Mother, denying him his rest. Yet his cock twitched inside Gima, for his purpose remained.
She did little to banish his thoughts. With the head priestess herself riding his cock, squeezing around his shaft, he couldn’t help but be reminded of The Creator. He had killed Onaalag himself, sending the great one to his creator’s side to rest. Soon, he’d join them. Soon, he’d defend the city against the coming swarm. Soon, he’d purge the last of the great one’s blood from the world, granting them the peaceful deaths they deserve, and earning his own. A low groan ripped from his lips, for his fate lingered upon the horizon, his cock aching, throbbing, seeking to pump his worldly urges deep inside the fertile beauty atop him.
As if seized by passion simmering behind his cold eye, he forcefully maneuvered her beneath him. Her only defense was a surprised yelp as he roughly handled her, only to moan loudly as she utterly surrendered to the warrior atop her.
On her back, pinned beneath her temporary lover, her thighs remained parted wide as her body begged him to breed her.
His breaths grew heavy as he pounded into her with powerful thrusts, his movements fueled solely by the instinct to mate. Pressed against her naked body, the female flesh beneath his control called to him, coaxing his lust, urging his seed to unleash itself inside her.
“Y…yes…ahh…great Audir…” she nearly whimpered in lust, offering no resistance against his forceful mating. Her tail swayed at her side, dancing in utter ecstasy until it reached around to coil around his own.
The sound of approaching voices outside did little to dampen his grunts. Pleasure was as natural as eating or breathing, as the priestesses taught. He cared little who heard his.
“Father, the scouts have returned with reports of…” a commanding voice started to announce, only to trail off when Pirmi pushed through the hanging beads. Taking in the sight, her stern face twisted into a smirk as her twin followed a moment later.
“Head priestess Gima?” Rafi asked with an amused smile.
Audir merely regarded his daughters with a glance before returning his attention to his mate, never slowing his thrusts. His cock ached, preparing to spill its life-giving seed.
“Yes…your daughters…” Gima moaned loudly, wrapping her arms around him. “Their beauty…their desirability…oooohhh…give me a daughter as worthy as them! Give them a sibling!”
Putting her hand on her hip, Pirmi chuckled. “Yes, father. Why don’t you fill her belly with our sibling?”
Rafi gently bit her own lip, closely watching the skillful movements of his thrusts. “It’s no wonder that mother’s womb surrendered to his seed. Well done, father.”
Groaning, gritting his teeth, he felt his loins tightening. Every movement brought him closer and closer as the tension of his lust grew to touch his limit.
“Hear her moans. Perhaps she’ll fall pregnant as well,” Pirmi added as her tail flicked excitedly. Hardly was it the first time they had seen their father satisfy his lusts. Watching his primal need, she felt her pride rise with every moment, knowing she had been sired by a worthy male. “Cum inside her, father, as is your right.”
“Yes…get me pregnant!” Gima begged. She wrapped her feminine legs around his waist, as if trapping him until she received the baby she so craved. “Breed me! Breed…ahh…me!”
He felt the tail that was coiled around his own tightening as she prepared. Their bodies clenched, muscles seizing as he touched his limit. The tension in his loins became unbearable as his pleasure peaked. With a final thrust, driving himself as deeply as possible, his tension erupted into blinding ecstasy as he found his orgasm, beginning to pump his seed into her fertile vagina.
The satisfied moans of Gima’s own finish brought a smile to Rafi’s pretty lips, and she couldn’t help but cup her own ample breast with a blush of arousal. She watched her father empty his sperm into an eager female, as was entirely natural, making Rafi feel a slight dampness between her own strong thighs.
Pumping all he could produce into the head priestess, seeking to grant her the baby she so desired, Audir held her tightly beneath him until the last pulsation of pleasure echoed through his body.
When at last he had savored all he cared for, he eased his cock from her well-used vagina, standing from the sleeping mat’s ledge with satisfaction upon his cold lips, permitting a smile for only the second time all day.
Gima remained behind, lost to her pleasure. Closing her eyes, she ran a finger through her parted lower lips as she began to leak, enjoying the warmth oozing through her loins. “Th…this one…will take,” she muttered. “By The Creator’s name…this is the one…”
Having received what she desired, she simply dismissed him with a wave as she continued to bask in her victory. His sperm was all she wanted. Until she required his cock again, she had no further need of him.
Audir knew his place. Besides, the service he was used for was hardly one-sided. Calm and content, he crossed the chamber to meet his daughters, retrieving his spear to tap against the stone floor with every powerful step.
He offered no greeting but the cold regard of his one eye. Pirmi straightened to match his expression, many of their shared features a reflection of each other as she shifted from an amused daughter into that of a trained warrior. Rafi, in contrast, embraced him gently, even as he stood like a statue.
“The scouts have returned, father. They bring news,” Pirmi reported dutifully.
Offering only a calm nod, Audir marched from his sleeping quarters without a word, leaving Gima and his seed inside her womb behind. His daughters flanked him at either side, taking long strides to match his pace.
Having chosen a dwelling far from the city’s center, within quick walking distance to the great gates of Aslyd, Audir was never far from his men. They passed buildings that were all made of identical black stone to his own, seeing the carved images of tentacles decorating nearly every wall. He understood Mauron’s secrecy, for none of the citizens he passed would understand why he had killed their beloved and feared Onaalag. Such had been a mercy, a necessary yet painful kindness to the great beast, just as wiping its bloodline from the world would be as well. He would purge them all, earning an honorable death at The Knowledge Holder’s blade, or he would fall fighting them, dying with his city. Either way, he’d rest as The Creator’s side.
As they marched through the warriors lingering near the great gate, Audir’s certainties faltered. He saw the lust in the eyes of all he passed, for no male could look away from his daughters. Young and beautiful, they were of breeding age. For a moment he considered selecting the strongest of his warriors to mate with his daughters, only to slow his pace at the thought of grandchildren.
All beings must die, yet the thought of his daughters’ deaths brought a painful sensation to his core that made him scowl. They would rest at The Creator’s side, though not now. Not while he still lived. So long as he could hold a spear, he’d drive it though anything that sought to do them harm.
When they reached the great gates, Audir climbed the many stairs to the top of the wall. He felt the solid stone beneath his feet. Peering down, he saw the dizzying fall below, as the wall towered over the buildings it protected. Its grandeur had kept out the world. Would it hold back their doom?
The scouts knelt at the feet of The High Seeker when he joined them. Though the warriors he sent out into the horrid jungle continued to capture outsiders to sacrifice, their main purpose had shifted, as had Audir’s own. Now, serving primarily as scouts rather than hunters, they sought any hint of their gathering enemy.
The eldest of the warriors, a man decorated by countless scars was the first to rise at his command. “High Seeker, we encountered a dozen sightings of the beasts during the last two days. They’re exploring closer to the city.”
He didn’t require them to specify, for only one type of monstrosity held their concern.
“Every outsider camp we encounter is either left deserted, or brimming with pregnant women, all with tentacled spawn in their wombs,” another of the scouts reported.
Audir nodded coldly, offering no reply as he dismissed them. Only when they were gone did he regard his daughters. “Come.” He began to march with urgency. “Your training must resume.”
***
A deep orange painted the sky when Thuron departed from Sarui’s small ziggurat. Strolling at his mistress’s side, surrounded by guards, they slowly made their way towards the market.
“You insist upon waiting, then? Truly?” he asked in as polite a tone as he could manage despite his vast disappointment. “You’ve done nothing to secure the life you seek?”
Sarui’s hips swayed, moving with a seduction that made her awareness of her own beauty abundantly clear. “I asked The Creator for the chance to rise above the common rabble, to hold the fate of Aslyd in my hands. Surely you have faith in our Creator, little Thuron.”
He blushed at her words, and further at the sight of her teasing smile when he glanced over. “Of course, mistress. I simply don’t believe you can wait idly for him to grant you all you seek. This is the time to take action, to earn the power you desire piece by piece. A little effort would do you good,” he said, for Thuron knew much about desire.
A guard shoved aside a woman that strolled too close to The Knowledge Holder’s daughter, and Sarui chuckled as the woman stumbled and fell. “Sometimes I wonder if father tasks you with tending to me as a punishment. Perhaps for us both.” Her tail curled around to gently brush against the scar of his missing manhood, making him bite back an aroused whimper. “Either way, I’ve grown as bored of your preaching as I have of your tongue.”
Wincing at the deep need pulsating in his testicles, his lusts forever trapped, he fought to retain his composure as he followed dutifully. However cruel, she was his master’s daughter, a man he’d follow until his end. “I want only what’s best for you, even if that requires harsh-”
“Ah, what of him, Thuron?” She cut him off to gesture to a man walking nearby. Theatrically pondering, she finally shook her head, continuing on. “Perhaps not. We can find a better specimen for tonight.”
Though annoyed, he followed her into the center of the market. Flooded by countless citizens, even at such a late hour, the stalls boomed with loud conversations as merchants bartered, and people laughed and talked. They stood in the heart of Aslyd, for all around them, life flowed, gathered, and dissipated as Cavaries arrived and departed.
Hundreds of beings passed by, though Sarui sought only one among them. “Should I select him? Or him? Oh, perhaps even her. Which would you prefer to watch tonight?” she asked as she regarded several passing Cavaries.
Thuron groaned as he stood obediently at her side. “Why must you taunt me?”
“As I said, I’ve grown bored of your tongue. This is far more interesting. Besides, the little whimpers of frustration you make when you watch are quite…cute.” Sarui smirked as he blushed, running a finger over his testicles. The lovers she had begun to take each night could serve in a way he simply could not.
The ache of his loins made his legs quiver, though he straightened dutifully. His suffering honored his commitment to The Knowledge Holder, though these days he hardly seemed to be able to escape his denied need. The beautiful women passing by everywhere he looked did little to dampen his obsessive thoughts. He was tortured by swaying hips, exposed chests, and the knowledge that his seed was denied from every fertile womb that passed. “Mistress…”
“Come. I have an idea,” she commanded. The seductive movements of her legs carried her towards a nearby market stall, and she felt the smooth stone beneath her rump as she sat down on the carved countertop. Though the owner began to hurl a flurry of protests, he shut his mouth the moment he recognized The Knowledge Holder’s firstborn.
The guards held back the passing population. Parting her legs, she leaned back and ran a teasing finger between her labia. Passing men and women came to a stop at the sight, forming a small group that began to grow larger and larger as they watched Sarui display herself.
Thuron clasped his hands behind his back as he stood like an obedient pet beside her. His hands squeezed into fists, enduring his need and frustration at the sight of her. He watched Sarui spread her lower lips, offering a teasing smile to all as he ached at her side. Longing to slide his missing cock deep into her tight vagina, to feel the daughter of the man he served, his loins throbbed at the knowledge that he could not. Such was the torment he had knowingly damned himself to forever when he pledged himself to his master, a master that now filled his thoughts despite his painful lusts.
“Which, Thuron? I’ll even let you pick tonight. Never call me cruel,” she chuckled. She gently began to rub her sensitive bud, meeting the eyes of the closest men as they pushed closer for a better look.
“Forgive me, mistress, though I have other duties tonight.” It was a half-truth. No command had summoned him, yet his worries could not be denied. His priority was to his master.
“Oh?” She nearly sounded disappointed, as if the prospect of torturing him with the sight of her lover had been a greater prospect than the sex itself. “What could possibly be more important?”
Thuron swallowed, unable to take his eyes from between her legs, yet his duty demanded his focus. “Your father, Sarui. Hardly does he leave his personal chamber these days. The priestesses tell me his meals are rare as well and growing rarer.”
“He has summoned you, then?” she asked in annoyance.
“Yes.” The lie came easily. In truth, Mauron hadn’t commanded his assistance for anything in many months. The only time Thuron saw him was to deliver reports about Sarui’s wellbeing, and each time The Knowledge Holder’s crimson skin had appeared paler and the glow of his solid blue eyes fainter.
Gritting her teeth, Sarui dismissed him with a wave before standing, grabbing the arm of the nearest male. “So be it. Go, then. Tend to whatever father needs of you.” She had made a show of carefully selecting her lover, though the haste in which she abruptly clung to the nearest man surprised them all. “While you toil away at your duties, I’ll be in the arms of another.”
Permitted to leave, Thuron moved to depart, only to turn back. Despite the annoyance in her gaze, he dared to annoy her further. “Take care, mistress. Keep your guards close.” Thinking of their previous conversation, he risked her wrath. “You’re a bright girl, Sarui. Perhaps The Creator will grant you what you asked for. Perhaps not. Either way, it is better to bleed in the pursuit of your desires than to be handed them by another.”
Before she could reply, the slave scurried off through the crowd, leaving her in the arms of a stranger as the sun grew lower in the orange sky.
***
The narrow halls of the central ziggurat felt like a tomb as Thuron navigated his way to the top chamber. The network of tunnels and rooms carved throughout the gargantuan blocks of black stone that made up the pyramidal structure were decorated with the etched images of tentacles, reminding him of their sin, bringing forth the memory of standing before Onaalag’s burned corpse beside Sarui. His guilt rose as he did.
Climbing stairs and creeping through hallways, he found his way just beneath The Knowledge Holder’s chamber. On the level that housed the ruler of Aslyd’s family, save for Sarui in her own ziggurat, Thuron peered through an open doorway of a nearby chamber to glimpse Mauron’s youngest daughters playing together. The three young girls were accompanied by a priestess that watched over them fondly, oblivious to their silent voyeur.
The sight of them forced a deep envy to ooze through Thuron. Sacrificing his manhood, he had relinquished the ability to sire life, all to serve The Knowledge Holder. Each of the children before him had a different mother, conceived by the gorgeous priestesses beneath Mauron’s command. His master had tasted the finest pleasures in Aslyd, breeding beautiful women, siring children, all while Thuron suffered with his denied desires. Never had he known the touch of a woman. Never had he felt the bliss of a vagina. Nor would he, for his cock had been thrown into the fire of the great brazier burning atop the ziggurat.
Such was his commitment, his chosen duty. As he left the children behind, climbing the spiral steps that led directly to Mauron’s chamber, his loyalty burned as bright as the fire that had turned his manhood to ash.
At the top of the stairs, a much smaller copy of the great doors that guarded the cavern of Onaalag far below the pyramid blocked his path. With a rhythmic knock that notified his master of his identity, he waited patiently before the heavy doors opened inward. Mauron ushered him inside quickly before sealing them once more, locking the doors as if they could hold back the world.
“Thuron. This is an odd hour,” The Knowledge Holder greeted him with a kind smile as his slave knelt to kiss his feet. “I don’t remember summoning you.”
When he rose, Thuron could see the weariness in his master’s tired eyes. “I came when none would bother us. I’m worried, master.”
“Worried?” Mauron put a reassuring hand upon the young man’s shoulder. “There is very little to worry about. You’ve served me better than I could ever ask for. If you fear Sarui’s commands, know I’ve forbidden her from harming you. I know my daughter can occasionally be…harsh.”
He shook his head. “I don’t worry for myself, but for you, master. They say you’re withering away, locked in your chamber alone for days at a time.”
“Ah.” A subtle twitch of Mauron’s eye escaped his mask of calm. He gestured for the slave to sit.
In the center of the comfortable chamber, two chairs carved of the same black stone that made up the dark walls sat across from each other, placed at a slight angle. Thuron felt the fabric of the vividly colored blue rug decorating the floor, taking in the sight of the familiar room as he eased into one of the chairs. Nearby, a sleeping mat rested upon a large slab, and the personal belongings of The Knowledge Holder sat neatly upon shelves carved into every wall. Organized and clean, nothing was ever out of place, save for the four thin cups of purple liquid that now rested atop a long countertop separating the sitting area from Mauron’s sleeping area. They caught his eye in an instant, a hint of disorder he had never seen inside the chamber before.
Having evidently prepared for sleep, Mauron had extinguished most of the thin torches decorating the wall. He moved to retrieve the last that still burned, resting it upon a tall holder to their side as he sat down. Easing back, he steepled his fingers in his lap, maintaining his dignified calmness. “I suppose the defense of Aslyd has weighed heavily upon me. Regardless, I assure you that my health is not in question.”
“Yet a defense against what, master?” Thuron leaned forward. “I hear whispers, though none speak plainly.”
Mauron nearly appeared to retreat from the flickering light of the torch, for the shadows crept across the creases of his face as his kind eyes grew narrow. He was FAR from old, yet appeared as if he had aged a decade in a mere year or two. “Tell me of these whispers.”
The statement held the firmness of an order. Thuron obeyed. “High Seeker Audir forges an army at your command, the first of this world. Some say you…” He blushed in the flickering light. “Some mistakenly claim you fear losing your title in the wake of the great one’s death. Some call you a tyrant without a purpose, clinging to power. Others speak of dark things in the jungle.”
His words seemed to wound Mauron as his smile grew faint, though he listened carefully.
“My master is not a tyrant, yet these whispers of dark things…” Thuron shifted uncomfortably. “I’ve served at your feet, and I know what kind of man you are. I must believe that whatever the cause, you wouldn’t form an army for your own vanity, but for a greater cause. These whispers…I believe you’re afraid of something out there, master.”
The slave was a bold one. Mauron’s eye twitched once more. “You’ve earned the right to speak your mind, though there have always been countless things to fear in the jungle. Horrors lurk beyond our wall.”
Thuron shook his head. “I don’t speak of the usual monstrosities out there, and neither do your warriors. Our ancestors built the wall with Onaalag’s guidance and have since sat comfortably behind them. No, master. There’s something new out there. There’s something that you fear will threaten us because of what we did. Because we-”
“You overstep.” Mauron raised a hand to silence him, face twisting into a grimace. When he remembered himself, he forced a smile back upon his face. “You vowed never to speak of such things. Forgive me, though we’ll go no further.”
Though nervous, he pushed himself to be bold once more, if only for his master’s sake. “Please, I’ve said nothing to another living soul, nor shall I ever.” He gestured to the thick doors, the stone concealing their words. “The burden of what I know threatens to crush me. Your burden is surely worse.”
Staring at the slave, Mauron lingered in silence before rubbing his brow. “You know nothing of burdens.”
“I’ve stood before the great one’s corpse. I saw the ashes of our deed,” Thuron confessed, though no doubt Mauron would already know. “I followed Sarui into his tomb, and there I found my guilt.”
The Knowledge Holder continued to rub his brow with closed eyes. “You delivered commands to Audir’s men, nothing more. Your guilt is misplaced.”
Thuron felt his throat tighten with emotion. “The great Onaalag asked for death. You gave the order. I delivered the command, and Audir’s men cut the great one down. His ancient blood is as much upon my hands as theirs, or yours. If I feel it, I know you do as well. Let me assist you, master. Let me share the weight that rests upon your shoulders.”
Mauron made no reply, though his hand twitched.
“Only you could hear his whispers. You were his mouth, the only one that could speak his desires. Onaalag craved death, did he not?” Thuron repeated what his master had told him. “What we did was a great mercy. To hide the truth behind the announcement that he died of old age was merely necessary.” He shrugged. “Yet still I feel guilt when I think of his ashes, the oldest living creature on Ayphieal reduced to so little. Before there were trees, he roamed.” Thuron closed his eyes to savor the thought, letting emotion subtly tremble in his voice. “A mercy, but a terrible shame.”
“Mercy,” Mauron whispered, as if the word would choke him. A shudder ran through his body. He leaned back, daring to meet his slave’s gaze once more, feeling his eye twitch. “None know the truth of my mercy.”
Thuron offered open hands as if to plead. “Tell me, master. Let me bear it as well.”
The Knowledge Holder offered the last hint of his kind smile before it faded, clasping his hands. When Thuron glanced down, he saw them tremble. “The truth has been mine to endure all this time. To speak it would undo you.”
Leaning on the edge of his chair, the slave begged once more with determined eyes. “Please, master. Tell me the full of it. Let me bear it with you. Let me help.”
A great pain seemed to flash behind Mauron’s gaze, and he peered down, gritting his teeth. “Audir knows more, though still he knows nothing.” With the exhausted sigh of a man carrying a mountain, he continued. “You speak the truth of my fear, for The High Seeker has seen it himself. The spawn of Onaalag lives. It lives, it spreads, and it will swarm our walls to punish my failure.”
Swallowing, Thuron’s eyes widened. “The whispers are true, then.”
“No secret goes unspoken between dozens of men. Each day our scouts return with more reports, and they return with more rumors among themselves.” Mauron regarded him for a long moment, pondering, only to grimace. “You now know the extent of Audir’s knowledge, yet again, he knows nothing.”
As Thuron drank in the new knowledge, a terrible burden, all the quiet rumors began to fall into place. He made no comment when Mauron rose from his seat, crossing over to the long table. His master paused. Seeing only his back, Thuron watched him hesitate for what seemed like an eternity. When he finally retrieved one of the black cups, the misery upon his features was clear when he turned around.
“Drink it. It will prepare you for the burden ahead.” Mauron offered the thin cup as his eye twitched once more. “Long have you served me loyally. Drink it, or leave now, and we shall speak no further word of this. Such is your choice.”
Thuron hardly hesitated. As he reached out to take it, however, his master yanked it away.
“No…” Mauron muttered to himself with a grimace, only for his hand to tremble. He offered it once more after a long silence. “Forgive me. Drink it. If I must endure this alone a moment more, I shall drown.”
Taking the cup, feeling its cold black surface, Thuron peered into the purple liquid inside. Nearly as dark as the stone cup, he pressed it to his lips, pleasantly surprised by its taste as he drank. A war played across Mauron’s features as he watched, only to appear defeated when the last drop slipped down the slave’s throat.
He didn’t sit. Instead, he began to pace before his slave. “Mercy. Mercy. The mercy I committed wasn’t for Onaalag, but for our people.”
Thuron watched his movements grow frantic, feeling uneasy at his words. “Our people?”
“I heard his whispers since the moment I was selected. When my predecessor died, they became mine, a constant companion. Can you imagine? Another’s mind inside your head? The words of an ancient being wrapping around the thoughts of a young boy?” Mauron touched his head, caressing it as if he was in pain. “I felt him die. I felt Onaalag’s agony, and now…now there’s nothing but silence. Silence.”
“A horrid thought…master,” Thuron carefully replied, disturbed as he watched the dignified mask of the man he respected turning to ash. No longer did Mauron fight to conceal the twitching of his eye.
“I had no choice. I knew his thoughts. He showed me his visions.” He nearly knocked over the torch during his frantic pacing, and the light flickered over his subtly trembling form. “I ordered his death to save us all…”
Thuron nearly jumped from his chair in horror. “The great one was…murdered?” He watched Mauron halt, and as his master met his gaze, his blood nearly froze at the madness in his eyes.
“Is it murder to slay a monster?” He stepped closer, grabbing hold of his slave’s shoulders. “You must believe me, my loyal Thuron…I had no choice! The whispers…I grew closer and closer, delving into the beast’s mind. I worshiped him, drinking in the knowledge he offered…yet he showed me much. Monster I name him, for monster he was! Onaalag offered the future…and I saw…apocalypse…”
He had been brave, yet hardly did Thuron dare to move now. In his master’s grip, he shuddered.
“He forced my hand. He knew I would kill him…surely, he knew…for he touched every aspect of my mind…” Mauron pulled away from his slave to clutch at his head in agony. “Visions…whispers…they all promised the same! Death! Death at the hands of black tendrils!”
Horrified, Thuron felt a tickle in his throat.
“I saw a world filled to the brim with monstrosities! Tentacles ushering in the apocalypse! All were consumed beneath their malice, their hunger, their desire!” Mauron trembled as he covered his eyes, his facade of calm now a shattered memory. “The bodies of men lying dead and broken! Women birthing abominations, their minds ripped apart! Our species reduced to little more than seedbeds, all but wiped from the world!”
The tickle only grew, and Thuron coughed, beginning to feel lightheaded. “Master…”
“Tentacles claiming every inch! Slime pouring down the throats of all, enough to drown the world!” Mauron held his head as if it would shatter. “Tentacles sliding up the steps of the ziggurat! A blinding light above to mark our end! All darkness! All gone!” He trembled as he uttered the words that had tormented him for so long, spewing secrets he had never spoken a word of. They had burned inside him, roaring forth without control. “A birth…three deaths in the dark…I am dust! A white pyramid rising…tentacles reaching down from the sky…a second flash of light…”
A single man had held the end of the world inside him, alone, and Thuron witnessed what little remained of the man he had served unravel.
“Onaalag’s seed survived…they spread…and there is no escape! Our doom approaches, and I can only hope to give our people a final gasp before the end! A fight we cannot hope to win!”
Reaching up to touch his throat, Thuron’s breathing grew labored. “Mast…er…” he struggled to mutter, stumbling. He glanced at the empty cup.
Mauron pointed an accusing finger at the door. “Tyrant, they name me in their whispers, yet I tried to save them! Forgive me…forgive my failure!”
Thuron knocked over the torch as he collapsed into his chair, struggling to breathe.
Looming over his slave as the fading light flickered up his maddened form, his glowing blue eyes peered down at the gasping young man.
“What’s…happening…to me…”
“Madness…” Mauron muttered as shadows crept over his features. “I could endure this madness alone no longer. Thuron…you should have stayed away…yet thank you…”
“Help…me…master…” His wheezing continued to echo through the chamber.
The Knowledge Holder shook his head in sorrow. “To speak of such horrors is a terrible relief, yet none can ever know. Words spoken to a dead man may never be retold elsewhere.” As Mauron’s trembling was gradually brought under control, he reached down to wrap his hands around the slave’s neck. “You shared the weight of this burden, if only for a moment. Let me quicken your suffering…my friend…”
Sorrow dripped from his master’s lips, though Thuron began to kick and pry at his constricting hands as he was strangled. The light of the torch began to die upon the floor, and as he felt his life slipping away, he ceased his struggle.
He had come to assist his master. He would do so a final time. Releasing his hold on Mauron’s hands at his neck, Thuron held them out to his side, surrendering to his fate. Suffocating, he saw the last remnants of the man he had committed himself to flickering in Mauron’s gaze, accepting a final command. He would die.
The body of his slave went limp in his grasp, yet still Mauron held his neck, squeezing the secrets he had uttered. Tears began to pour down his face, dripping onto the corpse. “Forgive me…forgive me…”
In the darkness, Mauron released him, reaching with a shaking hand to close the young man’s glowing eyes. He stepped back, standing in the silent aftermath of his deed.
He waited for what seemed to be an eternity as he fought to piece himself back together, regathering his mind fragment by fragment until what resembled a person could be found.
When at last he could replace his mask of calm, he unlocked the door and walked through the dark halls of the ziggurat, seeking a guard as the rest of the city settled into sleep.
“Knowledge Holder?” a guard protecting the entrance corridor to the upper chambers asked when he turned at his approach. “You’re usually asleep at this hour. Trouble?”
There was nothing behind Mauron’s gaze but the ruins of a man, yet still he smiled calmly, walking with the dignity a ruler required. “It’s quite unfortunate, though yes. Slave Thuron has bravely taken his own life at my command. His body is in my chamber.”
If he was surprised, the man didn’t show it. Hardly was the death of a slave more than an inconvenience. “Ah, I shall dispose of it at once, your holiness.”
Mauron stopped him with a calm hand upon his shoulder as he moved to obey. “Dispose of him with dignity. He was a good man, and a loyal servant.” He could do little to mask the sorrow in his tone. “Cast him into the great fire atop the ziggurat. He deserves that honor.”
Though the guard raised his brow, he didn’t dare question his orders, nodding obediently before marching up the corridor.
Alone, Mauron’s smile slipped away once more, and he rubbed his exhausted eyes. Thuron wouldn’t face the horror of their apocalypse, at the very least.
He turned around, thinking of Thuron’s gasping as he passed the chamber where his daughters slept. The moment the sun rose, he’d set about refilling the poison in the empty cup, ensuring all four were ready at all moments.
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