Where Witches Walk

The world shifted beneath him. "No," James sputtered, "please, no..."

Tahlen shrugged. "Guard, bring the girls down to the slave pits. Give them to the slaves to do with as they will." The guard gripped the small girls' arms.

"No!" James shouted. "Alright, alright..." he had to struggle to even say it. "I'll stay. I'll stay."

Tahlen grinned. "Good, good." He turned to the guard. "You may return the girls to their cells, for now. Send in two of my guard" As they left he both released Nina and pulled his hand away from his trousers. Two armed guards entered the room, watching James carefully. "Get comfortable," Tahlen said to James, as he stared lustily down at the prostrate form beside him. "Grab a chair. But," he said warningly, "you will watch." His fists clenched and he turned to stand before her. He towered over the pregnant woman; her small face looked up at him with devotion. "Begin," he said, his voice husky. Her hands reached up, looking tiny on his body. She gripped the top of the trousers, and pulled.

--

"You agreed to what?!?" General Piani threw his hand up to his face in exasperation. "Is this a joke?!"

"No. Yesterday, I told Emperor Tahlen that we would meet him in open battle, so that he may defeat us. I aim to show up for that battle."

Stunned silence met him. Then Piani moaned. "Why?!"

James Rawlings, even more haggard, defeated, and weary looking than ever, moved his gaze around the room. Even Lang looked like James had just stabbed him in the heart. Maybe he had.

"It gives us time," he said simply.

"Time to do what?" Lang asked quietly.

James sighed. "My friends, I have just seen things that will never allow me peace again, no matter the outcome of this fight. I have suffered much, and not without reason." He pointed east, keeping his eyes fixed on his men. "Emperor Tahlen is a wise man, but his cunning falters in the face of his lust. Even though he wanted me to believe that my wife was his willing plaything, he couldn't deny himself the pleasure of beating her for even a short period of time. He reveals himself in these ways. By allowing him to make the choice, to say when and where the battle occurs, we are defeating him."

"I don't follow this logic," Piani muttered.

"Simple," James said. "Tahlen's wants outweigh his strategic thinking. He wants a grandly displayed victory, a crushing blow against the cause of freedom. And he wants everyone to see it. So that means two things: first, he will want the battle to occur on the plains of Aeroth."

"Why there?"

"He wants it to be easily visible, but he wants it to look real, too. It is highly plausible to imagine that he might chase our main force out onto the plain, where we would take up defensive positions on the slopes of the Aerothian Mountains."

"He would take high casualties, there."

"But he would win." They nodded silently. He continued, "He would win and many people would witness it. Just to be safe, he will wait three months. That should be just enough time for him to gather together a collection of governors and representatives to see it happen. The faster word spreads the better. He will call them to him with promises that his final campaign is about to begin, and they can come and watch history unfold."

"You sound awfully sure of this, son," Lang said, though he sounded suddenly hopeful.

James smiled sadly at him. "I am, old friend. We know where the fight will occur, and we know when. I fully intend to use that information to get my wife away from that beast."

"One question," Piani looked slowly around the room, "what about the witch women?"

--

Twelve weeks later the witch women were dead, killed by one of their own.

Anne Jall stood over their corpses, a strangely jealous rage still coursing through her Smoke hovered around the room, making her eyes red.

There had been twelve witches in this world, as there had always been, all having sworn allegiance to this army. Eleven bodies covered the floor in the large tent they had been given for their communion, practices, and bathing purposes.

Anne looked around the room. There was no doubt they were all dead. They had never been as powerful as she, not by half. They never had a chance.

She had killed her own.

There, in the center of the room, was the source of her jealous rage.

The slave Nina Rawlings, pregnancy over and waist narrow, knelt wearing her usual diamond belt. Her terrified eyes wide and her soft lips trembling, she watched Anne with intense fear. Her chin was wet and her hair messed from the woman who had been standing over her moments ago. She looked beautiful, as she always did.

Anne Jall preferred women, and sometimes enjoyed men. But she did not desire either. Instead, Anne Jall's sexuality centered solely on Anne Jall. An unapologetic self-worshipper, she cared only for her own wants and desires. This basic philosophy had made her a perfect match for the emperor's approach to life and politics, which focused on acquiring power and everything that came with it, so she had been happy to join with him. She had no desire for the power itself, only for getting what she wanted. With a witch's notoriously strong sexual appetite, her spoiled approach to life frequently centered on her own sensual pleasure. Occasionally, men were fun as playthings, but a well-versed tongue was always preferable, and women had such soft velvet tongues.

Though she found other individuals sexually attractive, what she really felt was that the idea of being pleasured by some people was more exciting than most others. Sometimes this was due to their ability, sometimes their personality and, occasionally, their appearance. Anne Jall liked to make strong people worship her like a goddess. She liked to make beautiful people adore her aging figure. Nina Rawlings was both of these things.

So, when she had returned from a journey to the south to learn that, in the time she had been gone, Nina had given birth to the emperor's son and swiftly recovered (with a witches assistance), Anne's body fluttered with the memory of her emperor's promise. This slave was for him and Anne to use, only. They would share with no one. And when the child was born, he would grant her an entire month to indulge herself with the new mother's body.

Instead, she had learned from one of her maids, the girl had been given to the other witches to use communally two weeks after the birth. That meant that Nina, property of Anne Jall, had been serving the hungry desires of eleven fools in the communal witch tent. And she had been doing it for nearly a month.

Anne had rushed to the tent, livid, to see one of the unworthy fools using this thing that was hers by all rights. Nina had been on her knees, facing away from the door, in front of a naked, fat younger witch named Cecile. Anne felt rage at the sight of that foolish bitch's flushed face and open mouth as she pistoned her hips against the kneeling woman. Wordless moans had burned Anne's ears, as Cecile's fists held Nina's head tight against her and her fat thighs tensed with her movements.

Anne had always seen Cecile as something of a brat, but kept her alive because she was easy to manipulate, to control. But she was a vastly inferior witch, and a fool. Seeing her writhe in pleasure and rock against Nina's lips had exponentiated Anne's rage.

Still, she didn't fully understand the anger that had ignited in her, or why she had immediately struck them all dead. All she knew was that she couldn't stay. The emperor would now see her as a threat. He would be right. She would leave, and she would take what was hers.

She had to move quickly. The lead elements of the army were already approaching the enemy on the Aeroth Plains. She and the other witches would be expected to join the battle within the hour. Probably, the dumb whore who had left her scent on Nina's breath was using the kneeling slave as a way to exorcise her pent up excitement about the upcoming fight. For a witch, battle and sex were not so different.

There wasn't much time.

She strutted over to Nina. Beautiful, helpless Nina...of course, she had seen the queen at her best, and knew that this was a dangerous and strong-willed woman by nature. Even now they hadn't been able to take that away from her, only circumvented it. The thought of how strong this woman was, deep down, aroused her. She shook her head to focus.

"Listen to me, girl," she said, framing the younger woman's face with her hands and letting her power flow in through the connection. Nina stared fearfully at her, unable to disobey. "You are going to sleep. You will not awaken for two days time. While you sleep, you will forget everything you know. The people, places, and events you have known will be gone from your mind, never to return. Only your first name will you remember." Nina looked up at her, unblinking, motionless, and horrified. "You will feel, from that moment on, a great and powerful obedience and devotion for only me. You can still hate me, child...in fact, I encourage it, I command it...but you will also feel a great desire to submit to me, to please me. It will be more important than anything. Everything else in your world will be small against the intensity of your hatred, and worship, of Anne Jall."

She cut off the flow of power, releasing the girl's head. Immediately, Nina fell to the ground, breathing shallowly.

It was a dangerous spell, and there was a great probability that the slave woman was now dying a quick and thoughtless death. Oh, well, thought Anne. If I am without her, at least it won't be for sharing her lips with fools.

She snapped her fingers, and the collar opened. It fell to the floor, powerless now. She had one more task ahead of her, before she collected her new property and left: Emperor Guyen Tahlen had lied to her, used her, and he would die for it.

To hell with his revolution.

--

"Now."

Arrows tipped with fire fell upon the plains, amidst the approaching mass of humanity. Hitting the ground, they immediately ignited the underground trench filled with the alcohol-like brew designed by General Lang. Flames burst among the lines, like hell itself was coming to claim the soldier. They died slowly, with great commotion, begging for help or death and screaming their last. Their friends continued on.

More than half of the assaulting force still approached the small York force, and it remained sizable. But at least there would be no hope for reinforcements soon. With the high ground working in their favor, James Rawlings's men would cut them down.

"So far so good," General Piani grunted.

"Damn good," Lang laughed, proud and alive. "We're chewing them up."

Piani nodded, but pointed at the huge lines in the distance. "There's a lot more work to be done before we can even begin to get hopeful."

"I agree," James said, watching the fight carefully. The command post sat just back from the main lines, but on the steep base of the mountain that left him high enough to see everything that was happening. "But we've got a few tricks left. We may not even have to take this fight to the caves, if we're lucky."

"Lucky is right," Piani muttered. "I hate those goddamn things."

"They're safe," James shook his head. "Safe enough. What I don't understand," he pointed to the confused, disjointed movement of the enemy troops in the distance, "is what's going on there. Not even a force this big is too complicated for a man like Tahlen to control, we've seen proof of that. It almost seems here like the individual corps are moving independently of one another. Like this isn't one massive army, but instead is a dozen normal-sized ones." He thought for a moment. "Like nobody's in command."

"Maybe it's a trick of some kind," Piani offered.

"I don't think so," Lang shook his head. "Tahlen wouldn't attempt a complicated trick here. That might make him look bad in front of the spectators."

"Agreed," James said, still watching carefully as the huge lines moved. "Wait. Look to the right. Is that one retreating?!"

"By God, it looks to be!" Piani whooped. "What on earth is happening? That wing didn't even engage yet."

James looked at him ominously. "And where," he cocked an eyebrow, "do you suppose the witch women are?"

--

She shook her head, confused, and sat up.

Where was she? What was going on? It was dark. She was on the floor...why? She couldn't remember.

That was it. That was it exactly. She couldn't remember anything. No. She remembered her name. Only that. Nina. Nina who? That was less clear. It almost seemed to fit her memory that she had no last name.

Her eyes adjusted to the light, and it became clear that she was in a large room, like a hotel. It was a nice room, from what she could make out; the kind wealthy people might stay in. Was she wealthy?

She stood up, carefully. Embarrassment ran through her as she realized what she wore. A belt laced with something hard wrapped low around her hips. In the direct front and back of it, a thin fabric hung down to her knees. The fabric strip covered her intimate places, but not well. It couldn't have been more than a finger length wide. Did people actually see her wear this? She put her hands to her backside. The fabric was so narrow that it slipped down between the cheeks, effectively revealing her entire rear to the world. The belt hung low and thin enough that, had she had any pubic hair, the top of it would have been visible to the world. Which lead to the question: why didn't she have any pubic hair?

She traced one finger down the curve of the muscles that lead from her hips to her inner thighs. She felt exposed. Never mind that her breasts were completely uncovered; if she moved the wrong way she expected that anyone watching her from the front would get a view between her legs that would be embarrassing to show even her husband.

Husband. Did she have one? What man would have a woman for a wife who dressed such as this, even in private? Not even whores would wear such a thing. She looked around the room. In the bed, big enough for two, she could clearly see a figure under the covers. She squinted, but nothing was revealed. Was this her husband? Why was he in the bed, and her on the floor?

She reached forward, nervously, and tapped at the figure's shoulder.

The torches suddenly lit of their own accord, startling and blinding her. She staggered back. As she shook her head and let her eyes adjust to the brightness, she saw the figure sit up in the bed.

Sitting on the edge, naked, was a middle aged woman. Nina blushed, uncertain whether she should worry more about covering herself or averting her own gaze.

The woman looked upset. "What do you want?" She demanded.

"I...I...do you know who I am? What I'm doing here?" Nina carefully examined the floor, not wanting to humiliate herself further.

"Is this a joke?!" The woman snarled, even angrier. "You woke me up for fool questions?"

"No, please..." Nina wanted to run.

"Look at me, girl." A strange feeling tickled Nina's middle, and she was surprised to discover that she wanted to look, suddenly. She wanted to please this strange woman. It scared her to think of it.

She looked up. The woman sat there, brow knitted, hair tangled. She showed many signs of her age, although Nina suspected men would say she was far from ugly. Her breasts sagged a bit, but not a lot, with light stretch marks lurking near their top. Her stomach was small, but a fatty paunch lurked in the space between her navel and feminine areas. Her legs were thin, with a few days' stubble on them, though her pubic mound was well trimmed. Nina blushed at the thought, but was mostly terrified that it seemed so normal, so natural, to observe this woman's body in such an intimate way.

"What do you remember?" The woman barked, lazily scratching her lower belly.

"I...I'm Nina. Is that right?"

"Yes," the woman watched her carefully. "Is that all?"

"I...I guess so."

"Well, Nina," the woman seemed pleased, suddenly, "I guess that fall stirred your brains even more than we thought. Do you remember the fall?"

"N...no..."

"I suppose not. Well, tell me what you feel right now."

It was an odd question. Nina thought..."I feel a strange feeling," she admitted. "Like...when you told me to look at you...I..."

"Obedient."

Nina blushed. "I guess."

"Good. At least your personality wasn't affected. You are indeed obedient to me. You are my slave."

Nina's jaw fell with shock. "No, that can't be..."

The woman's face turned dark. "I assure you it is, and you will find soon enough that I don't appreciate such sass. I never have, not from you."

"But..."

"Fetch me that water," the woman waved towards the counter, where a tall glass of water stood waiting.

Immediately, Nina felt the same urge to do as she was told. It didn't feel good to obey...not really...but it felt necessary. It was more like blinking. If she tried not to, she couldn't succeed for long.

Quickly, she retrieved the water for the woman and walked towards her. She was embarrassed to be so exposed, as she saw the woman's eyes on her. But even more horrible was the total openness and casual commonality, of her new (old?) mistress's nudity.

The woman drank the water, handed her the glass, and Nina returned it to the shelf.

"Good girl," Nina's mistress said absently. Nina blushed. There was a small, potent response to the affirmation there, under her skin. But there was something else, something stronger...

"I hate you."

It shocked her so much, hit her so fully, that she blurted it out without thinking. The older woman only smiled.

"You always have, my dear. Come," she opened her legs and pointed between them. Nina desperately tried to avoid looking at what the woman was revealing, even as she lost the fight against the urge to obey.

She sank to her knees, and the woman held a foot up to her. "Rub it," she commanded. Nina began massaging the foot, and the woman moaned. "Good girl," she said again. And again Nina felt a mix of mild pleasure and intense hatred. "The thing is," the woman continued, as Nina fixed her gaze on the foot in her hands in order to avoid seeing anything further, "pleasing me is the most important thing in your world. Neither of us knows why. Never have. We stopped trying to figure it years ago. I don't really care too much for you either, but you know that. Or you did yesterday. I don't really care much for anybody, except me. You stupid bitch," Nina tensed at the insult. The woman laughed down at her. "You're a thing to me, a worm. I'm better than you. But you're convenient, and you desperately want to please me, so I let you. My name is Anne Jall. I am a goddess to you, and you are nothing to me. As it should be. All that matters," the other leg came up over Nina's shoulder, and the ankle hooked behind her neck, "is that you continue to please me." Nina winced, fear curling in her stomach. The ankle applied pressure, drawing her down towards that fearful place where Anne's thin, hair-speckled thighs met her body. Her obedience wouldn't let her fight it. Panic rose in her chest. The other foot left Nina's grasp. Suddenly hands were in her hair, pulling her towards the woman's soft folds. "Lick me," she commanded.

Raw hatred filled Nina. It was stronger than any fear or disgust. The coldness in the older woman's voice, the raw indifference to Nina's state, made her livid. She desperately longed to kill this woman, to make her death last for days, even weeks.

But more than that, she wanted to lick her mistress like she'd been told to. So she did.

--

Emperor Tahlen was dead, his forces divided and his generals engaged in civil war over quickly shrinking gains. Conquered free nations were rising up again in rebellion, and the surviving army of York was leading the way.