In the Name of Entropy Ch. 03

author's note: this story contains themes of nonconsent and irresponsible use of death magic. enjoy!

--

Queen Keliana and King Jioh made their daily call over crystal. The contract had been officially signed, even though both of them had given a martial order before the war had legally begun. Even though they both intended to cheat and take the other for everything they were worth.

The crystal they used to communicate cast a projection of themselves to the other's balcony. It wasn't quite solid, but you could touch the silhouette. Not for the first time, Keliana saw the King of Dajar leering at her image. Jioh grazed his hand on the simulacrum of Keliana's chest, "I have to say, war does suit you. You're always at your happiest and most radiant when you're engaged in conflict." When you're struggling, he wanted to say, and how badly he wanted to see her struggle beneath him. Soon enough it would be a reality.

"You're not so bad yourself," she said. "It's a shame you're so far away, that this crystal doesn't let you transport here directly. Our meetings might be that much more fun."

Jioh smiled his best smile. "I'd say you're having plenty of fun already, Majesty."

Keliana didn't know that Jioh had sent the last living witch to her entrocite mines, to drink them dry with her power. Just like Jioh didn't know that Keliana had sent her most loyal general with fifty thousand soldiers to lay waste to Kho. Neither of them knew why they made their daily crystal calls, or expected to see weakness in the other's face. But they saw lust in their opponent's eyes, unless that was just the crystal's reflection.

And neither of them knew of the four swords, at least not directly. They didn't see those blades pointing all but at their throats.

—

General Enva gave the order, and the Dajari soldiers packed up the camp.

One of the Captains, Ilya, had been found bound and gagged in her own tent. Her prisoner, one of the four swords, had escaped with two others. They'd abandoned their Estoc. Small wonder, given that the woman had been busy all night with her soldiers. Enva didn't send anyone to pursue them. If they stayed on the road, they'd encounter one side of the war or the other.

She went to another tent, where they kept Lieutenant Venna. The woman had been in charge of Mindan's security, and now that town was a pile of rubble and ash. Venna had bigger concerns now, however, like the cock of the Captain plowing her from behind.

"Unh! Unh!" Her face was screwed up as she tried to keep herself upright on hands and knees. The Captain was really giving it to her. When Enva entered the tent, he didn't so much as look her way. He pulled back and drove into Venna, causing her to moan. This would be his last chance with her; he wanted to make it count.

His rhythm increased. His hands tightened on her hips and he pumped into her with quick, spearing thrusts. Venna cried out, her hands and toes clenching. Her body had long since betrayed her, once she'd become a prisoner of the Dajari. She'd never expected it to happen to her. She'd worked her way up to Lieutenant to stop the other Hivrain soldiers groping her and making advances at her. She wanted to be respected as a soldier. Now she was just a fuck toy. Her dark hair fell in a curtain over her face as she was bounced forward on the Captain's cock. Her pussy throbbed from the attention. She bit her lip, trying to contain the moans and gasps. As usual, she failed. "Gods, y-yes! Give it to me!" And then she came. This brought on his own orgasm.

Enva looked on uncaring. She'd suffered worse when she'd been captured, when Dajar had wiped out her village. Her time in Jioh's captivity had seen her fucked, ridden, and humiliated in ways she'd never known were possible. The Dajari were creative with their punishments, and they'd wanted to see how much a witch could endure.

The Captain pulled out of Venna, refastened his pants. "General Enva," he said, grinning. "Hope you enjoyed the show."

"We're leaving," Enva said. "Tell your squad to pack everything up and march. We're going west, right into Hivra's border. Straight to Ciann, to harvest as much entrocite as we can."

The Captain nodded. "Sounds good." He spanked Venna on the ass. "This one getting sold at Kho, then?"

"No," Enva said. "I have another plan for her."

The Lieutenant's big brown eyes looked up at her, widening with fear.

When camp was packed up, Venna was to be left behind. They gave her a slave collar and a pole, and tethered her to the ground behind the bridge of Mindan. They left her with her hands behind her back, kneeling, facing west. She would watch Enva's army ride away without her.

She was also enchanted. At least, her ropes were. Enva knew Queen Keliana had sent General Barkad to use the bridge of Mindan to enter Dajar, and she had no intention of meeting him on the road. Fortunately, the Ciann mines were off the main path, and her forces were relatively small. She made quick work of diverting her troops and sending them northwest, deeper into the country. A small contingent of soldiers were speeding east now, making for Kho with their haul of prisoners.

But Barkad would come and see what had happened. He would know a witch had been at Mindan and burned it down, which would terrify the Queen and change her priorities. Most importantly, when he tried to free Venna, he would find the enchanted ropes near-impossible to break. Which would buy Enva some time, hopefully, in the event he decided to chase her. Venna wouldn't be much use to him; all she knew was that Enva was last seen going west, the same way Barkad had come. He'd be wondering why he hadn't met Enva on the road, and like all Hivrain Generals, he'd be scratching his head like a moron.

As she mounted her black-maned horse, she looked at the Lieutenant. She had just been doing her job, serving her country. And she'd started to enjoy fucking Dajari men with big cocks. She hadn't signed up for the unpleasant parts. No one had.

Enva considered feeling bad. Then she snuffed that lick of pity out, and rode off.

Such was a contract war.

—

Fal knew it was a terrible plan the moment Clay thought of it. But they didn't have a better way to get into Kho, so she kept her mouth shut.

Or tried to. She was gagged, and her hands were tied in front of her with chains. They were fastened with a trick knot, however—a Dajari invention—so she could slip them off with the right twist when the time came. For this, she wore the clothes she'd been captured in: her sword uniform. It was cut in the front from where it had been forced off the night before, and the pants were coated with blood. It would be easy to sell the story that she was a prisoner, Clay and Broad opportunistic soldiers.

Kho was so much bigger than she'd expected. She'd never seen a city this big. Its walls were perilously high, all shining obsidian cut into angry battlements and ramparts. The red Dajari banners unfurled above the front gates, at least thirty feet long. Not a lot of soldiers patrolled it, but they hardly needed to, the way it was designed. And this was just a trade city. Fal didn't want to imagine what the capital city looked like.

They went to one of the side entrances, a heavy iron portcullis on the southern end of the city. Clay knew this was the entrance slavers used; Fal didn't ask him how he knew this.

"One sword, ripe for market," he said, grinning. He was enjoying himself too much. He was the only Dajari among the swords, so it was easy for him and Broad to pass as mercenaries.

Broad, beside him, grunted affirmative.

Fal screamed and thrashed in her bonds. Clay chuckled and hushed her with a swift cuff on the side of the head. She gave him a very real glare, and he winked at her.

The Dajari guard came out to look at her. "The markets, eh?" His eyes scanned her up and down. She hated the intensity of his gaze. He gave her ass a quick squeeze through the leather. "Bit chunky, this one."

Clay scoffed. "They don't let anyone become a sword. She's young, fertile, and can fight. You can sell her to a pit-master and have her fight until she's past prime, then breed her. Or just give her to one of the northern territories as a pleasure slave." He shrugged. "Or I can just take her back."

"Alright, alright," the guard said. "Gods, you're impatient."

"Eager to be rid of her," Clay said. "Fine as she is. Lost a lot of sleep fighting this one."

The guard laughed. "I bet." He patted Fal's thigh. "Still, she's pretty. Alright, yeah. You know where the market is?"

"Of course," Clay said.

The guard nodded and returned to his post. Moments later, the heavy portcullis opened.

Fal gave Clay another glare. He gave her another grin.

"Told you it would work," he said. Then he yanked her chains and led her in.

The city was far busier than any of them had anticipated. There were the usual wandering traders, entertainers, families on pilgrimage. But now entire neighborhoods, partial villages, had come to take shelter in Kho. Aside from being a trade city, it was where the original contract had been signed by King Jioh. It was as close to sacred territory as one could get during a war. If the King wanted to conditionally surrender, he'd have to do it here, and in return, Queen Keliana wouldn't attack it.

Which meant an influx of people, and a massive price hike. "And slaves," Clay promised.

But he didn't actually know where the market was. They had to ask around to learn it was in the same quarter of the city as the General's barracks. It took them a full hour to get there, meandering through the crowds and streets with unfamiliar names. Fal hated every minute of it. Her mouth was dry and drooling, and her chains clinked humiliatingly. Every now and then a Dajari would spot her and laugh, or proposition her. Clay would pause, as if actually considering letting a stranger fuck her for money.

Broad remained silent the whole walk to the slave markets. Once they were there, however, he said, "The General here is a sword."

Clay stopped. "How the hell do you know that?"

"I've been paying attention," Broad said. A little annoyed, like he couldn't understand why everyone else wasn't as perceptive as him. "All the soldiers here are employed by Kho itself, not him. No Captains talking about Jioh, no Lieutenants gossiping about the war. But we know Jioh put a general in charge of the city. That means someone with military experience. Someone who doesn't play well with others Someone who lives in the barracks."

Shit, Fal thought. He intuited all that from just listening?

"It doesn't matter," Clay said. "We're just here to grab Estoc and flee. We won't be here long enough to piss him off."

"Or her."

"Or her," Clay agreed. "Move it, slave!" he barked at Fal.

Fal grunted, and kept walking.

The barracks were huge, the size of Mindan's town hall and more. They looked to have grown out of the obsidian, with the dark brick of their rooftops and the wide-reaching building that Fal knew had to be its prison. She wondered if slaves ready for purchase were kept near the criminals.

Clay went around back, and announced them. "One Hivrain sword, aged twenty-three. I want to auction her."

The Dajari woman at the barracks frowned at Fal. Taking pity on her, she thought, but not enough to do anything. "You have enough for the posting fee?"

"Poor as dirt, lady," Clay said. This, at least, was true.

"Then send her in. You'll get a discounted cut of whatever she sells for."

"When's the auction?" Broadsword asked.

"We've just got a new shipment in from the west, so we're overflowing with stock. Your captive will go on sale tomorrow morning."

They'd been slow on the road, just the three of them. A portion of Enva's army had marched straight to Kho, mounted and able to walk the road day and night. Which meant the swods hadn't been able to beat Estoc there. Which meant their fourth had been subjected to a Dajari cell and Dajari soldier attentions for days. Fal tried not to dwell on it.

Clay shoved her inside when the door was opened for her. Dajari soldiers seized Fal's arms. She looked back at Clay and Broad, but there were too many eyes on them to exchange any significant nods or gestures.

"Another sword," one of the Dajari guards said. "Really bad time for you folk."

Fal perked up. "Whm?" But of course her words were muffled.

"Oh, you won't see her. Probably not ever again. She's getting special treatment." They were laughing as they deposited her in a cell.

She expected to be thrown in and left alone. Maybe now that she was goods marked to be sold, she was off-limits.

But the Dajari liked to share.

Her cuffed hands weren't touched. She was thankful for this, so they didn't discover the trick links. They didn't care about her hands at all, as they sat her down. The first Dajari was rather impatient as he stood in front of her, uncomfortably close. The smell of him nauseated her; did people in this city shower?

His hands were in her tunic. Her bra had been lost, so nothing protected her large breasts from being groped by his callused hands. He kneaded the soft, warm flesh, taking his time. The other guard turned his back to them, standing at the edge of the cell. Keeping watch.

Maybe they're not supposed to this, she thought with a glimmer of hope. Before her tunic was ripped open and he pulled her breasts out. The guard unfastened his pants, and the smell was worse when he exposed his half-erect cock. Fal turned her head away from it, but he didn't care.

"Like that, don't you, Hivrain?" He squeezed her big tits together around it, and began to push back and forth. Of course, they responded to the attention. Her nipples stiffened and she felt her cunt tingle, aching to be touched. She only hoped they weren't the attentive kind of jailors.

"Nm!" She tried to protest, but he just pushed, leaning her against the wall. Soft moans escaped his lips.

"Fuck, that's good," he said. He squeezed her large mounds, and Fal struggled against his grip to no avail. His big, filthy cock slid back and forth between her tits, almost poking her in the face, and there was nothing she could do.

"That's a good girl," the guard said. "Just take it." He increased his rhythm, tossing his head back. Fal closed her eyes, wanting to avoid what came next. Sure enough, he held himself there and came. One load hit her on the chin, while the rest landed, hot and sticky, on her chest.

Fal moaned in despair. She looked up at the guard pleadingly, hoping he'd clean it up or at least refasten her shirt.

He stuffed himself back into his pants, smiling. "That was a good warmup. We'll see you tonight for the real show."

And both of them left her there, unsatisfied.

—

Queen Keliana removed her robe. Naked, she was a sight to behold, porcelain perfection marred by vivid cracks of thinly-restrained entropy. But in the ritual chamber behind her bedroom, there was no one to behold her.

Her long blonde hair was tied up to keep out of her face, and she wore nothing save for the gloves on each hand. These gloves ended in small, iron claws. Enchanted iron, one of the few metals that never lost their magic no matter how much you spent the entropy. And the spell in her hungry fingers was one of physicality, of the body, of every destruction it was capable of.

On the floor she had drawn the entrocite rune—one of her gifts taken from the slain witches of Dahnia. It sizzled from freshness. It was a bright purple and gave off heat like a stove. Keliana stood before it, unbothered by this heat. Raw entropy was a natural high to her; she'd long since stopped being unhinged by it.

She drew a hand slowly over her chest. Four thin lines of blood formed, and this blood was a darker red than most people. They might even say it was the violet of entropy, but few people were lucky enough to see her bleed.

The other fingers she put into her mouth and kissed. Then both hands, with blood and saliva together, pressed down on the rune. And the power came to her.

This war had only just begun. Keliana had used so much magic already. But she'd lost Hellroth because Jioh had gotten lucky. Or she'd overextended. Hivra was known for its overwhelming forces, its superior numbers, its better-forged arms. Let it be remembered for that forever.

The power of entrocite channeled through her. Despair in its purest form. This rune, the body rune, rippled over her naked flesh and consumed her. The magic swelled and screamed, and threatened to overtake her. But she'd been doing this for centuries.

It was nothing to her, to concentrate her mind, to reach over the miles of her kingdom. To extend her will over General Barkad and his fifty thousand soldiers, and feed them the magic that coursed through her.

Her body became linked to all of theirs. They had been told to expect this. They felt invigorated, like they could march forever, like they could wear the heaviest armor without tiring. Like the hooves of their horses could devour the road beneath them on their way to Kho.

It was still entropy magic, of course. The magic of death. It only worked for them because they had death on their minds. They had their orders, to march and devour the road to Kho. To take it for all it was worth, when they came to it.

Which was what they did.

Jioh wouldn't expect this, she knew. For her to give so much of herself in so bold a move, to expend so much energy on what others might considered a wasted attack. But now, he wouldn't be able to surrender. And Hivra's territory would grow.

Keliana screamed, in pain, and more pain—and, finally, pleasure, as the entropy took her.

—

The Dajari soldiers had given Estoc a set of rules. They'd ask a question, and if she didn't answer immediately, they would enter the cell. Then they would enter her.

Years ago she remembered telling an old boyfriend—another sword, a Scimitar—that she'd wanted to be taken, tied up, while he pretended to interrogator. Now that fantasy was real. Whoops.

Her hands were tied with a leather strap to the ceiling, letting her hang just enough that her feet reached the floor. She was blindfolded with a white cloth that smelled like sex. She felt the stale dungeon air on her naked body, making her nipples harden from exposure.

"Let's try again," one of them asked. "On what campaign did you get the scars?"

Estoc opened her mouth to reply, and said only, "Go fuck yourself."

She was lowered enough that she could be bent over. Her already-wet slit provided lubrication as one guard shoved into her from behind. As she groaned, another cock entered her mouth. The guard in front began to fuck her throat, and he reached down and grabbed her breasts, pinching her nipples. The Dajari behind her had clearly been pent up for a while, given the intensity of his his pounding thrusts.

She moaned despite herself, unable to keep from crying out around the cock in her mouth. Their rhythms were brutal, uneven. She kept bumping up against the coarse hair on the crotch of the one in front of her, or smacking her hips against the one behind. Her hands were stretched painfully above her, her shoulderblades aching. The hurt was a sharp twang to the pleasure, and for a moment she saw stars.

The guard in her mouth came first. She heard him gasp and then he pulled out, and she felt but couldn't see the ropes of cum stick to her face and cheeks. Then she was lifted up, closer to a standing position again. The guard behind her wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight as he kept pounding. "Fuck. Take it, you Hivrain bitch!"

"Nuh!" she gasped. "Nuh, nuh! Stop! Gods, stop!" Don't. There was a "don't" in there, somewhere. They were fucking her senseless.

The one in front of her chuckled. "You just have to answer our questions. It's really that simple."