Queen Yavara Ch. 55

"Adrianna's alive!" I said as the point punctured my flesh, "That's why Titus joined Zander! Because he spared her!"

Furia stopped, the blade freezing, a droplet of blood pooling around it. "Please explain," she whispered.

"Zander exiled her. He knew he would need the help of those who cared for her, so he showed mercy, and traded the secret for their loyalty."

Her lower lip quivered, but it was the only emotion she displayed. "Even if it's true, why should I spare you?"

"Because even though Zander's a delusional old fool, he's right. You know he's right." I stood up, and stared her evenly in the eye, "You've known since the beginning that there was something wrong with Yavara. All of you have. She's an imposter. She's a pretender. She didn't make Alkandra; you all did. And when she came back, did she feel like a queen, or a guest? Or perhaps, did she feel like an intruder?"

"There's only one intruder here, Leveria."

"Yes, there is. They talk about me, don't they?" I asked, "Eva, Faltia and Soraya. They all came to my cell after they'd done their worst. They wanted more. What did they say about me?"

"Enough for me to know that you're too dangerous to let live."

I smiled. "I'm too dangerous to kill, Furia. That's why you're not here to kill me."

"Is that so?" She hissed, "Then why am I here?"

"To be convinced." I whispered, wrapped my hands around hers, and pushed the blade away. She let me guide it outward away from our bodies, but she would not let me compel her to release it. I moved into the space where the knife had been, and pressed myself to her, squishing our breasts together. As our eyes connected and locked, I extended my hand upward, carefully hooked a strand of her hair with my index finger, and slid it behind the sharp point of her ear, revealing the tattooed side of her face. That finger then drew gently along her jaw, touched below her chin, and guided her mouth to mine.

She let me take the lead. She let me open her lips with my own, and slide my tongue between them. I knew she was one of the most potent lovers in the world, and I could feel the weapon she had between her legs growing hard against my pubis, but she held herself back. It was a test. It was why she kept the dagger in her hand. I raked my fingers through her hair as my tongue danced in her mouth, and moved my fingers down her splendid back until I was cupping and squeezing her succulent cheeks. I opened my legs around her hard shaft, and let it rise between my thighs until it pressed into the damp cloth at my apex. Moaning into her mouth, I glided my soft pussy across her, making her feel the way she parted my petals, teasing the moist heat at my center. All the while, I kissed her. I kissed her like an enemy, like a lover, and like a whore.

The knife's blade glinted in my periphery. It turned me on. I slid my hand from her ass, up her muscular back, along her shoulder, and down her arm. I grasped her wrist, and guided her killing hand back to me. She slid the blade under my chin, and I shuddered in exhilaration when I felt its cold edge glide across my throat. The heat between my thighs became more radiant, and the flow of my arousal saturated the sweltering cloth so much that I could practically feel her bare flesh through it. She was so hard now. Her thick cock raged between my folds, pressed firmly into my petals, throbbed in cadence with my pulsing femininity until our heartbeats were one. Her breath was hot, and her mouth was filling with saliva. I slowly slithered my tongue out of her, painted her lips with it, then touched our brows, connecting our eyes.

"Why did you stop?" she whispered.

"I need to go."

Her brows knitted. She dropped the knife between our breasts, and it clattered to the floor. Her hands came around me, tentative and unsure. She made to take me by the flank, but she instead rested her fingers lightly on my hips. She pulled us gently together, and we both gasped when her cock grinded against my sopping slit. "Don't leave me like this." She pleaded softly.

I drew my hands up her side, grazing my fingers across her nipples. They were so hard that they leaked with her pregnant milk, and the mere graze caused her to quiver like a taut bowstring. She breathed heavily against me, molding her body to mine. "Please, Leveria. I'll beg if you want me to."

I smiled tenderly. "I would love to hear it, but I have to go. My sister—"

"Fuck your sister."

"That's the plan, actually."

Furia's eyes were fevered with lust, topping her lids with sweltering desire. "I could just take you," she hissed.

"But you won't."

"Don't test me."

"You can't take what I have, Furia. I can only give it."

She pondered me for what felt like an eternity, then stepped backward. "Fuck it," she muttered, "we're all going to die anyway." She grabbed a bow and arrow off the wall, went to the window, drew the weapon, and loosed it toward the bay. The wind took the arrow, glided it northward, and sent it on a path right for my sister. It struck her squarely in the back of the head, bouncing from her arcane shield. She flinched, rubbed her head, and turned around.

YAVARA

There were times when I greatly regretted drunkenly telling Eva Alecia during an orgy, "If you ever want to get my attention, just shoot a fucking arrow at the back of my head, HAHAHAHAHAHA!" It really wasn't that funny now.

"Fuck!" I grunted, and rubbed the back of my head. I turned around to see Furia's figure in the window across the way. I looked back at the map of Tenvalia, then out over the bay. It was nearly dusk already. I would have to make a decision soon. The prospect was daunting, and the distraction of the hybrid was so damn appealing. I could just push the decision back a little later; just long enough to clear my head so that I could... no. No, I had to decide now! The future of my kingdom depended on—another arrow struck me in the back of the head. I glared over my shoulder at Furia, then snatched the arrow from the ground. I scribbled *what?!* on a sheet of parchment, rolled it around the arrow, pulled my bow from the wall, and loosed the projectile. My aim was as true as ever, and Furia caught the arrow before it impaled her eye.

She scribbled something on the parchment, then shot the arrow back at me. I stopped it an inch before me with a telekinetic reception, and read her reply. *Wanna fuck?*

I wrote back, *I can't right now :'(* and sent it.

The arrow was shot back at me with the message, *but I'm so hard ;)*

Oh, I was tempted, but I wrote, *Jack off.*

*Help me?*

*Aren't you supposed to be on the wall?*

*The enemy won't come until tomorrow, but you can make me cum tonight.*

*Tempting, but no.*

*Yes*

*Later!*

*Now. Brianna's here too.*

I looked up from the message to see Brianna shoving her bare ass out the window, and spreading it. I chewed on my lip, then moistened it with my tongue. I jumped out of the window, and flew across the castle.

ELENA

The watchmen had gotten to the gate first, but not by much. We clashed at the final flight of steps upon the bluff, and began a systematic game of slaughter at that chokepoint. The width of the steps was barely enough to hold five men abreast, and with Huntiata and I at the forefront, the steps may as well have been a meat-grinder. I'd put away my cleavers for a short sword, and with a proper blade in my hand and my flank secured, the high-elves were simply no match for me. I was just too fast.

I parried away a sword, then stabbed the defender in the throat. He went down gurgling, and I moved up a step. I blocked a down-strike overhead, then opened the man's belly with my dagger. He went down belching blood, and I moved up a step. I cut off a man's hand before he even had the chance to raise it, then I put my sword through his sternum. He went down gasping, and I moved up a step. Step by step, we moved up, the men behind me loosing arrows into the ranks of the men in front of me, sending the dead toppling off the stairs and tumbling down the bluff. The men behind me held shields over their head to avoid the same fate, and with the front ranks constantly advancing, the high-ground advantage of the watchmen was negated.

"Corporal Karl Fertia, I believe I still owe you some backpay!" Huntiata roared, twisting his sword into a screaming man's belly. He pulled it out with a string of viscera unwinding after, and he swung overhand to clash blades with another man.

"Captain Yefta Enura, congratulations on your promotion!" Huntiata laughed, and smashed poor Yefta's face in with a gauntleted fist.

"Jionan Porculia, how's the wife?" Huntiata jeered as he impaled the unfortunate private.

He caught the next strike on his crossguard, and frowned at his assailant. "I don't recognize you, boy. Whose outfit were you in?" Before the boy could answer, Huntiata cut his head off.

His voice rose over the clatter of metal and the screams of the wounded, a cheerful note to the otherwise terrible symphony. We fought our way up the steps, and into the courtyard. It was packed with watchmen already, and more were streaming in from the Noble District by the second. A mere hundred feet behind them were the castle gates. They had been left open.

"Push onward, boys!" Huntiata yelled, "We're only a few steps away, and we've already got 'em shitting their pants!"

Those behind us cheered, and rushed into the courtyard beside us. Here, our numbers hurt us. The courtyard was expansive, and the superior watchmen force could flank us indefinitely, stretching us out until there was nothing but holes in our line. The only solution then, was to drive straight through the middle. I screamed, raised my sword overhead, and rushed into the thicket of men before me.

I blocked a downward strike and ducked beneath our joined swords, letting the man's momentum propel me into his body so that I could eviscerate him. Drifting past him, I stuck my sword into the chest of the next man, slipped into the space beside him, put my dagger into another man's throat, and was then suddenly slammed full-force into another's chest. I was pinned, propelled forward by the momentum of the charge behind me. The watchman and I were pushed together, snarling into each other's faces, unable to even move our arms. All around us were pairs of men in similar situations, enemies pressed together like lovers, shifting in their confines as best they could to free an arm and deal the killing blow. Unfortunately for my partner, my frame was narrower than his, and I managed to pull my arm out, raise my dagger, and stab him in the neck. Smashed against him as I was, I didn't have enough room to put any kind of force behind my attack. All I could do was stab him shallowly over and over, gouging his neck as he screamed. He gnashed his teeth, spit and coughed, but there was nothing he could do. Tears welled in his eyes as my dagger went in and out, in and out, in and out. He blubbered and cried, tucking in his chin to preserve his throat. In and out, in and out, in and out. Blood poured from the wounds and smeared all over his face. In and out, in and out. He begged me to stop. In and out, in and out, in and out. He called for god. In and out, in and out, in and out. He called for his mother. In and out, in and out in and out.

He slumped forward against me, his head rolling lifelessly, his neck so full of holes that it looked honeycombed. I was pressed against him, carrying him forward through the melee. Tears wetted my cheeks, and as hell propelled me ever forward, I prayed for the man I had just sent into oblivion. I didn't know why I prayed; I knew for a fact there was no harbinger on the other side. Or maybe that was just for me? That thought was incredibly disturbing, but with men shrieking all around me, bodies pressing on every side, and no ability to do anything but step with the mass lest I get trampled, I found myself in a strangely existential and introspective mood. What if everyone else went to heaven, and it was just me who—we broke through. It happened so suddenly that I nearly tripped over the dead man who collapsed in front of me. In his wake, there was nothing but empty space all the way to the castle gates. I collected my footing beneath me, and made a full sprint for the entrance. The men behind me roared as they pressed the already-bowed watchmen line, and a second later, the entire force broke through the middle. We charge forward, screaming with the exhilaration of victory, and the watchmen behind us just watched. It was if they'd agreed upon the terms of our victory beforehand; if we managed to break their line and get between them and the king, then they wouldn't stop us. It made sense, after all. Even if they pursued us, we'd still get to Ternias, and then who would be signing their paychecks? Me. The queen of the fucking Highlands.

It was setting in; the reality of what I'd just achieved. As I raced toward the castle gates, I came under the astounding realization that I was really running to my new front door. I looked back at Mom as she sprinted behind me, and saw she was in nearly as much disbelief as I was. She smiled through her blood-splatted face, and took my hand in hers. Together, we ran toward our new—a roar cut through the air. Not the roar of warriors in combat, but a roar. The sound sent a prickle of primal terror right up my spine, and stuck my feet into the ground so violently that I skidded to a stop. I recognized that sound. It was unmistakable. It had never occurred to me until that moment why the bells may have been tolling. All of the watchmen were up in the noble district, and the riots weren't set to start for another two hours, and yet, every single bell in the city was tolling from every ward, creating a discordant harmony of hundreds of different metallic notes. The warning bells. The fire bells. The invasion bells. I turned around, and looked up.

Upon the wall, was the silhouette of a great wolf. Its massive shoulder-hunch struck an unmistakable figure, its ivory teeth shown like ivory knives, and its red eyes seemed to glow from its black profile. It stood alone atop the walls of the Noble District. Then, another appeared. And another one. And another one. One by one, they summitted the walls, some with riders, some without, all popping up until they lined the entire battlements. The watchmen and bannermen stood in the courtyard like chickens in a breached coop, and the wolves above assessed their meal with salivating jowls.

"Run." I croaked, then the terror welled up inside me, and burst from my mouth in a shriek, "RUN!"

The bannermen and watchmen turned heel, and sprinted in mass to the entrance. The wolves leapt from the perches, and disappeared between the mansions of the Noble District. For a moment, the only movement in the courtyard was the panicked stampede of elves. Then, they came. The wolves burst from the streets and alleys, their massive paws tearing the cobblestones from the mortar with every stride, closing the distance between us so quickly that a single blink would've missed the chase. The men in the back ranks turned around at the last second, and the wargs smashed into them. I couldn't see the carnage; I could only see the rows of men disappearing in the feeding-frenzy, but I could hear it. I could hear the blood-soaked shrieks, the horrific growls, the clashing of steel and the snapping of bones. The rows disappeared one by one, and those in front pressed frantically toward the entrance, packing themselves in, trampling those who were too slow.

Mom and I rushed through the gates, and the panicked herd burst in after me, filling the halls with their clanging footfalls, friend and foe running in pure terror side by side. Huntiata rounded the corner opposite me, and grabbed every passing man he could get his hands on. I did the same, snatching watchmen and bannermen, and thrusting them against the bars of the wrought-iron gate. Many of them fled, but enough stayed. I looked at Huntiata, and he looked at me. The stream of fleeing elves flowed past us, and the sounds of carnage became louder and louder. I nodded to him. With all our might, we pushed, and the gates began to close. The stream of men narrowed. The gears above ticked; the mechanism built so that the hinges locked into place with every inch they were closed. Though the resistance we pressed against became greater, the gates would not open even a fraction more. Those lucky few that made it through added their weight to our side. How could they do it? How could they know what it meant to be on the other side of the gate, and the next moment, throw all their might against those who were behind them? But I knew the answer, for I felt it in every fiber of my being. Terror. Terror drew a line in the sand between life and death, and those on the other side were the enemy, for they brought death with them. The gears above ticked slower, but still, they ticked. I didn't look at the men on the other side. I didn't look at their horrified faces as they pressed against the bars, and begged me. I only paid heed to the ticking of the gears. Tick, tick, tick, tick, clang. The gates shut. I stepped backwards, and looked up. I made myself watch this. I watched as they screamed and begged, putting every ounce of their strength against the barrier to their sanctuary. I watched the hunched shoulders of the wolves appear behind them. I watched the horror come into their eyes when they realized what was going to happen. Then, I watched them die. It was not over quickly, but still, I watched. I watched until the last crunching bite sounded, and the last gurgling squeal faded. As the wolves feasted upon the dead flesh, an orc split the crowd of fur, and walked to the gates. He was surprised to see me on the other side, but not as surprised as he should've been.

"Ambassador Straltaira, is it?" He asked, "I heard you were dead."

"What's your name, soldier?" I hissed.

He just sneered at me. "You're the Dark Queen's bitch, are you?" He licked the blood from his dagger, and eyed me, "I heard rumors about you. Can't say I fancy a woman with a cock, but that's an easy fix."

"The Dark Queen will—"

"The Dark Queen doesn't know you're alive, Ambassador." The orc laughed, "But maybe we'll send her what's left of you when we're done." He clanged his blade against the bars, and chuckled, "Did you think that traitorous bitch had the balls to order an attack on Bentius? No. All you elves are the same. Dark or light, it doesn't much matter. Even the one who brought us here stabbed us in the back."

"What? Who?!"

He withdrew his blade with a scrape, and examined the edge. "Fresh paint, eh? I heard there was some kind of a coup that went on here 'bout a week back. Guess they got through." His eyes sparkled as he looked up at the gears on the ceiling, "I reckon that if a bunch of limp-dicked elves can knock down this gate, then it shouldn't take long for us to." He looked at me, and grinned wickedly, "Make yourself pretty for me, Ambassador. I'm coming in."

ADRIANNA

The financial district was empty when the horsewomen stormed through it. The slaughter was already over, and the bankers and tellers were left in pieces on the streets. Stock papers floated in the air, windows were smashed in, and vault doors had been rent open. It seemed once the orcs realized the vaults were empty, that they lost interest. The wealth of the Highlands was in the army, and the gold that had once filled the coffers of noble banks was now in the form of sharpened steel. All that steel was on its way to Bentius. I just had to keep the city breathing long enough for them to get here.

I grimaced as I withdrew my finger from the wound in my back. It was deep. It was very deep. It ran between my ribs like a groove, opening me all the way to the side. It was a miracle that my lung hadn't been punctured, but with the hole in my diaphragm, it was already hard enough to breathe. I stuffed the gauze back into the weeping cut, and gritted my teeth as I reapplied the bandage. There was no way it wasn't infected given the source of the wound. Likely a flesh-eating bacterium was already making itself at home deep in my sinew, but I didn't have time to think about it.