Roderick and Gorlana Pt. 04

Their thrusts accelerated, faster and faster as they almost screamed in heightening lust. Then finally she held him deep inside her in a longer but tighter clasp. They broke their kiss to hyperventilate through each other's teeth, tightly straining eyelids touching wetly together. She released her legs only for a moment, almost to simply adjust so she could squeeze him again, even tighter while he thrust his iron-hard weapon as deeply as possible into her. They both moaned in panicking breaths.

"Oh Roderick!" her grating whimper sounded against his face.

"Gorlana!" his gritted teeth spewed her name out between them.

"Roderick please!"

"Oh GODS Gorlana!!"

He found his life's purpose realized in a split second as his cum erupted inside her. He felt every electric movement of his flesh as his cock heaved his seed from his straining balls into the perfect flesh of his orcish love. Her pulsing massaging walls moved in time with his spasms to milk him and hungrily absorb every wave of his semen.

They locked in a kiss all the while, screaming their wordless adoration into their throats mashing their teeth and lips in time with the thrusts of their tightly locked hips. His cum shot through his cock with almost painful force. Again and again, almost endlessly emptying his balls, her clasping pussy undulating with strong controlling movements to coax every drop of him that there was to have.

When he almost thought his wishes would come true and it would in fact never end, he groaned in one last empty thrust and she let out a moan of intense gratification, but continued sucking her pussy on his cock. She let out breathless satisfied purrs on his ear while she nibbled on hers, and they basked in the perfect blissful afterglow that the biting sheets of rain could not douse in the slightest.

He lost track of time as she hung there, holding his relaxing cock inside her, breathing deep fulfilling breaths on each other's skin, and trading soft wet kisses. He began to feel his bruised flesh throb in complaint and his broken leg strain as he struggled to keep their weight off of it.

"The guards might come check again soon," he said, hating to have to come back to reality.

She squeezed him all the tighter and let out a low frustrated whimper that made him smile painfully and kiss the side of her soft cheek next to her sharp tusk again.

"Are you sure you couldn't escape? If I free you?" she asked stubbornly

If he wasn't sure before, the sharp ache in his leg now made him certain. He nodded, "Not with my leg still broken. I think you know this Gorlana."

She dug her claws into his shoulders again in frustration but he felt her nod anyway.

"You are a Queen. I know THAT for certain. Will keeping me truly help you win your throne?"

She nodded again, caressing him now.

"Then keep me. Deal me as you will. I will survive it."

She kissed him and whispered, "No one must know. No one must suspect."

He nodded, "I know. Carthala said she would help me."

She stiffened for a moment, but then sighed and whispered with a harsh determination in his ear. "I will find my way through this mess I have found myself in. Somehow. And then... perhaps some day..."

He nodded, and kissed her again, "Now go."

She turned away, and he lost sight of her silhouette in the rain, but then suddenly she was back, pulling a goat-skin overtop of his head. The cold rain ceased it's pummelling of his scalp and shoulders, and he smiled with a renewed hope. She kissed him one last time, slow and sweet, and then was finally gone.

...

2 weeks later.

Orthanhall. The tower of the main keep loomed above the loosely organized city below it. It sat on the highest of the steep craggy hills that extended in all directions from it. The Goathorn range. Almost mountainous but not quite. Mountains at one time some said, but worn down with their old weathered slopes showing cracked pale white rocks between the old dark forest coating their surface, spires of the white rock rising out here and there. The few nearest the city each with a lookout carved at the top.

Gorlana stopped for a moment to take in the sight. She attempted to grasp at the sense of relief at seeing her home again, but the trepidation of what might come, soured that feeling too much. Either way, there was only one thing to do. She stepped forward with determination, to what lay ahead.

Her prisoner, her prize, her weakness... Roderick was behind her, near the center of her forces. Kept safe, surrounded by her army. Safe from her, as well. She had only seen and spoken to him whenever absolutely necessary over the past two weeks, and even those times felt like they had a new heightened flavour to them. His scent each time seemed to be growing in her. Pulling her towards that cliff of no return that they would both tumble off of into their Rutt if they let themselves. She had half-expected it to take her the day after their reckless mating in the rain, but it hadn't. Not quite. Perhaps the rain and its dousing of their scent had saved them. Or perhaps they were in fact like most orcs and even a previously Rutted pair, newly together again after a long campaign, would take time, and some effort to Rutt again. Nor were they in a safe homestead, or well fed, as would usually help to bring it to fruition. All these reasons settled on her mind to reassure her, as admittedly some instinctive part of her was almost disappointed that it hadn't happened all at once, like it had those many years ago.

She still wondered every night whether she should have freed him anyway. Gone with him and carried him off to the mountains. Found a cave somewhere...

No, he had been right. This deep in Orthalia. At this time of year. With his leg. Their chances of surviving and escaping capture were next to none. She hated it, but he was right. She hated that she had been ready to give this all up. Her legacy to her beloved aunt. All she had worked for. She couldn't, and it made her love him all the more that he had known it, sacrificing his potential freedom for her. It also filled her with a new stress, that another level of obligation now sat on her shoulders to succeed. For that sacrifice to not have been for nothing.

As they climbed the gradual slope to the city, she saw that Iringoll's forces lay to the west, only recently entrenched in their position, but settled all the same. Zurgana's armies were further to the west and North along the circle of shallower hills and valleys surrounding the Orcish city. Gorlana would occupy this section to the Southeast, and presumably, if she ever arrived, Faringoll would complete the encirclement to the Northeast. Though at least some of her local supporters kept the land marked off. Not that Gorlana would dishonour her by attempting to encroach it.

All seemed to toy with the balance of holding to their honour on one hand, and bending it to gain more power on the other. Iringoll had made the most promises to her allied chiefs and won the most as a result, but could she keep them without breaking others? Zurgana had her allied Rechlingers, as did Gorlana, with her Andralian captive besides - hostages and ransom not usually Orthalian style. Faringoll was the only one for whom there did not seem to be any tricks up her sleeve. None that they knew of. That and her strangely late arrival left Gorlana with a nagging discomfort.

They came to the inner watchtower and Gorlana stopped and turned to those behind her.

"This will be the front line of our encampment. Set up an established perimeter, no closer than 200 paces from Iringoll's line, and leave the same from Faringoll's placeholders."

Traulch held his blunt nose up in the air, "We should attack these lazy scum. I can see how they sit in their camp as if in their homestead, assuming us too weak to wage battle I suspect."

"Iringoll's line has guards and weapons aplenty on her perimeter, but as has been the case for generations, it is all simply by tradition. Our fighting is done, Traulch. The moot itself has always been carried forth with honour. Duels have been fought yes, but the armies themselves have not clashed on the steps of Orthanhall for over 100 years. That will not change if I can help it. We show our power. Our potential. And it is weighed along with our honour, and respect, in the decision."

Traulch gave a sour nod of deference and turned away.

"I will travel into the city, to the hall, to formally announce myself to the chiefs there, but I will return by the evening at least," Gorlana said. "Iringoll and Zurgana may very well be there to speak a few words knowing I will be coming, but nothing official will be said or done. Carthala and a handful of honour guards will come with me."

Traulch stepped forward, "I will come as well. Your future ruling mate should b-"

"No," Gorlana quickly interrupted. "You will stay and ensure your Rechlingers set themselves peacefully and maintain their self-control. Not to leave their honour in our camp to go uselessly flailing their spears at Iringoll's lines as you just suggested."

He scowled but stepped back nonetheless.

"As I said, nothing official will occur today. You will eventually come along with the rest of the chiefs when talks begin," she said to placate him.

"Then your champion will grant your wish, my Queen," he grumbled.

The rest simply nodded and left with short words of agreement, to spread out and begin their work to settle their camp.

Traulch had been acting even more oddly than Gorlana expected, and not in the way she expected either. She had almost been surprised how long it took him to realize, but she was sure he at least suspected her mating scents were not ripening richer for him. He would never admit it. He could never admit it without embarrassing himself, other than to act even more antagonistic, and ironically, even more the fool to the other male chieftains, likely still suspecting one of them.

She still devoted 5 minutes every night or two to his rough self-interested matings. She was almost numb to it at this point, getting what enjoyment she could physically from it, but dismissing any feeling surrounding it. In fact it was surprisingly almost easier after letting herself succumb to Roderick, knowing confidently where her deepest feeling lay, and that Traulch would never bring her to Rutt, contrary to his boastings. It had always been a far off chance. Her history of her failed Rutt had been an open secret among any in the higher circles and he was not that uninformed. It reassured her nonetheless. She was stuck with him though. The necessity of his alliance made it a sure thing that he would be the Queen's Mate-Prince if she succeeded. She had still not thought of a solution to dig her way out of that, without betraying him and thus pitting her nation into another costly war.

What irked her is that he WASN'T more angry, or shamed, or... whatever explosive drama she had expected from the issue, even if it was only a suspicion that he refused to admit. He spoke eagerly of the moot. Of arriving at Orthanhall, and... though it was only something she thought she read behind his words, of meeting with Zurgana's Rechlingers, the Northeastern rivals to his own clans. It did not have the sense of one eager for a battle with an enemy. Not entirely. And there was something two-faced in the way he spoke of his wishes for their arrival here. He was always expected to be more interested in swinging his swords, but the way he dismissed any and all discussion of the actual issues to be brought up at the moot, while looking forward to it impatiently... She had made him swear on his sword that he would not spill blood - Rechlinger rival or no - without her express consent, but it did not reassure her entirely.

She shook her head at herself and decided her own secrecy was triggering too much paranoia of everything else around her. In the end, whatever was to come, was to come. All there was to do, was face it.

...

The smells and sights of home filled her with a truly familiar and reassuring sense now, finally, as they passed through the short log wall into the small city of Orthanhall. Orcish walls were almost never of stone. Sieges and hiding were a thing of human warfare. Open honest battles were the way of Orthalia. The practicality of some type of palisade around a hold or settlement could not be denied, but it was not to be a substitute for the strength of one's people, and never to be hid behind for days. The hall itself, as much of a castle as anything in Orthalia, of course had stone walls, but that was one building. A whole city? Gorlana shook her head wondering if she would ever see Andrapolis or any other human cities to compare. Though she wondered if Orthalia simply didn't have stone city walls because they didn't have the resources or skill. She also wondered if she would still agree that a palisade was good enough if an Andralian army was bursting through to slaughter them. Thankfully that was unlikely as of now, and she would do all she could to keep it that way.

They worked their way gradually upwards still, zigzagging through the streets that had never been pre-planned with the way Orthanhall had grown with the generations. Houses and huts were widely and irregularly spaced, at least out here, as was typical of other settlements. Only nearer to the central hall did they begin to be erected immediately side by side out of necessity for space. The stories of the density of human cities, with people allegedly living literally over top of each other, always sounded ridiculous to her, and like it would be a desperate unfortunate place to find oneself. She could not fathom why they would not simply move somewhere less crowded.

An impressive blacksmith's shop caught her eye with the weapons displayed out front. She smiled at the obvious skill in the craftsmanship The prices, however, left a sour taste in her mouth. Even for ones well-crafted. This war had already been stretching their realm to its limit over the years. Malgora's peace might have remedied that, but now the succession battles, not truly a civil war, but she supposed it was practically similar, were pushing them even more to their limits of food and supplies. She stopped at a market stall and confirmed her suspicions of the price of the food there as well. She sighed. As much as she wanted to attack towards Andralia and win their lands back by honour and force, she knew a deal with them was perhaps the only realistic way out. Malgora had been right, as ever.

The body of the Queen, her poor aunt, would still be lying in the basement of the hall, embalmed and wrapped, to be burned at the ceremony to open the moot. She was coming here to pay her respects to her, as much as anything else.

She and Carthala finally approached the tall towers at the front of the hall, higher than anything else built by Orcish hands. It had actually been largely carved from a natural stone outcrop and spire, and simply added to, where it was needed, to form the monstrous keep that now stood. The dirt surrounding it had been excavated as well to add to its height relative to the surrounding hill. In the style of a typical wooden orcish clan-hall, but at least double the size, it's heavy stone walls had stood for generations. She imagined it would stand imposing and intimidating to any enemy gazing upon it. To her though, despite it's cold hard exterior, it did actually feel like home.

Gorlana had always called the city of Orthanhall home, though her mother travelled extensively. When her mother had died though, in Gorlana's late childhood years, her aunt Malgora had taken her under her wing, even beyond what might have been expected. The hall itself then, had become her home as well. Despite her obligations and busy demands as the Queen, Malgora brought Gorlana in alongside her daughters Faringoll and Iringoll for tutelage and training. They had all been fast friends and excited at having even more time with each other, at least at first. As years went by though, and they transitioned into adulthood, a rift had slowly stretched between them. The reality of the competition inherent in each of their potential as queen finally posed its inevitable threat. Perhaps there were other reasons as well, but although they always still treated each other with a polite respect, their walls had not come down for many years now. Her other cousin Zurgana had always been a bit apart from them, never admitting she was jealous of the camaraderie of the other three, and causing trouble or boasting of her allegedly superior feats. She had never said it outright but always heavily implied an injustice that Gorlana would ever be given the privileges she had, despite her... differences.

Neither of her cousins were at the front steps when she approached, however. The guards looked somewhat self-conscious as well, as if unprepared.

"My honour to you... Gorlana," he said, seeming unsure of using her birth-name, instead of her war-name, but Gorlana knew he had spoken correctly, given their context now.

"And to you," she intoned with a nod of her head. "I hope I did not sneak up upon the guards of Orthanhall without even trying," she smiled.

Varrhag, one of the higher chiefs of the central Orthanhall clans stepped forward from behind them. "Iringoll and Zurgana both led loud and large processions up to the steps to pronounce their arrival."

"I decided to let the size of my army outside the city speak for itself," she said, standing tall amidst her retinue of only six orcs.

"An impressive army I admit, but still smaller than Iringoll's," Varrhag said flatly, but with an eyebrow raised.

Gorlana tightened her lips, "Pretending at grandiosity will not change that. I come here today not to gloat, but to pay my solemn respects to my deceased Queen."

Varrhag gave a much more sombre nod, "Of course. Follow me. I will bring you to her."

...

Gorlana knelt alone in the dark crypt below Orthanhall. Her beloved Aunt Malgora's dead body lay embalmed and wrapped on a stone table. The face was covered by the wrapping but she knew she would rather not see it, given how much time had passed.

Was it really your age and ailments? Was it simply poor timing? She begged her aunt to give her some message from beyond to answer that troubling question that she had tried to forget until now.

As if in answer to her silent thoughts, one of the healers walked up softly behind her from the stairs. It was their job to prepare the dead, and to examine their cause of death.

The old orc spoke in a gravelly but comforting whisper, "She had been well until two days before she died. She began struggling for breath, with pain in her chest. Swelling took to her feet and ankles. Then on the last day she worsened quickly and her lungs could no longer serve her body's needs.

Gorlana cringed and tightened her eyes in a sorrowful grimace.

The healer continued, "I wish I could tell you for absolute certain that it was not poison. All I can say is that I have seen many pass away naturally in this way. Nothing about it, other than its timing, would have made us suspect foul play, and no clues were found to support it."

Gorlana nodded, "Thank you." she rasped. She resisted the urge to drill him with questions. He was a good healer that had served her aunt for years and she knew if there was more to tell, he would have.

He stepped away quietly and left her to her grieving.

What would you think of me now? She asked her aunt, inside herself. I don't know whether this tangled web I've woven will be a tapestry to hail my victory, or a net to trap me. What would you judge of Traulch? Of Roderick? She wondered. ...does it matter?

Yes. It has to. She insisted to herself. Don't let her voice die inside you as well.