Tears of the Sun

'Take it in your hands,' said Mira. Gingerly, Janna lifted the second crystal ball from inside the box and held it cupped in her palms in imitation of Mirree.

'Each Tear must be attuned to its Guardian,' said Mirree. 'A person of the Blood can affect any Tear, but the results are uncontrolled and often dangerous.'

'Then only someone of Atlantean blood can use a Tear?' asked Janna.

'Yes,' replied Mirree 'but the Alchemists tried to safeguard the powers that they had created by changing the women who were chosen as Guardians. They were given the ability to always pass their affinity with the Tears on to their children, even if their mate was not of the Blood.'

Janna abandoned her intention to continue her questions when she felt the sphere in her hands start to vibrate in harmony with the humming of Mirree's Tear.

'To be useful, a Tear must be brought to life and linked to its Guardian,' said Mirree. 'A stolen or "wild" crystal can be used, but its power will be erratic and dangerous, like an unbroken stallion.'

Janna felt the vibration in the crystal echo through the bones of her hands and spread throughout her body, until her entire being seemed to resonate with the hum of the Tear with sensation that was almost sexual. The glow of Mirree's Tear died and the Tear in Janna's hands faded too.

'Now watch,' said Mirree. 'Look at that statue over there.' She nodded to Mira, who moved to stand behind her. Mira reached around Mirree's body, her hands cupping her mistress's breasts. Another nod, and Mira began the squeeze. Janna observed that Mira was careful to keep her movements slow and gradual, doing nothing to break Mirree's concentration. Harder and still harder, Mira's fingers crushed the soft flesh until Janna heard a soft hiss of breath from Mirree, whose eyes were locked on the marble image of a dove across the room. Mirree's Tear started to glow, the pink light strengthening until it almost seemed to take physical form. Suddenly, the mass of light detached itself from the Tear and flashed out to engulf the statue. The stone figure shimmered and swelled in the ball of light, for a moment seeming to take life. Then the glow was gone, and so was the statue. In its place, a small golden figurine of a woman stood on the table. Janna ran over and picked it up, half expecting to feel the metal burn her hand. Instead, it was cold to the touch. Janna cried out in surprise when she saw that the gold statue bore her likeness.

'A miracle!' she gasped.

'Perhaps,' said Mirree. 'But a miracle with a price. Come back here Janna and see the rest of the ritual.'

Janna came back to stand in front of Mirree. Mira's hands now unfastened the bodice of her mistress's gown, bearing her breasts. Janna groaned in sympathy when she saw the deep red bruises that marked Mirree's chest. A faint reddish glow flowed up her arms from the Tear, spreading like a morning mist across her body until she stood haloed in its glow. The bruises began to fade like spreading ripples on a pond, getting ever fainter, until at last they were gone. Mirree sighed gently and said 'It is done.' She smiled and reached out to pat Janna's cheek. 'Enough for now. We will have ample time together during our journey for met to teach you.'

'Teach me?' said Janna, rearing back in surprise.

'Of course. Did you think that I would activate a Tear for sport? The secret of their creation died with Atlantis and there are but a few unclaimed Tears left. I welcome you to the Sisterhood of Guardians,' she replied, kissing the stunned Janna on the lips.

A loud knocking on the main door caused all three women to turn in startlement as the portal swung open. A Captain of the Guard thrust his head into the room. 'Your Pardon ladies. The First Lord requires the presence of you all with utmost urgency. A messenger has come with news. The City of Markassos has fallen to Lorwig's army!'

Chapter Eight.

The smell of smoke and blood filled the air. Most of the screaming had ceased due to a lack of new victims. All the men, boys, and even male infants of Markassos had perished under the swords and spears of Lorwig's soldiers. The warriors of Markassos had been the first to perish, burned to cinders by a savage magical firestorm that had encircled them on the battlefield and then incinerated over three thousand men at arms, and as many horses and oxen. Like a nightmare, the watching citizens of the City had seen their menfolk burst into flames. The heat had been so intense that the very breath had been sucked from the lungs of the massed army, such that they were not even able to cry out as death claimed them.

King Lorwig strode into the huge tent that had served as his headquarters during the brief battle. Blood streamed down his arm and dripped from the blade of this sword onto the fine carpets that lined the floor of the tent. He had lead the slaughter in the City, not out of any sense of leadership or military necessity, but because he had enjoyed it. Tossing his fouled blade to a waiting attendant, he threw himself on his fur covered throne, laughing in rare good humour.

'Ho! Women! Come to me. The rest of you, out' he shouted, waving his hand towards the entrance. The attendants, musicians and guards hurriedly streamed from the tent, the last attendant to leave turning to drop the heavy carpet that served as a door. Lorwig's serving women and concubines ran out from behind the partition that had hidden their naked bodies from the gaze of other men, rushing to please their lord and master. Some of the serving girls brought bowls of heated water and scented oils, while others carefully unlaced Lorwig's armour and boots. Food was served on gold platters and his drinking mug, fashioned from silver, jewels and the skull of a long dead enemy, was brought to him filled with mead.

Lorwig was cruel, ruthless and thoroughly evil. However, he was also a keen student of human nature. Unlike many, he did not capriciously mistreat his servants. He made sure to reward the families of his concubines with gold, but never with rank or positions of authority, and he did not force women to his bed. This last virtue admittedly arising more from a fear of assassination than respect for maidenly virtue. There were women enough who desired a place in his household, despite the fact that he was a sadist and obtained sexual enjoyment from inflicting pain.

Despite a blocky muscular build, loose shaggy hair and a face that looked like it was carved from granite by an apprentice sculptor, Lorwig was not a barbarian. He could read and often surprised visiting dignitaries by his wit and courtly manners. He munched appreciatively on a mouthful of roast beef as he watched his favourite girl Lisa approach. She was well worth watching, with a firm muscled dancer's body and long legs. Her breasts were not overly large, but she was no danger of being mistaken for a boy, especially with her long glossy black hair swinging across her shapely buttocks.

'Congratulations on a great victory my lord,' said Lisa, smiling.

'Impudent woman!' growled Lorwig. 'Who are you to speak of victories or warfare?'

'My lord is correct, as always,' replied Lisa, unabashed. 'It is a pity that you must be too tired from the battle to properly punish me for my impudence,' she said mockingly. Lisa was well aware of her master's tastes and she skilfully played her part in the little charade that would naturally result in a 'punishment'.

'It seems that you do not yet know your place. As King it is my duty to provide proper guidance to my wayward subjects. I always have the strength for such noble tasks. Prepare yourself woman,' said Lorwig, enjoying the lusty willingness of his concubine, who pouted sexily at him. She was enormously sensual and yet had an amazing ability to accept pain and make it part of her passion. He did not love her, but she was one of the few people with whom he was comfortable and even trusted.

Showing a fearsome lack of respect for her sovereign, Lisa turned her back on him, giving Lorwig a fine view of her swaying buttocks as she glided over to the wooden chest at the end of the bed. Planting her feet slightly apart, Lisa bent over at the waist to rummage in the oaken box, her rear a blatant invitation. Finding what she sought, she made her way back, holding a black leather horse whip in both hands.

'Your sceptre, my lord. Your humble servant awaits your instruction,' said Lisa, presenting the whip to Lorwig and looking anything but humble.

Taking the whip, Lorwig snorted in amusement. 'Brazen hussy. Does the heat in your cunny burn so strongly then?'

'Did not my lord once say that questions are best answered by personal experience?'

Lorwig roared with laughter as she mocked him with his own words. 'Hah! Show me this source of evil then.'

Once again, Lisa turned her back on her king. Her hands rose straight into the air, her back perfectly erect. Slowly and with the perfect control of a great gymnast or dancer, she rose onto her toes and spread her feet wide. Dropping smoothly into a deep squat, she rocked forwards onto her knees. Her arms swung down and forward in a long sweeping arc, followed by the shining black river of her hair. Like a sinuous sea creature, her back curved down until her breasts rested on the ground leaving the full moons of her buttocks as the highest point of her body.

Her deeply bent position and the wide spread of her knees forced her nether cheeks apart, exposing the brownish triangle of skin that had the deep pucker of her anus as its centre and the plump bulge of her cunt as the base.

Lorwig paid silent homage to her artistry and at the same time enjoying the exceptional view of her most private parts. Her cunt lips were erect and spread, revealing the convoluted pit of her vaginal entrance which, Lorwig noted with amusement, gleamed wet with pearly fluids. He bent to thrust a rude finger into her sex, enjoying the feel of her smooth tight channel grasping his probing digit. Despite the great power that his position gave him, he never forgot the immense curiosity and longing that a teenage boy felt for the secret and hidden parts that girls hid beneath their clothes. The realisation that what he was doing to Lisa was but an impossible fantasy for most men never failed to bring on an intense feeling of guilty excitement; of doing something forbidden and naughty. It washed over him like a cool refreshing wave.

Drawing out his finger, Lorwig examined the glossy layer of moisture that coated it, savouring the proof of Lisa's excitement and willingness. He shifted the horsewhip to his right hand, feeling her juices soaking into the soft leather. Lorwig raised the whip to the level of his shoulder and then brought it sweeping down to smack solidly against Lisa's taut and upraised buttocks. The woman barely twitched at the impact, even though the leather had raised a hot red ridge across the smooth curve of her arse cheek. Lorwig saw the skin of her back suddenly take on an added sheen in the warm lamp light. Stroking his left hand across her down curved back, he felt the cool dampness of her sweat which had sprang out in response to the sudden shocking pain. He struck her again and again, pausing each time to savour the effect on her skin and his own growing excitement. Lisa had come to him of her own choice. No bonds or chains save those of her own determination and will held her flesh upraised and open to his whip.

After he had carefully covered Lisa's buttocks and thighs with deep crimson lines, he gave in to the urge to push her further. More than the mere infliction of pain, it was the woman's cooperation and participation in the act that thrilled.

'You have done well so far,' he said 'but I fear that your submission and repentance is false.'

'How so my master?' purred Lisa, perfectly aware of Lorwig's intentions. 'In what way have I failed?'

'Scheming woman! You still keep the portals of your fortress closed to my forces,' responded Lorwig.

'Nay my lord. It was but a foolish oversight' cried Lisa in loud and theatrical tones of regret. 'See, I do open my gates wide for you to plunder the treasures within,' she said. Lisa reached around her bruised buttocks, taking a firm grip on each cheek at the point where they joined her thighs and pulled outwards. The skin between her thighs stretched taut, laying open both the upper opening of her anus and the labia below that had so far shielded the delicate membranes of her inner sex.

Lorwig reached into the crevice with the tip of his whip, drawing the leather up and down from the base of her spine and down to the coyly peeping bud of her clitoris as if applying a coating of oils or paint with an artist's brush. Gradually, he allowed the up and down strokes to increase in speed and force until his whip was smacking Lisa's secret flesh in a steady rhythm. 'Splat, splat, splat, splat ...'.

This intense and constant stinging of her sex caused Lisa to begin to quiver and writhe, her toes and feet curling and unbending, and the firm muscles of her dancer's thighs tensing and relaxing in time to Lorwig's whip. Despite the relatively gentle blows that Lorwig had used thus far, the delicate nature of the area which he was striking made this new punishment almost as painful as the previous ones across Lisa's cheeks.

'Brace yourself to feel my wrath woman,' said Lorwig, turning to straddle Lisa's back, placing her cunt directly below him. The concubine arched her back even more, turning her sex upwards and pulling with the full force of her hands. Her cunt blossomed open, spreading the inner labia and the pink hole of her vagina taut as a drumskin. The tiny pearl of her clitoris stood out stiffly like the head of a nail awaiting the kiss of the hammer.

'Crack!' The whip landed squarely along the length of Lisa's sex, the black leather tip striking her clitoris squarely, driving it into her body. Except for a deep sobbing gasp, Lisa made not protest, her fingernails clawing deep into her flesh, drawing drops of blood.

'Crack!Crack!Crack!Crack!'Crack!'

Six times Lorwig's whip struck the concubine's tortured sex. The delicate skin tore, producing tiny ruby drops of blood along the length of each labia. Her clitoris swelled to the size of a pea, red and raw. Then, with the speed and power of a seasoned warrior, Lorwig stepped clear of Lisa's body and then reached down to flip her over onto her back.

Lisa's eyes blazed, although wet with tears. Her smile resembled a snarl as she spread her legs wide to welcome her master. Lorwig's spear slammed into her swollen cunt, its passage eased by both her juices and her blood.

Chapter Nine.

The First Lord and the four companions including Mira, assembled in a large courtyard at the rear of the Main Hall. The yard was surrounded by blank walls on all sides with only two portals, one leading into the yard from the main building and the other opening into a back alley. Flickering torches on each wall threw a confusing network of shadows across the stone floor.

The First Lord spoke. 'Markassos is only three weeks march from here. If you set out today it is likely that the wizard and Lorwig's army will be less than a week away by the time you find them. I regret that I must ask Mirree to transport you using the powers of her Tear.'

'As I have told Janna, I must see what I am to affect. Therefore, we must make our way to the hill just outside of the city. There is a mountain to the east that is easily visible from the top of the hill. I can send us there in an instant using my Tear. From that place, it is but two days march to Markassos,' explained Mirree, 'especially as we will not need to bring the food and other supplies that a trip of several weeks would require'

Foxblood stared in surprise at the leather pouch hanging from a silver chain around Janna's neck. She saw his look and whispered 'I'll tell you about it later.'

They would have made better time if the Guard had provided an escort, but the First Lord was wary of Lorwig's spies. It was midnight by the time they reached the top of the hill. Foxblood and Janna set up camp, starting a small fire for warmth. This would be the last chance for them to rest in relative safety. Mirree had warned that her use of the Tear's powers at the level required to transport them near to Markassos would most likely alert the enemy wizard of their coming, which would mean that King Lorwig's patrols would be alerted too.

They rose with the dawn and breakfasted on jouneybread and water. Janna unpacked her armour and sword. The two warriors spend a few minutes checking each other's armour, ensuring that all the straps and buckles were properly fastened. Mirree and Mira huddled together in discussion and from their gestures, he guessed that they were preparing the 'magic' which would whisk them over a hundred miles in moments. Foxblood still felt uneasy about the powers that Mirree attributed to the crystal balls that she, and now Janna, wore. It all sounded like the sorcery claimed by the village shamans, which rarely ever seemed to work.

At last, all was ready and they gathered at the peak of the hill. In the distance, the jagged form of the mountain that was their destination could just be made out in the haze.

'When I call upon the power of the Tear you must all stay perfectly still. I shall be moving a globe containing everything in the area immediately around us. If you move out of the limits of the globe as it forms you will be killed.' Everyone voiced their understanding and Foxblood shuffled nervously closer to Mirree.

Mirree pulled the drawstring of her bodice, and Mira helped tug the top half of the garment down around Mirree's waist. The Guardian stood bare breasted in the morning light, tall and proud like a marble statue of a goddess, her crystal Tear in her hands. Mira extracted two small silver clasps from a pouch, which she carefully affixed to Mirree's nipples. The jaws of the clasps fit snugly around her flesh. Janna saw that small screws at the sides of the clasps allowed them to be gradually tightened, crushing Mirree's nipples with increasing force. The Tear began to glow and Mirree focused her gaze and thoughts on the distant mountain, while ensuring that all of her companions were visible to her.

Mira began to tighten the screws and Mirree felt the familiar burning pain fill the tips of her breasts and spreading across her chest. The glow gained in strength as the pain increased, until all could plainly hear the humming song of the crystal. 'More' murmured Mirree, and Mira obediently gave the screws another twist. A tiny drop of blood formed between the jaws of one clasp, welling up like a dark red pearl. Finally, Mirree judged the power to be strong enough. 'Be still now. Do not move on your life!'

A transparent shimmering golden shaded globe formed around the party, enclosing them completely. The hum rose to a rumble in their ears, and for a moment it was if all of nature stood still. Foxblood could see a swallow frozen in the sky, its unmoving wings still supporting it in the air. There was a moment of vertigo and the feeling that something twisted as everything went black.

With a thump, the four of them fell several feet to land on solid ground once more along with the clod of turf that had capped the top of the hill. Mirree staggered on the uneven ground and both Foxblood and Mira reached out to support her. Mirree glanced around and declared 'We are arrived.' Mira quickly unfastened the clasps that still crushed Mirree's nipples and revealing the swollen, bloodied flesh. Once more Janna witnessed the miracle of healing as the wounds faded to nothingness and Mirree sighed, glad to be free of the pain. Mira helped her mistress dress while Foxblood and Janna scouted the area in which they had landed.